Undaunted Love (8 page)

Chapter Thirteen

J
ORY ARRIVED AT THE INN at precisely ten o’clock, and was surprised to see Livvie come into the foyer alone, carrying her carpetbag. He quickly took it from her, but looked behind her and up the stairs.

“He’s not here. We went to the headquarters for him to join up, and once he signed the papers they made him stay.” She started towards the door, not meeting the man’s eyes.

Six foot four and the color of hazelnuts, Jory stood in front of the desk with his mouth open for a moment before turning to follow her outside. He had asked the stable boy to harness the horse and cart, and it stood in front of the inn. Livvie had already taken her seat and was staring straight ahead. Tossing her bag in on the rough wood planks, he hauled himself up and took the reins.

“Ma’am, I’m mighty sorry and all…” He petered out, unsure how to proceed.

Livvie looked at him and tried to smile. “No, Jory, it’s perfectly all right. God has a fine plan, and we’re gonna have to learn to bend to His perfect will, is all. I left a letter to be delivered to Rafe at the barracks, and he’ll be writin’ me soon to tell me all about his training. And it’s only six months, that’s what they said, and maybe they’ll let him come home once or twice. Do you think they will?” She looked up at him hopefully.

Unable to lie to her, Jory just shrugged. “Right unkind to make a man stay on his wedding day, I mean to tell you. So we’re just headed on to Byrd’s Creek then, ma’am?”

She sighed unhappily. “Yes, that’s right. I’m going home, to my daddy’s. And Jory, please tell no one we eloped, no one in Byrd’s Creek, will you? With Rafe gone, I think it’s best that we keep it a secret for now, until he can tell my daddy himself.”

Jory nodded. He’d heard enough stories of Hugh Byrd during his few months in Byrd’s Creek to figure this was an excellent idea. No sense tangling with him until you had to, was his feeling on the matter. And better Rafe than him. He didn’t think he could marry any woman, no matter how pretty and nice, with a daddy like Mr. Byrd.

“Hyah!” he called and flicked the reins. The horse clopped off, happy to be moving in the cool spring air.

They arrived in Byrd’s Creek at two o’clock, and Livvie was famished. The couple in the inn had made her upset at breakfast, not that it took much to do that at the moment, and she’d barely finished her coffee and a small biscuit when she felt she had to leave their company or light into the arrogant man. Any fool could see that his wife’s loyalties were in the North, and yet he rambled on and on about the glories of the South—a region he hadn’t lived in for over sixty years. It made Livvie’s stomach turn, and reminded her too much of her father.

Jory let her out at the edge of town, and she walked hurriedly to her house. When she entered the cool foyer, she wiped her brow. The day had heated up, and Edisto Island always had its fair share of humidity. The carpetbag seemed uncommonly heavy, and she gladly put it down at the bottom of the stairs before heading back to the kitchen. Emmy was peeling potatoes at the table, humming to herself. A round black woman with plump cheeks, smiling eyes and a ready smile, Livvie had known Emmy all of her life. She sat down across from her and took up a potato and knife.

“Where you been, chile?” the slave asked, eyebrows raised.

“I was visiting Madeline. But Thomas has the croup, so I came on back. Is there anything to eat? I haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

Jumping up with alacrity, Emmy began to bustle around the kitchen. To her mind, there wasn’t much worse than going hungry, and she prided herself on making sure no one in the Byrd house ever felt even the first hunger pang. “Good gracious, missy! What’s that sister a’ yours doing, not feeding you lunch proper afore sending you on your way?”

Livvie kept her eyes on the potato, carefully wielding the knife. She hated lying, especially to this woman who was a second mother to her. “Thomas was sick. And I was fine, really I was. But I’m feelin’ a tad hungry now, and something before supper would be nice.”

Emmy slid a plate in front of her holding a large slice of freshly baked bread, a huge dollop of strawberry preserves, and a slice of cured ham. Next, she set the butter crock and cutlery down. This was followed by a large glass of cool water. Then she sat back down and picked up her half peeled potato.

“So Mistuh Gardner’s mama, she wasn’t heppin’ with little Massah Thomas then? And I know her cook, Dorothy. What was she doin’ ‘stead of makin’ you a meal?” Emmy looked at her with intelligent brown eyes, still peeling the potato. “Seem to me like everyone over to the Kinney place was awful busy wit’ one lil ole boy.”

Livvie kept her eyes down. She never had lied well, and she didn’t remember getting away with a single tall tale with the negro.

“Your mama, she gone to take tea with Missus DeWitt out to her farm, and your daddy, he gone to his office. I expec’ we won’t see neither one for a good spell. So if’n there’s somethin’ you think ole Emmy ought to know, why, seems to me now’s about as good a time as any.” She put her potato in a bowl and took up another one, continuing her musing. “Jus’ yesterday I was down to the market and I run into Ole’ Nackie, you know, the slave dat Missus Colton set free ‘fore Massah Byrd done take her land? He ‘llowed as how Mistuh Rafe Colton, he took hisself up to Chas’ton, joined up with the infantry or some such. He goin’ to be a hero one day, if’n there’s a war.”

Livvie’s face burned, and she was still working on the same potato. Finally she whispered, “We got married. Rafe and me, yesterday, we got married. And then they wouldn’t let him go, and I spent the night alone, and… and…” She began to weep, laying her head down on her arms, heaving with great sobs.

Emmy set her potato and knife on the table, wiped her hands on her apron, and came around to her. Bending down, she wrapped her arms around Livvie and kissed her hair. “Child, it goin’ to be all right, you wait and see. The good Lord don’t make no mistakes. He be your husband while Mistuh Rafe is gone, you’ll see. But you get all your cryin’ done be’fo yo mama and daddy come home, cause seems like to me you being Miz Colton ain’t somethin’ you want to tell yo daddy jus’ yet.”

Livvie shook her head fervently. Grief continued to wrack her small body.

“You get it all out, Miss Livvie, and then we gonna wash that face and you gonna put on a smile and wait on the Lord for that new husband o’ yours, all right?” Emmy squeezed her tight, then let her go. She brought over a soft cloth and poured water into a large bowl. “Here you go, when you ready. You wash away those tears and you be strong for Mistuh Rafe.”

Taking the cloth, Livvie held it over her face, breathing in the smell of freshly laundered linen.
Strong for Rafe,
she thought.
Yes, I will. He needs to know that I’ll be all right here while he’s gone. And I will, with God’s help.
She sat up straight, filled her cupped hands with the cool water, and once again washed away her tears.

Chapter Fourteen

May 29, 1861

Charleston, South Carolina

R
AFE MUSTERED WITH HIS COMPANY, one hundred young men from the Low Country and Sandhills. All five companies in the 1st South Carolina Volunteers were present, standing at attention under the glaring sun, sweating in their grey wool coats and white pants. The rumor circulating among the troops was that their regiment was about to be disbanded. Rafe didn’t see how that could be true, given the other rumors circulating that war was imminent, but he couldn’t help but hold out hope that he might be able to get home to Byrd’s Creek and see Livvie soon.

When they had been standing in the heavy heat for twenty minutes, Master Sergeant Lawrence strode out in front of them. Behind him came Colonel Daniels, who was over the regiment, his lieutenant colonel, major, and the five company commanders, all in dress uniform. Lieutenant Moultrie, only a year older than Rafe, was his commanding officer. He was the youngest of the five, lean, stern, and out of his depth in his present job.

“Attention!” Lawrence yelled, although the men hadn’t moved out of their stance. Shoulders went back an inch more, chins up a notch, fingers clasped just so. Sweat ran down every back and dripped from their noses.

Colonel Daniels stepped forward. “Men, South Carolina is proud of your service, and proud of the progress you’ve all made here while undergoing training. Because of your dedication and hard work, this regiment has come to the attention of President Davis himself.” The troops stirred a bit. “He has requested that the 1st Volunteer be sent to Virginia…” There was much murmuring among the men, but the colonel plowed ahead, “…to join with the Northern Virginia Army. As you know, General Magruder and his men have already defeated Union forces in the Battle of Big Bethel up near Hampton. It’s a great honor to be sent to join this force, where the battles are likely to take place.” Daniels used a handkerchief to wipe his brow and neck. “We will ship out June the fifth, using rail lines to take us to Vienna, Virginia, where we will join up with Colonel Gregg and additional forces. Men, we won’t be far from Washington DC, and we all know that Lincoln is fortifying his borders. Like as not, we’ll be the next ones seeing action. Starting tomorrow, until sunset on June the second, you will all have leave. Visit your families, get your affairs in order, and prepare to board that train for war.” He turned on his heel and left the field, his officers following behind.

“Dismissed!” hollered Sergeant Lawrence.

All the men started talking at once, about the furlough, about the war, about Virginia, and about the Battle of Big Bethel. Only one Confederate soldier had died in Hampton, with seven wounded. In contrast, the Union had lost eighteen men with another fifty wounded. It was a small skirmish, but Southern newspapers had trumpeted the Confederate’s decisive victory and used it to foretell overall victory in its bid for independence.

Home!
thought Rafe.
I’m going home!
He then turned his attention to the problem of Livvie and her father. Rafe had agreed with her decision to keep their marriage a secret, and had sent his letters to her through Nackie, who delivered them to the Byrd’s house slave, Emmy. Given how close Charleston and Byrd’s Creek were, they were able to exchange at least two letters a week, and Rafe had fallen even more deeply in love with his bride as she poured out her heart and prayed for him. Now, however, he faced a dilemma. With his leave starting tomorrow morning, he would be home in the afternoon. A letter couldn’t reach Nackie, and then Emmy, and finally Livvie, by then.

He looked out over the crowd of soldiers, hoping to spy his friend Satchel Coburn. Satchel was from Charleston, a nineteen year old, scrawny man with a pock marked face and red hair. He always carried a satchel with him holding a book, pen and ink, and writing paper, so his fellow volunteers had nicknamed him within a week of his arrival. Choosing to volunteer rather than go to a university, he nevertheless was determined not to be behind when the war was won.

Finally, Rafe spotted his red hair. Satchel had removed his flop cap, and his hair was plastered to his head with sweat around the sides, while standing straight up on the top. He made his way over.

“Four days leave!” the young man exclaimed as Rafe strode over. “Four days! Mama’s cookin,’ and spoonin’ with Miss Emily. Fishin’ with Daddy and Patrick. Heaven on earth!” He grinned happily, twisting his cap in his hands.

“And me, going home to Liv,” Rafe said, hardly able to believe it. “Listen, Satch, I need some help. There ain’t no way for me to tell her I’m comin’, not with the regular post. I’m gonna need a rider who can get to Byrd’s Creek fast, to pass the word.”

Satchel thought for a moment. “The cook’s boy, that negro who cleans up the slop. He took a message to my mama for me once, when I asked her to send me some new drawers. You write out the message, I can tell him at lunch to find my brother Oliver. Any old reason to ride his horse fast down a long road is reason enough for Oliver, so he’ll absquatulate down that road as fast as ever he could, you watch.”

Rafe laughed. “I can write it out when we go change to our every-day. I’m gonna light out as soon as we’re dismissed in the morning to Mr. Greene’s, see if I can borrow his horse to get home.” He shook Satchel’s hand briskly. “I’m in your debt, Satch.” He grinned and walked off towards the barracks to compose a letter to his wife.

The sun was setting when Nackie heard the clattering of a galloping horse coming up the drive. He threw open to door to see a lone rider, grinning like a madman, bring his horse to a halt in front of the door. The horse, black with tan mane and tail, was frothing at the mouth, his flanks covered with foam. The youth on his back, freckled and skinny, with red hair swept back by the wind, slid out of the saddle and jogged up the steps to the old negro.

“Important message from Mr. Rafe Colton, for Nackie.” he said, handing over the letter. Seeing the man’s face, he laughed. “Don’t worry none, it ain’t bad news. Your master’s a’comin’ home tomorrow on leave, same’s my brother. “ He grinned, then frowned. “Oh, I forgot, I’m to read it to you.” He snatched it back and tore open the envelope. There was a second letter inside, with “Livvie” written on it, which he handed back to Nackie. Unfolding the letter, he read,

Dear Nackie,

It’s true, we have four days of furlough, and I’m coming home! Please tell mama, but make sure the letter enclosed gets to Livvie tonight. I don’t how, but you’ll know, and you’ll know why.

My love to all,

Respectfully Yours,

Rafe.

He folded the paper and handed it to Nackie, who looked at both letters and smiled up at the boy. “Son, look to me like you wore that horse plum out. Why’nt you take him on out to the stable and see to him, while I go check on Missus Colton, and get you a bedroom ready. And if’n you wouldn’t mind harnessing up that old nag out there to the cart, I’d be much obliged if you’d take me into town to see to this other letter. This old man’s eyes ain’t what they used to be, and it’s getting on dark.”

Cheerfully, the boy nodded. “If it ain’t too much trouble, I’d be happy for some grub afore we go. That was quite a ride!”

Nackie nodded and watched the boy lead the exhausted horse to the stable. He turned and hurried inside, clutching both letters in his hand.