Undaunted Love, page 11
“As I said, I always win. Another?”
Wyman shook his head, picking up his coffee cup and sipping gently at the hot liquid. His eyes were on Livvie, and, she noticed, not confined to her face, as a gentleman’s should be. She was thankful she had on a day dress with a high neck and white collar, rather than an evening dress with a lower bodice. Still, she felt uncomfortable, as if he was undressing her in his mind. She stood and turned away, saying “I think I’ll pour myself some coffee.”
Livvie had longed to tell Madeline her secret. It would be much easier to spend time at the farm helping Nackie, and truth be told, feeling close to Rafe, if Madeline would allow her say she was visiting to help with the children and the new house. Madeline still had a soft spot for their father, despite his many tyrannical moments, and Liv was afraid. But with Hugh home and Wyman back in the house, she felt she had no choice but to seek an ally.
Her sister had laid the baby in her bassinet in Madeline’s former bedroom, and was sitting on the bed taking the braids out of her hair. Livvie sat behind her and pushed her hands away, taking down the intricate coiffure as she’d done many times, before her sister had married and gone to Wadmalaw.
“Mad, I have something to tell you… But you mustn’t tell anyone except Gardner. And he mustn’t tell. Mama and Daddy can’t find out, not yet. You must promise.”
Used to her sister’s dramatic bent, Madeline smiled and said, “As long as you haven’t broken any laws or become a Union sympathizer, I promise.”
Taking a deep breath, Livvie whispered, “I married Rafe Colton in April.” Madeline didn’t say anything, and Livvie couldn’t see her face. After a full minute, she said, “Mad? Did you hear me?”
Madeline turned and grinned at her. “I did, and I was trying not to scream!” She grabbed Livvie and hugged her tightly. “That’s wonderful, Liv, truly. And I won’t tell, and Gardner won’t either. We both liked Rafe when he helped us after the hurricane, and it explains a lot about you here lately, too.” She released her.
“Me? Like what?” Livvie asked.
“Like cooking, for one thing. You never wanted to learn to boil water until these last months. When you came to help me, you were cooking entire meals with Chloe. And you’ve gotten up at night with the baby, and played with Thomas, and been diligent about your sewing. All things you were never interested in before. And now I know why! So tell me all about it!”
Livvie did, including their wedding day, and Rafe’s furlough, and the pregnancy scare. She told her how she had been helping Nackie, and visiting Mariah Colton, and taking them food and what other supplies she could rustle up.
“Just be careful Daddy doesn’t find out about you givin’ them food and supplies, spendin’ his money. He’s the most tightfisted man in South Carolina. And he wants that house to go with the land he took from Mrs. Colton. He wouldn’t take kindly to you helpin’ keep them in it.” Madeline put her hand on her sister’s cheek gently. “But you go on bein’ a good wife, and you do what you need to do for Mrs. Colton and your Rafe. Just make sure Emmy and Nackie don’t tell every slave within ten miles of Byrd’s Creek, or it’s bound to get back to Mama and Daddy.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
April 23, 1862
Byrd’s Creek, SC
THE MORNING DAWNED BRIGHT AND beautiful, but Livvie felt nothing but sadness as she lay abed, looking out her window and thinking of her husband. Today was their first anniversary, but they’d only spent four days together as man and wife. She knew God had a plan, and she trusted Him… But she couldn’t help feeling lonely. Sighing, she closed her eyes and pulled the covers up over her face, blocking out the sun. A light knock on the door startled her. It was barely seven o’clock, surely too early for anyone in her household to need her.
Rising, she pulled on her dressing gown and hurried to the door just as another round of furtive knocking was beginning. She pulled it open and found herself face to face with Emmy. The old slave woman was grinning ear to ear.
“Here you are, child, from your Mistuh Rafe.” She handed Livvie a letter and continued whispering, “You need to get on up and go out to the Colton place. Nackie’s got some kind a’surprise from your husband out there, awaiting on you.”
Grinning, Liv gave her a quick but heartfelt hug, held the letter to her chest, and wheeled back into her bedroom. She ripped open the inexpensive paper, letting the envelope fall to the floor.
Happy anniversary, my love!
I know this is not the way we’d planned to be living one year ago, and I expect I’ll be waking as one sad and lonely man today. I’ll close my eyes and see you in your pink gown, your hair shining in the candlelight, and remember your scent.
It is still my hope to be home soon, but the conscription law passed this month would seem to make it impossible for me to leave the regiment and be there with you again. There is a rumor that those of us with the original 1st South Carolina Volunteers are going to get a furlough, but until I am handed papers, it’s only rumor. I dream of it each day, nonetheless, and nothing would make me happier than to be home in Byrd’s Creek with you at my side.
Nackie has something for you. It ain’t much, I’m afraid, not what you deserve, but I hope it eases your loneliness on this day. I love you more ever, Liv. Truly I do.
Yours faithfully,
Rafe
Post script – I do have some small good news – I have been promoted again, to sergeant. Along with the stripes, it’s another $4 a month, which will help Nackie and Mama a good deal, now that prices are beginning to go up and things are dear. Master Sergeant Lawrence says I’m a natural soldier. Given we’ve seen only one battle, and that small, I don’t know what all he means, but I am pleased!
Emmy had breakfast waiting, a fried egg sandwich wrapped up in linen. “Go on now, Nackie’s waiting on you with the buggy out to the edge of town. I’ll tell your mama you’ve gone to the Blanchard house if’n she asks. Go on, now, git!” She shooed Livvie out the door, laughing.
More excited than hungry, Liv nibbled on the sandwich as she walked through town. She barely noticed the gracious wooden houses, their wide porches so inviting on hot afternoons. Most had white picket fences, although a few were edged with black iron rails, and daffodils bloomed profusely in clumps large and small. Few people were about so early, although Livvie knew that on her sister’s farm Gardner and his slaves had been busy for almost two hours. She waved at the few people she saw, trying to walk casually but dying to break into a run. Finally she came to the edge of town, leaving the less affluent areas that hung on at the fringes behind, and walking down the south road.
She met Nackie behind a broken down barn on the edge of the Blanchard’s land, their usual meeting spot. Livvie could walk to the Colton house, and had in the past, but it took nearly an hour and a half, and she was always grateful for a ride. The old negro helped her up into the cart, grinning at her.
“You and Emmy are two peas in a pod, Nackie. You’re both grinning enough to split your faces in two!” But she hugged him all the same, and sat happily next to him as they turned off the main road and onto the lane leading to the house. All the land on the left had been Colton land, before Daddy took it, Livvie reflected. It made her sad, and faintly ashamed, even though she knew it wasn’t her fault.
Nackie pulled the cart around to the barn and helped her down. Livvie waited patiently, or as patiently as she could manage, only allowing her excitement to show by shifting from foot to foot while he unhitched the horse and gave her some oats. She followed him out of the barn and around the back of the house, entering through the kitchen door. A tray was waiting on the table for Mariah, with a small bunch of daffodils in a small vase.
“Shall I take Mrs. Colton her breakfast when it’s ready?” she asked.
“Miz Mariah’d like that right well, Miz Liv. I’ll get her breakfast cooked up shortly, but first I got sumptin for you from that husband a’yours. You just wait right here.” He left, and she paced. She was glad she had sent Rafe a package with new boots, socks and hard spice cookies that Emmy had helped her make, along with a letter. She’d rather have him here, but was giddy that he hadn’t forgotten their day.
When the former slave returned, he was holding a small package wrapped in a scrap of colorful cloth. A pink ribbon tied it up. He handed it to her, and kissed her cheek, still grinning for all he was worth. Livvie held it gently and walked to the table. Sitting down, she carefully untied the ribbon. The fabric fell away to reveal a simple cardboard box. Opening the box, Livvie stared, lifting her hand to cover her mouth, tears forming in her eyes.
The ring inside wasn’t elaborate, nor was it made of gold. A narrow silver band, chased with vines and leaves, it looked well worn. Livvie lifted it out with shaking hands, and slid it onto her left ring finger. A perfect fit. She smiled while tears ran down her face. Holding it out for Nackie to see, she was already concocting a tale for her mama that would allow her to wear her wedding ring all the time.
Later that day Nackie drove her back to the edge of town, and she left him with a smile and a promise of another visit. Slowly but surely the Colton house was becoming her second home. She had a few clothes in the wardrobe, things she didn’t think her mother would miss seeing. She’d left one of her silver backed brushes as well, and a few books. A basket sat next to her favorite chair holding the beginnings of a quilt that she was making for their bed. She smiled as she walked, admiring her ring now and then and humming to herself.
She went straight to the kitchen, knowing she’d find Emmy there preparing supper. When the old woman turned towards her, she held up her hand and grinned. Emmy came forward and gave her a crushing hug, whispering in her ear. “Yo mama’s in the parlor with that Mistuh Phelps. They been waitin’ for you. And he’s stayin’ for supper.” She made a face as she released Livvie.
For her part, Liv was dismayed. She’d had a wonderful day at Rafe’s house, being his wife, wearing his ring, visiting his mama, napping in their bed. She wanted nothing more than to come home, eat a quiet meal with her own mother, and write a long letter to her husband. She most certainly did not want to entertain Mr. Wyman Phelps.
“I’m gonna have to get a headache, Emmy. I’ll make my excuses and retire to my room, if you’ll bring me a tray when supper’s ready? I want to go write a letter to Rafe, not play games with Daddy’s idea of a husband.” She swept out of the room and entered the parlor across the wide hallway.
“Livvie!” her mother cried happily, rising. Clara Colton had already had enough of Wyman, her daughter could tell. Well, this time, she wasn’t going to be an obedient daughter.
“Mama.” She kissed her cheek. Turning to the young man, she said, “Wyman, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were coming. Unfortunately I’ve had a terrible headache today, and I’m simply played out. I’ve already asked Emmy to bring supper to my room.” Without waiting for an answer from either one, she left the room and ran upstairs, smiling happily.
Chapter Twenty-Three
May 7, 1861
Richmond, Virginia
SERGEANT RAFE COLTON AND CORPORAL Satchel Coburn hastily threw a few of their belongings into rucksacks. They’d just been granted a one week furlough, as had the rest of the long-serving former 1st South Carolina Volunteers, and they wanted to catch the early train from Richmond so they could arrive in Charleston by nightfall. Rafe also wanted to send a telegram to his wife, although he knew a telegram would scare her to death, and, if her father was home, would cause no end of trouble. Weighing the pros and cons, he’d decided he would risk it, and pray. He cinched up his pack and looked at his friend, who was dithering over his meager belongings.
“Come on, Satch, that train ain’t gonna wait!” He hoisted the rucksack over his shoulder. “You don’t need the paper and pen, who you gonna write that you ain’t gonna see in a week? Get a move on!” He slung open the tent flap and went out into the camp.
The encampment was noisy, dirty, and smelled of rotten things. Piles of refuse were stacked behind tents. The bones of thousands of chickens scattered the ground, thrown by soldiers or dragged by cats and dogs. When it rained, trash and filth ran freely in gullies. The grass was long since trampled away, and the red mud stuck to everything. Rafe shook his head. He’d be glad to smell the salt air and see wide-open spaces again.
Satchel came out, ducking through the flap. They could see others of their regiment following suit, and many were already heading towards the railway station. Rafe and his friend walked quickly, Rafe’s long stride making Satchel jog to keep up, but they made the train, hopping on just as it was beginning to chug down the track.
“When we get to Charleston, you know where I can send a telegram?” Rafe asked Satchel.
“I reckon, only it’s gonna be kinda late. Maybe you can get the officer at the train station to do it.” He lay down with his head on his pack and promptly fell asleep, a trick all soldiers learned early on.
Rafe lay down as well, but he couldn’t sleep. Looking up at the passing clouds, all he could think of was his wife.
It took a lot of talking and pleading, but the officer at the station finally agreed to send the telegram to the Colton house. Rafe prayed that it would be delivered to a slave, and not Hugh Byrd, and then put it out of his mind. Satchel’s father took him to Jeb Greene’s house, and agreed to pick him up there in one week’s time, for the journey back to their regiment.
Knocking on the door, Rafe bounced nervously, anxious to get home. Mrs. Greene opened the door and her mouth opened and shut before she could form words. Finally she exclaimed, “Rafe!” and threw her arms around him, dragging him inside the house. “Jeb, you come see what the cat brought in, now, will you?” she yelled.
Jeb came out, wiping his hands on a linen towel. When he saw Rafe, he threw the towel over his shoulder and strode forward, arms out. After a crushing embrace, he said, “Did they kick you out?”
Rafe laughed. “Decided to give us furlough at the last minute. All us old 1st Volunteers. We wanted to catch the early train, so I didn’t stop to send word. I hate to ask, but…”
“Can you borrow the horse?” Jeb interrupted. “You sure can, son. She’s out in the barn right now, fit as a fiddle. You gonna go in the morning? You know you’re welcome here.”
“If it’s all right, I’d like to go on now. I’ll go all the way home, or at least to the Kinney’s on Wadmalaw so I don’t have so far to go in the morning.”
“And Livvie knows you’re coming?” Jeb asked.
“I sent a telegram,” Rafe said. At Jeb’s quizzical look, he shrugged. “I know, but the only other thing I could do was show up in town tomorrow. God willing, her daddy’s in Charleston, and the telegram boy will hand it to Emmy and not Mrs. Byrd.”
“We’ll join that prayer, son,” Jeb said. “I’ve heard enough stories about old Hugh Byrd to think you don’t want to cross him, leastwise til you’re ready to.”
It was almost midnight before Rafe reached home. He’d accepted the invitation for a late supper, realizing he’d eaten nothing since breakfast and wasn’t likely to eat again until the next day if he declined. Jeb walked him out to the barn, telling Rafe the rumors that were circulating around Charleston, and Rafe telling Jeb what news he knew. So far, many ships were slipping through the Union blockade, but Lincoln was sending more all the time, and supplies and food were getting scarce. The biggest problems were seed and wheat, and if the Confederacy didn’t break the blockade, harder times were ahead.
Since the Battle of Manassas, which the Federals called the Battle of Bull Run, there had been smaller battles in West Virginia and out west, in Missouri, Oklahoma, Kentucky, Tennessee, and even New Mexico. Virginia had seen a few, but none involving Gregg’s Regiment. Gregg had dithered about the furlough, but in the end decided to release the longest serving half of the original five hundred Volunteers in hopes that they’d return rested and ready. The War hadn’t ended quickly, as everyone had supposed, and commanders were trying to balance readiness with the fatigue the men were feeling.
The house was dark when he trotted up, and he went straight to the barn to cool down, unsaddle, brush, and feed the borrowed mare. He was setting the saddle on the saddle horse when Nackie walked in, holding a lantern in one hand and a shovel in the other. Rafe laughed when he saw him, and the old negro breathed a sigh of relief.
“Mistuh Rafe, suh, I thought you was a Union soldier come to steal the silver!” he said.
“Just me, come to use it, if there’s any left,” Rafe teased. “We didn’t know about the furlough ahead, so I just came on home. Sorry I scared you, Nack,” for he could see that the old man really had been scared. He thought of his sick mother and this old man alone here, and then pushed the thought back. There wasn’t any help for it.
“Is Miz Livvie comin’ on, then?” Nackie asked.
“I hope so, tomorrow. I’ll go in to meet her, and we’ll see!” He clapped the man on the back and they walked together to the house.
Rafe woke, but kept his eyes closed. The down mattress held him in delicious softness. Under his head were down and cotton pillows. Soft sheets slid on his skin. He grinned. He sure wasn’t in his tent in Richmond! He leapt out of bed, throwing open the curtains to judge the time. In his telegram, he’d said he would meet his wife at nine o’clock. Suddenly he was overcome with anxiety. Had the telegram been intercepted? Had she even been in Byrd’s Creek? With the post unpredictable, he might not have gotten a letter explaining a trip to Wadmalaw. He berated himself – he could have stopped at the Kinney farm last night and found out.
