Undaunted Love (10 page)

Chapter Seventeen

M
ARIAH COLTON HAD AT LEAST attempted a smile, and she weakly held her hand out to take Livvie’s. But she hadn’t uttered a word, nor had she acquiesced to walk, so Rafe took her breakfast tray, and they left her to her dark musings.

After depositing the tray in the kitchen, Rafe took his wife’s hand and led her out the front door. “I want to show you something,” he said.

They walked through the stumps of the former forest, heading towards the river. The cleared land seemed desolate and sad, small saplings that had been snapped when the great trees were felled were sticking up, but their leaves were brown and dead. A few patches of wildflowers were growing, oblivious to the thin top layer of soil, and birds were flitting here and there, pecking for bugs. Pine needles carpeted the ground, mixed with wood chips and saw dust. In the distance, the sun glinted off the water, and they could see Wadmalaw rising green beyond.

Rafe had never brought Livvie to the river. It had always been his special place, shared only with his father. Before he took ill, his daddy had brought him down in the early mornings, or in the evenings before dark, and they’d fished. The drum and redfish had been welcome on their table, but more than that, Rafe cherished the times that he had his daddy to himself. All other times there was Mama and the slaves and the men who’d come temporarily to help with harvest. But only he and his father fished, or, occasionally, waded in the silty muck and to dig out clams with their bare toes. A few times, his father had set out wooden traps for crabs, but his mama didn’t like the looks of them, and they were hard to keep hold of, so they gave that up.

The riverbank had a narrow strip of white sand beach, with sea oats and tall marsh grass waving in the breeze. “The ocean’s not far, that way,” he said, pointing east. “When we had a boat we’d row it out there to the middle of the river. But the boat got busted up in a storm, and we didn’t get a chance to build another one like we planned…” He gazed east, out over the blue water. Sighing, he turned up the beach and walked along the water. “Come on, it’s not far.”

“What will we see?” Liv asked, smiling.

“I can’t rightly tell you, now, can I? That’d spoil the surprise.” She swatted his arm in mock anger, her teasing look causing his heart to beat faster. “Up here!” he said, dropping her hand and jogging up the beach.

With her heavy hooped skirts, she followed slowly, losing sight of him as he rounded a short bend. This part of the island was marshy, with a scraggly row of wind beaten trees between the sand and the shorter marsh grass. The tide was low, so the marsh gave off a briny smell, reminding Livvie of the drying seaweed she’d smelled the one time her father had taken them to the shore at Hilton Head.

“Rafe?” she called out.

“In here!” she heard him answer, but it was muffled, and she couldn’t tell where his voice was coming from. Looking around she saw only more of the stunted trees, one large oak that was twisted and bent but still alive and thriving, and mound of large leafed shrubs.

“I don’t see you!” she called again.

From the mound of shrubs Rafe emerged, grinning. “It’s a duck blind!” he exclaimed. “Daddy and I built it when I was seven or eight. At first we piled tree limbs and such all around, but I planted some of the seeds that washed up on the beach, and now it’s hidden by these shrubs. I haven’t hunted here in a couple years, but maybe after October, when the ducks are runnin’… Come on, let me show you.”

Guiding her through a very small break in the branches, Liv found herself in a world of green and gold and brown. The leaves of the plants were the size of small plates, bright green but often with gold edges. The limbs were slender and supple, the color of hot tea. In the center of the mound sat a rough wooden structure, with a slit for shooting, a roof made from a large plank of driftwood, and a door only four feet high with rusty hinges. Rafe opened the door and she ducked inside.

Shelves lined one wall, a rusted lantern the only occupant. Two former household chairs, well past their usefulness in the main house, sat facing the slit, ready for the hunters. The space was large, at least eight by ten feet, and dry. Piled in one corner was a homemade table, leaning against the wall on its edge, with a trunk sitting in front of it. Rafe crossed to the trunk and opened it, squatting down to see better in the dim light. Livvie looked out the slit, imagining herself with a rifle shooting down a duck.

“We’re in luck!” he said, and she turned to see him holding up an old quilt. The trunk had managed to keep it relatively clean and dry, so he spread it out on the sandy ground. Livvie joined him on it, lying spooned in front of him, her head on his arm and his arm over her waist.

“I love it here,” she said. “It would be lovely in the rain, listening to the water fall on the roof.”

Her husband laughed. “It’s only lovely if the rain ain’t coming out of the north and through that opening in the wall. Then it’s just plain wet and cold. Daddy and I spent some nights out here when the weather was fine. Mama thought we were crazy, but it was nice, roughin’ it, makin’ a fire and boiling some soup for supper.” He pulled her closer.

“He was a good man, your daddy,” she said, holding onto his hand. The lay in silence for several minutes.

Finally Livvie said, “Rafe? Are you sleepin’?”

She felt him shake his head. “No,” he said softly. He kissed her hair, and tightened his arm around her waist. She lifted his hand to her lips.

“Do you want to? Sleep, I mean?” she asked.

“No,” he whispered.

“Me neither,” she said, and rolled over to face him.

“I’m a mess!” Livvie exclaimed as they picked their way through the stumps, trying to smooth her hair and brush sand off her skirt.

“You’re beautiful!” her husband declared and stopped her to plant a kiss on her lips, lingering a long moment. Finally she pushed him away.

“That’s why I look like this, Rafe Colton!”

“Yep! Grand, ain’t it?” he replied, and she couldn’t help but laugh. And it
was
glorious, she had to admit. Her mind started to wander to how lonely she would feel when he’d returned to Charleston, but she pushed that back. There would be plenty of time for those thoughts later, she wouldn’t ruin what little time they had with melancholy.

They entered the house and Liv ran upstairs to change and “fix herself up,” as she said to her husband over her shoulder. He went into his father’s study and over to the large mahogany desk. Taking out a ledger and a leather pouch that held the household money, he put both on the desk. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to do this, not until the end of the furlough, but he knew how little he was being paid, and he worried that Nackie and his mother wouldn’t have money for food. He also knew that Nackie had spent much more on just these two days than he should have, which he couldn’t bring himself to begrudge.

Tipping out the pouch, he counted only a few meager coins, along with ten Union dollars and seven Confederate ones. The Union dollars wouldn’t do him any good anymore, although the transition had been slow coming. The greenbacks were cut in even rectangles and well printed; the tan colored Confederate bills were irregular around the edges from the hand shears used to separate them, and the signature was hand printed. Well, that was all he had, and all his family had, for the ten days until his pay packet was issued. He’d sent his only other pay home through the post, and figured he’d have to do the same from Virginia, although the cost would be higher. He shrugged. It wasn’t like he had a choice.

Opening the ledger, he found receipts from the merchants in Byrd’s Creek that Nackie dealt with. Unable to read or cipher, Rafe had arranged for the stores to give these receipts to Nackie so that he could keep the ledger of expenses that his father had always kept.
It’s a sad read
, he thought. Flipping back through the pages, he skipped the years of his mama’s management, which was almost more depressing than his own. Finding his father’s handwriting, he looked at the last entry Gabriel Colton had written. “Sale of 75 bales, cotton” was in the first column. “$5,400” was in the Income column.

Fifty-four hundred dollars. He knew that more seed had to come out of that money, twelve hundred pounds of seed per acre, and the cost of the care of the farm. But to Rafe, to whom fifty-four dollars would have been a fortune, he saw that amount of money as fit for a king. Sighing, he made his entries, including the ten dollars he’d sent to Nackie out of the eleven he’d been paid. It wasn’t enough, and they were fast going through the little he’d managed to save from the timber.

There was a soft knock, and he closed the ledger. “Rafe, honey? I’m sorry to bother you if you’re workin’,” Livvie said, looking stunning in a pink gown. He put the money in the pouch, put everything back in the drawer, and came around the desk, drawing her to him.

“I’d much rather look at you than that ledger,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I’m not sure how, Liv, but I’m gonna take care of us all. When I’m quit of the infantry, and we’re livin’ as husband and wife, I promise you, I’ll take care of you.” He kissed her gently, then pulled her to him, holding her tightly.
God, I don’t know how I’m gonna feed four people. I honestly don’t. Please, find me a job, find me some help. I can’t do it on my own.

Chapter Eighteen

J
UNE SECOND CAME IN THE blink of an eye, and Rafe seriously considered failing to return to the regiment. How could he leave his new wife, with whom he’d discovered such great passion, joy and love? How could he leave his mama and Nackie to fend for themselves, with nothing but ten dollars a month to sustain them. He clenched his fists and set his jaw, warring with himself over his duty. Livvie settled it for him.

“Rafe Colton, I didn’t marry a deserter. You made your plan, and you consulted with the Lord, and I guess He told you to go ahead, because you certainly did. Now, you only got five months to go, and we’ll all be just fine. I’ll help here when I can, and come visit your mama every week. You get on back to that regiment and do your duty, so when we start our life it’s with honor, not in shame.” She stood, hands on hips, and her five-foot frame looked at least as tall as his own as she tapped her foot.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, although he couldn’t help but smile at her discomfiture. He pulled her to him, kissed her until she relented and melted into him, and then turned and walked with his arm around her to the front door. Nackie had Mr. Greene’s horse saddled and waiting, his rucksack behind the saddle, holding her patiently by the bridle. They had had a meeting earlier that morning, going over the miserly pay that Rafe would be able to send each month, the more urgent problems with the house, and what Livvie might be able to do to help. It hadn’t been particularly satisfactory, but at least they had a plan for the next few months.

Standing next to the horse, Rafe gave Livvie a last long kiss, holding her close and smelling her hair. “Now remember, we’re headed to Virginia. I don’t know about the post, but I’ll keep writin’ you, I promise. Even if you don’t get my letters, just remember I’m writin’ them.”

She tightened her grip around his waist. “I’ll write every day. And don’t worry about your mama and Nackie. I’ll do what I can. I know Emmy’ll be happy to make a bit of extra food for them. I think she’s sweet on old Nackie.” She smiled against his chest. “You come back to me, you hear? And all in one piece. I’ve a mind to have a passel of children one day, and they’re gonna need their daddy.”

He kissed the top of her head, turned and swiftly mounted. He looked once more at her, smiled weakly at Nackie, and kicked the horse hard, galloping down the drive.

Rafe didn’t run the horse as hard going back to Charleston as he had four days before heading to Byrd’s Creek. He wasn’t exactly eager to get back to army life, after these last few days with Livvie. Unfortunately, the eleven dollars he was making as a soldier was eleven more dollars than he knew how to make doing anything else. Even so, he arrived in Charleston with almost two hours to spare before he had to report in. He walked the horse through the city streets, enjoying the chaos of the wharf, the children running through the residential streets chasing balls and each other. Everything seemed so normal, as if nothing had changed when South Carolina seceded.

He stopped reluctantly in front of Greene’s Sawmill and Timber, hitching the horse to the rail and entering the by now familiar noise and dust of the interior. Spotting him, Jeb left a planer and rushed over to him, arms wide.

“Rafe, my boy! No need to ask how the furlough was, you look happy, rested, in love.” He gave him a crushing hug.

“I’m not sure if I was happier before or after. It was ever so much harder to leave her this time,” he said.

“And you proved you are a man by doing it anyway,” the older man said.

Rafe shrugged, sighing. “We’ll see that if we get in a battle, I guess. Your horse is out front. I can’t thank you enough for her. I’d better head back to the barracks now, though.”

“No, no, I’ve got the buggy hitched up out back, I’ll be takin’ you back. You just hold right here a minute while I let Clayton know.” He bustled off towards the back door, his large frame silhouetted by the bright sunshine, then disappearing for several minutes. He came back, wiping sawdust off his hands and grinning. “All set!” he said, and bustled out the door.

Jeb stopped at his house and Mrs. Greene ran outside with a loaf of bread wrapped in a linen napkin. “There’s some nice salted ham tucked into that loaf, last you a couple of days at the least. You take care, now, Rafe, and come see us once you’re out and headed home to that lovely wife a’yours.”

“Yes, ma’am, and thank you kindly. Nackie’s cookin’ is the thing I’m gonna miss second most.” He grinned and the Greenes laughed.

When Jeb stopped in front of the regimental headquarters, Rafe held his hand out for a shake, but the older man gave him another big hug, unashamed of his emotion. He wiped tears from his eyes. “Now I know the womenfolk don’t fully cotton on to what President Davis is doin’, and it might be that Lincoln lets us go after all. But I got a feelin’ that ain’t so, and that means you and your boys are gonna be in the line a’fire. So you keep your head, keep your faith, and keep your courage, son. Mrs. Greene and I, we’ll pray for you and write to you, and you make sure that bride a’yours knows that if she needs anything at all, she can come here. We’ll all be waitin’ for you to come back, you hear?”

Speechless, Rafe just nodded. He leapt down from the buggy, grabbed his pack, tucked the loaf under his arm, and walked up the steps. At the top he turned and looked back, seeing his friend still sitting there in the buggy. They both waved, and Rafe went through the door.