Dreams of Savannah

by Roseanna M. White

  Because it had made no sense, before she knew Daddy had been trying to block her from Phin as well. Now, though . . . they were trying to cut all ties with the Dunn family. The last thing in the world she wanted to do.

  But she couldn’t promise to forget him—and she couldn’t lie to her father about it either. So then, she would speak truth. She lifted her chin. “If your suspicions are grounded, then I would want nothing to do with him anyway.”

  Small lines fanned out on his face when he smiled at her. “That’s my girl. We can be glad he came back alive, and you can be friends with his sister—but that’s all.”

  She wasn’t about to agree. But she didn’t dare argue. So she just spun around and left his study, her mind awhirl.

  Luther loosened his grip on the reins, though it took deliberation to do so. Just as it took deliberation to unclench his jaw and direct his thoughts toward prayer rather than the moaning or railing to which he felt more inclined.

  Two weeks they’d spent hunting down information on the Bounty and its passengers, on determining the name of the man who had “bought” Eva from Rosario. And what had they found? That the man had headed west, not due back until spring—and that no black woman had been reported traveling with him on the westbound train.

  “I’m sorry.” Phineas sighed and shifted in his saddle, though he’d said his leg wasn’t hurting so much today. “We’ll keep looking. There’s a record somewhere of who bought her, where she was taken.”

  Luther hummed low in his throat. There may be a record. But it was so many months ago now, months of upheaval and unrest. Months when the people of Savannah had many more things to worry about than the arrival and disappearance of one woman.

  Eva. Oh, Lord, where’s my Eva? Lead me to her, I beg you. You got me into Savannah, closer than I’ve been to her since that monster stole her away from me. I know you’ll direct me the rest of the way. Protect her, Father God, and preserve her until I find her. And then help us get out of this place before we lose anything more.

  Shifting again, Phineas urged his horse a bit closer to Luther’s. “I’m praying too. Might not carry quite the weight with the Almighty that your prayers do, Reverend, but I figure my addition can’t hurt.”

  A chuckle came unbidden to his throat. Thus far, seeing the fruits of his months of nearly incessant reading to Phineas was the highlight of all this. According to River, with whom Luther was now sharing a room in a rough section of town, the change in the young master had sent quite a ripple through the household. He’d always been kind, apparently, but more than once Luther had seen a jaw go slack when Phineas thanked a slave for something. Or when they caught him frequently with his nose buried in a Bible.

  Ferreting out the Scriptures that kept crowding his mind, he had said. Making sure Luther hadn’t been filling his brain with nonsense.

  Luther grinned at the thought. Had he known it would work so well, perhaps he would have tried inserting a few other well-founded ideas in the boy’s mind.

  “That’s a dangerous grin.” Phineas lifted a brow and reined his mount in, looking from the left—which would take them back to Dunn House—and then the right. The direction in which the Owens house lay. Indecision was clear on his face.

  Luther lifted a brow. He knew very well that Phineas had a letter from his young lady even now in his pocket—a letter inviting him to come to a garden party today, but to do so stealthily, as her parents had only approved his sister’s coming, not his.

  The young man sighed. “I don’t know what to do. I’ll earn no respect by disobeying her father. But I risk losing her altogether if I accept his command to keep my distance.”

  Luther rolled his eyes and verified no one was near enough to be paying attention. “I’m rather surprised that she has crossed her father with the invitation.”

  “She says she needs to talk to me. Face-to-face.” She had not, apparently, said about what, otherwise Phineas wouldn’t look so anxious.

  Luther sighed. “I’m never one to advocate disobeying one’s parents. Or the people one hopes will become so. But it seems to me that you’re right in your fears—if you do nothing, you’ve already lost her.”

  With only one last glance to the left, Phineas nudged his mount toward the Owens home. “I can’t lose her. And yet the longer I’m back in Savannah, the more uncertain I am that I’m any good for her.” His eyes were haunted, unsure. “Do you realize,” he said in a murmur barely audible over the horses’ hooves, “the risks of this plan of ours? If we’re caught, you won’t just be sent away this time, not with the political climate what it is toward slaves. We’ll be lynched, both of us. At this point, I’m far more likely to be the cause of her distress than the key to her happiness.”

  Luther repositioned the straw hat upon his head. When he extracted that promise for his help in July, he hadn’t much cared about the risk, certainly not to Phineas. But things had changed. And the danger was higher than he had supposed it to be. “You’re right. You should stop searching, leave it to me and River—”

  “No. I may not be good for much these days, but you were right that I’m the only one who has a hope of getting answers.” He set his jaw. “I made a promise. And I mean to keep it.”

  Luther pressed his lips against a reply when he spotted a group of officers dismounting at the Owenses’, that louse of a lieutenant among them. Phineas’s knuckles whitened around his reins too—a reaction Luther well understood. Though his physical appearance was the opposite, something about the man reminded him of Rosario. The dark light in his eyes. The way he looked at people, whether slave or free, male or female, only in terms of what they could do for him. How he could own them.

  He was another reason, Luther knew, that Phineas was willing to disobey Mr. Owens. Lieutenant James would be bad news to his young lady if he went unchecked and unchallenged. How could her father miss it? Though mankind did have a remarkable ability to be blind to what they didn’t want to see.

  Luther’s eyes scanned the collection of young people as they drew near. Hoping, always hoping that amid the faces of the slaves on the fringes, he’d see Eva’s. Though really, what were the chances that she’d be here, among Cordelia Owens’s friends?

  Phineas dismounted a minute later, careful to stay to the side as they drew near the garden entrance. Luther didn’t spot Mr. Owens anywhere, but the missus was just inside the gate, chatting and smiling with another woman of about her age whom Luther hadn’t ever seen before. Another mother, no doubt. There to act as chaperones for the twenty or so young people—most of whom were men in uniform. There were no more than six young ladies, all of them swarmed with attention.

  Phineas hissed out a breath. “This was clearly a bad idea.”

  Not that he’d had any better ones.

  Phin grunted acknowledgment of the unspoken observation. “I know, I know.”

  Luther’s lips twitched, but he clamped down on his smile.

  River met them between the stable and the garden entrance, a knowing gleam in his eye. “Startin to think you wasn’t gwine come, Mr. Phin. Miss Sassy and me been here nigh unto two hours a’ready.”

  Phineas grunted and strained to look past his valet, to where Lieutenant James had made a beeline for Delia.

  River looked up at Luther. “Any luck this mo’nin’?”

  For now, he just shook his head. He’d give the young man details when they could slip away somewhere and be unheard.

  He suppressed another grin when Phineas didn’t even reach the gate before being nearly bowled over by a young lady with dark hair. She had a disagreeable look to her face, even when she smiled.

  “Why, Phineas Dunn, I do declare! You’ve been a veritable recluse since you got home—and us all eager to hear your stories.”

  As River hid a chuckle behind his hand, Phineas’s shoulders rolled back. “Miss Young. How good to see you again.”

  Her rehearsed laugh grated on Luther’s nerves like nails on slate. “Oh, fiddledeedee, Phin, you
know well you may call me Annaleigh.”

  He sketched a bow. “With all due respect, Miss Young, I’d rather not.”

  This time River’s snort of laughter escaped before he could contain it, earning a glare from the young miss.

  She sniffed and raised her nose in the air. “Impertinent Negro. I do declare, it’s near impossible to find dependable help these days, isn’t it? What with all the coloreds running off the first chance they get. I can’t find a dependable maid to save my life—and my current one will soon be of no use, being in a condition as she is. And Daddy is so determined to keep all his breeding females from running that he won’t even let her out of the house with me anymore. Useless!”

  Phineas turned back to River and Luther, gritting his teeth—no doubt to keep himself from saying anything too revealing about his opinions of Mr. Young. “The two of you are welcome to spare yourselves this torment and find your own entertainment.”

  The chit’s mouth fell open, though she was quick to close it and cover her outrage with a coquettish giggle. “Oh, Phin, you are incorrigible!”

  From the look in Phineas’s eye, Luther couldn’t help but think Miss Young caused him far more pain than his leg. He may have felt some pity over it, but a certain blonde was even now hurrying their way, fire shooting from her eyes.

  “There you are!” Cordelia slipped out of the garden gate with a glance tossed over her shoulder. Probably to assure herself that her mother wasn’t paying her any mind. Seeming satisfied, she slipped her hand behind Phineas’s arm and nudged him toward the stable. “You wanted to see that new horse of Daddy’s, didn’t you? I’ll show you.”

  “Oh, I do love the equestrian arts.” Batting her lashes, Annaleigh took Phineas’s other arm. “And your father always has the loveliest stock, Delia. Doesn’t he, Phin? Not that any of them can compare to your mounts, though, I’m sure.”

  “Annie!” Phineas’s sister leaned over the gate, the laughter on her lips not quite covering the calculation in her eyes. “Come back in, I need you. I was trying to tell Lieutenant Warner that story you shared the other day, but I can’t do it justice. Won’t you come? You tell it so much better than I can.”

  What a good sister Phineas had. One who clearly knew that flattery was the way to sway Miss Annaleigh Young. She looked torn for a moment, but Phineas gave her a smile. “You go on. And then you can tell it to me in a few minutes too.”

  “Well.” The tilt of her head was part flirtatious, part demur. And utterly unconvincing. “All right. As long as you promise to join me soon.”

  “Of course.”

  Beside him, River shifted as Miss Young walked away. Pitching his voice low, he said, “You wanna tell me now? Or think we oughta play lookout for them two first?”

  Luther held up two fingers. That brunette certainly couldn’t be trusted not to crow for all to hear that Phineas Dunn was just outside the garden gate, and that would likely be all it would take to bring Mrs. Owens out, ready to boot him to the curb.

  River nodded his agreement and leaned on one of the posts of the stable entrance. Luther took up the other while Phineas and Miss Owens moved a few feet into the stable, though by no means out of sight. She led him toward one of the stalls, where a white horse whinnied a greeting and came to sniff at them.

  Luther directed his gaze back outside, but he couldn’t exactly help hearing their words. The rushed assurance that each had been getting the other’s letters. The young lady’s apology that she hadn’t been able to sway her father’s stance.

  “I’ve told him I won’t have anything to do with Julius, but he won’t listen. He refuses to see . . .” She paused, sighed. “And then there’s . . .”

  “There’s what?”

  “He said . . . well, he said you’ve been showing an undue interest in locating a certain . . . woman.”

  Luther stiffened. Only two weeks they’d been back—and already Phineas’s inquiries about Eva had made their way back to Mr. Owens? That didn’t bode well. He glanced over at River. Then over his shoulder at Phineas, whose glance flicked to him and then away.

  “Monty’s wife.” It was all he said. Hopefully all he meant to. Because while clearly this young woman didn’t agree with her father or Lieutenant James on some matters, there was no telling what her thoughts might be on the truth. She was, after all, a pampered Southern belle, the toast of the town. She’d have the ideals she was raised with, and no doubt shared the prevailing opinions on whether any black person could possibly deserve to be free.

  Luther’s fingers curled into his palm. He’d yet to hear her spout anything as irritating as Miss Young had a minute ago—but that didn’t mean she didn’t think it.

  “Oh.” Relief saturated her tone, and she looked his way, too, even sending him a small smile. “Is she here in Savannah? Can I help?”

  “I really don’t think so, Delia.” He pulled away a bit, the look he sent toward Luther now one that said half a dozen things. Assurance that he could be trusted. Pain that she’d entertained even for a moment the notion that he’d been looking for a woman for base reasons. Irritation with her father. And under it all, that shadowed certainty that Luther had noticed building in him ever since they got home.

  No, before that. Even on the way here. That he wasn’t what he imagined this girl wanted.

  This time her “Oh” carried no relief. If anything, frustration at being so summarily dismissed.

  Phineas must have heard it as clearly as Luther did. He sighed. “I don’t want to get you in any more trouble with your father than I already have. And I daresay he wouldn’t like you asking about for me.”

  “No. And Mama will probably find me out here any minute. I just—I had to see you. To tell you that your letters mean the world to me, and the servants all seem set on making sure I get them. I only wish it didn’t require anything underhanded.”

  “I only wish that James fellow hadn’t ever been stationed here.” He said it on a breath of a laugh, but no doubt it was quite serious. If not for this “better” suitor, her father might not be so set on keeping them apart.

  Luther saw a bonnet bobbing their way—the one the young lady’s mother had been wearing when he spotted her a few minutes before. Looked as though their time had already expired. He cleared his throat. Nodded toward the garden.

  “Look, Delia. You’re probably better off without me. I’m not sure I can be who you want.”

  “Phin—”

  “That said . . . as long as you keep giving me hope, I’m going to keep clinging to it. There’s no one else for me. Never will be.”

  Mrs. Owens had reached the gate and was looking about, clearly irritated. Luther glanced into the stable, where her daughter had Phineas’s hands clasped between both of hers and was looking up at him as if he were the only man in the world. Eva had used to look at Luther like that. Please, Lord. Please.

  “There’s no one else for me either. I’ll wait, Phin. I’ll wait until Daddy sees reason. Until the war is over, if I must. Until the very earth passes away. Forever.”

  Sweet, romantic notions. Luther had said a few similar ones in his day and meant every one of them. He could only pray that neither he nor Phineas would have to wait quite that long to claim their loves.

  Chapter Twenty

  NOVEMBER 13, 1861

  The city writhed. Broiled with panic and dismay. Phin urged his horse through the first hole he could find in the crowds, but they grew thicker the closer to the port he drew. Tossing a glance over his shoulder to make sure Luther was still with him, he shook his head.

  Why did Father choose now, of all times, to risk a trip to their plantation? Granted, he’d had no way of knowing that Hilton Head would fall to the Yankees while he was away. That most of their remaining friends would be packing all valuables—wives, daughters, and silver—and sending them inland. He hadn’t realized General Lee would arrive during his absence.

  Hadn’t realized the talk that would spring up. Talk that Phin suspected had
been started with Owens—and perhaps a certain lieutenant who had a vested interest in seeing the Dunn name tarnished in the eyes of Savannahian society.

  “Whoa!”

  He jerked around again at the unexpected sound of Luther’s voice, and saw that a pedestrian brandishing a polished rifle had rammed his friend’s horse. Phin managed to grasp the bridle before the beast could rear, and Luther soon had him in hand.

  Still. Phin scowled at the gun-toting fool. “What the blazes is all the excitement about around here?”

  The man turned around and proved himself to be no more than a boy, one with ginger hair and a face with more freckles than not. “It’s the Fingal, sir! She made it past the blockade with a load of weapons, the biggest we’ve seen since those blasted Yankees came. They’ve got rifles, pistols, sabers, even new uniforms. It’s a triumph!”

  Phin hadn’t even the chance to voice his opinion on this well-timed supply before an older man took hold of the boy by the arm and urged him onward, grim faced. “It won’t matter, boy. You know what General Lee said—Savannah is not worth saving. All those guns will be sent to Virginia.”

  His hands tightened on the reins. Not worth saving. The words had been swirling through his brain since the general had dared utter them. Who was Lee to decide that? Perhaps Savannah was already overrun by their own soldiers. Perhaps the best of society had fled. Perhaps the Yankees swarmed the coastal islands—including the one the Dunn plantation called home. But did that mean they should give her up entirely? Hand her over to those who would destroy her?

  Phin sighed. If this were one of the stories Delia had been including in her letters to him, the general would change his mind at the last moment and surge in for a sudden victory, making their hometown the new seat of Southern civilization.