To Whisper Her Name (7 page)

“You got the general’s permission to be in here?”

Ridley turned to see a man standing in the doorway of one of the stalls, a pitchfork in his grip and a squint of unwelcome in his eyes. Ridley quickly sized him up. The war had taught him many things, mostly how to read people, and rarely was he wrong. But the thing he noticed most about this fellow was how he resembled one of the corporals from that fateful night on the mountain, the first — and last — time he’d seen Robert Green. He wasn’t the same man, Ridley knew. And yet, staring at him, it felt like he was.

Ridley felt an instant dislike for him, yet forced a pleasantness, reminding himself why he was here. “I’m wondering if you could help me. I’m looking for —”

“I asked you … Do you got the general’s permission to be in here?”

Ridley held his gaze. “No. I don’t. But all I’m looking for is —”

“I know what you’re lookin’ for, stranger.” The man strode toward him. “Same as what that fella we caught sneakin’ round here last week was lookin’ for. You tryin’ to scout out what General Harding’s doin’ with his stock so y’all can take it back to Renfroe’s farm and give that ol’ man a leg up before the next race.” He came within a yard and stopped, pitchfork raised. “I got my pay docked for that, so y’all ain’t doin’ that on my watch, partner. Not again. You best turn around and use that door before I poke your belly full of holes.”

Ridley held his ground and the man’s stare, knowing he shouldn’t. Men like this were animals. Edgy. Territorial. Easy to draw off. You stared at them long enough, they felt a challenge, and he could tell by the way the man fingered the pitchfork’s handle, turning it, working to get a better grip, that he was an easy mark. With steam to blow off. Ridley knew the feeling well. He also knew provoking this man wouldn’t serve his cause.

He made a half-hearted attempt at a conciliatory tone. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble.” He laughed. “And I don’t even know who Renfroe is, much less —”

The man lunged, pitchfork aimed chest high, and Ridley spun, wincing when one of the tines grazed his upper arm. So much for filling his belly full of holes. The fellow was about his height, heavier with muscle, but a little slower. With a sweeping motion, Ridley undercut his legs, and the man went down hard on his back, dropping the pitchfork. But he didn’t stay down.

Ridley kicked the pitchfork aside, dropped his pack, and braced
himself as the man came at him. Momentum drove them backward, and Ridley slammed into a wall. The back of his head smacked with a thud he knew he’d feel later, and a horse let out a high-pitched whinny somewhere behind him.

He shoved the man back with force. “Listen to me! I’m here looking for Robert Green, that’s all. And I —”

The fellow came at him again, swinging hard. His fist connected with Ridley’s jaw, and Ridley would’ve sworn the guy’s hand was made of granite. He shook off the buzz from the blow and swung with his left — intentionally missed — then jammed a right hook square into the man’s chin. The man’s head whipped back. He staggered, dazed and bloody, but still didn’t go down.

Ridley flexed his hand, shaking off the sting, starting to enjoy this a little, though he knew he shouldn’t.

The man wiped his face, blood oozing from a gash on his chin. “I’m gonna show you what we do to cheats and thieves around here.”

“I’m not a cheat. And I’m not here to steal anything either. I told you … I’m here to see Robert Green. If you’ll just —”

The man came at him again.

“Grady Matthews!”

The man skidded to a halt, his focus beyond Ridley now, enraged. Ridley, his breath coming hard, turned to glimpse who was back there, while still keeping an eye on this Grady Matthews, just in case.

R
idley blinked and wiped sweat from his forehead, surprised when his hand came away bloody, but even more surprised by the emotion tightening his throat. A slightly older looking — and unarguably livid — Robert Green strode toward them, clad in a white apron, a slight limp hindering his gait.

“What in tarnation is goin’ on in here? Grady, you best start talkin’ or I’m goin’ to the general. And this time, he’ll send you packin’!”

“U-uncle Bob,” the man sputtered, pointing to Ridley, who took notice of the name he used. “It’s another one from Renfroe’s camp, come to spy us out!”

Robert Green turned dark eyes on Ridley. “Is that true, sir?”

“No, sir,” Ridley said. “It’s not.”

“Then what’s your business here?”

Ridley didn’t detect even a hint of remembrance in the man’s expression. He knew he’d changed some. Lost weight, mainly, which he was working to gain back. That, along with the muscle — not easy to do with meat so scarce and expensive. “I’m actually here to speak with you, Mr. Green, about …” He hesitated, glancing at Grady. “About a private matter, sir.”

Green studied him a minute. “Grady, go wash up. Then see Rachel about sewin’ up that chin again.”

Grudgingly, Grady took his leave, throwing Ridley a scathing glare that said this wasn’t finished yet. Ridley returned it.

“You said a private matter, sir,” Green continued once they were alone, his tone suspect, his expression still void of recognition.

Even so, Ridley felt a lightness he couldn’t quite account for. Seeing this man was like seeing an old friend again. And friends were
something he’d been running mighty low on lately. “It’s been a long time, Mr. Green.” He cleared his throat, his voice not sounding like his own. “But I still remember your coffee, sir. And the venison you shared with me that night … on the mountain,” he added softly. “Best I’d had in a while. And ever since too.”

Green’s eyes narrowed, causing the traces of wiry gray in his bushy brows to stand out even more. “Sweet Jesus,” he finally whispered. “It can’t be.” He searched Ridley’s face, warmth moving in behind his eyes. “Lieutenant Cooper? Is that you behind all that hair and them whiskers?”

Smiling, Green extended his hand and Ridley gripped it tight. For several heartbeats, Ridley just stared at their clasped hands, thinking how long it had been since he’d seen this man and how much had happened. And what he’d come to ask him.

Green’s hold tightened. “Every day I prayed for you, sir, ‘til the war was done, and then after too, askin’ God to pay back the kindness you showed me. But …” He laughed, his gray-touched beard pulling taut on his chin. “I can’t believe you’s standin’ here. Right here in front of me now.” He exhaled. “God kept you safe. Yes, sir, he did. Just like I asked him to.”

Ridley released his hand, the warmth he’d felt cooling a mite. “I appreciate your prayers, Mr. Green. But …” He exhaled a quick breath, looking to make sure they were alone. “I’d hardly call the time I spent at Andersonville ‘God keeping me safe.’”

Green regarded him, his features going solemn, and Ridley gathered he’d heard of the place.

“How long was you there, sir?”

“Fourteen months. They held me at Richmond first, then moved me down to Georgia when the prison opened come spring.”

“How’d they get you?”

“Ambushed me the morning I left you. On my way down the mountain.”

The lines wreathing Green’s eyes and mouth deepened. “Andersonville,” he whispered, looking away. “The general don’t speak much to me ‘bout the war. But sometimes, when men he served with are here, like today, there’s talk among ‘em. So I heard things ‘bout that place.” He looked back at Ridley, his gaze unflinching. “I’m sorry you was there, sir, and that they got you like they did. Sorry as I can be.”

Ridley appreciated the honesty in Green’s response, yet it made him uncomfortable, eager to change the subject. “What happened to you? After that night?”

“I kept the general’s favorite thoroughbreds hidden ‘til the end of the war. I still had to move ‘em ‘round from time to time, but them horses — the ones you let me keep — they’s the reason Belle Meade’s doin’ so good right now, sir. Cuz the general had somethin’ to start with after the war, thanks to you.”

Ridley shook his head. “Belle Meade’s success right now is due to you, Mr. Green. Not only because of what you did for the general, but because of your gift with horses. I saw it that night in the way you handled the thoroughbreds. I have to admit, though …” Ridley smiled. “It sorta spooked me at first, seeing how they just came to you like that. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Green bowed his head. “Thank you, sir. That’s mighty kind of you, but … it ain’t me. I’s just doin’ what God put me here to do, that’s all.”

The statement struck a chord inside Ridley, and he remembered what Green had told him about his mother finding him in the barn sleeping with the horses when he was just a boy. Ridley also knew, without a doubt, this was where he was supposed to be — for now, at least. Learning from Robert Green.

He only hoped Mr. Green would agree.

A horse whinnied in the stall beside them and poked its head through the opening. Ridley thought he recognized the black stallion. “Olympus?” he asked.

“Good memory, Lieutenant.” Green walked over and gave the animal’s neck a good scratching. He looked back at Ridley. “I’s sure glad to see you again, but what brought you all this way? Didn’t you say you was from South Carolina?”

Ridley told him about returning home, about learning his younger brothers had been killed and about his father. “He was a skeleton of the man I’d left four years earlier, his body all eaten up with tuberculosis. And he —” The words caught in Ridley’s throat. “He was still just as bitter toward me, even in the end.”

“For the choice you made,” Green said quietly.

Ridley nodded, able to see, even now, how his father had looked up at him from his deathbed. That same old ache began to throb again. “I think he blamed me for my brothers’ deaths too. Putting myself in his place, I might have felt the same.”

Seconds passed in silence, bits of indistinct laughter and conversation drifting in through the open entry.

“What about your mama?”

“She died a few years back, giving birth to a little girl. They both went together. Preacher said it kind of seemed fitting to him, but … I didn’t much believe that. Still don’t.” Ridley shifted his weight, again eager to get onto another topic. “A little over two months ago, my father died. I buried him, sold the house and what little was left of the farm, and set out.”

“Where you headed?”

“West, eventually. Colorado Territory. But I need something first — from you, Mr. Green. If you’re willing.”

Green’s brow furrowed.

Ridley took a breath, focusing all his hope. “I’ve come here to ask you if you’ll show me how to handle horses. How to work with them like you do. How to make them do what you want.”

Green’s laughter was immediate and full. “Lawd, sir … I’d sooner get my wife to do what I want than I could these blood horses. If I had a wife. Which I don’t.” His smile waned, but the spark in his eyes didn’t. “I don’t
make
these horses do anything, sir. I just listen to ‘em, let ‘em tell me what they need to. Then I help ‘em do what God created them to do. Run, strong and hard. Fast as the wind.”

Ridley stepped closer to the stall door. “Can you teach me how to do that? How to” — he felt a little silly actually saying the words — “
listen
to them like you do?”

Green sighed. “I ain’t never had anybody ask me that before. Shoot …” He shook his head. “I ain’t even sure it’s somethin’ I can teach. And what’s more” — his expression grew serious — “I’m not sure you’s ready to learn … sir.”

“But I
am
ready. I’ve come all this way. And …” Ridley hadn’t spoken of this to anyone, and talking about it now brought back memories he wished would stay buried. “When I was at Andersonville … thinking about this, about learning from you, Mr. Green … it’s all that kept me going some days. That, and the dream of getting out of there and leaving the South for good.”

For the longest time, Green didn’t speak, didn’t even look at Ridley. He just kept rubbing the horse’s forehead. Finally, he lifted his gaze. “I’m guessin’ you know how the general feels about things. With the war, I mean. And the Federal Army.”

Ridley thought of General Harding’s beard and of what Olivia Aberdeen had told him about it. He also considered the risk Robert Green would be taking if he said yes. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered it before. He had. He’d just never done it while in the company of the man himself, and the close proximity brought the risks into a harsher light.

Ridley picked at a knothole in the side of the stall. “I don’t figure General Harding would take kindly to the idea of me being here.”

“Lieutenant Cooper, that don’t even come close to the truth. If I was to say yes to you and the general was to learn who you are — or
were
…” Green exhaled. “We’d both be long gone from here. Maybe end up dead somewhere too. Not by the general’s hand. He ain’t that kind of man. But some of the others ‘round here … They hold a grudge for a mighty long time.” He sighed, rubbing his beard. “I been here at Belle Meade all my life. Everybody I know is here. I got nowhere else to go, sir. And I don’t want to. This here’s my home.” His hand stilled on the horse. “And … if the general see fit to lettin’ me stay, I wouldn’t mind dyin’ here neither.”

For a second time, Ridley found himself envious of this man and what he had. But he was also mindful of all Green had to lose. Hearing the man’s answer and seeing it in the watery sheen of his eyes, Ridley straightened. “I understand, Mr. Green. And I don’t fault you one bit for your decision.”
Disappointment
didn’t begin to describe the roil of emotion inside him, but Ridley did his best not to let it show. “I thank you for your time, sir. And” — he held out his hand — “for what you gave me that night on the mountain.”

Green gripped his hand, tighter than before. “And just what was that, Lieutenant?”

Ridley felt his eyes start to burn. “Hope,” he whispered, his throat closing tightly around the word. He walked to where he’d dropped his pack earlier and retrieved it, looked back one last time, nodded a thank-you, and headed for the door.

Once outside, he took a deep breath. Well, that was that … He sighed. The crowd of people had thinned. General Harding was still standing near the thoroughbred, flanked by supporters. But nowhere did Ridley see Olivia Aberdeen. The trunk that he’d set by the door was gone, and he felt an unexplained regret, thinking of her. He wondered if she’d find what she wanted and hoped she would.

The sun had moved on across the sky and the air had cooled
some, but not by much. An aroma drifted toward him, something smelling like ham and fresh-baked bread, and his mouth watered. His stomach was empty, but that was nothing compared to the loneliness within. He started walking, thinking about Petey and Alfred and his father, about his mother and little Emily — the sister he never knew — and how much he missed them. How much he missed having a place to call —

“It ain’t gonna be easy to learn, Lieutenant Cooper.”

Ridley slowed his steps as the voice behind him registered, as did the words. He turned them over in his mind, then turned back to see Robert Green standing in the doorway of the stable, looking straight at him.

“It’s gonna take time too,” Green said.

The man wasn’t smiling, Ridley noted, but that didn’t keep
him
from suddenly wanting to. “Time is something I have, sir.” Within reason, he thought, knowing he could learn quickly if he put his mind to it.

“And you have to really want it.” Green was unyielding. “This …
gift
, as you call it.”

“I do.” Ridley walked back toward him. “I give you my word, I do.”

“You gots to do what I say too. You gonna have a problem with that?”

Ridley smiled. “No, sir. No problem.”

“You good with a whip?”

“Actually, I’m very good with a whip. Even as a boy, I could —”

“Well, you ain’t gonna be usin’ that thing here.” Green fixed his gaze on him. “We
never
take a whip to a horse. Or a stick. So I hope you got patience. And lots of it.”

Ridley paused, not because he didn’t have a ready response, but because it wouldn’t be the truth. Furthermore, he had a hunch Green already knew patience wasn’t his strong suit. “I’m willing to learn that too, sir.”

“You can’t just be willin’. You have to set your mind — and heart — to it. It’s gotta come from here.” Green touched his chest. “And that ain’t easy.”

Ridley nodded. “I understand.” Though not certain that he did, he wasn’t about to admit it. He needed and wanted to learn what only Robert Green could teach.

Green met him where he stood. “General Harding ain’t a perfect
man, Lieutenant. Ain’t no such thing as that. But he’s a good man. Been right fair to me, and I feel like I owe him.” Green looked toward the main house where General Harding now stood on the porch with some other men. “But the way I see it …” He sighed. “I feel like I owe you somethin’ too, seein’ what you did for me and for the general. So … I teach you everythin’ I know, best I can. But somethin’ we need to be clear on, Lieutenant. General Harding is the one who does the hirin’ and firin’ ‘round here. I’m willin’ to teach you, but I won’t do it behind the general’s back. I’m guessin’ your pockets could use a little linin’ while you here.”

Understanding the unspoken question, Ridley nodded. “I’ve got a good amount saved up, but not enough. I could use a paying job, for sure.”

Green thought on this for a minute. “Then you need to meet the general and ask him for work, formal-like. General Harding’s mighty particular ‘bout who he hires. I sent a man away earlier today. Loner type, angry. Wouldn’t o’ done well here.” Green gestured toward the house where Harding stood. “You tell the general you done spoke to me and that I give you a nod. But if he says no …” Green shrugged. “Then I reckon I can’t do this after all. ‘Cause the only way to learn from me is to work with the horses, and it’s his stock I be usin’ to teach you. So it’s only fair the general gets the final say.”