A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy (28 page)

She laid her list on the counter and wandered down the aisles, looking at the harnesses, the boots, the woolen blankets. Warm as it was getting, woolen blankets weren’t needed for some time. When her turn came, she waited while the proprietor finished with the earlier customer and turned to her.

“Hello, son, what can I get for you?”

Jesselynn pushed her list forward. “All of that.”

The man read the list, looked up at her, back down at the list. “Ah, this looks like a lot. You, ah . . .”

Jesselynn dug in her pocket, pulled out her leather pouch, and plunked it down on the counter with a satisfying clink. “That should cover it.”
Along with a lot more. What difference does it make if I’m a young man or young woman? If I hear one more time ‘Is your daddy here?’ I shall personally sock ’em with this rather than be polite
.

“Oh, and add on a dozen peppermint sticks and a packet of horehound drops.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll take two bags of oats on the back of the mule and pick up the other supplies tomorrow, if that would be all right.”

“Fine, fine. Anythin’ else I can get for you?”

Amazing how the clink of gold changed his attitude
.

Walking back to camp would be good for her. She’d let Daniel come in to pick up the rest. “Daniel is one of my range hands. He’ll be by tomorrow. He’s black. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

“None ‘tall.” He waited while she counted out his money, then tried to give her paper in return.

“No, I pay in gold, I get silver in change.” She held out her hand.

With a glare and a grunt, he took the paper back and laid out silver. “Paper’s just as good as gold here at the fort.”

“But it might not be at the next supply station. I’m sure you understand.” She gave him stare for stare and strolled out of the store. “He ups the prices for us anyway, Roman. I hate doing business with thieves.” Jesselynn checked to make sure the bags were tied and balanced before setting out for the east gate and camp.

Off to her left a platoon of what must be new recruits was drilling, the sergeant barking orders. An officer watched the proceedings from the shade of a porch, smoking a cigar and blowing smoke rings.

“Hey, boy, you want to join the Union army? You look old enough.”

“No, thank you.”

“Make a man outa you.” The officer waved his cigar and leaned against the porch post.

Not much chance
. “I’m goin’ to Oregon.”

“You’re making a big mistake.” He blew another smoke ring.

Jesselynn didn’t bother to answer. The sooner they left the area, the better.

She didn’t rest easy again until they were two days west of the fort. In less than two weeks they’d be at Fort Laramie.

Was it time for her to become a woman again—or not?

Twelve days, and we’ll be at Fort Laramie. Two days of hard riding, and I could be home
. Wolf didn’t have to close his eyes to see the pine-covered mountains, the clear running streams, and the tepees of his people. Home in Wyoming Territory. Could he force himself to go on to Oregon from Laramie? Instead of going home?

Visions of a laughing Jesse Highwood, soaking wet, dogged him day and night. What was her
real
name?

Richmond, Virginia

Dearest Jesse.

Louisa dipped her quill again and continued.

How I wish you were here, but even more I wish we were all at Twin Oaks where we belong, not scattered about the country like now. I have strange news. When Zachary and I went to Washington for medical supplies, he disappeared, and we haven’t seen him since. That was over four weeks ago. I keep praying God is keeping him safe, but lately God seems to be saying no to my requests.

She continued with a description of her trip and the happenings at the house, including a description of Aunt Sylvania reading to their soldiers and actually turning pink at their teasing. She told about the high life their sister was living with her lawyer husband in the Richmond capital.

I’m just grateful I don’t have to be part of that, but Carrie Mae seems to enjoy herself. Who would have ever dreamed growing up that the three of us would be living such different lives? Please, please, I beg of you, write and let us know how you are. Regarding my lieutenant, as you referred to him, we still have no news. I am having a hard time believing the old saw “no news is good news” in this case. Surely if he were able, he would have written by now.

She stopped and set her pen down, struck by a new thought. What if he just didn’t care any longer? What if he had met someone new, or someone he knew before the army?

She stoppered the ink bottle and rose to go look out the window.

Her heart surged, and she let out a shriek. By the time she reached the front door, the others had come running.

“What wrong?” Reuben caught his breath.

“Nothing. Zachary is here!” She flung open the door to see her dear brother negotiating the three front steps.

“Easy. Don’t knock me over.” He raised a cautious stump, hopped the final riser, and leaned against the porch post. “Now.” He spread his arms wide and welcomed her hug.

“Ah, Marse Zachary, you done made it home
again
.” The emphasis on the last word made Zachary laugh, the pure joy of it rising to the newly budding leaves of the stately elm trees.

“Yes, old man, I am home again, but this time there was no doubt as to
if
but only
when
. Coming the route I did was considerably slower than the train Louisa took.” He gave her a questioning glance, and she nodded.

Yes, she had delivered the morphine to the surgeon general at the hospital and nearly cried at the look of gratitude in his eyes. While he admonished her to never do such a thing again, she knew she would. Her boys needed it.

She hadn’t gone back to ask if they were out again; she knew the answer without the asking. Five pounds or so of morphine, even rationed, wouldn’t last long.

Aunt Sylvania appeared in the doorway, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Ah, dear boy, you have returned. Thank you, Lord above. I was beginning to think He’d called you home.”

“Now, Aunty, I’m too mean to die yet. God doesn’t want me till I get old and gray and with no teeth to jaw at Him with.” He hugged his aunt, accepting all the pats from the help and the congratulations from the one remaining soldier who’d been in the house when he left.

“Lots of new faces. That’s good, right?” He sank down into an easy chair and propped his crutch under his thigh so he could rest his leg on it.

“Mostly.” Louisa took the chair nearest him, knowing they wouldn’t discuss the trip until they were alone.

“You heard from the lieutenant?” he asked in a moment’s silence while Abby handed around the coffee cups and a platter of lemon cookies.

“I musta knowed you was comin’ home. Baked dese just today.” Abby pushed the plate back at him so he could take more than two.

To please her, Zachary bit into one and smiled wide, shaking his head at the same time. “You make the best lemon cookies in the whole world.”

“Go on, now, you say dat to all de cooks.”

“No, not at all. Yours are the best.” To prove it, he took a handful and set them on the table beside his saucer. “Now, then, tell me all the news.”

For the next half hour, that’s just what they did. When he was all caught up and the coffeepot empty, Zachary sighed. “If y’all don’t mind, I could do with a lie down. You’ll wake me in time for supper?” He smiled at Louisa. “Then I reckon I’ll be really awake for another of our all hours’ chats.”

Later that night the two of them retired to his room after the others had gone to bed. After telling his own tale at her insistence, Zachary turned to Louisa. “Now, tell me everything, and I mean everything, about your trip home.”

Louisa complied, trying to remember every detail. When she finished, he nodded, fingertips templed, his elbows on the arms of the chair.

“We need to go again.”

“I know, but they know me there. Pretty hard to disguise limbs and a face like mine. If it hadn’t been for the Quakers, I’d be in prison or shot. I do have some good contacts now if we can dream up a way to do this.”

“I’ll go.”

“You and what brigade?”

“Zachary, I made it home by myself.”

“Yes, thanks to a Yankee army wife.”

“There’s that too.” Louisa waited for him to continue and, when he didn’t, decided to ask her own questions. “Zachary, I have a favor to ask.” When he nodded, she continued. “Would you please ask whomever you can about Lieutenant Lessling? I
must
know what happened.”

“But, Louisa, you know the report said that he died in that train explosion.”

“I know about the report, but he might have lived through it. Others did.”

“Yes, and to the best of our knowledge, they are all accounted for. When people are alive, they come forth to say so.”

“
Please
.”

He nodded. “If it will make you happy.”

Two days later he sat her down on the chaise lounge on the verandah and took her hand in his.

“You don’t have good news, do you?”

“No. But there was finally proof. A watch bearing his father’s name was found at the site.”

“So, he could be a—”

“No, dearest Louisa, the watch was attached to . . .”

Louisa covered her face with her hands. “No, don’t say it.”

“I’m sorry, but you wanted to know for sure.”

“Yes.” Pain struck, not only her heart but her entire being. Lieutenant Lessling was gone, forever and for sure. There would be no wedding, no life together. Her first love, her only love. She sat stone still, letting the tears flow. Finally she wiped them away, steel returning to jaw and spine.

“When can I leave for another trip? I must do some good with my life.” She could hear the reckless tone of her voice. The look Zachary gave her said he had heard it too.

“We’ll see, little sister. We’ll see.”

“Now you sound just like Daddy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He rubbed his leg, digging under the straps. “If only we had all listened to wisdom such as his, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . but that is water under the bridge. Now we must see it through.”

She thought he’d forgotten she was there until he looked up with anguish-filled eyes. “Louisa, I cannot lose you too.”

“We shall see. After all, maybe the war will end next week.” But both of them knew she was only trying to put on a good face. Maybe the war would go on forever, or at least until every Southern male was dead.

“I will never leave you.”

I know that, but, God, you seem so far away. And so many no’s. Can I bear it?

Surely it was the breeze that whispered,
Yes
.