An Uncivilized Yankee

by V. V. Wedding

  His hand tightened about her fingers, and he waited several moments before speaking. “Are you sure? Not that I’m not more than willing,” he added hurriedly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “You’ve been torn so between me and Virginia. I just want to spare you….”

  Her eyes became shadowed. “Any more pain, I know. And I would not wish to bring any troubles on you and your family, especially since the war doesn’t look like it’s going to end anytime soon. Not to mention the possible danger to you…. But this is the only solution I can think of, bar murdering him.”

  The abject expression on her face prompted Travis to wrap his arms tight about her and kiss her until he felt her mouth curve in a smile under his lips.

  “That’s better,” he said, snuggling her close against his chest. “We sounded as if we were discussing a funeral rather than a wedding.” He ran his fingers through her dark curls and continued thinking aloud. “I know Mum and Da feel we should wait, but they are as worried of you going South unprotected as I am. I think we can talk them around to our point of view. As far as anyone around here knows, you’re just a distant relation. Since you’re of age, there’ll be no request for a guardian’s permission. I’m sure that our minister has recently married quite a few soldiers right before they left to rejoin their regiments. Besides, Reverend Miller has known our family halfway of forever. He’ll not raise any fuss.”

  “What of the Scotts? They know who I really am.”

  His lips flattened. “Kitty knows better than to make trouble, but if she does….” He left the threat unfinished.

  In a small voice she asked, “And what of you? You thought it would be better to wait. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Mind?” He turned her chin so that she faced him. “Mind that I will marry the girl I adore? Mind that I will finally be able to claim you as my wife, to have you, even for such a short while, before we’re separated for Heaven knows how long? Starla, my sweet little idiot, do you still not understand how much I love you, how much I want you?”

  There was really only one way she could suitably reply to that question, and it was several kisses later before he got stiffly to his feet.

  “Well, my dear, if we are going to go through with this, there’s much to be done in the next few days. Starting with informing my parents that our plans for the future have changed slightly.”

  She managed a small laugh as he helped her up from the steps. “Slightly? I’d hate to see your idea of a drastic change.”

  Caroline and Samuel were somewhat startled when Travis announced that he and Starla had decided to get married before they left. But once he explained the logic behind moving the wedding up, they both agreed it made sense. To Caro’s somber rejoinder, “Marry in haste, repent at leisure,” Travis replied gravely, “I’m sure we will be doing plenty of repenting, but who’s to say we wouldn’t have more to repent if we didn’t act now?”

  So it was that Wednesday afternoon, April 20th, 1864, found Starla again dressed in her blue and gray satin gown, hair flowing in dark waves down her back, and body shaking like a poplar leaf.

  “You look well, lass,” Caro said quietly, smoothing the satin over Star’s hoops. “Is there ought else you would wish for?”

  Star sat on the edge of her chair, careful not to sit on her hair. She succeeded in keeping her voice steady. “No, thank you. I need nothing more. Only….”

  “Only what?”

  “Only I wish I had dogwood blossoms for my hair,” she blurted out. “When I was younger, there was a dryad in the dogwood that grew by my window. She and I used to talk rather often, until my uncle drove her too deeply into her tree to come out again. But she once told me that if I wore dogwoods on my wedding day, all would go well with my marriage. The blessing of Woodhaven, or something like that. Silly of me, isn’t it, to hold with such nonsense?”

  The woman she would soon call mother didn’t laugh, but looked at her with understanding eyes. “I don’t find it silly at all, a cailín. Your life’s been a wild ride lately. ‘Tis only natural you would want some guarantee that everything will end well, even if it be only the promise of a tree maid.”

  Star stared at her trembling hands. “I’m so afraid, Caro. I fear myself, and my family, and what the future may bring. My dreams….” No, I won’t think on those. “But I love Travis. I love him so very much. And I don’t want to be afraid, not today of all days.”

  Caro smiled, reached out and patted her shoulder. “Well then, lass, if there are dogwoods nearby, we will find you some. Or if not those, then at least some sort of blossoms for your hair.” She turned to leave, then seemed to think of something. “Do you need me or Ellen to sit with you?”

  Taking a deep breath, Star straightened and summoned a smile. “I’ll be fine. I could use some time to corral my thoughts.”

  “Then I’ll come for you when the reverend arrives.”

  The door closed with a soft click. Star sat stiffly and gazed out the window with sightless eyes.

  It seemed like only minutes later that she heard a soft knock at the door. Caro’s lilting voice. “Lass, it’s time.”

  Star opened the door with hands that had finally stopped shaking. The thump of boots caused her to look over Caro’s shoulder. Rob stood at the head of the stairs, hair windblown and uniform dusty, an oddly young expression on his dark face. His mother glanced over at him, saw his hands behind his back.

  “Did you find some?” she asked.

  He nodded and with a flourish brought forth a branch of dogwood blossoms. “For my new sister.” At Star’s gasp of delight he added with a boyish grin, “Rode all the way to the Scotts’ for them. Remembered they had an old dogwood in their yard. Glad no one saw me, as that would have been mighty difficult to talk my way out of.”

  Star sat back down, speechless, as Caro tucked the creamy blossoms around her hairband, and pinned them in among the walnut curls. Then she reached out for Rob. “Thank you ever so much. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  He bowed low over her hand and helped her to her feet. “My pleasure, Miss Star.” Turning to his mother, he said, “Da asked if I would bring you both down. His leg is bothering him.”

  Heart racing like a wild horse, hands a tremble again, Starla followed him out of her room and down to the sitting room where waited Reverend Miller and his clerk, Ellen and Alexander, Sam, and Travis.

  Travis. Her Yankee. He stood tall and so handsome in his best uniform. Once her eyes locked on his, on that piercing gray gaze that said so many things, the racing of her heart slowed. And when he took her cold hands in his own slightly damp hands, her trembling ceased. The reverend’s ruddy face was barely noticed; the traditional words of greeting and admonishment and explanation scarcely registered, though she must have given the appropriate responses, for the ceremony continued on in a bright dream until the fateful words broke through the haze.

  Travis’ voice, husky with emotion, repeating after the minister: “I, Travis Black take thee Estella Anderson to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

  She stared up at him; for a minute her tongue would not respond. The lightest of pressures from his hands, the reassurance in his eyes, and she echoed Reverend Miller in a steady if quiet voice. “I, Estella Anderson take thee Travis Black to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

  Then Travis was placing a ring, cold and heavy, on her finger. “With this ring I thee wed: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  Reverend Miller joined their right hands together, saying, “Those whom God hath joined together let no ma
n put asunder.”

  Her thoughts wandered as the reverend continued. No man. Do you hear that, Jacob Bancroft? That’s the sound of Woodhaven’s door, slamming shut in your face. You will not have my home, and you will not have me!

  She dragged herself away from such angry sentiments—they had no place in this ceremony.

  “I pronounce that they are man and wife, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” There was silence for a moment before the reverend added with a broad smile, “You may now kiss your bride.”

  With a twinkle in his eye, Travis bent down to claim a kiss.

  “I love you, Mrs. Star,” he whispered when they broke apart.

  Ellen had outdone herself for their wedding supper. Starla wished she could give the meal the attention it deserved, but she had little appetite. As she pushed her food about on her plate, the glitter of gold on her left hand kept catching her eye.

  Next to her Rob held out his hand. “May I see?” His eyebrow went up as he recognized the woven band of Celtic design. He looked at his brother over her head. “Gran’s ring? How’d you get Mum to let you have that?”

  “I asked for it,” Travis said, somewhat defensive. “I thought I should have it, seeing how you are to have Oma’s when you finally get hitched.”

  “True, but Mum was awfully attached to Gran’s ring. She must really like you, Starla, if she gave up that band without a fight.”

  Travis laughed. “I didn’t say that. I had to turn all my considerable charm on our fair mother before she’d give it to me. Isn’t that right, Mum?”

  The banter continued, but Star’s mind had drifted elsewhere again. Am I dreaming? she wondered. Can I now call this happy home mine? After all these years, do I finally have a family again, one I can trust? Oh, if only Dani could be here!

  That was her one regret. But the thought of Danica brought the worry and urgency anew. Hold on, cariad! I’m coming. The rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed them down ruthlessly, determined not to ruin the day’s celebration with her worry.

  Travis’ arm about her shoulders brought her back to the present. He thanked everyone at the table, then helped her to her feet. “I think we’ll retire early this evening. My wife,” he sounded as if he were savoring the use of that word, “is more than a little tired. It’s been a stressful few days for both of us.”

  “Likely excuse. But I’m sure you’ll get her in bed soon enough. Sleep well,” Rob teased.

  Shielded by the warm circle of his arms, Star barely caught the glare Travis directed towards his brother. Why would…? Oh! As the innuendo behind her brother in law’s comment sank in the color fled her face and her stomach began to churn violently.

  Travis’ large hand in the small of her back guided her up the stairs. At her door he halted and turned her to face him. He must have read the return of her fears in the quivering of her shoulders, for his face was solemn.

  “Star, I’ll own that I would dearly love to take you to wife tonight. Heaven knows I’ve dreamt of it often enough.” His voice was very gentle, and just the slightest bit wistful. “But I won’t ask for anything until you say yea or nay.”

  She could sense the tension in him, long-denied desires warring with the need not to frighten her, and she loved him all the more for it. Damn you, Jake, for the joys you continue to steal from me.

  A swift anger at her cousin, and at herself for being so craven, swept through her, giving her the courage to speak. “Will once said that if I showed fear, I would always attract trouble, like running from a growling dog,” she said softly, wondering if he could hear her above the too-loud beating of her heart. “I am so tired of running. Please, help me face my fears?”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, an echo of his words to her in the stable that night.

  Finding no more words that she could speak, she reached out and lightly traced the scar on his forehead, the line of his lips, then drew him into the room.

  The last rays of sunlight drifted through the window, giving the room a hazy, golden glow. He lit the lamp on the bureau and drew the curtains to before plopping himself down on the edge of her bed. Starla busied herself with removing wilted blossoms from her hair.

  “Tell you what. Why don’t we get a little more comfortable and then we can talk for a bit. That’s natural enough for the two of us.” He wrestled with his high boots and socks, then proceeded to strip off his uniform jacket and linen shirt. “Much better. And about as familiar as I can figure, considering how often you’ve seen me like this.” He spoke lightly, with a touch of his old teasing, as if they were again seated on the grass outside her tent or on the front steps of some old farmhouse.

  Some of the stiffness left her spine and she smiled in spite of herself. “Very unthreatening,” she agreed. “And a wonderful idea. It will be heavenly to get these blasted hoops off.” Loosening the tapes, she gladly left the hoops and petticoats in a pile on the floor, then pulled off her shoes and stockings.

  Beckoning her closer, he patted the quilt beside him. “Sit you here, my dear Mrs. Star, and I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said, shifting his leg out of the way and tipping his head towards her in a conspiratorial manner. “I’m almost as nervous as you.”

  In the process of seating herself, she turned to him in shock. He chuckled, but his face was quite serious. Flopping back against the pillows, he tucked his hands behind his head and looked up at her.

  “Surprised?”

  She nodded, her curiosity piqued and her own fears forgotten for the moment.

  He reached out, stroked a lock of hair away from her face, let his fingers drift down her neck. She shivered involuntarily.

  “I know a thing or three about the fairer sex, a chroi, but I’m not exactly Don Juan.”

  Which was all he was about to admit aloud. Being raised with a double dose of Presbyterian morals and Catholic guilt had kept him out of serious trouble up to this point, but in this situation a wee bit more experience might have been a useful thing....

  Fingers barely skimmed the taut fabric of her bodice, but at her suddenly wide eyes and gasp he retreated immediately. “And I’m terribly afraid that I’ll somehow reopen old wounds,” he added in a quiet voice.

  There was silence in the small room. Star stared down at her trembling hands, ashamed of her reaction. Do something, anything! she told herself fiercely. Take the first step, for he’ll not push you. He returns to the front in less than a week, and you go south again. If not tonight, then when will you gain the courage? How long will you let the demons of Jake and the others ruin your life? He could exorcise them—you know he could.

  Swallowing hard, she whispered, “Would you help me with these hooks? My hands aren’t too steady right now.”

  He sat up slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what she had just offered. She turned her body towards him, but looked away, face flushed a bright pink.

  His hands shook slightly as he reached for her again. “I’ve done this once before,” he murmured, tanned fingers pushing at the many tiny hooks that marched down the front of the bodice. “The day you went swimming in the Rappahannock. The next day was when I finally realized I loved you, after you hit me with that snowball.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I know, and I was determined to keep you from knowing. You had reason enough to fear me as a Yankee. I wasn’t about to add another reason.”

  “But Travis, I didn’t fear you then,” she returned without hesitation. “Neither as a Yankee nor otherwise.” There was surprise and wonder in her voice when she asked aloud, “So why in Heaven’s name am I so afraid now?”

  The hand she lifted ceased trembling. With tentative fingertips she echoed his earlier movement, letting them trickle down his neck, across his shoulder, then tracing the scar that slashed across his arm. His fingers stilled. Her quiet exploration continued: the creased scar on his side, the hair on his chest.

  “I almost let you go to Libby
Prison.” Her tone was thoughtful. “How thankful I am that I did not.” She finally peeked up at him. His eyes were silver, following the lazy wanderings of her fingers as if hypnotized. “Do you know when I first knew that I loved you?”

  He shook his head, tearing his gaze from her hand to focus on her face.

  “The day I held you at gunpoint. But by then it was too late, or so I thought.”

  “Starla?” His voice hovered at the cracking point. “If you don’t stop that, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

  Finding delight in the power she had not known she possessed, she ran a slender finger lightly up his chest and lifted dancing, daring eyes up to him. “Good.”

  A low growl, and the few remaining hooks were torn free, the striped satin bodice tossed to one side of the room.

  “Travis—!” Her protest was buried by his lips.

  A few minutes later came the unrepentant comment of “You’re handy with a needle. A good thing too, because if I can’t get this blasted knot untied in the next ten seconds, you’ll be needing to fix this also.”

  She stood alone in the middle of a dusty glen, tangled hair and dress clinging to her body in the damp river bottom air. I have been here before, she thought with horror.

  She felt sick to her stomach, waiting for the inevitable, for the appearance of the three men in ragged uniforms, for her amber eyed cousin. They were always here, in this clearing.

  A presence behind her, a hand on her shoulder—

  She shrieked, bolting upright in bed.

  “Star?” Travis’ voice was rough with sleep but he was sitting up alertly beside her. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  She took in a deep, shuddering breath. His hand rubbed her back soothingly, lingering on the slick skin of her scars. “Just a dream,” she said, voice becoming steadier as she slipped back beneath the covers.