A Place of Peace (19 page)

“Thank you for this,” said Melinda.  “And everything.”  She looked down at her new dress: it was a dusky red color, simple but clean at least.  The daughter had delivered it to her as she finished her bath.  Melinda felt reborn as she slipped it on.

Now they were finishing their meal: chicken and roasted potatoes with coffee and fried apple pie.  Melinda hadn’t eaten anything like this in what felt like a lifetime, and she felt renewed.

“It’s my pleasure, Melinda,” said Alisander.  “All that’s left is to get you to your aunt’s farm.  A task which shouldn’t be too difficult, I think.”

Melinda smiled and sipped her own coffee.  It was very strong, but it was soothing and warm, and it blazed a trail down her throat and settled into the pit of her stomach.

The hotel owner’s daughter reappeared with a coffee pot.  Alisander, after a quick nod of affirmation from Melinda, waved her off.

“Breakfast is at seven,” the girl said.  “If there’s nothing else, then I’ll say good night to you both.”

Melinda sighed again.  “After tonight, I don’t think I’ll be hungry again for a long time.”

Alisander winked at her.  “It’s easy to say that now, but after a while, you learn to eat whenever you can.”

“I suppose,” said Melinda.  She yawned in spite of herself.  Alisander noted it.

“I think someone needs some sleep,” he said.

“No,” she replied.  “I’m fine.”  But as she said it, she yawned again.  Alisander laughed, making Melinda feel like she was a small child who had stayed up past her bedtime.

“What is the plan for tomorrow?” she asked, trying to take her mind of her tiredness.

“Well,” said Alisander. “After a nice breakfast, we start our inquiries.  Then it’s off to the farm, I suppose.”

“And then what?” Melinda was almost afraid to ask the question.  Her voice dropped as she said it.

“Well,” Alisander leaned back in his chair.  “I have my orders.  Report back to Colonel Morgan.  We are planning on going back into Kentucky, maybe farther north.  Ohio, Indiana, perhaps.”

“So far north,” remarked Melinda.   “Sounds dangerous.”

“It is,” said Alisander.  “But as we go through Kentucky, I will get to see my family again.  I’m sure my father and mother will be glad to see me, and to see that I’m still okay.  My mother does worry so.  She still thinks that I’m going to run into one of my brothers on the battlefield… on the other side.”

“I couldn’t imagine something like that,” said Melinda.  “It must cross your mind every time.”

Alisander shrugged.  “I know for the most part they’re in Virginia.  I don’t think McClellan is going to come west anytime soon, so the odds of our encountering each other are slim, but who knows?  They could always be reassigned or transferred to another unit.  Grant’s going to need more men if he keeps pushing south.”

Melinda shuddered.  The sudden talk of the war made everything real again.  She thought of her father, and the disaster at
Shiloh.  All those boys not coming back…

Alisander finished his coffee and stood up, extending his hand.  Melinda took it.

“Come on,” he said.  “Seven o’clock is a lot earlier than it seems.”

***

Seven o’clock
was
earlier
, and Melinda felt like she had just fallen asleep when there was a gentle knock at the door.  She sat up, blinking, taking a moment to remember where she was.  She looked around her little room.  A long way from her farmhouse, but it was nice while it lasted.  She yawned as the knocking sounded again.  Breakfast.  She still felt full from the night before, but decided that she had better go ahead and eat because she didn’t know if more hardtack was in her future.

“Just a moment,” she called.  She brushed out her hair and slipped on her new red dress.  It seemed a bit formal for breakfast, but it was all she really had.

By the time she pulled her boots on and laced them up, the sun was blazing through her window.  She opened the door to see Alisander standing there, hat in hand, smiling at her.

“Good morning,” he said.  She noticed he had a daisy in his hand.  “For you.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said as she took it.  He must have picked it out of the flower bed from the front of the hotel. 

“Shall we?” said Alisander.  “We have a long day, and the smell of ham and eggs always puts me in a good spirit.”

Her stomach fluttered as she took his hand.  He led her down the stairs into the small dining room.  A few other guests were already there, drinking coffee and murmuring over the latest state of the news.  The Northern troops didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon, and the mood was sour and tense. 

Melinda sat at one of the tables, catching the glances the other guests were giving Alisander, almost as if they were blaming him for the state of affairs in
Tennessee.  If Alisander noticed, he paid it no attention as he nodded thanks for the coffee the girl was now pouring into his cup.

“I don’t think we’re going to get back
Nashville,” Alisander remarked, slightly loud enough for the others to hear.  

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” said Melinda.  “It will keep the fighting away from us.”

“Ah, that
is
a positive thing,” said Alisander.  He looked at the other guests, who caught his eye and looked away. 

Melinda hesitated, but felt she had to ask.  “What happens next?  After you deliver me?  I…
think I would worry about you a great deal if you are riding north.  Worry if… something happened to you.  I mean, if you get shot, or captured.”

Alisander smiled.  He reached across the table and touched her hand.  “Don’t worry about me,” he said, still smiling.  “I’ll be okay.”
He sipped his coffee.  “Now, we need to find the Oxley farm.”

Melinda wanted to believe that Alisander would be okay, but deep down, she had doubts.  It wouldn’t take much, just a simple squeeze on a trigger from a random soldier, to simply end his life.  Everything seemed to delicate and fragile now.  The difference between any of them living or dying came down to a matter of chance.  She shuddered.  Her own coffee tasted bitter and cold.

“Did I hear you say ‘Oxley farm?’” asked one of the guests at the closest table.  He was an older man with a white beard that kept threatening to dip down into his plate of eggs.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Alisander, turning to him.  “Do you know where it is?”

The older man looked Alisander up and down.  “Depends on who’s asking.”

“This is Ms. Oxley’s niece,” said Alisander, pointing towards Melinda.  “And I am her escort, Alisander Fairfax, 2
nd
Kentucky Cavalry.  I’m seeing she gets there safely.”

The older man sighed and pushed his eggs around on his plate for a long moment.  Melinda thought he had completely shut them off, when he spoke again.

“About a mile west on Old Elm Road,” he finally said.

Alisander’s eyes narrowed.  “What are you not telling me?  Is Ms. Oxley there?  Do you know her personally?  Is she okay?”

“Farm’s seen better days,” the old man said.  “Ms. Oxley, too, for that matter.  Then again,  I guess we all have.”

Melinda felt a twinge of dread.  “But is she okay?” she asked.

The man nodded.  “I guess.  She don’t take too kindly to visitors these days.  In fact,” his voice lowered.  “I fear she’s in trouble.  Yank troops were out there day before yesterday.  I think they were going to arrest her.”

“For what?” asked Melinda.  “She’s an old woman.  What crime could she have possibly committed?”

Melinda’s eyes grew blurry with tears.  “Alisander, we’ve got to get out there.  We’ve got to see if she’s okay.”

Alisander nodded.  “I’ll settle up with the hotel.  You go out and get the horse brought around.”

***

“There it is,” she
said, pointing.  “I can see the barns.”

They rode through one of the fences that surrounded the outer pastures.  The few remaining cows that were left eyed them with little interest.  At first, Melinda couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.  The small farmhouse was there, a wisp of smoke curling from the chimney, and the barn was there over to the side of the fields.  The morning clucking of chickens greeted them as they passed the coop.  Memories started coming back to her as she looked at the little farm in front of them.  Melinda remembered when she came here as a child.  She looked over by the barn, knowing there would be a small red pump there, slightly rusty, and she knew that behind the house was a large woodpile, where she would build little cabins and forts out of the sticks, ruining any neat stacks that her aunt had labored over.

“This is it,” she whispered to Alisander.  “I remember it.”  A twinge of homesickness came over her.  It was a feeling that she would never be really “home” again, not with her farm in Gallatin destroyed.  She only hoped her aunt remembered her and wouldn’t try to shoot them for raiders as they rode up the little pathway to the house.

The door to the house creaked open as they approached.  A small gray head peered through the crack.  Melinda thought she saw the dull  gleam of a shotgun barrel below the head as the older woman cracked the door open a bit wider. 

Even from the distance they were at, Melinda could see the strong resemblance to her father, and herself for that matter.  It made her even sadder to be reminded of him.

“I think we should walk from here,” said Melinda.  “I think my aunt would be less twitchy with that gun of hers if she could see us walking up.”

Alisander nodded, and they both dismounted.  Alisander made an exaggerated showing of not reaching near his pistol as he took the reins of the horse and started walking toward the house.  Melinda walked first, hoping that her aunt would recognize her, even though it had been ten years.

“Aunt Mary?” asked Melinda as she continued to walk.  “Aunt Mary?  It’s me, Melinda.  Your niece.”

Mary Oxley stepped a little farther out onto the porch, and Melinda could see her leaning on the shotgun, almost as if using it for a cane.  She seemed to squint at Melinda as Melinda kept walking.  Melinda only hoped her aunt wasn’t suffering from dementia… or planning on raising that gun.

“Melinda Jacob
y,” said Mary.  “I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”  Mary Oxley stepped down from the porch, her arms outstretched.  “Come here, girl.”

Melinda felt a burst of happiness as she ran into her aunt’s arms.  Her aunt looked so much older than Melinda had remembered.  The stress of the war seemed to have aged her an extra twenty years, even though she was roughly the same age at Melinda’s father.

“Well now,” Mary said, wiping her eyes and taking a step back.  “Let me get a look at you.  My, all grown up, I see.”  She looked past Melinda’s shoulder.  Alisander was standing awkwardly by the horse a few feet back.

“And who is this here?” she said in Alisander’s direction.  “A soldier, by the looks of it.”  Mary’s face darkened.  “Had some trouble here a bit back.  Didn’t care too much for the attitude they give me.”

“Don’t worry, Aunt Mary,” said Melinda.  “He’s on our side.”  She looked back at winked at Alisander, who promptly turned red.  “It’s good to see you again,” she continued, turning back to hug her aunt again.  “I’m afraid some bad things have happened,” she murmured into Aunt Mary’s ear.  “I have news.”

Mary shook her head and pulled away from the hug.  “We all have news, child.  What have you got to tell me?  Your daddy’s dead?”

Melinda seemed confused a little by her aunt’s tone.  “Well,” she hesitated.  “I don’t know.  He went missing at Shiloh.  I haven’t heard from him since before the battle.  He might have been captured, or just gone…”  She was determined not to cry again as she thought about it.

Mary sniffed a little.  Melinda expected her to start asking questions, but instead, Mary just silently stood there looking at the two of them, finally just spitting into the dirt.  Melinda began to grow uncomfortable.  This might not turn out to be the happy reunion she had anticipated.

“Well,” Mary said after a long pause.  “What can I do for you, Melinda?  I know you didn’t come all the way down here just to tell me that.”

Melinda glanced back at Alisander, who looked as if he would have rather been anywhere but there at that particular moment.  Melinda swallowed her pride.  It would be best done if it were done quickly, as her father would always say.

“As a matter of fact,” Melinda said.  “The farm in Gallatin is gone.  Burned by Yankees as they came through.  I escaped, and this fine officer was kind enough to see me safely down here.  But… I have nowhere else to go, and with no news of my father’s status, I didn’t know what else to do.”  A long breath.  “I was hoping I could stay here with you.  Everything back home is gone.  You’re the only family I have left, it would seem.”

Now it was out, and all Melinda could do was wait.  She had never given much thought about if her aunt simply said no and turned her away.  She just assumed that family would take in other family, almost in spite of the circumstances.

But Melinda could see the hesitation in her aunt’s eyes, and the way her aunt’s eyes flicked around the farm, as if measuring her stock and how much it would take to support another human being.