Widow of Gettysburg (19 page)

With bullets zipping through the air above him, Harrison scurried down the eastern slope to retrieve his horse from the Weikert farm. He needed a different observation point, that was all.

Then he saw her, Bella Jamison, running frantically back to the farmhouse with the rest of the women and children.

“Mrs. Jamison!” He called out, but she did not hear him. When he got close enough, he grabbed her elbow, and she whirled around and punched him in the gut. He doubled over for a moment, and vaguely registered that she had laid a hand on his back in apology, he guessed. He stood again.

BOOM!

“I need to get over to Seminary Ridge!” he shouted over the roar of Union artillery. “Do you still want to go?”

BOOM!

Her eyes went wide, she nodded, and together they ran to his horse, the earth rumbling beneath their feet. He helped her up into the saddle, swung himself up to sit behind her, and kicked his heels sharply into the horse’s sides.

“I need to watch the rest of the battle from the Ridge,” Harrison shouted, “and then I’ll take you wherever you wish.”

Blue-grey powdery smoke rolled down the hill, chasing them as they left.

Shock rippled through Bella as Harrison’s horse carried her onto Liberty’s property. Three horses wandered about in the nearby field, grazing on and trampling the wheat. The fences that had once neatly enclosed the garden were gone, used for kindling, Bella surmised, for the fire that crackled loudly in the sweltering summer afternoon. Black smoke billowed up from behind the house, sending noxious fumes of burning horseflesh into the air.

“I take it this is not what you expected to find.”

Coughing, she drew a hand over her mouth and nose, but the smoke had already snaked down her throat.

“Nasty business, burning dead horses,” Harrison muttered as he helped her dismount. “But it’s the only way to be rid of them, and the sooner the better. Are you going to find her?” He tied his horse to an apple tree bearing small green promises.

Bella’s feet remained rooted in the ground. Another smell, the strong odor of ammonia, pinched her nose. If the men had bothered to dig a ditch for their own waste, they had not bothered to turn soil onto it, or throw in chloride of lime. The dooryard and much of the land was covered with men in bloody bandages, and men who had come apart. A buzzing layer of flies covered a pile of festering limbs outside the summer
kitchen. The loping Southern accents that drifted to her told her they were not Union men even without looking at their uniforms.

Confederates!? Here?
Her heart pumped faster to keep up with her whirling thoughts. If any one of these men had laid a hand on Liberty—

“Come, I’ll go with you.” Harrison offered Bella his elbow, and she hooked her hand through it, keenly aware she was doing two things she’d never dreamed of in this life: she was being escorted by a white man, and she was willingly walking into a sea of Rebel soldiers.
At least they are all wounded.
“They won’t harm you now.” For once, she was glad to have this nosy reporter around.

“Bella?”

Bella jerked her head around until she saw Liberty. Her brown gingham dress and broad apron were speckled with dark red spots, the hem lined with mud. Black curls fell loose from their bun and clung to her neck. But it was her eyes that told on her. That she had seen too much, had seen things that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Liberty hitched up her skirts and wove her way through the men on the ground until she was right in front of Bella. She grasped Bella’s hands, and squeezed. “You’re here! Oh thank God, thank God you’re here.” She threw her arms around Bella’s neck. Bella hugged her tightly, and noticed she no longer smelled of apples and cinnamon, but of sweat and fear and pain. But she was safe. Her daughter was safe.

Libbie stood back.

“You’re all right,” they both said at once. Harrison chuckled at Bella’s side.

“Oh, Liberty Holloway, this is Mr. Harrison Caldwell. He’s a reporter for the
Philadelphia Inquirer
, and he brought me here from Cemetery Ridge.”

Liberty shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Thank you for bringing her to me. And these—” she spread her arms wide and glanced over her shoulder. “These are my patients.”

“Excuse me?
Your
patients?” Alarm rang throughout Bella’s spirit.

Liberty raised her eyebrows. “Well, yes! I know they aren’t Union
soldiers, Bella. I would have preferred to care for our own—actually, if you had asked me two days ago, I would have said I preferred to be left alone completely. But these men need help, and I have been doing that ever since they arrived.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Bringing them water, brandy, food. Writing letters for them. Assisting the doctors.”

Visions of the mangled bodies at the Weikert farm swam before Bella’s eyes. The sights had been so gruesome, she was grateful to be able to spend all her time laboring over a hot kettle of beef tea in the kitchen instead. How on earth had Liberty been able to stand it? “Assisting the doctors? Really?”

“Don’t look at me that way. I know what you’re thinking. But I did it. Just ask the doctor.”

“Or me.”

All three heads turned to see a patient grinning up at them. “She was right there when saw-bones nearly took my arm. A braver, more beautiful gal I never did see.” That Southern twang, combined with the hungry look he gave Liberty, was enough to make Bella’s stomach sour.

But Libbie smiled at him.
Smiled at him!
“Thank you, Isaac. Is your arm feeling all right now?” She turned to Bella and Harrison. “It was only a round musket ball, not a minié ball that entered his arm, so the doctor was able to pull it out fully intact.”

“I feel right as rain whenever you’re around, Sugar. Liberty’s my girl, now. Aren’t you, Liberty?”

Bella stared at Liberty. This could not be happening. This was not right. Liberty was in mourning for a man who died for the Union. She would never put up with this—

“Right, Isaac. Remember, you and six others.”

Bella gasped, and Liberty offered her a wobbly, guilty-looking smile. Harrison seemed amused by this exchange. She wasn’t amused. She was horrified. Liberty Holloway was
flirting
with a Rebel? She had no idea what she was doing.

With a hand on Liberty’s shoulder, Bella spun her aside and hissed. “Just what is going on here? Have you changed so much in six days’ time that I barely recognize you myself?” Her forehead ached, and she pressed a hand to the pain. She sounded more like a mother than the hired help.
She needs a mother right about now.
“Have you forgotten who you are?” The words slipped out before she could catch them. Before Bella remembered.
She doesn’t know who she is.
Bella had always thought it was better that way. Now, doubt shook her.

Astonishment bloomed on Liberty’s face. “You sound just like Amelia.”

“Who’s Amelia?” Exasperation laced her tone.

“No, who are you?” That Rebel, Isaac, rose and jabbed a finger at her. “I don’t appreciate you talking to my girl thatta way.”

Your
girl?
Your
girl?
Bella glared at the little Rebel.

“He’s not serious, Bella, it’s only in jest.” Liberty whispered, tugging on her sleeve. “The doctor told me to play along, to raise their spirits. It’s only a game.”

“Oh, I am too serious. Lookit you. You think you’re as good as white just because your skin ain’t black as pitch.”

Bella’s blood ran cold. He was thin, his chin was weak, and he was no taller than she was—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t crack a whip over her back. Or worse. She had seen his kind before.

“Why, Isaac Tucker—”

He held up a hand to silence Liberty. “No, Sugar. She oughta be servin’ you, not scolding you. Or serving me.” He raked his gaze over Bella.

She closed her eyes, shutting out his face, while the old memory dredged back up again. The weight of a man’s body crushing the breath out of her, the tobacco on his breath. Her own tears rolling down the sides of her face and filling her ears before spilling onto the pillow.

“You get on outta here now. Go on. Make yourself useful and fry us up some chicken and biscuits.” Isaac snickered. Other patients did not. Most just stared, but one of them told him to hush his mouth and sit down.

“Now see here—Isaac, is it?” Harrison stepped in and blocked the
Rebel from her view while Liberty whisked her away, toward the shade of the oak trees next to her house.

“I’m so sorry, Bella,” Liberty whispered.

“Me, too.” Her throat tightened with unshed tears. “How could you care for a man like that?”

“I don’t care for him as a man, understand. I’m simply caring
for
him as a patient. See the difference?”

Bella studied Liberty’s face and nodded. “I do. I see a big difference.” She raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re referring to the changes in me, then yes, I freely admit I’m different from the girl I was last week. I still love the Union. I still hate slavery and hope the Confederacy is defeated soon. The sooner the better. But aren’t we supposed to love our enemies?”

Bella grit her teeth.

“We can talk about all that later. First, I want to hear how you are. Where were you these last couple of days? Walk with me.”

Bella told an abbreviated version of her tale as they walked to the spring house to fill Liberty’s basin.

“And your horse?” Libbie asked as she bent to scoop up the water.

“Left him tied up on Baltimore Street and never went back for him. Mr. Caldwell says that when the Confederates took the town yesterday, they surely took him.”

Liberty pressed her lips together and led the way back into the sunshine. “It will be harder to serve your clients without a horse.”

Only one client interested Bella right now. The cries of broken men grew louder as they neared the house. “They’re inside, too?”

Liberty nodded. “No vacancy.”

Bella shuddered to imagine the mess that had overwhelmed the place where Liberty had pinned her dreams of a brighter future. “It will be harder to have an inn without—an inn.”

Liberty looked as if she might cry, but she laughed instead. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell you, I got my first guest for Liberty Inn last weekend.”

“And now you have hundreds!” Bella hoped to tease a smile from Liberty. It worked. “But tell me, who was the guest?”

“Is. She’s still here, locked in my room. I think.” Liberty looked up toward her own window before sighing and telling Bella about Amelia Sanger, Levi’s mother. Bella’s heart sank when Libbie told her Amelia wanted her to call her “Mama,” and soared when Libbie said she refused. Then, “Yesterday we had an argument.”

“Oh?”

Liberty sighed. “She didn’t want me to bring water to the patients. Didn’t want me to do anything to help at all. She said they would take everything from me.”

Bella let the words hang in the air for a moment. “Was she wrong?”

“I’ve been trying not to think about that, actually.” Absently, she wrapped her apron strings around her fingers before dropping them. “I have work to do. Coming?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We can keep talking, but I need to get back to the patients. I could surely use your help, too, Bella.”

“Are you in earnest? Did you not hear the way Isaac spoke to me back there?” Indignation had crept into her tone, but she didn’t care.

“That was wrong of him, I know it was. But he is just one patient. There are many, many others who just need us to drip water on their lint or bandages, to keep them moist. Most of them won’t even know we’re there at all. Won’t you please help me? I need you.”

“And I need you, young lady, to
think
for just one moment, exactly what it is you are asking me to do.” Her fists were on her hips. “These men held my family in slavery for generations and would love to see me taken back to the auction block today.”

“
These
men did?” Liberty narrowed her eyes. “Really? Do you recognize any of them?”

“You know what I mean, Lib—Miss Liberty, don’t be contrary.”

“Please. You have opened my eyes, just a little, to the prejudices you have faced because of the color of your skin. People make judgments
about you as a person without getting to know you. They reduce your personality, your skills, and gifts to a broad category.”

More than one category, actually.
Former slave. Mulatto woman. The help.

“Well?” Liberty’s eyes were circled with exhaustion. “Aren’t you doing the same thing now? You’re assigning the sins of your slave masters to every one of these men just because they are from the South. I met lots of men here who have never had a slave in their life!”

“And I’ve met plenty of men in the North who have no use for colored folks once they’re free.”

The women faced off, truth clashing in the air between them. Tears filled Liberty’s eyes, and the tip of her nose pinked. This was not the way Bella had wanted their reunion to go.

“You don’t understand the risk you take,” Bella tried again, softer this time. “Do these men respect you enough to leave you be? Or are you a symbol to them, the embodiment of everything they hate?” A chill swept over Bella. This wasn’t supposed to happen to her daughter. Not to a woman who looked just as white as anyone else.
How can I make her understand the danger?
“You are a Yankee. They are Confederates. Worse, they are wounded Confederates, which means their pride is already sore. What is to stop them from hurting you to make them feel like men again?”