A Place of Peace (17 page)

Holcomb smiled and took the glass.  The whiskey was good and strong and blazed a trail all the way down his throat.  His head spun a little.  “I must admit,” he said, clearing his throat.  “It’s been awhile since I had a shot of something like that.”

“Good, right?” said the woman.  “My neighbor makes it.  He’s got himself a still up in the woods.  Don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to make it, though.  Hard to find corn these days after those locusts came through.  Came through here last March and nearly wiped us out.  Damn Yankees.”

“Amen,” said Holcomb, draining his glass.

“So,” said the woman, pouring Holcomb another shot.  “You a soldier?”

“Was,” said Holcomb.  “Got captured at Shiloh, then got freed.  Trying to make it home to Murfreesboro, if I can.”

“Good,” said the woman.  “We need more men like you.  Fighters.”

“I don’t know how much of a fighter I was,” said Holcomb.  “Must not have been very good to be captured.” 

“I have a wagon,” said the woman.  “It used to be my husband’s, but, rest his soul, he don’t need it any more.  Got himself shot up at
Fort Donelson when the Yanks came through.  Stupid man.  Told him to keep his fool head down.”

Holcomb chuckled, then drank his second shot of whiskey.

“We used the wagon to haul barrels of beer,” said the woman.  “But the beer’s stopped coming, and it’s just sitting there.  I’d be lucky if I even knew how to hitch a horse up to it.”

“My name is John Holcomb,” he said, extending his hand.  “I would like to do business with you, if we can come to terms.”

“Judith,” said the woman, shaking his hand.  “Judith Mallett.”

Holcomb looked around the small lobby of the hotel.  “Do you own this fine building?”

Judith nodded.  “Well, me and my husband opened it before the war.  We weren’t much but a good stopping point for people traveling up to Nashville, but we did fairly well for ourselves.  Kept fed, anyway.”  She followed Holcomb’s gaze to some of the pictures hanging along the wall.  “Family,” she said.  “Now, let’s talk.  You said you have things for trade?”

Holcomb nodded.  “Medicine mostly.  Stuff that wasn’t confiscated by the Yankees on their march through.  I’ve got chloroform, too. Almost a full bottle.”

Judith frowned.  “I don’t know what I would do with chloroform, though.  What else do you have?”

Holcomb thought about the stacks of supplies he had left with Lilly and Colby.  “To be honest,” he said.  “Most of my supplies I had to leave with the broken wagon.  I couldn’t bring it all.  Not on my one horse.”

“I see,” said Judith.  “How much is that chloroform worth?”

“If you have a town doctor,” said Holcomb.  “It would be most valuable, especially for men coming back from the war.  I think I read the army was paying almost five dollars a bottle after
Shiloh from private companies.”

“Five dollars, huh?’ Judith whistled.  “You can’t buy a good wagon these days for less than fifty.”

“How much will you sell your wagon for?” asked Holcomb.

“I will sell it for thirty dollars,” said Judith.  “And that’s only because I think if I don’t, some Yank is going to come take it from me and I’ll have nothing at all.”

“Fair enough,” said Holcomb.  “I’ll see what I can do.  I’ll have to ride back out for some more supplies, though, if you want to trade with me.”

“Go on,” said Judith.  “You can stay here for the night if you want.  Give you a room and add it to the cost of the wagon.”

“Sounds fair,” said Holcomb, suddenly realizing how nice a real bed would feel.

“Drink up,” said Judith.  “Night’s drifting away.”

Holcomb didn’t have to be told twice.

***

The morning broke clear
and bright, and Colby found himself beneath the blanket with Lilly intertwined around him.  The chill of the morning dew gave him goose bumps, and he noticed they had let the fire burn all the way down.  It would take some time to get it going again to shake away the coolness of the morning.

Lilly was still asleep as Colby untangled himself and stumbled over to the remains of the fire.  He jabbed at a few of the embers with a stick and found one that was still faintly glowing.  After a rigorous application of twigs and smaller chunks of wood, the flame caught and began to crackle.  The warmth felt good against his skin.  He looked over at Lilly who had now curled herself into a ball in Colby’s absence.  He thought about the night before.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket with Melinda’s picture in it.  Perhaps Lilly was right, and she had been right all along.  He
was
chasing a ghost.  Maybe it was time to stop chasing the illusion and focus on what was real.

He hobbled over to the stack of supplies and found the bacon.  He selected a thick slab along with a few apples.  Yes, this would do nicely.  He would fry up the bacon along with some apples.  There was even some salt he could lace the apples with to make them sweeter.  As he squatted down and nurtured the fire, he noticed Lilly begin to stir beneath her blanket.  As he prepared the skillet, he looked up and saw her staring at him.

“Breakfast?  My, my,” she batted her eyes.  “How gentlemanly.”

Colby grinned and continued to make the fire hotter.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lilly slip her simple green dress over her head and brush out her hair.  “What are we having?”

“Bacon and apples,” said Colby.  “Not too bad, if I do say so.”

Lilly pulled her legs up and folded her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees.  She was staring at him, almost as if she were studying him.  He shifted nervously and poked at the fire, causing it to blaze hotter.

“John didn’t return last night,” remarked Lilly.  “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Colby.  He stared directly at the fire as points of sweat started to pop out over his forehead.  He didn’t know if it was from the fire or not.

Lilly sighed deeply.  “So,” she said.  “You must think I’m a wanton now.”

“Not at all,” he replied.  “If you are blaming yourself for what happened, please don’t.  I’m as much as fault as you are.”

Lilly laughed.  “I’m not making any apologies, if that’s what you’re getting at.  I rather enjoyed it.”  She stood up and came over by the fire.  Colby could still smell that perfume on her.  She placed one hand on his shoulder.  The weight of it sent shivers down his back.

“I don’t want you to think you have dishonored me and sullied my womanhood,” she whispered to him.  “I think it was natural, and beautiful, and I’m not sorry at all that it happened.”

He turned to her and kissed her again.  As she wrapped her arms around him and they sank back to the blanket, their breakfast was forgotten.  The ants began their crawl towards the neglected apples lying on the grass.

Chapter Eighteen

Over their morning campfire
, Melinda sat near Corporal Alisander Fairfax and chewed on a chunk of hardtack provided to her.  It hurt to chew, and her jaw grew tired, even after she had soaked the hardtack in a mug of coffee.

“I apologize,” said Alisander.  “Hardtack and coffee may not be the best breakfast, but I’m afraid it will have to do.”

Melinda nodded, still trying to chew.  They had spent the night off the road far enough so their fire could not be seen by passers-by.  Alisander had given her his extra blanket while he kept watch. 

He looked tired but cheerful as he sipped his coffee and winked at her. 

“Not far now,” said Alisander.  “We’ll have to double up on the horse.  Or you can ride, and I will walk.”

“Nonsense,” said Melinda.  “I’m not going to let you walk all the way to
Nashville.  We can share the horse.”

“If you wish,” said Alisander.  “I’m sorry you lost your wagon.”

“Not your fault,” said Melinda.  “It’s just one of those things.”

Alisander glanced up at the sky.  “We should probably get on the road.  Daylight’s burning.”

Melinda nodded, and as Alisander extended his hand, she took it.  His strong grip hoisted her up with almost no effort.  She felt like she was floating for an instant before she found her footing.

“Give me a minute to gather our things,” he said, moving around the makeshift campsite.  Within moments, he had gathered and rolled their blankets and secured them behind his saddle with the practiced efficiency of a
soldier used to packing and moving in a hurry.

“It would probably be best,” he said.  “If you were to ride in front, and I get behind you.  It would help steer the horse better.”

“Okay,” she said.

He brought his horse over to her and motioned for her to get on.  With a hesitant step, she hooked her foot in the stirrup and swung herself up.

“I do admit, you look a natural on a horse, miss,” he said.

“Please stop calling me miss,” she said.  “I know you’re trying to be polite, but please just use my name.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Alisander.  “You look natural on a horse,
Melinda
.”

Her name sounded strange to her when he spoke it, and she realized it had been a long time since anyone had actually used her name, rather than calling her “miss” or “ma’am” or “lady.”  She had to admit she liked the sound of it coming from him.

He swung up easily behind her, and she shifted as he settled in the saddle.  She was suddenly very aware of his chest as she pushed back into it, leaning into it like a comfortable chair.  He moved his arms around her and took the reins of the horse. 

“This may be uncomfortable at first,” he said, his voice very close to her ear.  “But we’ll get used to it.”

Melinda closed her eyes.  She was feeling very strange, especially with Alisander pressing up against her back.  She felt… comforted and protected.  Perhaps this is what she had been missing.  Not her father.  Not her home.  Just another human being to physically make contact with her.

“Are you ready?” he asked as the horse started to move towards the road.  She steadied herself as the horse began to sway.

“Yes,” she said, and then they were off.

***

She actually felt like
she was dozing off in his arms as they galloped.  The horse settled into a steady canter, and the miles seem to drift by.  Before she knew it, the farms outside of Nashville began to crop up, and in the distance, she could see the scattered buildings and smoke of the Union camps on the outskirts.

She had become used to the steady rocking on the horse leaning back against Alisander, and she realized that she regretted the fact that their ride eventually had to end. 

The horse slowed to a walk, and Alisander leaned up next to Melinda’s cheek. 

“I don’t know about getting too close to those camps over there,” he whispered.  “Might be looking to take a shot at a lone Reb, you know.”

Melinda nodded.  “How far out are we?”

Alisander surveyed the countryside like a seasoned scout.  “A few miles.  Maybe two.”

In the distance two riders were approaching.  Alisander drew his pistol, but kept it down by his side.

“This might be ugly,” he said.  “Those riders look like Yanks to me.”

Melinda glanced down at Alisander’s pistol.  She thought of her own rifle tied to the back of the saddle near the blankets.  If she asked him, he might could get it for her…

“They won’t shoot with you in front of me,” he said.

“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” she replied.

“Hang on,” he whispered.  Before she could reply, the horse bolted off to the side and started galloping across the field.  Melinda clutched the mane of the horse and held on as the horse sped up.

“We’ll outrun them before they see us,” he said, urging his horse faster.  Melinda felt like she was starting to slip when a strong arm looped around her waist and held firm.

“I’ve got you,” he said.  “I won’t let you fall.”

Melinda felt safe, and it didn’t seem to matter how fast they went, she knew he was right.

As the Union riders faded in the distance, Alisander slowed his horse from a gallop to a brisk walk.  He still scanned the surrounding countryside, always watchful.

“So,” he said.  “Where are we going again?”

“I don’t know,” she said, hesitant.  “None of this looks familiar to me.  I mean, the last time I was down here, I was ten.”

Alisander nodded and although she couldn’t see him, she could feel the motion of his head moving.

“She had a farm,” Melinda continued.  “Cows, mostly.  Probably still does if the Yanks have left her alone.”

“When had you last heard from her?” asked Alisander.

Melinda thought for a moment.  “There was a letter,” she finally said.  “Before the war.  My father wouldn’t really talk about it much, but I could tell it bothered him.  He just told me that it said she wished we would visit more.  That’s all.”

“Look there,” Alisander motioned towards the distance.  “Looks like railroad tracks.”

Melinda squinted and thought she saw two parallel rails shining in the late afternoon light.  It was almost like an arrow pointing them south.

“That line goes straight into Nashville,” said Alisander.  “That’s why we’ve got the Union camps nearby.  They are watching the tracks.”

Alisander stopped the horse and dismounted.  Melinda felt the coolness in his absence.  Leaving her on the horse, he walked over to the tracks and, after removing one of his gloves, placed a bare hand on the metal.  He looked up and down the tracks, noting where they rounded the hills in the southern distance out of sight.

He straightened up.  “Five miles,” he announced, but Melinda wasn’t sure what he was talking about.  The area around them was hilly, and Melinda knew her aunt’s farm had to be farther south.  She didn’t remember the cows grazing on the sides of hills.  Her aunt’s land was flatter and more spread out.

“What do you suggest?” she asked him as he walked back to the horse.  Alisander took his hat off and wiped his brow with his handkerchief.

He shrugged.  “Move on into Nashville,” he said.  “If we go far enough, something’s bound to trigger your memory.  Or…we could always ask someone.  What was your aunt’s name?”

“Mary,” said Melinda.

“If someone knows Mary Jacoby’s farm, they would tell us, right?  I mean, she’s not a pariah, is she?”

“Her married name was Oxley,” said Melinda.  “Mary Oxley.  Her husband was a lot older than she was, and died not long back.  Four years ago, maybe.  But she still kept the farm, as far as I know.”

“Okay,” said Alisander as he mounted back up behind her.  “We’ll keep heading south. We’ll inquire about the farm of Mary Oxley when we get closer to town.”

The followed the tracks until the first buildings along side began to appear.  Alisander kept watching for movement and would steer the horse away from any rustling or slight sound he heard.

“Let’s stop for a break,” said Alisander. “You must be hungry.”

“A little.”

After they had dismounted, Melinda felt her back popping.  She was stiff from the riding and her body ached.  She watched as Alisander unloaded what he could from the horse.  After he spread his blanket out on the ground, it was almost like having a picnic beneath a tree.

As they sat across from one another on the blanket, Alisander rummaged around in his sack.

“More hardtack, I’m afraid,” he said, offering her some with his apology.  “If it helps any, you do get used to it after a while.”

Melinda smiled and took her half.  “What will do you after the war?  Back home to
Kentucky?”

“I don’t know how much longer this war is going to go on,” said Alisander as he chewed.  “I hear they are pushing for peace in the north, but
Lincoln won’t hear of it.”

“What about your family?” she asked.

“My father is a retired legislator for the state house of representatives.  He retired right after Kentucky voted not to secede.  He was rather indignant about that matter.”

“And your mother?”

“Oh, she’s still there, too.  Piddling around the house and fussing after my father.  She was a seamstress before she met him.  He had brought in a suit and asked her to hem it before his first electoral campaign.  She slipped a note in his jacket pocket when she returned it to him.”

“How very forward of her,” remarked Melinda.

Alisander nodded.  “Yes, I am the youngest of  five children.  My two brothers joined the Union army.  Father was not too happy about that, let me tell you.  My sisters are both married and have left home.”

“Sounds interesting,” sighed Melinda.  “I was always wondering what it would have been like to have been part of a large family like that.  Sadly, that part of my life is past.  My mother died before she could have more children.  It was just myself and my father for a long time.”  Her voice grew somber.  “A long time…”

Alisander smiled and reached over, patting her hand.  His sudden touch sent chills down her arms.

“You can have a family of your own,” he said.  “You can have as many children as you want.  Unfortunately, it’s not quite as picture perfect as you would imagine.  More children means more arguments and more mouths to feed, so there’s always a downside to things.”

“But you were never alone,” said Melinda, wishing he would keep holding her hand.  “That must have been comforting, knowing that someone was always there.”

“I suppose,” said Alisander.  He swallowed the remainder of his hardtack with a frown.  “You know,” he said.  “When we get to town, I am going to treat you out to a real meal.  One that’s actually cooked.  What do you say?”

Melinda actually felt herself blush.  “That sounds like the best thing I’ve heard today.”

***

The
city of Nashville
in the summer of 1862 was a collection of disgruntled citizens and swarms of blue-clad soldiers camped in every conceivable open area.  They saw all the smoke from the hundreds of campfires before they saw the city itself, and every available area seemed to have an entire army camped on it.

They paused at the train station and watched one of the locomotives unload three more boxcars of Union soldiers.  Melinda blinked back tears as she watched them disembark, her mind flashing back to the night on her farm.

She worried about Alisander, but for the most part, the troops seemed to ignore him.  Perhaps one lone officer wasn’t enough to get everyone riled up about.

“It’s like a knife being driven into the heart of the state,” whispered Alisander in Melinda’s ear.  “We will never retake this city now.”

She thought about the Confederate army down in Mississippi.  They might as well have been on a different planet for all the good it did them in middle Tennessee. 

“What do we do?” asked Melinda, as Alisander’s grip tightened around her waist as the horse began to sidestep nervously in response to the shrill whistle of the train. 

“We move on,” said Alisander.  “I will get you to your aunt’s.  I don’t think they will bother us.  Out in the fields, yes, perhaps, but they won’t concern themselves with us in the city proper.”

“I think you’re right,” said Melinda.  She noticed that some of the troops were staring directly at them, but not one of them seemed the slightest bit interested.

Dusk was gathering along the tracks, and other passengers disembarking were heading through the station and into waiting carriages arriving to pick them up.  Most of them didn’t look local, and Melinda couldn’t help but notice how fancy their dresses were.  By comparison, she felt as if she had been out slinging feed to hogs all day.

Alisander glanced up at the sky, noting the twilight approaching.  “I think we should find a hotel for the evening,” he said.  “And then I will take you for that meal I promised.”