Buckeye Dreams
Authors: Jennifer A. Davids
Yankee Heart
© 2011 by Jennifer A. Davids
Wounded Heart
© 2011 by Jennifer A. Davids
Restored Heart
© 2012 by Jennifer A. Davids
Print ISBN 978-1-63058-152-7
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63058-612-6
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63058-613-3
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in the United States of America.
Dear Readers
Welcome to the Buckeye State! One of the unwritten rules of writing is: “write what you know.” So it only made sense to set my stories in the place I know best, my home state of Ohio. But as I began researching, I realized I knew less than I thought about the state I’ve called home all my life. For example, despite the fact I have passed by Africa Road in Westerville, Ohio, countless times, I never knew how it got its name. I retell the fascinating story in
Yankee Heart
. For
Wounded Heart
, I dug deeper into the history of the county fair my grandparents used to take me to as a child, the Delaware County Fair. And in
Restored Heart
, I discovered why my alma mater is always referred to as The Ohio State University.
I hope and pray you enjoy walking back through Ohio history with me and that these stories will encourage and edify your soul.
In Him,
Jennifer A. Davids
www.facebook.com/jenniferadavids
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5385735.Jennifer_A_Davids
http://jenniferadavids.wordpress.com/
ANKEE
H
EART
Dedication
I would like to thank the Ohio Historical Society, Slate Run Living Historical Farm, and the Columbus Metropolitan Library for helping me with all the historical information needed to write this book. Many thanks to my husband, Doug, our two children, Jonathan and Grace, my extended family, and my church family for supporting me as a writer. And last but never least, a great deal of thanks to my Father in heaven.
Thank You for giving me the honor of being Your scribe.
This book is lovingly dedicated to my grandma Minnie and my great-aunt Jennie. You both were Ohio to me and are dearly missed.
Ostrander, Delaware County, Ohio March 2, 1865
K
atherine Eliza Wallace looked around her with wide eyes as she stepped off the train. Rising over the top of the tiny railway station were the false fronts of buildings, their painted signs announcing the Ostrander Hotel and Decker’s Dry Goods. Yet another store advertised furniture notions to her left. But it wasn’t the sight of the simple country shops that caused her to stare. A light snow was falling, the first the South Carolinian had seen in the twenty-two years of her life.
Her companion watched her with a gentle smile. “I’ve missed snow,” she said as she also watched the tiny flecks of icy softness swirl through the air.
Katherine turned to look at the woman, slightly embarrassed. “It’s lovely,” she declared in her soft Southern drawl. Then she shivered in spite of her warm wraps. “But my, it’s chilly!”
The older woman chuckled. “It’ll be spring in a couple of weeks. I warned you it would be different than living along the Congaree.”
“I don’t mind.” Katherine’s face grew pensive. “You know I had nowhere else to turn.”
Mary grasped her hand. “Welcome to Ohio,” she said with a grin. “Ten to one it’ll be warmer tomorrow and then freezing the day after.” They laughed.
A shrill cry rang out and they turned toward it. “Mary O’Neal!” A graying, scarecrow-like woman was bearing down on them from the direction of the dry goods store.
Katherine looked at Mary nervously.
The older woman smiled reassuringly and smoothed back a strand of Katherine’s dark hair, tucking it back into her bonnet. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered and turned to the new woman’s outstretched arms. “Ruth Decker!” Mary smiled as she gently returned the strong embrace. “It’s so good to be home.”
Grasping her friend by the elbows, Ruth smiled back as she examined Mary’s face.
“We thought you might be here soon. I’m so glad. We heard about General Sherman’s march. The
Delaware Gazette
said he went right through where your plantation stood.” She drew a little closer to Mary. “Did the general … burn your house down?” She finished the last sentence in a sort of loud whisper.
“No, he was very good to us while he and his officers stayed at the house.”
Ruth gasped and her eyes became so large Katherine thought they looked just like those of the tree frogs that were so common in her home state.
“Mary O’Neal,” she gasped. The train began to leave and her voice rose above the laboring engine. “You met General William Tecumseh Sherman and didn’t tell me straightaway!” She picked up one of the carpetbags Mary had set down on the platform. “Now you just come with me and tell me everything!” Mary gave Katherine a droll little smile, and they picked up their other bags and followed.
With the train gone, Katherine got a glimpse of the rest of the town. The tall spire of a church rose up further down, and across the street and a block or so closer was a brick schoolhouse. Several other homes dotted the rest of the town, and in the distance she heard the distinct sounds of bleating sheep.
“A purebred sheep dealer a street or two over,” Mary explained.
They stepped up onto the wooden boardwalk outside the dry goods store, and Katherine noticed there was a post office just around the corner. Evidently it was also taken care of by the Deckers, for Ruth stuck her head in as they passed to tell her daughter, a young lady named May, to mind the counter; she would be “back in a bit.”
The walkway ended at a stone-lined path, at the end of which stood a quaint whitewashed two-story house. Quicker than a body could say “knife,” Ruth Decker had them out of their wraps and sitting in her elegant little parlor sipping tea out of a china service she claimed her grandmother had brought over from Ireland.
“Now,” Ruth said as she came into the room with a plate of cookies, “tell me everything.” She sat down next to Mary and took her hand.
Mary smiled gently at her friend. “If you don’t mind, Ruth, first I would like to introduce you to my dear friend, Katherine Wallace.”
“Good heavens, where are my manners?” Ruth leaned over and patted Katherine on the leg. “I am so sorry, dear. I was caught up with seeing Mary again.”
“Please don’t give it another thought, ma’am,” Katherine said softly. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Ruth started at the sound of the young woman’s gentle accent and looked at Mary.
“Katherine’s family owned the plantation next to ours, Ruth.” Mary calmly took a sip of tea. “The Wallaces. I’m sure I wrote you about them.”
Ruth looked at Katherine a moment longer. “Oh, of course. Yes. How do you do?”
Katherine noted the cooler tone to the woman’s voice and flushed slightly as she took another sip of tea. It wasn’t the first time since they had passed the Mason-Dixon Line that she had been snubbed in such a way. But it hurt just the same. She lightly fingered the long, thin scar that lined her left jawline.
“
For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart
.”
The verse sprang into her mind of its own volition, and Katherine remembered it as one Mary had quoted after a particularly bad incident in Springfield, west of Ostrander. Katherine felt her face cool a little and, dropping her hand away from her jaw, took mind of Mary and Ruth’s conversation.
“You mean General Sherman used your house as his headquarters!” Ruth was gushing.
Mary smiled. “Well, not exactly. He and his staff simply stayed the evening. We gave him what we could, and he provided Katherine and me with a horse and wagon, which got us up to Lexington. There was no catching a train so far south. He’d ruined the lines.”