Gone With the Wind (58 page)

Through the nerve-shivering sounds, she heard another sound, that of fear-sped feet coming up the stairs three at a time, heard a voice yelping like a lost hound. Prissy broke into the room and, flying to Scarlett, clutched her arm in a grip that seemed to pinch out pieces of flesh.

“The Yankees—” cried Scarlett.

“No’m, its our gempmums!” yelled Prissy between breaths, digging her nails deeper into Scarlett’s arm. “Dey’s buhnin’ de foun’ry an’ de ahmy supply depots an’ de wa’houses an’, fo’ Gawd, Miss Scarlett, dey done set off dem sebenty freight cahs of cannon balls an’ gunpowder an’, Jesus, we’s all gwine ter buhn up!”

She began yelping again shrilly and pinched Scarlett so hard she cried out in pain and fury and shook off her hand.

The Yankees hadn’t come yet! There was still time to get away! She rallied her frightened forces together.

“If I don’t get a hold on myself,” she thought, “I’ll be squalling like a scalded cat!” and the sight of Prissy’s abject terror helped steady her. She took her by the shoulders and shook her.

“Shut up that racket and talk sense. The Yankees haven’t come, you fool! Did you see Captain Butler? What did he say? Is he coming?”

Prissy ceased her yelling but her teeth chattered.

“Yas’m, Ah finely foun’ him. In a bahroom, lak you told me. He—”

“Never mind where you found him. Is he coming? Did you tell him to bring his horse?”

“Lawd, Miss Scarlett, he say our gempmums done tuck his hawse an’ cah’ige fer a amberlance.”

“Dear God in Heaven!”

“But he comin’—”

“What did he say?”

Prissy had recovered her breath and a small measure of control but her eyes still rolled.

“Well’m, lak you tole me, Ah foun’ him in a bahroom. Ah stood outside an’ yell fer him an’ he come out. An’ ter-reckly he see me an’ Ah starts tell him, de sojers tech off a sto’ house down Decatur Street an’ it flame up an’ he say Come on an’ he grab me an’ we runs ter Fibe Points an’ he say den: What now? Talk fas’. An’ Ah say you say, Cap’n Butler, come quick an’ bring yo’ hawse an’ cah’ige. Miss Melly done had a chile an’ you is bustin’ ter get outer town. An’ he say: Where all she studyin’ ‘bout goin’? An’ Ah say: Ah doan know, suh, but you is boun’ ter go fo’ de Yankees gits hyah an’ wants him ter go wid you. An’ he laugh an’ say dey done tuck his hawse.”

Scarlett’s heart went leaden as the last hope left her. Fool that she was, why hadn’t she thought that the retreating army would naturally take every vehicle and animal left in the city? For a moment she was too stunned to hear what Prissy was saying but she pulled herself together to hear the rest of the story.

“An’ den he say, Tell Miss Scarlett ter res’ easy. Ah’ll steal her a hawse outer de ahmy crall effen dey’s ary one lef. An’ he say, Ah done stole hawses befo’ dis night. Tell her Ah git her a hawse effen Ah gits shot fer it. Den ‘he laugh agin an’ say, Cut an’ run home. An’ befo’ Ah gits started Ker-bloom! Off goes a noise an’ Ah lak ter drap in mah tracks an’ he tell me twarnt nuthin’ but de ammernition our gempmums blowin’ up so’s de Yankees don’t git it an’—”

“He is coming? He’s going to bring a horse?”

“So he say.”

She drew a long breath of relief. If there was any way of getting a horse, Rhett Butler would get one. A smart man, Rhett. She would forgive him anything if he got them out of this mess. Escape! And with Rhett she would have no fear. Rhett would protect them. Thank God for Rhett! With safety in view she turned practical.

“Wake Wade up and dress him and pack some clothes for an of us. Put them in the small trunk. And don’t tell Miss Mellie we’re going. Not yet. But wrap the baby in a couple of thick towels and be sure and pack his clothes.”

Prissy still dang to her skirts and hardly anything showed in her eyes except the whites. Scarlett gave her a shove and loosened her grip.

“Hurry,” she cried, and Prissy went off like a rabbit.

Scarlett knew she should go in and quiet Melanie’s fear, knew Melanie must be frightened out of her senses by the thunderous noises that continued unabated and the glare that lighted the sky. It looked and sounded like the end of the world.

But she could not bring herself to go back into that room just yet. She ran down the stairs with some idea of packing up Miss Pittypat’s china and the little silver she had left when she refugeed to Macon. But when she reached the dining room, her hands were shaking so badly she dropped three plates and shattered them. She ran out onto the porch to listen and back again to the dining room and dropped the silver clattering to the floor. Everything she touched she dropped. In her hurry she slipped on the rag rug and fell to the floor with a jolt but leaped up so quickly she was not even aware of the pain. Upstairs she could hear Prissy galloping about like a wild animal and the sound maddened her, for she was galloping just as aimlessly.

For the dozenth time, she ran out onto the porch but this time she did not go back to her futile packing. She sat down. It was just impossible to pack anything. Impossible to do anything but sit with hammering heart and wait for Rhett. It seemed hours before he came. At last, far up the road, she heard the protesting screech of unoiled axles and the slow uncertain plodding of hooves. Why didn’t he hurry? Why didn’t he make the horse trot?

The sounds came nearer and she leaped to her feet and called Rhett’s name. Then, she saw him dimly as he climbed down from the seat of a small wagon, heard the clicking of the gate as he came toward her. He came into view and the light of the lamp showed him plainly. His dress was as debonair as if he were going to a ball, well-tailored white linen coat and trousers, embroidered gray watered-silk waistcoat and a hint of ruffle on his shirt bosom. His wide Panama hat was set dashingly on one side of his head and in the belt of his trousers were thrust two ivory-handled, long-barreled dueling pistols. The pockets of his coat sagged heavily with ammunition.

He came up the walk with the springy stride of a savage and his fine head was carried like a pagan prince. The dangers of the night which had driven Scarlett into panic had affected him like an intoxicant. There was a carefully restrained ferocity in his dark face, a ruthlessness which would have frightened her had she the wits to see it.

His black eyes danced as though amused by the whole affair, as though the earth-splitting sounds and the horrid glare were merely things to frighten children. She swayed toward him as he came up the steps, her face white, her green eyes burning.

“Good evening,” he said, in his drawling voice, as he removed his hat with a sweeping gesture. “Fine weather we’re having. I hear you’re going to take a trip.”

“If you make any jokes, I shall never speak to you again,” she said with quivering voice.

“Don’t tell me you are frightened!” He pretended to be surprised and smiled in a way that made her long to push him backwards down the steep steps.

“Yes, I am! I’m frightened to death and if you had the sense God gave a goat, you’d be frightened too. But we haven’t got time to talk. We must get out of here.”

“At your service, Madam. But just where were you figuring on going? I made the trip out here for curiosity, just to see where you were intending to go. You can’t go north or east or south or west The Yankees are all around. There’s just one road out of town which the Yankees haven’t got yet and the army is retreating by that road. And that road won’t be open long. General Steve Lee’s cavalry is fighting a rear-guard action at Rough and Ready to hold it open long enough for the army to get away. If you follow the army down the McDonough road, they’ll take the horse away from you and, while it’s not much of a horse, I did go to a lot of trouble stealing it. Just where are you going?”

She stood shaking, listening to his words, hardly hearing them. But at his question she suddenly knew where she was going, knew that all this miserable day she had known where she was going. The only place.

“I’m going home,” she said.

“Home? You mean to Tara?”

“Yes, yes! To Tara! Oh, Rhett, we must hurry!”

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

“Tara? God Almighty, Scarlett! Don’t you know they fought all day at Jonesboro? Fought for ten miles up and down the road from Rough and Ready even into the streets of Jonesboro? The Yankees may be all over Tara by now, all over the County. Nobody knows where they are but they’re in that neighborhood. You can’t go home! You can’t go right through the Yankee army!”

“I will go home!” she cried. “I will! I will!”

“You little fool,” and his voice was swift and rough. “You can’t go that way. Even if you didn’t run into the Yankees, the woods are full of stragglers and deserters from both armies. And lots of our troops are still retreating from Jonesboro. They’d take the horse away from you as quickly as the Yankees would. Your only chance is to follow the troops down the McDonough road and pray that they won’t see you in the dark. “You can’t go to Tara. Even if you got there, you’d probably find it burned down. I won’t let you go home. It’s insanity.”

“I will go home!” she cried and her voice broke and rose to a scream. “I will go home! You can’t stop me! I will go home! I want my mother! I’ll kill you if you try to stop me! I will go home!”

Tears of fright and hysteria streamed down her face as she finally gave way under the long strain. She beat on his chest with her fists and screamed again: “I will! I will! If I have to walk every step of the way!”

Suddenly she was in his arms, her wet cheek against the starched ruffle of his shirt, her beating hands stilled against him. His hands caressed her tumbled hair gently, soothingly, and his voice was gentle too. So gentle, so quiet, so devoid of mockery, it did not seem Rhett Butler’s voice at all but the voice of some kind strong stranger who smelled of brandy and tobacco and horses, comforting smells because they reminded her of Gerald.

“There, there, darling,” he said softly. “Don’t cry. You shall go home, my brave little girl. You shall go home. Don’t cry.”

She felt something brush her hair and wondered vaguely through her tumult if it were his lips. He was so tender, so infinitely soothing, she longed to stay in his arms forever. With such strong arms about her, surely nothing could harm her.

He fumbled in his pocket and produced a handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

“Now, blow your nose like a good child,” he ordered, a glint of a smile in his eyes, “and tell me what to do. We must work fast.”

She blew her nose obediently, still trembling, but she could not think what to tell him to do. Seeing how her lip quivered and her eyes looked up at him helplessly, he took command.

“Mrs. Wilkes has had her child? It will be dangerous to move her—dangerous to drive her twenty-five miles in that rickety wagon. We’d better leave her with Mrs. Meade.”

“The Meades aren’t home. I can’t leave her.”

“Very well. Into the wagon she goes. Where is that simple-minded little wench?”

“Upstairs packing the trunk.”

“Trunk? You can’t take any trunk in that wagon. It’s almost too small to hold all of you and the wheels are ready to come off with no encouragement. Call her and tell her to get the smallest feather bed in the house and put it in the wagon.”

Still Scarlett could not move. He took her arm in a strong grasp and some of the vitality which animated him seemed to flow into her body. If only she could be as cool and casual as he was! He propelled her into the hall but she still stood helplessly looking at him. His lip went down mockingly: “Can this be the heroic young woman who assured me she feared neither God nor man?”

He suddenly burst into laughter and dropped her arm. Stung, she glared at him, hating him.

“I’m not afraid,” she said.

“Yes, you are. In another moment you’ll be in a swoon and I have no smelling salts about me.”

She stamped her foot impotently because she could not think of anything else to do—and without a word picked up the lamp and started up the stairs. He was close behind her and she could hear him laughing softly to himself. That sound stiffened her spine. She went into Wade’s nursery and found him sitting clutched in Prissy’s arms, half dressed, hiccoughing quietly. Prissy was whimpering. The feather tick on Wade’s bed was small and she ordered Prissy to drag it down the stairs and into the wagon. Prissy put down the child and obeyed. Wade followed her down the stairs, his hiccoughs stilled by his interest in the proceedings.

“Come,” said Scarlett, turning to Melanie’s door and Rhett followed her, hat in hand.

Melanie lay quietly with the sheet up to her chin. Her face was deathly white but her eyes, sunken and black circled, were serene. She showed no surprise at the sight of Rhett in her bedroom but seemed to take it as a matter of course. She tried to smile weakly but the smile died before it reached the corners of her mouth.

“We are going home, to Tara,” Scarlett explained rapidly. “The Yankees are coming. Rhett is going to take us. It’s the only way, Melly.”

Melanie tried to nod her head feebly and gestured toward the baby. Scarlett picked up the small baby and wrapped him hastily in a thick towel. Rhett stepped to the bed.

“I’ll try not to hurt you,” he said quietly, tucking the sheet about her. “See if you can put your arms around my neck.”

Melanie tried but they fell back weakly. He bent, slipped an arm under her shoulders and another across her knees and lifted her gently. She did not cry out but Scarlett saw her bite her lip and go even whiter. Scarlett held the lamp high for Rhett to see and started toward the door when Melanie made a feeble gesture toward the wall.

“What is it?” Rhett asked softly.

“Please,” Melanie whispered, trying to point. “Charles.”

Rhett looked down at her as if he thought her delirious but Scarlett understood and was irritated. She knew Melanie wanted the daguerreotype of Charles which hung on the wall below his sword and pistol.

“Please,” Melanie whispered again, “the sword.”

“Oh, all right,” said Scarlett and, after she had lighted Rhett’s careful way down the steps, she went back and unhooked the sword and pistol belts. It would be awkward, carrying them as well as the baby and the lamp. That was just like Melanie, not to be at all bothered over nearly dying and having the Yankees at her heels but to worry about Charles’ things.