SIXTEEN
From that time on, Caleb grew stronger. Each day, he found he could take a few more steps than the day before. A slight limp soon marked the only evidence of his wound. True to his word, he gladly pitched in to help Abby’s father in the fields. His skin, burnished from the sun, glowed with a healthy hue. His eyes, the color of topaz, sparkled, and he soon reached a height that caused him to stoop under the doorframes or risk a bump on his head.
The summer days stretched out long and hot. After the drenching the earth received from the storm, the rain ceased. Crops lost the bright green of spring and the land turned brown and dry.
Amos Clark stopped several times a day to stare at the brassy skies. Caleb knew the older man hoped that each passing cloud would bring the much needed moisture to the ground.
On Sundays, Caleb accompanied Abby and her father to church. The first time he had attended services, he looked around wistfully at the families gathered to hear the words of Reverend Potter. He missed his family and thought often of the Larkins. He recalled how Seth had teased Elizabeth in a brotherly, loving way. And each day he spent here, witnessing the closeness of Abby and her father, he felt more alone than ever. But his feelings of gratitude to the Clarks kept him from revealing his loneliness.
* * * *
On this late October Sunday, excitement filled the crowded little church. A rider had galloped into town the previous week, waving a message that told of a great victory at Yorktown. The British Cornwallis had surrendered after holding out for fifteen days against the combined forces of Washington’s Continentals and their French allies under the command of General Comte de la Rochambeau.
Buggies filled the tree-shaded churchyard and neighbors greeted others from distant farms.
Reverend Potter cut his sermon short. “I know you’re all anxious to celebrate the wonderful news. You’ve been asked to share what you have with your friends and neighbors. We’ve all had little in the way of food and other necessities for many years because of this terrible war, but we have cause now to come together and give thanks. So, let us conclude with a prayer for those gathered here today, and the hope that other loved ones will return to us safely and soon.”
The crowd poured from the church. Amos, Caleb and the other men carried tables from the church and set them up in the leafy shade. Abby and the other women laid out the food. The platters of each seemed sparse, but with all contributing, it looked like a royal feast to Caleb.
The children clustered around the tables, their eyes wide with anticipation. Abby brought dried-peach pies. She had talked Caleb into helping and handed him a paring knife. When the sweet scents filled the kitchen, he looked at the girl whose face was flushed from the heat of the oven. Her hair curled around her face.
“Since I had the most important job, I will tell everyone I made the pies alone,” he teased.
“Then there won’t be any samples today, Private Fields.”
Meanwhile, the sun bore down. The men removed their hats to wipe wet brows. Later, everyone said they had never seen a day so hot and dry. It was unusual to have such weather this time of year.
By afternoon, babies slept in their mothers’ laps and older people sought the shade. Boys ignored the temperature and played games of tag and challenged each other to footraces. Young girls sat under the trees to cheer their favorite runners and whisper secrets behind cupped hands.
Caleb stood with the men discussing the war whose end seemed in sight. At one point, he glanced at Abby. A tall, young man leaned down to catch her words. Whatever she said caused the fellow to smile.
As twilight closed in, families reluctantly gathered to begin the trek home. Caleb and Abby sat in the wagon waiting for Amos to take his place in the driver’s seat. Just as he climbed up, Amos looked to the south and gave a cry. Those close by turned to see what had startled him. All eyes followed where he pointed. A gasp rose from the crowd as they spotted plumes of grayish smoke that rose in the purple dusk.
Amos gave an expert snap to the reins and the horse galloped down the familiar path toward home. Others followed the buggy, which set a pace few could meet. Abby and Caleb hung on, not speaking as the horse raced down the narrow lanes.
Even at a distance, they could see the angry orange flames licking skyward. They came from the barn.
A random breeze will put the house in danger from the dancing sparks,
Caleb thought. He and Amos jumped from the buggy as soon as they reached the house.
“Fill those buckets from the pond,” Amos called to one group. To another, he pointed to the barn. “Get the livestock out, but don’t put yourselves in danger.” Still others herded the few horses that had already escaped the fiery structure.
“Caleb, you and Abby go to the house and get anything we wouldn’t want to lose, but if this fire spreads, get as far away as you can. Take care of her, son,” he said, nodding toward Abby before he tuned back to the fire that threatened their home and livelihood.
Caleb followed Abby into the house and found a box to carry any valuables Abby wanted to save. He watched as she collected family treasures. Into the box went an old Bible. “This has been in our family for a hundred years,” Abby said, as she placed the heavy book in the box. She followed with a few pieces of silverware that had belonged to her grandparents. Several other mementoes joined the rest.
“Let’s don’t linger too long,” Caleb said as he glanced nervously out of the window.
Abby reached into a cupboard drawer and picked up a small broach carved of ivory. “This belonged to my mother. My grandfather, a sailor, brought it to her when she was about my age.” Her voice caught. “Oh, Caleb, these things might be all my father and I have left if the fire spreads.”
“We won’t let it.” Caleb patted Abby’s shoulder awkwardly, not knowing what else to do when faced with her tears.
They fled the house, but stopped short outside. Only a few smoking timbers remained of the barn, but the fire had stopped before it reached the farmhouse. The animals had all been accounted for.
The two watched as the workers sank to the ground, their chests heaving. The water dipper passed from mouth to mouth. The cool liquid slipped down throats parched from the heat and the fight to keep the flames contained.
One by one, the neighbor’s wagons pulled out, but not before they promised Amos to return the following week to help rebuild his barn. At last, only the three remained.
After a light supper, Abby and Caleb walked outside. Far away stars winked, and a cool night breeze helped to rid the air of the acrid smell of smoke.
“Uh…Abby, that fellow I saw you talking with today at the picnic? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.”
Abby wrinkled her brow. “Oh, you must mean Edward Craft.”
When she didn’t continue, Caleb cleared his throat and tried again. “He seemed quite taken with you. Have you known him long?”
“Our families have been friends for years. We played together as children. He just returned from school in Europe.”
“I see.” Caleb said no more and their conversation turned to the happenings of the day.
* * * *
Friends and neighbors arrived the next week as they had promised. No one came empty handed. Wagons held rough-hewn planks and tools. Willing hands pitched in while the hot sun beat down. Wives and mothers stood by with baskets of food for the hungry workers.
The frame went up quickly. Caleb, perched atop the structure, looked down to see another wagon pull in. Looking closer, he recognized the young man who had attracted his attention at the picnic when he chatted with Abby. He continued to work, but kept an eye on Edward Craft. His face turned red with embarrassment and pain when he hit his thumb instead of the nail he hammered.
After the noon meal, he found himself at work beside Craft. He looked a few years older than Caleb, and unlike the others who worked in silence he kept up a friendly line of chatter. Caleb learned Edward’s plans of becoming a doctor. The young man spoke of his studies and his travels in Europe. He regaled Caleb with the wonders of Italy and the great museums that held magnificent works of art. Caleb thought of Major Hunt and his appreciation of the Larkin’s collection of paintings.
As Edward continued to talk, Caleb let his mind drift until something Edward said brought him back to earth with a thud.
“Next month is Abby’s birthday, and I plan to ask for her hand. We’ll keep company until I finish my studies, then we’ll marry.”
“You speak as if you know how she’ll answer,” Caleb said calmly enough, even though his head buzzed with the news.
“Our parents have planned this since our childhood, so I’m sure it will cause no problem.”
Caleb couldn’t understand why he felt so confused. He looked at Edward Craft. Almost as tall as Caleb, Edward had curly black hair and a pleasant look about him. His speech proved him well educated.
“Well, that’s…um, nice,” he responded, while his stomach seemed to fill with butterflies. Caleb realized with a start how much he cared for Abby.
By dusk, Amos Clark had a new barn, and the wagons, their loads lighter, headed home.
Tossing and turning late into the night, Caleb made a decision. Gazing out on a moonlit landscape, he told himself the time had come for him to head home too. He hoped the little house still stood, and that this terrible war had passed it by.
“But is that the only reason I feel I should leave?” he muttered before he dropped into a restless sleep.
SEVENTEEN
Early the next morning Caleb gathered his belongings, saddled Victory, and waited to say goodbye to Abby and her father.
On his birthday, the day he rescued Abby, Amos Clark had made him a gift of the horse, his companion for almost two years. “He belongs to you, lad. You’ve proven a good master. Victory couldn’t have chosen a better one himself.”
Rendered speechless, Caleb had finally stammered his thanks.
He stood now, shivering in the cool dawn, and whispered into the horse’s ear. “I’ve made the right decision, Victory. You’ll like my farm.” Caleb swallowed when he realized he had said, ‘my farm.’” Cinching the saddle, he murmured, “With my folks gone, it’s just you and me, boy. But you’ll like it there. We’ll do just fine. You’ll see.”
“Well, what’s this? It’s mighty early to be out.” Amos Clark’s voice broke the silence of the morning. Yawning, he joined Caleb in the yard.
“It’s time I went home, sir. I owe you so much, but I’m well and strong now, thanks to you and Abby. I plan to go to Charleston to see how the Larkins fared. Perhaps they will have information about Major Hunt. Then, I’ll head home. If my farm is still there, it will need my attention.”
Before Amos could reply, Abby appeared. “Father? Caleb? What’s the matter? You’re out so early. The sun’s not up yet.” The girl looked from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.
“Caleb is leaving, daughter. He’s going home.” Amos Clark’s voice shook as he replied.
“But, why, Caleb?” Abby’s blue eyes bore into his, but Caleb reminded himself that Abby would soon be promised to another.
“I’m well now and my farm needs me. Things are winding down, and the militia can do without a man who limps. I’ll always think kindly of you and your father, and I’m mighty grateful for all you’ve done.”
As Caleb spoke, Victory raised his head and neighed.
“What’s the matter, boy? What do you hear?”
The three fell silent and listened. Seconds later, the sound of hoofbeats reached them.
“Quick, Caleb, get the guns,” Amos ordered. “Abby, you must hide. Go to the root cellar and don’t come out until you’re called.”
Caleb obeyed. He closed the door to the cellar and covered it with brush after Abby climbed down. He ran into the house and collected the muskets Amos kept in a cupboard and hurried back outside. The two took refuge in a grove of trees and waited.
The sound of hooves came closer. Three horsemen came into view, but could not be clearly seen in the pale dawn. Riding up to the door, the men stopped and looked around. “Yes, I’m sure this is the place, even after several months, but it’s hard to tell in this light,” one announced. “Let’s find out.” In a loud voice he shouted. “Hello, we’re looking for Private Caleb Fields. Is he here?”
“I recognize the voice, Mr. Clark. It’s my friend, Seth Larkin, the one who brought me here.”
Laughing, Caleb dropped his gun and stepped from the shelter of the trees. Amos followed at a distance. “Seth Larkin! You took your sweet time about coming back to see a friend.”
“Well, if it’s not the pride of the Carolinas. You look good from what I can see in this light. Much better than the last time I saw you.”
“I am, Seth, thanks to you. You probably remember Amos Clark, and if you’ll wait a moment, I’ll get his daughter. We didn’t know who might be coming at this hour.”
Caleb returned in a few minutes followed by Abby, who bobbed a curtsy to the assembled horsemen. “What brings you to the part of the world? Although whatever it is I’m glad to see you.”
“Major Hunt sent us to clear up a little business nearby. He gave us permission to stop and check on you before we reported back. I’m still under his command until I decide if I want to continue in the army. Those leaving the army and militia will muster out soon, so plan to attend. It should prove quite a ceremony. I’ll let you know the details.”
“Thanks, Seth, it’s good to have news. We’ve had little here except to learn the fighting has moved north and the war is almost over. I was just leaving as you arrived. I must find out if my place is still there. My father and grandfather farmed and I suppose it’s in my blood, Farming doesn’t require two good legs as the militia does.”
“I approve your decision. Oh, my parents have sent an invitation for you to visit, if I found you. And, of course, Bess asked for you.”
Caleb noticed Abby’s eyes darken at Seth’s words.
“Thank you, Seth. I look forward to seeing your family again. I accept your kind invitation. I had planned on stopping by anyway.”