The Quaker and the Rebel Read online

  “Would it better be if they thought a white woman was trying to poison them?” Lila tugged at the hamper straps with both hands.

  “Poison them? I can cook just as well as you.” Emily straightened her spine to be half a head taller than Lila, therefore gaining an illusory advantage.

  “You certainly cannot cook better than me. You nearly burned my mother’s kitchen to the ground on Bennington Island.”

  “I did not nearly burn your mother’s…” Emily’s voice trailed off when she noticed the couple in the doorway. They stared as though facing two madwomen.

  Then Ruth broke into a laugh, revealing a mouth with few lower teeth. “Why don’t y’all let me do the cookin’ since I’ve had the most practice?” Clucking her tongue, she walked to Emily and held out her hand.

  “Thank you, Ruth.” Emily gave the woman the hamper.

  Assessing Lila’s fashionable outfit once more, Ruth made another clucking sound as she crossed the barnyard toward her husband. Jacob had already uncovered a fire pit and limped off to find kindling.

  “If we’re not careful, they’re going to run away from us,” Emily said to Lila as they each picked up a water bucket. Soon they had all gathered enough twigs and branches for a cook fire.

  Ruth proved to be the best choice of chefs. In no time, she diced an onion for the pot of pinto beans that had been soaking all day. Jacob picked a basket of greens behind the barn, which Ruth wilted atop the beans as they simmered. Lila gathered windfall apples beneath a scraggly tree, while Emily set out a loaf of Johnnycake and jar of sweet tea from the hamper. An hour later, Jacob carried the pot inside the barn and they settled themselves on the floor.

  Jacob bowed his head. “Lord, thank You for brungin’ us thus far and for the meal we are ’bout to partake.”

  After everyone murmured “Amen,” Lila filled bowls with the steaming beans. Emily watched the couple as they ate, slowly due to poor teeth. They talked little, quaking nervously each time a bird stirred in a rafter nest or the wind whistled through cracks between the boards. Emily gave up trying to initiate conversation and ate in quiet companionship. She had been a silly, naive woman to think runaways, who had lived vastly different lives, would find any common ground with her.

  As the moon appeared low in the eastern sky, Jacob doused the fire, Lila washed the tin plates, and Emily repacked the wagon. Then Jacob helped Ruth up onto the hay bales and covered her with a tattered patchwork quilt. “God bless you, miss,” he said to Emily.

  “And you. Sleep easy, Jacob. You’re safe here.”

  He met her eye, his eyes yellowed from age. “No one is safe in this world. Our future is in God’s hands, but I thank ya just the same.” He crawled up next to his wife, propped their sack of garments for a pillow and promptly fell asleep.

  Truer words were never spoken. Emily listened to their muffled snores long into the night, envious of the trust and love they shared. They had made an irrevocable decision. They would forge ahead, risking everything to stay together. Wisdom must come with age. This couple had no need to lie or deceive each other. No need to be anything other than what they were. Without knowing the future or their fate, they trusted the Lord and rested in the sweet shelter of the other’s love. Nothing else in the world seemed quite as precious as that.

  At first light Lila fed the horses, Emily hitched the wagon, and the foursome left the Berryville barn. Emily felt oddly tranquil, as though the couple were already safely in Pennsylvania and she were home in bed. Her serenity was misguided at best, because Alexander’s valet knew about this location. Suddenly, a horse and rider appeared as the steep path from the barn joined the road. The Thoroughbred reared and pranced, startled by the huge Percheron.

  The man struggled to settle his horse. “Why, you’re Miss Harrison, are you not? What a surprise. I’ve had my eye on this place hoping to catch some Yankee deserters.”

  “I am, sir,” she sputtered. “But I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” Emily couldn’t place the fastidiously dressed man with tall equestrian boots. As he apparently knew her, she prayed to make the connection before saying something foolish.

  “Captain Nathan Smith of Red Oak, fourteen miles to the west. My family has a plantation outside of Winchester.” He swept off his hat, revealing a thick head of blond hair tied back with a leather cord. With broad shoulders, a short beard, and a well-trimmed moustache, he wore the expression of a man pleased with himself. “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Harrison.”

  Emily vaguely remembered their acquaintance. “Could it have been the June ball at Hunt Farms where we met, sir?” She tried to sound relaxed even as her gut roiled. This man was one of Alexander’s rich, slaver friends. Huddled in the storage box behind the seat were two runaway slaves, and the hamper and cooking pots bounced around in the back of the wagon. That fact alone might draw Captain Smith’s attention.

  “Indeed, it was.” Smith stared at Lila for a long moment before looking again at Emily. “Yes, the June ball. I’m sure of it. I don’t believe you honored me with a dance, Miss Harrison.” Leaning from the saddle, Smith stretched out his hand. “You must promise to rectify that on the next occasion.”

  Emily stared at his hand until Lila nudged her with a foot. “Of course, Mr. Smith.” Emily leaned forward to shake.

  Instead of shaking, he kissed the back of her gloved fingers. “I look forward to that dance and will hold you to your promise.”

  “You must be a friend of Mr. Hunt.” Emily tugged her hand back.

  “Yes, for a very long time. Since we were young boys.” Though Smith smiled, his eyes remained cold. “There is little happening in Alex’s life that I’m not a part of or at least aware of.”

  Emily flushed but refused to let this rooster nettle her. “Is that so? Truly, I would think a man would have plenty in his own life to occupy his attention.” Again, Lila’s foot tapped hers in warning, but Emily paid no heed.

  His laughter resembled a snort. “Of course, I only meant we had much in common and took each other into confidences.” Smith fastened his focus on Lila once more.

  “Tell me, Miss Harrison. Why are you driving the wagon while your slave sits at her ease watching the scenery?”

  Lila shrank lower on the bench beside her. “Miss Amite is not my slave, Mr. Smith,” said Emily. “She is a free woman of color. I would never own a slave.” Emily didn’t try to hide her repugnance.

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember Alexander mentioning you were from the North.” He uttered the last word as though spitting poison. “Pray tell, what is a Yankee woman doing on a back road in Clarke County, with the Union Army camped not ten miles away?” His glare was frightening. All cordial pretention had disappeared.

  Emily stiffened with alarm. He suspected her of spying? If he thought her a Union spy, he might search the wagon and discover the elderly couple. Of course, people who assisted runaways were fined a thousand dollars and jailed for six months, but spies were hanged. That thought crossed her mind in the seconds following Smith’s insinuation. But she couldn’t let him send Jacob and Ruth back to slavery.

  “I know nothing of the whereabouts of Union camps, sir. I am running errands for Dr. Porter Bennington of Martinsburg. We came from Harper’s Ferry depot, where we picked up medical supplies. Now we’re on our way to Front Royal’s hospital. We spent the night here because we were waylaid and didn’t reach our destination by nightfall. You might not be aware, but Dr. Bennington is a physician—”

  “I know who Porter Bennington is,” he snapped with impatience. “I just can’t believe he would send his governess and a maid to deliver anything this close to enemy lines.”

  He was right. Dr. Bennington never would. Now that Winchester had fallen into Federal control, he wouldn’t allow her to get this close to the fighting. “I’m not sure he realizes. You know Dr. Bennington. All he thinks about are his patients. That’s why Miss Amite and I volunteered to pick up the shipment.” Emily beamed a smile and prayed it didn’t l
ook as false as it felt.

  “Yes, well…” he stammered. “Because this is a day for good deeds, I will accompany you to Front Royal to assure your safety.”

  “But you are dressed as a Confederate soldier, sir. You’ll be shot on sight by Union pickets. We have the white smocks of the Sanitary Commission.” Emily dug in her valise by her feet and pulled out a garment. “We’ll be able to cross the lines unimpeded while wearing these.” She offered another bright smile.

  Lighting a cheroot, Smith took a great deal of time to mull that over. “Well, Miss Harrison, I would be remiss in light of your friendship with Alexander if I don’t accompany you at least part of the way.” He grabbed the halter of her horse as the wagon began to lurch forward, and then he pulled the reins from her hands.

  Emily blushed a shade of scarlet. Had Alexander discussed her with this peacock, perhaps over an evening cigar? “As you wish, sir.” Her new beau spread gossip after a few kisses in the garden? She would use that to her advantage.

  After several miles, Captain Smith tossed the Percheron’s reins to Lila. “Good day to you, Miss Harrison. I look forward to our next meeting.” He tipped his hat, spurred his horse, and rode off in a cloud of dust.

  Lila exhaled an audible sigh. “Whew, you sure do have the gift of gab. That man was too confused by your story not to believe you. But I didn’t like the way he looked at you or at me,” she added in a soft voice. “I know what that look means. My mama warned me about bad intentions before I even knew what went on between men and women. You had better give that dandy a wide berth.”

  “I’m not sure how much he believed.” Emily dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief as a shiver ran up her spine and took back the reins. “But don’t worry. I intend to stay far away from Nathan Smith of Red Oak Plantation.”

  Soon her thoughts drifted to a tall man with gray eyes, strong hands, and warm lips she would never forget. Their moonlit supper on the terrace had meant something to her. She had fantasized about a new life in which she was cherished and loved. She was hopelessly misguided—hopeless and helpless to do anything about it.

  If she hadn’t been pining for love and romance, she never would have turned north at the crossroads heading toward Charles Town. In keeping with the tale she’d spun, she would have headed toward Front Royal until absolutely certain the audacious captain was long gone. But Emily’s mind had been on Alexander and little else.

  The cocky Confederate officer, astride his stallion, followed the two women for several miles. He didn’t know what to make of the situation. He hadn’t believed a word Emily had said, yet if on the outside chance she was telling the truth, any affront would get quickly back to the colonel. When their wagon turned north instead of south toward Front Royal, he spat on the ground. “You lying Yankee.” Seething, Smith ground down on his back teeth.

  “I will enjoy seeing you brought to your knees, Miss Harrison, along with your black friend who fancies herself a lady. This might prove rather interesting, indeed.”

  TWELVE

  AUTUMN 1862

  Aunt Augusta? Aunt Augusta!”

  Mrs. Bennington awoke in her chaise in the back sunroom. “Alexander, what a pleasure to see you in Martinsburg,” she said. “Joshua built a fire in the stove on this unusually cool day, and I’m afraid I nodded off.” Sitting up, she stretched out her arms to him.

  “The pleasure is mine, dear aunt.” He kissed her cheek and rubbed her hands between his.

  “Where are James and Rebecca?” She peered around his shoulder. “Are your parents with you?”

  “No, ma’am. I rode up alone just to see you.”

  “Do you think you can fool me so easily?” Augusta rose to her feet and rang the bell for the maid. “I believe you came to see Miss Harrison.” She tapped one elegant finger against her cheek. “But I’m always glad to see you. Let’s have tea while you tell me the news.”

  Alexander plopped down in a chair near hers and stretched out his long legs. “You know me too well.”

  “I doubt that, nephew. Anyway, Emily walked to town on some errands and to get some air. The poor thing read to me all afternoon until I yawned rudely in the middle of her book.” Her smile erased years from her face. “Since we’ve been home she taught me the game of hearts and I’ve taught her to play whist. I don’t know what I would do without her. Porter insists on keeping the girls in Europe until this matter is settled.”

  “This matter is a war, dear Aunt. Uncle Porter is wise to protect his daughters. I had to evade several Union patrols on my way here. That is part of the reason why I came. Martinsburg will soon be in Federal control. There’s no way around it. Neither Robert E. Lee nor anyone else can spare the troops to protect the city.”

  “But the railroad is how we get medical supplies for Porter’s practice.” Augusta wrung her hands.

  “That’s exactly why the Yanks want this area. And there’s not much we can do to stop them, considering local sentiments.”

  Augusta nodded her head gravely. “I’ve heard the same news from Porter. Many of the town’s residents show Union loyalties. On the outlying farms, more than half of the families want to return to the Union. They are too poor to have ever owned slaves in the first place. Because the crops are being destroyed by constant skirmishes, their survival depends on peace being restored.”

  “I heard that a vote will soon be taken in the statehouse. If rumors are true, counties west of the Alleghenies and here along the Potomac will leave the Confederacy.” Alexander couldn’t hide his sorrow.

  “What? I can’t believe it.” Augusta slumped onto the chaise.

  “That’s what is being reported in the newspapers. These counties will secede from Virginia and form a new Union state, West Virginia.” Alexander began to pace the room. “If that happens, you and Uncle Porter cannot remain in Martinsburg. You won’t be safe from Yankee reprisals. You must come to Hunt Farms for the duration of the war. In fact, my parents insist that you not wait any longer.” He crossed the room and took hold of Augusta’s hands. “Come back with me now and stay for Christmas. Then we can see what happens after the vote.”

  “What about Parkersburg and our dear little island? Will they also return to the Union?”

  “Most assuredly if the other western counties vote to secede.”

  “I must talk this over with your uncle. Porter will be heartbroken.” She closed her eyes, fighting back tears.

  “I stopped at his office first and have already spoken with him. Uncle Porter is packing his equipment. He asked me to be the one to tell you.”

  “Then it is decided.” Augusta’s voice faltered as she rose to her feet. “Now, I must see about dinner. It won’t do to serve bacon and boiled potatoes when my favorite nephew comes to call.” She sounded normal, but her gait suggested the news had grieved her sorely. At the door she paused. “I cannot comprehend this, Alexander. The world seems to be spinning out of control. When it finally stops, nothing will be the same.”

  He met her gaze solemnly. “I won’t insult you by saying everything will be well. Only God knows the future. We must leave it in His capable hands.”

  A tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Good to hear you say that, nephew. Lately I feared you had lost your faith.” She disappeared down the hall to the kitchen.

  Walking to the sideboard, Alexander spotted the decanter of brandy. Instead, he chose to pour a glass of lemonade from a waiting pitcher. He sank onto the hearth chair with his drink to ponder the future. Warmed and mesmerized by the fire, he didn’t hear the parlor door open and close until a familiar voice broke his reverie.

  “That is not his horse, Lila. Just because a white stallion is here doesn’t mean it belongs to Mr. Hunt.”

  Hearing Emily’s voice, Alexander’s heart leaped. He smiled at the memory of wild hair flying around her head and crinoline lace peeking beneath her hem.

  “It is too, Emily. That is exactly the horse we saw at Hunt Farms, and now it’s tied up out front. I jus
t hope William is with him.”

  He slouched lower in the high-backed chair, recognizing the distinctive voice of Lila Amite and her perfect Queen’s English. Lila Amite is sweet on William? This was an interesting tidbit of news.

  “What would he be doing here?” asked Emily. “There are Federal troops everywhere. He’s not senseless enough to cross Union lines.”

  “Oh, I can assure you, Miss Harrison, I am.” Alexander stood up, stopping both women in their tracks. They turned toward him simultaneously, their mouths hanging open. “Would you care to warm yourselves by the fire? There is a bit of a chill in the air today, don’t you think?” He downed the rest of his lemonade in one long gulp.

  “It’s quite rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Mr. Hunt.” Emily’s tone was crisp as she marched into the sitting room. “I would have thought you’d learned your manners by now.”

  “Eavesdropping wasn’t my intention. I was enjoying the fire when I heard voices in the hall. I’m pleased to see you again too, Miss Harrison. Good afternoon, Miss Amite,” he added with a nod at Lila.

  “Good afternoon, sir.” Lila bobbed a quick curtsey. “Perhaps you can forget what I said about William?” She pulled Emily’s coat from her hands and disappeared down the hallway.

  “Thank you, Lila,” Emily said toward her retreating back.

  “You look as though you’re blindfolded and standing before an executioner, Miss Harrison.”

  “I’m not the least bit afraid of you.” Emily gingerly took a step in his direction. “What brings you to Martinsburg?”

  “Why, I’ve come to see you, of course. That night we shared dinner changed the course of the planets for me.”

  Emily glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. “Please don’t make light of such matters, especially if we might be overheard.”

  “I’m not making light of anything, I assure you.” He closed the distance between them and took hold of her chin. “I was disappointed to find you gone when I returned home. You left without even the briefest letter of explanation.”