I've mentioned a time or two that I'm working on a historical series that correlates with the ghosts in my Book B!tches series. They are unedited, although their draft form is pretty complete. Please leave a comment or contact me at anneconleyauthor@gmail.com with thoughts. I will post one chapter a week. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter one
June 12, 1865
Emily felt the change in the air before she saw the dust
rising on the road. She’d woken up with
an itchy feeling of anticipation she couldn’t explain. So, while unexpected,
the plume of dust on the road leading up to her house didn’t exactly surprise
her. As she pumped water from the well
in the yard for wash day, her hands worked faster, trying to fill the bucket as
her eyes scanned the horizon. It wasn’t the
tall, billowing plume of a wagon or horses, but it was larger than the plume
Mr. Stein had made yesterday. Which
meant it was more than one person, most likely on foot.
A tingle of apprehension stole up Emily’s spine. Strange things had been happening in Texas
since the war had ended, and she and Mama had been trying to hide the goings on
from the rest of the kids, so as not to worry them. Banks had been robbed, stores looted, and
farms raided. Every time one of them
went into town, more bad news awaited them.
Fortunately, Brantville had been spared, so far. But news of King Springs, a mere forty miles
away, was dire.
Jamie came racing through the trees into the yard,
breathless and flushed. “Emily! It’s soldiers! Soldiers are coming!” He didn’t stop, his excited state propelling
him into the house, while Emily braced herself for trouble. The war was over, but that didn’t mean her
world was at peace. She wondered when it
ever would be.
Her heart pounded, wondering what soldiers would want with
them, and she forced air into her lungs.
They were on a private drive, not the main road, and anyone coming this
way would have to have their farm in mind for a destination. Breathing heavier than necessary, Emily
watched as the dust heralded the arrival of several men, limping into her
family’s yard. Emily knew with a
sickening sense of foreboding, that this group of men heralded more than just
an arrival. The presence of these
soldiers illustrated a change for her family, whether she liked it or not. That was the feeling she’d woken with this
morning. It was a sense of doom, because
the axis of her world was tipping even further from the comfort level of her
past she longed with all her heart to get back to.
When the rag-tag bunch approached, one man walked forward,
the dust unable to hide the markings of a Union soldier.
“Sergeant Major Breck, at your service Madam.” The man bowed low, swiping his cap off his
head and clutching it to his chest reverently.
Emily found herself in a brief curtsy as a response, even though she had
no real reason to be civil to this man, but she was too scared not to be. She could name twenty reasons to be
frightened, none of which she would actually voice. So Emily stood as stoicly as she could,
lifting her chin.
Her eyes roamed the men behind him, about twenty in all,
looking like an awful mess. Five or six
men were managing to hold up the rest of them, obviously ill. The war was over, and they were on their way
home, back North. She couldn’t imagine
what all was wrong with them. They
looked sick, tired, and hungry. Even
through the warnings going off in her mind with the knowledge they were the
enemy, a sense of pity pervaded. Were
Papa, John, and Jakob going through the same trials to get back home? Were they as sick and wounded as these men
were? Were people being nice to them, in
an effort to get them to leave and come home to their families?
“I am Rachel Evans, and this is my family’s farm. My daughter, Emily.” Mama had made her appearance on the porch,
and her regal disposition shone through the rugged exterior, awing Emily. Her mother worked harder than any woman she
knew, yet she’d come here with Papa from New York City years ago, and her
polished background managed to shine through when needed. Like now.
Her rigid spine and elegant demeanor belied the threadbare dress she
wore.
Something in her tone spoke of a kindred spirit to the
Yankee and he smiled before bowing even lower to Rachel. Rightfully so, because Emily only wanted to
shoo them away and tell them to send her men back.
“We are in need of food and lodging. We are trying to make our way back home,
ma’am, but most of us are sick. Just
until we get on our feet, if you please.”
Emily couldn’t be sure, but it seemed his words spoke plainly, even
while his expression was calculated. His
eyes darted about, inventorying the farm, the barn, and the surroundings. She wanted to extend her arms and pull the
entire property into them, to keep it all hidden from his curious gaze. First the bank was trying to take it away,
and now this man was here, looking around like he suddenly owned the
place. Her hackles rose, but her
mother’s next words had her snapping her head to look at the woman.
“Of course. You may
make lodging in the barn. Stay as long
as you need. Emily will be out in a
moment with food and supplies.” Chin
raised, Mama dismissed them and walked into the house, tugging on Emily’s
sleeve to follow.
“Mama!” Emily hissed under her breath when the door was
closed. If her heart pounded before, it
was now galloping out of her chest. It
was almost as if she stood in front of a stranger. The stories she’d heard of Yankee soldiers
raping women on the road they’d come across were horrific. Her mother was inviting them to stay? “What are you doing? They’re Yankees!” She cried urgently, unable to not state the
obvious. Her past, tied with her future,
was slipping away with every minute of this day. Each new action proved to her that she would
never find her old life again.
“I know, child. Don’t
sass me.” Softening her tone, she
continued. “The bank is coming in two
days. I doubt they want to take back a
farm that’s overrun with Union soldiers.”
Emily’s gaping mouth snapped shut, speechless at her
mother’s wisdom. Once again, she
realized she didn’t know as much as she thought she did. Of course, the entire country side had heard
the horror stories. Nobody would want to
be around the soldiers. The two women
turned to the kitchen, where Jamie and his two sisters, Louise and Irene were
staring at them, slack-jawed, Irene holding her beloved rag doll in her mouth,
as she did when she was upset.
It was a tricky plan, one that could backfire on them. They may indeed get to keep their farm, but
at what cost? If the soldiers ate all
the food before winter came, the Evans would have nothing. By the time the soldiers took their leave,
would there be a farm left? There wasn’t
anything to be done for it. They could
comply, or they could boot them off the place, and apparently Mama had made her
decision. The soldiers would stay.
Emily smoothed down her skirts, in a concerted effort to
calm her nerves.
“You’re catchin’ flies…” Emily muttered as she walked over
to the stove to start piling corn cakes on a platter for the soldiers. This was supposed to be their supper, but
they’d have to make more. Scooping up
the pitcher of buttermilk and stuffing a sheet under her arm, she walked to the
door. Her mama started barking orders at
the children to fetch eggs, make more corn cakes and pick some tomatoes from
the garden. Apparently Mama was going to
feed them well.
Emily quieted her thoughts, managing to balance everything
and still grab the bucket of water on her way to the barn, determined not to
grumble, but when she arrived, the scene stunned her.
The men had looked rough before, standing in her yard, but
they had been hanging on to a tenuous thread of dignity. Now, they just looked pitiful, either lying
in heaps on the floor of the barn, or sitting, obviously exhausted. She handed off the plate and pitcher to one
of the men, who took it gratefully with a mumbled, “Thank you, Ma’am.”
Overwhelmed by the sight in front of her, Emily struggled to
know what was next. They had a place to
stay, as well as the Evans’ dinner. Now
what? The men who looked able, barely looked able for anything. Fatigue marred their every motion, from
passing the plate and pitcher, to stretching their legs. The ones who didn’t look able, looked next to
death, and Emily didn’t know if there was anything to do for them.
“Gentlemen,” Rachel barked from
behind Emily, startling the able men to some semblance of attention. “I need you to smell less, so if you would
oblige, I’ll be needing your clothes in a pile.” She pointed to one man. “You, collect everyone’s clothing and leave
them in the yard, my daughters will wash them and get them back to you.” Turning to Emily, she continued, “You and I
will strip the ill ones.”
“But ma’am…” began one soldier,
clearly embarrassed.
“No need. We’re
married. Ain’t nothing we haven’t seen
before.” Emily had no idea how, but she
managed a straight face through Mama’s bald-faced lie. She wasn’t any more married than Louise. Well, maybe a little more, since she was
engaged, but that didn’t mean she was up to stripping a bunch of strange men. The heat on her face could easily be blamed
on the June sun, but she knew the truth.
“If you can walk, I’ll expect you to walk yourself down to the creek for
a bath. There’s soap there.” She pointed to a small pile of soap she’d
brought before turning clear blue eyes on Emily, who knew better than to argue
that she wasn’t married and hadn’t seen any of this before. “You’ll wash as you go, Emily. You get the lice out of their hair, and I’ll
do the rest. These boys need to be
clean, first and foremost.”
Emily gulped past the lump in her suddenly dry throat. “All
the way, Mama?” she whispered.
“All the way, child,” her mother responded with gentleness
she rarely showed. Rachel must have read
her trepidation, because she went a bit further to allay Emily’s fears. “I’ll explain later, Emily. Just do this now.” Mama’s mouth was set in a stern line, her
shoulders straight. She clutched her
skirts and went to work.
Pretending she was playing with her rag doll from childhood,
Emily began undressing the men, most of whom had slipped into unconsciousness
as soon as they were prone, doing her best to not look at their privates. But she just couldn’t help it.
She had never seen a naked man before. She had bathed and changed Jamie’s diapers
when he was a babe, but that didn’t come close to what she saw now, with these
men and their hairy, flaccid, filthy appendages.
Her mother interrupted her ruminations, “They’ll be more
comfortable if they’re clean.”
So she did. She
washed the beards and hair on the men’s heads while her mother took charge of the
parts she’d presumably already seen before.
After about the third man, it became a stilted routine, and Emily was
finished before she realized it. But the
intimacy with such men made her guilty.
Thoughts of Jakob overwhelmed her—memories of him helping her brother
chop wood and mend fences, eating supper at their table, even lazy summer
afternoons fishing at the creek—all conspired against her duty to her mama.
“Right then,” Rachel stood, clapping her hands
together. “You and the girls get to
washing clothes, and I’ll get Jamie to help me with supper.” Emily raced away, thankful to be out of the
barn, and away from the strange men.
With Louise and Irene at the wash pot, dutifully stirring
the clothes for their wash day chore, Emily unceremoniously dumped the
soldier’s clothing in a pile on the ground. Louise carefully placed more wood under the
pot, to keep the ashes from rising into it and getting the clothes dirty.
Emily fished out the girls’ dresses and lost herself to her
own thoughts as she scrubbed them clean while her sisters put the soldiers
clothes in the pot to soak. She missed
her Papa and her brother. William and
John had willingly gone to go fight in the war close to three years ago, to
show solidarity to their sister states of the Confederacy. Jakob had not gone until he was conscripted
two years ago. They were to be married
on his return.
Thoughts of familiarity, paired with the cleansing motions
of scrubbing clothes, made her feel better.
When the men came home, life would get back to normal. She and Jakob could get on with their plans
of building a house on the property and raising a family while Jakob and her
father worked the crops. Maybe they
could even go back to planting cotton, like before. John would find a nice girl from town to
marry. Jakob’s parents would come over
for a Sunday meal after their worship and Bible study, and Mama and Papa would
help her make her new house a home.
Of course, she hadn’t heard from any of them in over eight
months, and she had no idea if that meant they were dead or not. Lots of men hadn’t been heard from, but some
were beginning to make their way back home now.
What would Papa and John say if they came home to find a bunch of Union
soldiers sleeping in the barn? What
would Jakob say when he found out Emily had seen them naked? She chided herself. Jakob would never know if she didn’t ever
tell him. The dishonesty stuck in her
craw, but she was doing her duty to her mama, and obeying her wishes. That had to count for something.
As she scrubbed the clothes on the flat rock Emily used, her
hands red and getting raw from the heat of the water, lye fumes permeating the
air. She found it difficult to clear her
mind. She kept pondering the mysteries
of men. She had felt Jakob’s parts once,
when he’d kissed her, he’d been hard against her hip. It had scared her a little, but she could
admit she was more curious about it than anything now. Did he look like the soldiers when he wasn’t
kissing her? She was taken aback. How strange it must be to have that fleshy
thing dangling between your legs all day.
Emily blushed at the turn her thoughts had taken. Her face was nearly as red as her hands.
Louise broke through her musings. “How long do you suppose they’ll stay?”
Emily shrugged. “I
really don’t know. I suppose as long as
Mama will let them.” She hoped it wasn’t
very long, but by the set of tilt of Mama’s head, she’d gotten an idea about
them. There was no telling what was
going to happen.
“I don’t like them,” Irene said with finality. “What if they killed Papa?” Her bright blue eyes her youngest sister had
inherited from Rachel filled with tears and she clutched at her precious rag
doll as if it would protect her. The rag
doll had been handed down from girl to girl as one outgrew it and the next one
longed for such a precious item.
“Hush now. Papa’s not
dead. He’s just taking a lot longer to
get home than he expected.” Emily had
been saying this so long she almost believed it. The truth was, this war had changed her life
from a comfortable existence to one marred with uncertainties. And the biggest uncertainty of all was who
would be here when the dust of war settled?
Would her family ever be whole again?
After scrubbing the dresses, Emily draped them over the line
in the yard before they rinsed them in the creek. She had to do the Soldiers’ clothes
next. She let out a sigh at the thought
of these soldiers making more chores for her.
Emily was weary enough with their own chores.
Mercifully, the girls were lost in their own thoughts, and
didn’t pester Emily with more questions she couldn’t answer.
From Yankee Young Adult author to Texas Rom Com writer
