Juliet's Moon (3 page)

Something in the way he said it made me decide that I never wanted to get on the bad side of him. Ever.

"Some say Sue is a man and some say she's a woman," I reminded him, giving the conversation a new turn. "To me she's a woman and a heroine. Like Joan of Arc."

He scowled. "I've noticed how much time you've spent with her this last week. Don't make friends there, Juliet." He was begging. "There are other girls I'd rather have you emulate."

"Who?"

"Martha."

So he still did think highly of Martha. We were at the path that led to the holler now. From the distance you could hear echoes of hammering through the thickness of the trees. He slipped off his horse and gestured that I should do so as well. I did. Then I followed him down a steep path into the valley, where there was a trickling stream at the bottom. A narrow wooden bridge straddled it. I expected to lead my horse across, but we just stood there on the bank while the horses watered.

"You can't even see it from here for the trees," I whispered to him. "All I can see is some big sprawling thing with fences and a porch and"—I stood on tiptoe—"why, it looks just like ours did, Seth!"

"Does that surprise you?"

"No, I guess not."

"I've got everything Pa had. Parlors, big windows, an office, a nursery, I've even got a room for you. Upstairs. It's just that it's made of logs."

"Really? Could we go see it now?"

"No," he said. "Leave everyone to their work. The negroes we had at home are harvesting the corn and wheat and just about everything else. I've had some of them here working all summer, with Pa's permission. Now Maxine's stepped in as overseer."

"Maxine?"

"Don't laugh. She could put on a tall hat and be Lincoln, that woman. Look, I just wanted to let you know how to get here in case you need to someday."

"Why would that be?" I pushed.

We led our horses back up the hill. "If the Yankees come and fire the Anderson place. Or just run you girls off. Or if, in any instance, you just need a place to stay. I'd want you to bring the others here. Promise me that, Juliet."

I knew what he was doing. Providing, in case something happened to him. "I promise," I said.

"And, if I fall in a fight, I'd like you to stay in this house with Martha and her sisters. It's got everything you all will need. Course, it'd be your house then." He cleared his throat. "I've made some arrangements."

"Seth, are you going to die?"

He grinned. "Course not, honey, I'm too pumpkin-headed, toad-rotten mean to die."

"I don't think you're mean, Seth."

"Then let's hope I never have to be mean to you, honey. Look, anybody with half a brain has got to make arrangements. I've a lot to think about now. My wild days are over."

"Are you going to marry Martha?"

He had the decency to blush.

"I've never kissed Sue," he said quietly. "I promise you that. But God help me, I am smitten with her. There's something about her that can bewitch a person. But I never kissed her or put a hand on her. Tell Martha that for me, will you, please? I know you two talk and tell secrets."

"Yes, Seth, I'll tell her." Proud to be confided in, I was. Proud that he trusted me, this brother of mine. And I wanted to say something to let him know how much I loved him. And all the rest of it was teasing on my part. But he knew it, I was sure. Brothers always did, didn't they? When it came right down to it, when push came to shove, they'd die for you, wouldn't they? Bill Anderson's sisters knew that about Bill, and I would know no less about Seth.

We rode back to the house in near silence. There was nothing more to be said.

T
HE MEN
left at five the next morning, just as old Caesar, the rooster, was welcoming the day, which was as yet all mist. I heard muffled talk, laughter, from downstairs. I smelled coffee and bacon. I put on my robe and slippers and crept down to see them all huddled around the dining room table, still using lamplight, which, in itself, cast long shadows over the scene.

Judah, the Andersons' girl, was making pancakes. I sat on the lower step and watched, unseen for a moment. And then the ever and all-seeing Quantrill spotted me and nudged Seth, who got up and came over.

"Go back to bed," he said.

"I want to eat with you all."

"We're going soon."

"Then I want to say good-bye."

"I thought we did that yesterday on our ride."

"Are you going to kiss Martha good-bye?"

"Checking up on me, is that it?"

"I think you should take her out on the porch and kiss her. I think she needs it."

"And what do you need?"

My eyes swam with tears. "For you to tell me I'm a wonderful little sister and you love me."

He touched the side of my face. "Course I do. Would I put up with you all these years if I didn't?"

I reached up and put my arms around him and kissed him. He had a stubble of beard on his face. "You didn't shave."

"Didn't have time. Look, Sue Mundy isn't coming along on this trip. She's here to protect you girls in case the Yankees come."

"As a girl or as a man?"

"Does it matter? She's a good shot as either one."

"I like her better as a woman," I told him.

"I've spoken to Martha. You're not to be a pest to Sue. You're not to spend too much time with her. You're to help out around here and do as Martha says. And do your schoolwork. Now I've given Martha money for your keep and to buy fabric for new dresses for you in town. Fall's coming. Think of warm clothes."

"Oh, thank you, Seth. You're the best brother."

He kissed me and, listening to my advice, when they all went outside, he did take Martha aside on the porch to talk. And when they were alone, he kissed her. I know I shouldn't have been watching, but I did. Oh, he was a fine kisser. I wondered where he'd learned all that.

"You oughta be spanked, watchin' your brother like that." It was Judah. She'd come to clear the table. "Bad girl. You want me to tell him?"

"No, please, I ... just ... have a special interest. I told him to kiss her good-bye, and I just want to make sure he did it, is all."

"You doan have to make sure that brother of yours knows how to kiss, missy. He sure do from what I seen. Now come on. You might as well sit down an' have breakfast. We goin' to town today."

I
T WAS
that very day that
I
found out the shocking truth about Sue Mundy.

I'll never forget the way she told me. It was the first time I felt really betrayed in my life. And the feeling made me sick inside.

I'd been standing aside in the grape arbor after we got back from town, a safe distance from Sue Mundy who was practicing her shooting. She was dressed in her Confederate uniform, right down to the double row of brass buttons in front, with her sash around her waist and shined boots, her hair tucked under her hat, looking very dashing.

She hit the target nearly every time.

She had stopped to reload her pistol when I said to myself: "All these years I've worshipped her, and here she is within feet of me. I ought to do something, say something, and stop acting like a jackass in the rain." True, I'd been in her company all week, but never alone. Always there had been someone else along. And always I'd wanted to say something to her.

Always I'd sensed that she knew it.

I could almost see what there was about her that attracted my brother. She had an aura of confidence, a swagger, a sauciness that Martha did not have.

She stopped shooting just then, holstered her pistol, and waved me over. I went.

"Well," she said, "I'm beginning to think I have a shadow. What did you think of my shooting?"

"You're good," I said.

"But not as good as your brother, hey?"

I didn't answer. Seth never missed his target.

"You know what they tell me about you?" she asked.

My heart thumped inside. "What?"

"That you have a scrapbook about me. Is that true?"

I blushed and looked at the ground. "I had one. For a long time. But it burned when the Yankees fired our house."

"I'll bet it was a beauty," she said.

I nodded yes.

"Hey," and she touched my shoulder briefly, "you goin' shy on me? Don't be shy. It's all a waste of time. I also hear that you can be quite a lively little piece when you want to. Give that brother of yours a run for his money. Good. Keep him on his toes. Wish I could be around when you get older and see how this thing plays out."

"What thing?"

"Never mind. I've something I want you to do for me. Will you listen?"

I nodded yes.

"Come over here, by this tree, and let's sit down."

She took out a cheroot and lighted it, blew out the match, sucked in the smoke, and blew that out, too, then waved it away. Oh, how I wished I could do that! It made you look so grown-up!

She looked amused. "Wanna try?" She took the cheroot out of her mouth and offered it to me.

I didn't want to be a Miss Prissy Boots, but neither did I want to provoke Seth into killing me. "No thanks," I said. "Seth would have kittens if he found out."

"How will he find out?"

"He finds out everything sooner or later."

"I wish I knew that to be true," she said wistfully.

She was sad. Something was bothering her. I waited until she spoke again.

Finally she did. "Your brother," she said carefully, "is smitten with me. At least he thinks he is. What are we going to do about that?"

"I don't know," I said.

"You're taken with me, too, aren't you?"

I blushed down to my toes. "I admire you tremendously," I said decorously.

"It's more than admiration, honey. It's love. Puppy love."

I opened my mouth to object, but she shook her head no. "Before you go thinking that I'm peculiar, let me tell you why you're in love with me. And what it is that we have to tell your brother."

She paused only a moment, then sighed. "Juliet, I'm not a woman. I'm a man."

Her face wavered in front of me. The words echoed inside my head. "What?"

"You heard me, honey. I'm a man. And you are completely normal. That's why you're in love with me."

I scrambled to my feet. "You're not. You can't be. I've seen you in women's clothes!"

"Clothes don't make the person, Juliet. You see, when I fight alongside the men, I really
am
the Lieutenant Flowers I pretend to be. They all love me for it. They all think I'm a brave, incorrigible woman. The kind of woman they'd marry if they had the courage. And your brother has taken to flirting with me like a schoolboy. He's hooked like a fish on the line, honey. At first I thought it was all great fun, and I planned to tell him one day in the future, and then I come here and I meet Martha."

She hesitated. She inhaled the cigarette. "That sweet, patient, beautiful woman who waits for him to make up his confused mind. And I say to myself: 'Lieutenant Flowers,' I say, 'you can't let this go on. You've got to tell him.' Only I don't because I don't have the courage. And then I meet you."

I said nothing while I tried to piece it all in my head. She was lying, as sure as my name was Juliet. "I don't believe a word of it," I said.

"Why would I make such a thing up?"

"Why not? Look what you've made up already. You've done so much lying you don't know what the truth is anymore."

"Honey, if you were my little sister, I'd slap you for talking like that to me. But instead I'm going to prove I'm not lying another way." And she stood up then and grabbed me by the shoulders and drew me to her. "This," she said, "will open your eyes to a lot of things." And she leaned down and kissed me.

I'd never been kissed like that before. It was at first horrible and intrusive, and then sweet and gentle, and I knew no woman could kiss like that.

Sue Mundy was a man!

He released me and I was wobbly on my feet.

"Who
are
you!" I demanded. "You have no
right!"

"Darling, sweet girl, I just touched you with a kiss and made you grow up, didn't I?"

"You're a man! You're Lieutenant Flowers!"

"Yes, but that wasn't Lieutenant Flowers kissing you. That was Marcellus Jerome Clark."

"Who is that?"

"My own real name. Juliet Bradshaw, we all have our own private moon. And every moon has a dark side. Only we never dare confront it or let others know about it. Most times we don't even know it is there. Not our moon. Our moon has no dark side."

"What is all this talk about moons? I'm going to tell Seth you kissed me. And then you'll be sorry."

"Ah, Seth. He's what this is all about. Think of what a kettle of fish we're all in here. You and your brother both in love with the same person. Only you're in love with Lieutenant Flowers, and he's in love with Sue Mundy. And then there's poor dear Martha, having to wait for the man she loves, disappointed once already, and she's paying the price. I tell you, Juliet, you have to tell Seth I'm a man. You're the one to do it. And that's what all this is about."

"Me? Why me? Why not you?"

"Because he loves you, sweetie. He's a good, gentle man and he doesn't deserve to suffer, and I know you don't want to see him suffer or be embarrassed, or lose Martha. He'll accept it from you, his darling little sister, more than from anybody else. Please, let's not let this go any further. Will you do this for all of us?"

"So you're going to let your secret out, then?"

"No. That's another thing. You and Seth must never let it out. My disguise is important to Quantrill and the Confederate army. I can't tell you why now, but I will soon. Will you cooperate in this?"

I was privy, mayhap, to confidential intelligence. And I was trapped. My eyes misted over. I had a headache of a sudden. My innards hurt. I stumbled toward the house as if running out of a nightmare.

I
S IT POSSIBLE
that being the possessor of another person's terrible secret can get you so filled up with agony that you can get sick inside? That it can make you
bleed?

The secret took refuge in my head and my guts. The headache hurt so much that Martha had to give me a cold pack and rub my forehead with vinegar and declare, in her storybook voice, that "a good supper will make you feel better."