Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (34 page)

Emma swallowed hard and tried to keep her
voice from shaking. "Sir, I'm willing to accept whatever reprimand
you deem appropriate."

McClellan stood and picked his words
carefully. "I never would have suspected that a woman could be so
convincing, so bold, and so brave. Land sakes, what would Lincoln
say?"

Emma remained motionless and made no reply as
McClellan glanced her way.

"You might say that we've been through a
great deal together," McClellan said. "War is an unfortunate but
inevitable state for man. To know that a woman has endured the
hardships, well, I commend you, Miss Emma Cartwright, for your
self-less service to the Union."

"Thank you, sir."

"However," he hesitated, "I have no intention
of repeating that statement outside the confines of this tent."

Emma understood. She knew the general
couldn't risk further damage to his reputation by publicly
expressing compassion toward or amazement about a disguised female
soldier. Especially a southern female, regardless of her position
on the war. Even so, Emma felt a level of respect for McClellan
that she hadn't flirted with since his appointment and their
initial encounter.

"I regret to inform you that your services
will no longer be required. In good conscious, I must dismiss you
from your duties and insist that you to depart this very
night."

Surprised, Emma asked, "That's it? You're
letting me leave?"

McClellan wore a half-grin. "Although you
have been dishonest with me to a degree, Miss Cartwright, I do not
believe that, even though you are a Southern-bred female, you are a
threat to the Union's cause. No soldier, in my opinion, could have
sacrificed more."

He extended his hand, and he and Emma shook.
Then, with a slight bow, he kissed the top of her hand. The
sentiment, as well as the tickle from McClellan's moustache, gave
her an inner delight.

"I will see to it personally that you are
discharged," McClellan said, "but you must leave tonight. Enough
attention has already been stirred over this situation, and I want
no further upheaval. I request that you avoid your fellow comrades
and let me handle any necessary explanations. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm disappointed that this marks the end of
our adventures, but you'll be leaving this army alive, and that's
an accomplishment. You've engineered quite a ruse, Miss Cartwright,
and I do believe that the Almighty's favor shines handsomely upon
you."

****

"I've been found out," Emma announced on
Eleanor's doorstep in the middle of the night.

Eleanor, with Zechariah at her side, sighed
and ushered Emma inside. Emma assured the Pratts that she wasn't in
any danger and that no one was pursuing her. She quickly explained
that she needed to evacuate the camp, per McClellan's orders.
Though they were all exhausted, sleep wasn't mentioned. Eleanor
brewed a pot of weak coffee while Emma described Graham's ambush
and McClellan's reaction. Emma expressed her relief that the
masquerade was over, but wished it had been on her own terms, her
own timing.

"I'm sure it's for the best, Emma," Zechariah
said. "Too much has happened now for you to go on this way, I
believe." He looked at her lovingly. "You've more than done your
part."

"He's right, Emma." Eleanor brought the
coffeepot to the table. "I know you have a heart for adventure, and
I know the cause is dear to you, but we've lost so many. I can't
bear the notion…"

Thoughts of James consumed Emma. Silence
saturated the tiny kitchen. Emma accepted that her time as a
soldier was over, just as her time with James was over. She knew
continuing the hoax would be too reckless, even by her own
standards, but as Eleanor had mentioned, her desire for adventure
wouldn't be pacified so easily.

"There's still one more thing I have to
do."

****

Eastern, Kentucky

September, 1862

Despite the build-up of both Union and
Confederate troops in the tense border state, Emma traveled to
James Trumball's farm. Nestled in rolling hills, the Trumball
property took Emma's breath away. Fields were ripe with corn, and a
modest group of horses munched bluegrass in the pasture. As Emma
approached, she saw two young boys playing in a creek and a woman
hanging wash to dry. The woman was the first to notice Emma. She
wiped her hands on her apron before greeting her.

"Hello. May I help you?"

"Yes," Emma said, "I hope I have the right
place. I'm looking for the family of James Trumball."

The woman paused, and her face blanched.

"I'm Mrs. Trumball." She removed her bonnet
and revealed delicate facial features. Pieces of her hair caught
the breeze. "But I'm sorry to tell you that my husband died in the
war."

"You're Lily?" Emma said breathlessly.

"Yes."

Emma felt her frail world fall into a
tailspin. She recalled the letter she'd read from James' jacket,
declaring that Lily was on her deathbed. Emma couldn't have been
more shocked if James Trumball had been there himself.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Trumball, I meant no
disrespect, it's just that… well I was told that you were ill
and…"

Lily smiled. "Could I offer you some water?
We could go inside." She referred to her home, a modest cabin with
smoke wafting from the chimney.

"I would appreciate that."

Lily called to her sons and told them to help
their grandfather in the barn. They replied with 'yes, Ma' and
splashed their way out of the creek. Running barefoot, they kicked
up dust and coated their feet with dirt. Emma couldn't help staring
after them.

Inside the house, another woman worked on
supper. She greeted Emma with a hello and a warm smile.

"Oh, I didn't mean to disturb your meal,"
Emma said. She grew ever self-conscious and considered a full
retreat.

"Oh, nonsense, dear," the woman said. "All
are welcome here. Please come in. I'm Mabel."

Mabel, the name signed at the bottom of the
letter that Emma had read.

Emma gave her a nod as all of her manners
seemed to abandon her. She felt awkward and tried to hide it.

"Maybe you should have a seat." Lily pulled
out a chair, which Emma gratefully accepted.

"I apologize for acting so strangely," Emma
said, "it's been a long journey, and seeing Mrs. Trumball, well…"
Emma feared all of her words were wrong, and that she needed to
start fresh. "I'm Emma Cartwright. I worked as a nurse for the
Union army." Her eyes met Lily's. "I was at your husband's bedside
when he passed."

Moved, Lily joined Emma in a seat at the
table.

"Dear Lord," she said. "You were right there
with him?" She looked at Mabel, who stood frozen. Lily's eyes
filled with tears. "Please, tell me everything."

Emma's stomach tightened, and there, in the
home James had built, she carefully unraveled the story of his
final days.

****

The venison stew bubbled violently, and the
cornbread almost burned as both Lily and Mabel hung on every word
Emma had to say. Winston Salyers, Mabel's husband, entered from the
barn, flummoxed at the sight of the three women, and the desperate
aroma of the cornbread. Behind him came James and David, whom he
ordered to wash up. Mabel introduced Emma enthusiastically. As the
family settled around the table for supper, Lily and Mabel
recounted all Emma had shared. Winston's attention lobbed from Lily
to his wife, as they were both eager and pleased to repeat James'
mission as a spy in Confederate territory. James and David soaked
up the tale, both of them with eyes as handsome as their father's
had been.

Emma's appetite waned as she felt glaringly
out of place. Though they were friendly and caring, Emma couldn't
escape the fact that she had almost been intimate with a married
man. Yoked with guilt, she knew that had James lived, his place
would have been here, at the table with his family, and not with
her. Either way, she realized, she had no hope of a future with
James.

When his plate was clean, Winston heartily
thanked Emma for her visit, then returned to his work, the boys at
his heels. Emma moved to help with the clean-up, but Mabel wouldn't
tolerate her lifting a finger.

"You were right," Lily said as she served
coffee. "I was powerful sick. Ma thought I was as good as gone."
She glanced at Mabel. "But the Lord answered her prayers for me to
stay here, take care of my boys. I spent a couple months in bed
still, but I suppose you'd say it was a miracle. The boys don't
like me to talk about it, though. They had a hard time seeing me
so."

"I'm glad you recovered," Emma said. She
found she meant it. Watching James and David, taking in the farm,
Emma knew she would be a poor substitute for Lily, given the
chance. Her days would've been consumed with making meals and
keeping up with the wash. Was that the life she wanted, even with
James as a husband? She couldn't say, but she knew such chores were
a far cry from slinking through Rebel territory together. Lily had
been happy here with James, and Emma knew James would've preferred
his life here on the farm over being an army lieutenant. This is
who James was.

In that moment, Emma realized that she wasn't
so different from her mother. She understood now how Olivia had
fallen for Thomas, how she had given up her version of happiness so
she could be with the man she loved. She also understood how
molding into the plantation lifestyle had changed her mother and
made her somewhat bitter toward Thomas. Though she couldn't imagine
feeling anything but love for James, Emma saw how a seed of
resentment could set in and strangle out those storybook
emotions.

"I should be going," Emma said, "but before I
leave, I have these for you." She took the letters from her bag.
She gently ran her hand over them as she told Lily how she'd
written the letters for James as he lay dying. Tears escaped her,
and she didn't bother hiding them. "I'm sorry there isn't one here
for you, Lily, but I know he loved you. He dreamed about you."

As Emma handed her the letters, Lily's hand
lingered. She regarded Emma with a curious gaze. Questions seemed
to form, but Lily refrained from asking.

"You've given me a great gift in coming
here," Lily said. "I'll always be grateful."

"James was a good man." Emma wiped her eyes
and stood. "I'd be remiss if I didn't honor him."

"Must you leave so soon?" Mabel asked. "I'm
sure there's still so much more you could share."

That was true, Emma knew, but she found it
harder to stay with each passing moment as their kindness seemed to
grow. The family didn't have James' body to place in a family plot.
Memories were all they had now.

"Yes, I need to go." Emma moved to the
door.

"Emma," Lily said, "thank you, for all you
did for James, and for our boys." She hugged the letters to her
chest. "These will mean a lot to James and David, especially when
they're older." Lily reached for Emma's hand, then squeezed
affectionately. "It's a comfort knowing he didn't die alone."

One last time, Emma studied the face of the
woman James had loved. She realized how right he had been when he
said she was nothing like Lily. Soft, thin, and delicate, Lily
never would've been taken for a man. A different kind of courage
defined Lily, and Emma respected her for it.

"I wish there had been more I could do," Emma
said. "In the short time I knew him, I knew how much he loved
you."

Tears spilled onto Lily's cheeks, but she
grinned through them.

Emma thanked them again for their hospitality
and stepped outside. An equal mix of sadness and satisfaction
flowed through her. She felt she knew James better now, and at the
same time, she realized that she didn't know him at all. Alone in
the countryside, she had a great deal to contemplate as she made
her way back to Washington and toward an unknown future.

****

Washington, D.C.

April, 1863

Emma returned to the capital city as the
dismal news of the battle at Antietam Creek arrived. The clash
between McClellan's and Lee's troops near Sharpsburg, Maryland,
resulted in over three-thousand casualties in a single day.
Although McClellan put Lee and his men in retreat, the
confrontation was not a clear victory for the North. McClellan had
refused to use the full magnitude of his sizable army and missed a
critical opportunity by not pursuing Lee's forces across the
Potomac River. In November of 1862, Lincoln removed Little Mac as
commander of the Army of the Potomac. McClellan's military career
disintegrated, though he remained in charge of several corps.
General Ambrose Burnside, unfortunately, fared no better than
McClellan in the way of military leadership. Within a few months,
Burnside was replaced by General Joseph Hooker, who, in April of
1863, busied his men with building pontoon bridges as the army set
to move across the Rappahannock River and attack Confederate forces
at Chancellorsville, Virginia. President Lincoln had no choice but
to remain optimistic.

Although Emma could no longer serve the Union
as Private Edmonds, she could volunteer at the local
brick-and-mortar hospital. Even though serving as a nurse was
ladled with sorrows, Emma believed in her skills.

Letters came from Stuart and Knox on an
irregular basis, and Emma prepared herself for difficult news
before she opened each correspondence. In the last six months, the
Cartwrights had endured further devastation. Olivia had passed,
whether from too much medication or the anxieties that plagued her,
no one could say. She was laid to rest next to Thomas and
Alexander. Quinn, they said, continued to advance in rank, though
he had sustained a 'traumatic injury' to his neck during the battle
of Antietam that nearly killed him. Knox planned to bring the rest
of the Cartwright children home from New Orleans, even though they
had all grown fond of life in Louisiana. Knox suspected they didn't
want to know their home without their mother. When Stuart told him
that Sylvia had run away, Knox took the news as one who was immune
to the beauty of hope. He focused on plans to groom Pierce and
Preston to one day take over the plantation, or at least what was
left of it. Stella and Dawson were expecting another child in the
summer, and Stuart hoped Emma would visit and see the baby.