Last in a Long Line of Rebels (16 page)

Olivia clung to me, crying. “Oh, Louise, it's just awful. Brody Kimmel has been killed and Silas Whittle has been shot.” She put a hand on my shoulder as if to bring me comfort. “Walter instructed them to take Silas to his house, but they expect the worst.” I fainted at that point, my body seeking some relief from the terror I had wrought.

The days that followed flew by as if hidden in a deep fog. I sensed what was happening, yet had no clear vision of the actual events. I had little opportunity to see or speak to Walter as he spent all of his time at Silas's bedside.

General Dibrell sent an officer to assist in whatever way he could, but I soon grew to suspect he was more interested in monitoring Walter than helping the Reverend, and the guilt grew heavier.

It wasn't until the day of Brody's funeral, with Silas fighting for his life, that I confessed my part in the drama to Olivia. I expected her to be shocked, but she just nodded and revealed to me the most amazing news. She already knew! And what's more, she and Brody were not intimate as I had imagined, but rather working together to help some slaves in town.

“Brody was adamant that I tell no one,” she explained to me. “He felt that his reputation would undermine the entire effort.”

I lay on the bed and cried. “But I caused his death!”

Olivia lay down on the bed next to me. Her cheeks were wet with her own tears. “Then I share that burden. Brody came to me and told me that he planned to steal the gold back.”

“Back?”

“Where do you think the gold came from, Louise? Brody had organized its delivery from our connections in Nashville. I volunteered to smuggle the gold here, relying on the fact that I'm a woman and thus most likely to go unchallenged. It was foolish, since spies were watching, and my companion was searched and arrested. I only managed to avoid detection by sheer luck. When we arrived in town, Mr. Stevenson, the milliner, called me into his shop. By the time I came out, my friend was in leg irons.” Olivia wept softly. “I hate this war; we've lost so many good men. I counted the gold as lost, but not Brody.” She cried harder. “I should have tried more earnestly to stop him!”

It was too much to grasp. Olivia and Brody helping the abolitionists! “But that's treason!” I said to Olivia.

Olivia placed her hand on my cheek. “Surely, Cousin, you must see the wrongness of this war. Would you condemn Jeremiah, Singer and the others to a life of slavery forever?”

I could feel the weight of it all pressing down on me until I felt that I would go straight through the mattress ticking. Jeremiah, Molly, Singer, Lainey, Dode—I had known them my whole life, a constant reassuring presence. “No,” I answered softly. “I don't suppose I would. And the gold was to help them?”

“Yes, and others in the area like them.”

I began to cry again. Not only had my indiscretion cost Brody his life, but perhaps others their freedom as well. It was all so confusing. I wanted the best for them, but how would we survive without their help?

We consoled ourselves as best we could, but I knew I would find no rest until I told Walter the truth.

The following day, Father tapped lightly on my door, and with a shaking voice, informed me that Rev. Whittle had died.

I had to stop reading for a few minutes to take it all in. Walter was supposed to have stolen the gold, not Brody Kimmel. And Louise—how could she have blurted out such a secret? My ancestors were becoming very real to me, and I wasn't sure if I liked any of them.

The sun was just beginning to rise, and a light went on in my parents' room. Daddy gets an early start, even on Saturdays.

“Darn.” I shut the lid of the slave chest and carefully closed the diary. If I hurried, I'd be able to sneak back upstairs before Daddy finished dressing.

I'd just gotten back into bed when I heard Daddy go downstairs. I read more by the faint light coming in through the window.

Mr. Stanton gave me the use of his carriage and I made the short drive to the small house that had been Walter's childhood home. A gathering of the church faithful was already there, bringing food and encouraging one another. Silas had lost both of his parents early. Walter, although no blood kin, was as close as a brother.

I found him on the back porch, alone, sitting silent and still as a statue. He shook himself to life, and stood as I approached. We held each other, and despite my earlier determination to give myself no quarter, I must admit, Diary, that I savored it for as long as possible. Tears began to run down my face, but I had no words. I do not know how long I would have stayed in that state, had Walter not placed a loving hand on the cross I wore around my neck. The cross that had belonged to his mother, and which I now knew I was not worthy to wear.

I began to speak, and Diary, I told him everything. From eavesdropping under the stairs, and my fondness for Brody, to my culpability in the burglary of the gold, I spared him none of it. When finished, I sat, waiting for his judgment, not daring to look at his face. A moment passed. Then another. Finally I could stand it no longer, and I placed a hand on the gold chain holding his mother's cross. Lifting it carefully over my head, I held it out to him.

“Dear, dear Louise,” Walter said, taking the cross from me. “I am in no place to offer condemnation. If anyone is at fault, it is me.”

I was shocked. “Walter, how can you possibly blame yourself? If I hadn't told Brody Kimmel about the gold, he wouldn't have stolen it!”

“Brody didn't steal the gold,” Walter replied. “He tried but was too late. The gold was already gone.”

Confused, I asked, “But how? Who else would steal it?”

“I was on route to the courthouse when I saw Brody approach. Something about the way he moved troubled me, and I decided to stay hidden. I watched, amazed as he made his way to the judge's chambers and began to leave with the box containing the gold. I was not quick enough to stop him from setting the courthouse on fire, so I followed, surmising that I would catch him with his conspirators. He walked only a few short yards before ducking into the woods. I was there, watching when he opened the box. I'm not sure who was more surprised, him or me, to find it empty.”

“There was no gold?” I whispered.

“Not one coin, only rocks. Someone had beaten Brody to it. I was about to step into the clearing, when a shot rang out, and Brody fell wounded. He managed to get his gun out and shoot once into the woods, before collapsing. The dark prevented me from seeing his assailant. I grabbed Brody and carried him back toward the courthouse. I was hoping to find help, but it was too late. When Brody was found later, everyone assumed he had been shot pursuing the arsonist. The townspeople are calling him a hero.”

“But who actually did shoot Brody?”

Walter rubbed his eyes. They were bloodshot and tired, and I was reminded that he had most probably not slept in days. “There are some who believe I did, but I swear to you, Louise, I had nothing to do with his death.”

I put a hand on his face. “I know you are incapable of such as this. But who?”

When Walter told me he thought it was Silas, it was too much to believe, Dear Diary.

“But why?” I asked him. “Why would the Reverend do such a thing? Walter, surely you're mistaken.”

“I wish I were. As Brody lay there dying, I played it over and over again in my mind. Who knew the whereabouts of the gold? As far as I knew, there was only myself and Silas. As much as I didn't want to believe it, I came to see it as the only logical explanashion. Brody Kimmel had shot into the dark. Silas had been shot. No one else even fired a gun despite the rumors of enemy soldiers in the area. Before he died, Silas came into consciousness enough for me to question him.”

I gripped Walter's hand. “What did he say?”

“He confessed. He'd stolen the gold only moments before Brody arrived to do the same. When he saw Brody looking for the gold, he decided to seeze the opportunity. He would kill Brody, and claim he'd seen him with Union soldiers. He knew all about Brody's involvement with the Negroes, and thought that alone was enough reason to kill him.”

“I don't understand. Then where's the gold?”

“He tried to tell me. I truly believe that, Louise. In the last moments, when he knew the end was near, he tried to tell me. But he was only able to get out one word before dying.”

“
What was it? What did he say?”

This was it, finally, after everything, the gold! I turned the page, breathless.

“Havilah.”

I stared at the page. “You've got to be kidding me.” Of all the things he could have said, with his dying breath, it was
Havilah
. Not
in the cellar behind a wall
or even
ten paces past the hitching post
? I'd never heard of a place around here called Havilah. Maybe it was a person. Just my luck. The one time I wanted to hear a preacher ramble on, he couldn't!

From the diary of Louise Duncan Mayhew
July 1863

Molly is needed outside, and it has fallen to me and Olivia to darn our own clothing. My housedress has been patched so often, it looks like one of Mother's patchwork quilts. With so little food in our larder, our clothes hang on us such that we resemble scarecrows.

“L
ouise, come here and see what I found.”

Mama stood in the driveway, straddling a large wooden rocking horse.

“Isn't it amazing? I found it at an estate sale in Cookeville. It's an old German rocking and pull horse. Can you believe it?”

“Uh . . . wow.” I yawned as I walked out onto the front porch. I'd stayed up reading the diary until the words had begun to run together. I'd finally given up and hidden the diary under my bed.

“Where's Bertie?” Mama asked, running her hands over the painted saddle. “She'll appreciate this.”

“Still sleeping, I guess. I haven't seen her.”

Mama placed both hands on her hips, causing her huge belly to poke out even farther.

“C'mon, help me get this inside. It's heavy.”

We pushed and pulled the wooden nag onto the porch. As we crossed the threshold, Mama punched the doorbell, setting off “Rocky Top,” the UT theme song.

“‘Home, sweet home, to me!'” I sang along.

“Mother!” Mama yelled up the stairs. “Are you going to sleep all day?” She smiled at me and winked. “Payback for my adolescence.” In a few minutes, Bertie's door opened and she leaned over the railing.

“What is going on down there?” She was wearing a black silk robe with feathers at the neck.

“Come and see for yourself.”

Bertie seemed unimpressed. “Lily, what is that pile of firewood doing in the hallway pretending to be a horse?”

Mama frowned. “Very funny, Mother. This is a genuine German rocking horse from the eighteen hundreds. Why are you still in bed?”

“Didn't you hear that wind last night?” Bertie wrapped her robe tightly around her thin body. She started down the stairs and continued, “I couldn't get a wink of sleep for thinking that oak was about to come crashing through the roof.”

“I can see what kind of day this is turning out to be,” Mama said. “Come on down, and I'll get you some coffee.”

We walked into the kitchen, and Mama poured Bertie a large mug.

Bertie took a long sip. “Ahh, just what I needed. So, Lily, is Tucker meeting with the tree fellow today or not?”

“I think he called them yesterday, Mother. He left early this morning so he could get his work done. He's driving Isaac to Knoxville this afternoon. Remember, today's the big tryout for the Volunteers?”

“What?” I asked, turning so fast I bumped the table, spilling coffee on the tablecloth. “I thought that was next week. I promised Benzer that we'd go!”

“I told you the other night it had been changed,” Mama said. She picked up a dishrag and began wiping at the cloth.

“No, you didn't!” I was almost in tears. “You think you did, but you didn't. It's another example of your pregnancy brain!”

“Louise, calm down. Your daddy will come home to change—you can still go.”

I raced out of the kitchen. “I've got to get dressed,” I yelled, “and call Benzer. He'll die if he misses this.”

An hour later, Benzer was in my living room, wearing a pair of pressed khakis and an orange UT polo shirt. His dark hair was gelled down flat against his head, and he kept pulling at his bangs as we waited for Daddy to come downstairs.

“Benzini,” I said, “if you don't stop pulling at your hair, you're not going to have any left.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his hands down the front of his thighs. “I'm just excited about today.” He sat down on the couch. “Okay, tell me again what the diary said.”

“I've told you three times.”

“I know. I just can't believe there isn't more to it,” he said.

“What do you mean? Murder and betrayal aren't enough for you?”

He tugged at his hair again. The ugly scratch he'd gotten last night during the fall was visible every time he stretched out his arm.

“What about Havilah? That's what he said, right, so we just need to find out where it is.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “I've never heard of a Havilah around here, have you?”

“No, but we'll figure it out. Maybe he said Pavilah, or Havilou, something like that.”

“Maybe,” I said, unconvinced.

“Where is it, anyway? Let's finish reading it.”

“I left it under my bed. Meet me outside, and I'll run and get it.”

Upstairs, I dug my backpack out of my closet and carefully placed the diary inside.

“Lou?” Mom called. “Your dad will be down soon.”

“Okay,” I yelled. “Benzer and I will be out in the shop.”

Benzer was waiting by the side of the house. “C'mon.” I motioned him through the gate and closed it behind us. “Sit here. We only have a few minutes.” I pulled the diary out of the backpack and opened it on my lap.

“That is so cool.”

“I know, right? This is where I stopped.
But he was only able to get out one word before dying. What was it? What did he say? Havilah.”

Benzer flipped through the pages, scanning them quickly. “Union soldiers, the price of cotton, a funeral. Why isn't she writing about the gold?”

“Wait,” I said, stopping him. “Read that one.”

Dear Diary,

So much has changed over the past few months. Walter and I are delirious in our joy of one another. We were finally married last month, amid all of the speculation and mystery of Gen. Dibrell's gold. It was a small affair, only Father, Olivia, Audrey and Elizabeth were there. I wore a simple cotton dress, not the wedding dress I'd dreamed of as a young girl, but I missed it not. I do believe I am finally grown!

Soon after our wedding, Walter was cleared of any wrongdoing by his commander. He wanted to tell the truth of what happened, but alas, he couldn't. To do so would implicate me and Olivia. As far as anyone is concerned, Brody and the Reverend were shot trying to stop Union sympathizers from burning the courthouse. Despite the military finding, the townspeople, once our friends, have turned on us. We refuse to care. We have one another, and our family, and our Lord.

Our future is unsure, but still, we find joy in the journey. And many suffer so much worse. Once a month, we take our carriage to Brody's gravestone to aid in the upkeep, and we always find flowers. He is remembered.

As for the gold, we have found no trace. Walter continues to search, but it has eluded us thus far.

Louise Duncan Mayhew

“This is crazy, Lou. The gold was real! I don't know if we're going to find it in time, but I think it's cool you're trying.”

“Wow,” I said, smiling. “You used your starstruck voice! The one you use when you're talking football with Isaac.”

He grinned. “Well, you're not as cool as football, but you're all right.”

I was still smiling when we heard Daddy call from the front lawn.

“I'm going to hide this back in the chest so it doesn't get damaged. Stall until I get there.”

Mama was standing beside Daddy on the grass. “Tucker, don't drive too fast,” she said. “You know how the Cookeville police are.”

“I know,” he said, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. “Don't worry.”

She drew a sharp breath and put a hand under her belly. “Wow. That was a sharp one.”

“Are you okay?” I asked. It would be just like the baby to come early and ruin our day.

“Don't get excited. It was just a kick.”

I looked her over. She was wearing a neon yellow T-shirt, and as usual it seemed stretched to its limit. The heat had caused her curly hair to frizz, and the overall effect gave her the appearance of a tennis ball that had been left out in the rain.

I felt so guilty for thinking such a thing that I gave her a big hug.

“Love you.”

She hugged me back. “Love you too. Tell Isaac good luck for me.”

“Okay.”

She stood on the porch, waving, until we were out of sight.

We pulled into Isaac's driveway, and Daddy gave a quick honk on the horn. We were driving Mama's Toyota; Daddy's truck would have been too hot and slow. I would have liked to ride in the back with Benzer so we could talk about last night and the diary, but I knew Isaac and his girlfriend would want to sit together.

Daniella came out of the house looking like an ad in a fashion magazine in a denim skirt and a white tank top. She had an orange scarf tied around her neck.

I looked down at my own jeans and #16 jersey. Maybe I should take Patty up on her offer to go shopping before junior high started.

Isaac and Daniella walked to the car, and Benzer scooted over to make room. I had been so busy looking at what Daniella was wearing that I hadn't noticed Isaac. He was sporting a dark bruise on his cheek.

“Dude! What happened?”

Isaac gave a quick shake of his head and got in the car.

Mrs. Coleman had followed them outside and came to Daddy's window.

“Thank you, Tucker. William and I appreciate you taking Isaac today.”

“It's my pleasure.”

She held up a hand to wave bye to Isaac. It struck me that mothers sure spend a lot of time saying bye.

The ride was quiet. Daddy can be a man of few words anyway, but when he's driving on the interstate, he gives it full concentration. Isaac stared out the window, headphones on, probably thinking about the tryout. Daniella was asleep on his shoulder. Benzer was quietly reading, and my head was full of all the things I'd learned in the past twenty-four hours.

When we passed a sign proclaiming
KNOXVILLE—40 MILES
, Daddy pulled off the exit.

“I'm going to fill the tank so we don't have to stop on the way back.” He stopped in front of the pump and opened the door. “We'll be back on the road in five.”