Authors: Ann Rinaldi
Seth wanted to seek out and rejoin Quantrill, who had established a new camp on the Stanley farm, which was soon discovered by the federals. So he moved to a new site on the east fork of the Little Blue River, only to be discovered again. All the time he was out searching for me, Seth kept getting intelligence, via a messenger, as to where Quantrill was. After all, Seth was important to Quantrill. He was a captain.
Next, Quantrill bivouacked at Joe Dillingham's farm, a good hideout because it had only one route in. Still, just about the time we set off for Seth's farm, Quantrill passed the word along that his men should meet on September 30 at Captain Perdee's farm on the Blackwater River in Johnson County.
Having received that intelligence, Seth decided to go with us to his place. After all, he did yearn to see Martha. And it was only September 12. There was time yet to meet up with Quantrill.
The first thing Seth did was change his clothes for the trip home. Off came the gray Quantrill shirt with the red stitching. The baggy trousers, another sign of Quantrill's men, got pulled out of the high cavalry boots and the four revolvers worn around the hips were reduced to two.
He had Sue Mundy cut his hair, after which she started off to join Quantrill. Most of the Raiders had longer hair and Seth had his cut to look more conventional. He had started growing sideburns and so he shaved them off. The hat with the round brim went and was replaced with a Confederate soldier's cap, which he'd kept in his saddlebags.
Now he was ready.
We rode through what was already being called "the burnt district," the area that had been put to the torch by the Yankees. Everything, all the forests and hills, the fenced-in pastureland, the bushes and trees, was burned to a crisp. Not to mention the farmland and the barns and houses.
Some of the barns and houses still smoked. The district went on forever, it seemed. And it made one want to choke with the smell of it.
W
HEN WE
got to Seth's place, it was like coming upon heaven itself after days of traveling through hell. The world turned green again as we went down the only path in the burnt woods leading to it. Of course, the whole house being made of logs and concealed by trees, you could scarce see it. And you had to cross a creek to get there. But once in the holler, it was like another world.
Seth led the way, right down to the barn. And for an instant it was as if there were no war. All around me I could see crops in the fields, crops being brought in, wood being stacked for the winter. Seth dismounted and paused, his hands on his hips. "Maxine," he said, "gave orders for the winter wheat to be planted, and brought in the corn and potatoes, and has seen to it that the hogs got fattened. I saw some of it when I brought Martha home. But now it's harvesttime."
And then he saw a large figure in men's clothing coming out of the barn. "Maxine? It all looks beautiful."
"Sure does, Master Seth. Somebody had to see to it
or these lazy nigras you have here would spend all their time playing cards."
"How many people are left, Maxine?"
"Eight, not countin' me."
"So you're the overseer now?"
"Glad to give the job back to whichever fool wants it," she said.
"The Yankees been about?"
"They come once. Took two cows, so we got no milk, 'ceptin' what we gets from those two nanny goats of yours. Juliet, what trouble you got yourself into now?"
A nigra took the reins of our horses. Seth turned toward the house. "As long as the war is on, Maxine, this place belongs to Sue Mundy. She's a favorite with the Yankees. If they knew it was mine, they'd burn it. How's Martha?"
"She's tolerable, Master Seth. Walkin' 'round a bit more every day. Missin' you somethin' fierce. Juliet, you look like that bandage on your head went to war, too. Master Seth, Martha's on the couch in the parlor. She has a powerful yearnin' for some milk, real milk, sir. Know anybody who's got a cow to sell?"
"No. Look, I'll be overseer for the time I'm here. You care for the women."
"How long would that be, sir?"
"Two weeks, I'd say, but it'll give you a break. Juliet, why don't you go inside with Maxine and she'll fix you up. Maxine, this little piece of baggage here needs rest. Put her to bed."
"Seth!" I whined.
"No back talk, Juliet. I have enough troubles."
It was the roughest he'd talked to me since Sue Mundy had brought me back.
M
ARTHA WAS
still hurting in her side and on remedies to help her heal. She was so glad to see us that I thought she was going to squeeze the lifeblood out of Seth, she hugged him so. Right in front of me, too. I have to say that Seth did his share of squeezing and kissing.
I didn't leave the room because Martha didn't want me to. I waited patiently. And when they were finished with this decorous hello, Martha pointed to a pile of clothing on a nearby chair. "I've been working on all that," she said. "And it's for you."
There were two dresses, two chemises, two nightgowns, and some underthings, all made out of the softest cotton. I thanked her and gave her my own hug, and she showed me a dress she was working on for herself. Then Seth sent me upstairs where Maxine was waiting to help me clean up and give me remedies for the cuts on my face.
He came up to see me when I was in bed in the room he had designated for me. He had something in his hand, held half behind his back. "I wanted to give you this," he said.
And he handed me the rag doll that had belonged to Charity McCorkle Kerr. The one Bill Anderson had taken from me. My eyes widened as I held my hands out for it. By now this doll had become more than a doll for me. It was the symbol of all I had been through, all I'd learned and suffered.
"But Bill took it from me," I said.
"I found it in his possessions when I sent him on his way. I took it back."
I hugged it close. "Thank you, Seth."
He came over and kissed my cheek. "Want you to stay in bed a couple of days," he said with another kind of roughness now, a roughness that meant fondness, a fondness he was almost ashamed to admit. "Hear me?"
"Yes, Master Seth, I hear you."
He tugged at my hair. "You get better," he said. "Those are orders from the captain. And oh, listen. I just told Martha what happened to you, how Bill kidnapped you. She's really upset over it. Don't bring the subject up unless she does." He touched his eye. "I had to admit that Bill and I had a fight. Just be careful what you say to her, all right?"
I said yes. I would be careful.
I
STAYED IN
bed a full day to keep Seth happy. Then I got up and put on the robe that went with the gown Martha had made me. It lay at the foot of my bed. I felt so grateful for life, sitting on the edge of my bed, for the good people that surrounded me, for a friend like Sue Mundy, who somehow was always there to save my life, for a sister-in-law like Martha and a brother like Seth, both who looked out for me at every turn. I must be better to them, I decided. At least I must stop back-talking Seth.
Maxine wouldn't let me help in the kitchen, but I did set the table for supper so Martha could sit down.
***
"M
R.
A
DDISON,
down the road, has the only spread not touched by fire," Seth told us at supper a week after we'd arrived. "I hear he wants to barter for some things. I suggest we stay away from him."
"Why was he spared?" Martha asked.
"He's a Yankee sympathizer," Seth said.
"Does he have a family?" Martha pressed.
"Two boys, about eight and ten, and a little girl about three," Seth answered.
"What does he need for them that he wants to barter?" Martha seemed very interested.
Seth sipped his apple cider. "Two bear cubs," he said.
"Seth," Martha said sternly, "don't even tease like that."
Just after Seth and I came home, two baby bear cubs, hungry and motherless, had wandered into her kitchen garden where she was working. Martha delightedly took them in. But we had only goat's milk to give them and they did not fancy goat's milk. Maxine concocted a mixture of honey with the goat's milk, hoarhound tea, and catnip tea. The bear cubs scarcely drank of it and were losing weight. Martha worried the matter to the bone.
I fell in love with those bear cubs. Martha let me name them. So I called them Frisky and Tubby.
"To answer your question, dear," Seth told her, "he wants play-pretties for his three-year-old. Toys."
"Does he have a cow?" Martha asked.
Seth gave a short laugh. "I doubt he'd trade off livestock. Even if we did have play-pretties. Everything Juliet had was burned. Right, Juliet?"
I shook my head, yes, while inside my head I screamed no, no. There
are
things.
I have things. And Mr. Addison has a cow. Last I heard he had three cows!
I said nothing, for it was impossible. Impossible for me, all of twelve, to negotiate with Mr. Addison. Why, I wasn't allowed to take Caboose and even ride out alone, according to Seth. That rule was carved in stone. But it did give birth to the idea that I'd best go and retrieve my treasures from where I'd left them that terrible morning Pa was killed.
That day, with the fire and Pa being buried, and us going to the Andersons and all, I left the box of precious things in the tree house. Likely they were safer there than anywhere else I've been since that day. And I fully intended to go and get them.
But how to get around Seth's brilliant order to not go out riding alone? I knew I couldn't fly directly against anything that was so clearly an order without incurring his wrath. So I decided to put the matter before him. Let him ponder it a bit and come up with a solution.
I did that evening, right when the house had quieted down after supper and I found him outside on the porch alone, smoking a cheroot.
"Seth."
"Umm."
"I need to know what you would do if you were me and you had this problem."
"The answer is no, Juliet. Don't even bother asking."
"But you don't even know what I'm going to ask."
"Now the answer is no with brown sugar on it."
"You said you would always be fair to me, Seth. You said that."
He sighed. "All right. Go ahead."
I told him. It did not go over too well.
"You mean you left Ma's good pearls in a box in your tree house since that day?" he asked incredulously.
"I never had the chance to go and get them."
He shook his head slowly. "Ma's good pearls. Sometimes I just don't know about you, Juliet. Is it your age or what?"
"Seth, don't scold. I have been through a few hardships since then, you know."
"All right. I'm sorry, baby. We'll ride over tonight and get them."
"Tonight?" I could scarce believe my good luck.
"Yes. We're both fugitives, Juliet. We have to creep around in the dark. Go and get ready. Put on something warm. It gets cold soon's the sun goes down."
I hugged him. "Oh, you're the best brother, Seth."
"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I know."
T
HE BOX
was there, right where
I
left it. Seth helped me climb up the tree house ladder, and then back down. He put the box in his saddlebags and we set off the same way as we'd come, through the woods. Seth knew the paths where nobody else rode. We got back before ten that night, and I was allowed to take the box up to my room and enjoy my treasures before I went to sleep.
I examined my mother's pearls. I ran them through my fingers. Then I put them around the neck of the rag doll Seth had retrieved for me from Bill Anderson.
I got undressed and into bed just as Maxine came into the room with my nightly medicine. I took it without complaint, something that made her ask: "What you up to, Miss Juliet?"
"Nothing, Maxine. I was just going over my treasures."
She scowled. She did not believe me. She always knew when I was up to something, but she had no authority to make me tell her. And she seldom, if ever, went to Seth to tell on me. Trouble was, I had nothing she could tell.
"Don't ever ride out on your own." Those words stayed with me as I fell asleep.
T
HE NEXT
morning was bright and blue and the leaves on the trees were near fully turned now. I went downstairs to breakfast, disappointed once again that I couldn't have real milk in my coffee.
Seth was gone already, outside to do the morning chores. I sat with Martha at the dining room table for a while, watching her write out the day's menu, working with what we had on the place. We had plenty of everything, except real milk.
Maxine had cautioned me to be good. Martha had had no success feeding the cubs this morning. Moreover,
about ten minutes ago, she'd thrown up her own breakfast and begged Maxine not to tell Seth. Maxine was worried about her.
"All babies need milk," Martha said, "or they'll die. Of course some babies are fortunate enough to get it from their mothers. But if their mothers die or don't get it themselves before they are born, then you have real trouble. What was it you just said, dear?"
I had to stop and think of what it was. It wasn't important. Words were forming in my mind, pushing their way around to make sentences. Decisions. Words that were important. Could a decision be made so quickly? Moreover, could I do it?
Why not? I had Ma's pearl necklace now. And I had Charity McCorkle Kerr's rag doll. I could barter for a milk cow.
"Is it all right if I go riding?" I asked Martha. "My horse needs the exercise and so do I."
"If you feel up to it," she said. "But remember what Seth said. Stay off the main road and don't go too far."
I got up from the table.
"You might want to change into boys' clothing," she suggested lightly.
I hesitated. "Why?"
She stopped writing and looked at me. "Juliet, do you recollect the day Seth came and got you at the hospital to take you to Quantrill's camp? Do you recollect how he made you put on boys' clothing first?"
I said yes, I remembered.
She sighed and looked me up and down. "Seth was taking you into a camp of men, tough and lonely men who hadn't seen a woman in a while. He knew the impression you make when you walk into a room full of men. He was protecting you. You are a very pretty young lady, Juliet. And Seth would be the first to tell you."