ROSEDALE IN APRIL
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Long before daylight on the eighteenth of
May, a suspenseful Captain Jack Dalton stood riveted on the raised portico of
Champion Hill’s "White House" absorbing the panoramic view reflected
by a silver waning moon. Breakfast for the troops consisted of some wet dough
cooked on the ends of ramrods; nothing more. And although the savory smell of
fried pork drifting through the luxurious dining room windows was tempting,
Jack at that particular moment in time would have preferred eating alongside
his own men in the trenches. Despite the early morning twilight, cannon fire
could occasionally be heard in the distance not unlike a low rolling thunder.
Last evening, he had been one of many responsible for compiling the lists for
casualties and the wounded. It had been a horrifying spectacle straight from
the bowels of hell. Annihilated, dismembered men, boys, and their animals lay
in pieces piled high in a heap. Entire companies tragically exterminated…but
that was the grim but very real atrocities of war! Equally horrific was the
helpless suffering groans of the severely injured that would certainly haunt
him for many years to come…seared into his brain for all eternity. Thus far,
they had counted six thousand blues and grays lying in the woods dead or dying.
Such a damn waste!
Tall, fragrant majestic magnolia trees that
stood in the line of battle were in full bloom. Most were now scarred by
artillery fire; huge branches shot away. Their beautiful ivory blossoms, so
like Rose’s flawless creamy skin, with dark green glossy leaves that reminded
him of eyes so fair, contrasting sharply with the desolate scene of mortality.
Exhaling an exhausted, depressed sigh, Jack
finally trudged inside headquarters to privately meet with the General as
ordered. Seated at the head of the long elegant dining table with his legs
crossed, thoughtfully perusing a letter in one hand while the other flipped
ashes from the always present cigar, General Grant gestured with his hand for
Jack to take a seat.
"Grab a plate and help yourself, Jack!
In half an hour, all officers are to meet in my office for final planning and
strategies for the attack on Vicksburg tomorrow. So eat up and have a cup of
coffee…and let’s finish our talk…shall we?"
"Certainly, General Grant." Jack
slightly nodded his head then picked up an empty cup to pour the steaming brew
from the coffeepot perched on the sideboard. No sugar or cream this
morning…just black and strong to help him get through another day.
Understandably, Jack wasn’t as hungry as he should have been considering the
recent bland military rations that had been available since leaving Texas;
therefore, he placed a bare minimum of portions onto his plate. This the
observant General instantly recognized and crooked a brow in speculation.
"I realize the vittles aren’t as tasty
as Nanny’s, but it’s the best I can offer under the circumstances,
Captain."
"I’m sorry, General Grant. I didn’t mean
to imply or offend…"
Waving his hand in dismissal, Grant warmly
interrupted. "No apologies needed and let’s dispense with the formalities,
Jack. By the way, how is the dear old feisty doll anyway?" Grant had found
his opening to dive right into pertinent conversation of his niece and
Rosedale. Now, let’s see how the fishing expedition goes today.
"Who…Nanny? Honestly, she was a warm,
welcomed surprise, Sir." Seating himself to Grant’s left, Jack placed a
cloth napkin in his lap then took a tentative sip of the hot java. Realizing
his superior was impatiently waiting for him to continue his tale, Jack further
explained, "You see, General, I actually came from a very modest
upbringing and was never personally around the institution of slavery. Always
assumed that all slaves ruthlessly existed with nooses and chains bound around
their necks and ankles. Rosedale was an eye opener in that respect at
least."
"Not all are inhumanely treated, Jack,
but tragically, they’re human beings in bondage just the same. In America,
everyone, regardless of race, should be afforded liberty and justice."
"I agree wholeheartedly, Sir. That’s the
main reason we’re in this war." Jack sincerely agreed as Grant pierced him
with an understanding countenance.
"Nevertheless, I bet Rosedale was indeed
a surprise." Taking a sip of his coffee then lacing it with a dash of
whiskey, Grant glanced askance at Jack to judge his outward reaction.
"No, not at all what I expected to find,
sir." Jack truthfully revealed while not displaying a hint of
dissatisfaction that his superior was blatantly partaking of strong spirits
before the sun had even peaked on the eastern horizon.
"Obviously not. Then…Nanny is still as
bossy as ever?" Grant relaxed immediately gaining even more respect, if
that was possible, for the non-judgmental Captain that had previously earned
that feat by his well-known acts of courage and leadership throughout the war.
For it was respect and trust above everything else that had originally prompted
Grant to personally send Captain Jack Dalton to guard and protect his precious
niece.
"Very outspoken, General. I liked her
immensely!" Jack fondly smiled recollecting the black governess with open
admiration. But then, Jack unconsciously grimaced as he guiltily remembered the
promises that he made to Nanny regarding Rose, yet regrettably had failed to
keep despite his attempt to legitimize their relationship in the eyes of
society.
"Me, too, Jack. And Rose? How did you
like her?" For the second time in as many days, Jack nearly choked on the
coffee at the cleverly planned thus totally unexpected all-encompassing
question. Shakily sitting the rattling cup down into the saucer, Jack locked
softened blue orbs with the curious stare of his superior. Before he could form
an answer, Grant held up the feminine-scripted page he had been reading then
somehow smiled while simultaneously clamping down on the cigar dangling from
his mouth with his teeth.
"A letter from my wife, Julia. Like
myself, she has been most anxious to hear news of our favorite niece. Julia has
been so worried about Rose following the death of her mother, Sable, and
especially so since the onslaught of this damnable war. It’s been awhile since
we’ve received a letter from her…we’ve always been so close despite the
distance separating our families."
"I can understand your concern,
General." Uh-oh, here it comes…the moment of truth…somebody’s life is
about to change…or end as the case may be!
"What should I tell her, Jack? I must
send a reply this afternoon for I can’t keep my wife waiting any longer. We
never know where our destinies lie in Vicksburg, now do we?"
"No sir, we don’t." Jack didn’t
further expound with his General’s anticipated answer at first, taking so long
that Grant was suddenly worried what his answer might be. Finally, with a
barely audible sigh and the slightest of shrugs, Jack searched his vocabulary
for the appropriate words…mere words to describe Rose…the English language just
wasn’t sufficient. "Tell Misses Grant…tell her…that Rose is…still
Rose." Jack suddenly stood up scraping his chair back and silently moved
to the window and wistfully peered out at the breaking dawn. How many times had
he and Rose watched the daybreak from their bed at Rosedale…unwilling to
leave…unable to stay. Pensively rasping, Grant had to strain his ears to
discern Jack’s verbal musings.
"Still beautiful…vastly talented…highly
intelligent…unwittingly humorous…fantastically generous…perpetually
proud…extremely unconventional…exceedingly charming…always brave despite the
odds…amazingly strong…eternally and exasperatedly willful…forever
independent…endlessly unpredictable…full of life and the love of life…my
life…and passionately…in love." Jack softly whispered to the room as if
poignantly reciting a romantic poem. Each descriptive word spoken like a visual
caress.
"Rose in love? May I ask with whom,
Captain Dalton? Certainly not Major Henley, her so-called betrothed that
Sterling forcefully saddled her with!" Of course, Ulysses was reasonably
sure he knew the answer; nonetheless, he required a truthful declaration
straight from the horse’s mouth himself.
"You mean ex-betrothed, Sir. Rose had
called off the marriage before we even arrived in Texas."
"Good for her. Never could stomach the
man. And now with Sterling gone, Rose can do exactly what she damn well pleases."
As if thinking aloud, Grant began reminiscing, "Before the war, Sterling
brought Rose to Washington for a visit. Bukater and Henley met at a benefit and
immediately hit it off…I’m sure it had more to do with their mutual greed in
acquiring more power and wealth than anything else. It was apparent to Julia
and I that Rose wasn’t too keen on the idea of marriage to the man. In case you
don’t know, Rose has a way about her of making her rathers quite clear. But her
father…that is stepfather…insisted. Nevertheless, there was nothing we could do
as Sterling was her legal guardian in the eyes of the law anyway. To tell you
the truth, Julia has been more concerned about the approaching nuptials than
the war itself. Like myself, we realized Rose was a survivor despite her young
age, and she could probably handle a fight all on her own, if anybody could.
But married to an unimaginable bastard like the Major…needless to say, we saw
the Sable situation replayed all over again." Grant stood up and began to
pace before bending down to strike a flint to alight another cigar. "Um…so
romance bloomed during springtime at Rosedale."
"Yes, Sir. And I have to be the
luckiest, most fortunate man in the world." Jack turned around to meet the
stare of Ulysses and they both interlocked in mutual understanding.
"Then Rose is happy and we both can hope
and pray that all ends well?" Grant scratched his bearded chin thinking
over what he had just been told. On one hand, pleased of the match that he had
by some strange coincidence been responsible for; yet on the other hand,
hesitantly concerned for the dangers they both were facing in a formidable foe
on the morrow. Now how in heaven’s name was he to keep this young man safe for
Rose? She had already been burdened with so many deaths in her short life.
Their demise still a fresh and painful memory. He had to find a way to keep
Rose’s young Captain safe…somehow…some way. He had to make a virtual
life-altering decision…quick, fast and in a hurry…for time was running out.
Tomorrow’s fate at Vicksburg was so uncertain…yet victory was vital to the
preservation of the Union and could not be delayed.
Suddenly an afterthought occurred to the
General as he marched over to lean on the windowsill beside Jack holding out a
cigar in offering.
"And Rose finally found out that Colonel
Bukater was not her biological father?"
"Yes, Sir. She learned of that fact
before we arrived also."
"Rafael Bouvier. Never met the gent…but
Sable loved him and that was always good enough for Julia and me." Rubbing
his neck as if to ease the tension, Grant slowly shook his head in a pitying
manner. "High society dictates never set well with my wife…or myself for
that matter. But it was always so ingrained in the DeWitts. Family honor,
tradition, power, duty, love of the land…all admirable qualities. But all it
ever got poor Sable was plenty of heartbreak…God rest her soul."
"I saw Mister Bouvier once, for only a
split second. Fortunately, my aim was off that night and…"
"You took a shot at Rose’s father?"
Grant’s jaw dropped open in astonishment, not only shocked at the appalling
attempt by his Captain, but stunned that he actually felt open enough to reveal
such a secret to himself.
"It’s a long story, General. At the
time, I believed him to be a Confederate spy…or regrettably Rose’s beau."
Jack suddenly blushed red as a beet then took a puff of the pungent cigar
squinting through the cloud of smoke marring his line of vision .
A low chuckle rumbled from the General’s
chest before he shook his head in bemusement. Outside the window, a steed’s
whinny caught the General’s attention prompting Grant to instantly recognize
the prized stallion tied to the hitching post…the Duke, no less.
"Never boring at the legendary Rosedale,
I see. Glad to know that it’s not changed too much despite this damnable war.
And the horse, Captain? How did you come by the Duke?"
"He was a farewell gift from Rose,
General. Be assured it wasn’t pillaged or forcefully taken."
"The thought never crossed my mind,
Jack. Rose would have shot you dead on the spot before allowing that horse to
be taken against her will…this I know for a fact!" Grant playfully pushed
a stiff index finger at the young man’s chest to emphasize his words as truth.
"Hmm…" Taking another drag off the cigar, Grant pondered his next
move like a complicated game of chess. "First things first, I suppose.
Obviously, there’s friction between Major Henley and yourself?"
"More so than you could ever imagine,
General Grant." Jack mysteriously hinted.
"Then we should find a way to keep the two
of you apart." Grant thoughtfully suggested.
"That’s not necessary, General. I can
handle Henley." Jack confidently declared.
"I have no doubt that you can, Jack…that
is face-to-face. But if you’ve seen the man lately, you wouldn’t be so damn
sure. Henley’s gone mad as a rabid dog. He’ll be medically discharged as soon
as he’s fit to travel, but until then, watch your back, son. And stay as far
away from him as possible. And that’s an order!"
Jack didn’t find it necessary to inform the
General that he had indeed had an altercation with Henley the day before at the
field hospital. Remarkably, Jack’s burning need to personally avenge Mel’s
death had diminished to the point of extinction until the bastard had
obnoxiously suggested that all women were mere bedmates. Oh, he had been
furious with the dog’s ludicrous claims that he would marry Rose despite her
rejection. But verbally abusing the two women in the world that he loved the
most…he had just simply lost all control! Furthermore, Jack surely didn’t think
under the circumstances that it was the proper time to tell Grant of Rose’s
condition either. Far from it. Better to gradually prepare the General for the
inevitable. The fact that his niece was pregnant…and still unmarried would
certain muddy the waters. Simply put, that would just have to take care of
itself in time…besides, he had revealed the essential information that the
General needed to communicate to his wife. Some secrets had to remain that…at
least for a little while.
"Come join me in my study to await the
other officers, Jack, and I’ll tell you some intriguing tales of Rose. For
instance, when she was a child and talked with that deep East Texas twang of
hers…she always called me, Uncle U.S. but it always came out sounding like You
Ass. Funny as hell, let me tell you…"
"You really think it was unintentional,
General, or on purpose?" Jack jokingly teased.
A loud, ribald guffaw ricocheted off the
walls. "By God, Jack. You know the rascal, well. You sure you can handle
her?"
*****
Meanwhile several hundred miles away,
Rosedale Plantation was getting back to semi-normal. At least as normal as
normal could be during wartime. The burned out campfires of Union soldiers now
lay dormant…the only visual evidence the massive regiment had spent nearly six
weeks sequestered there. But Rose knew…the only souvenirs she desired kept
poignantly cherished in her heart…and growing inside her. The morning sickness
had somewhat subsided leaving only the perpetual ache in her soul for the man
that she loved more than life itself, disturbing the otherwise tranquil
atmosphere of the plantation. Callers had become a rarity and when the
two-seated landau arrived one morning in late May, Rose lit up like a Christmas
tree.
"Marie! It’s been so long! Come inside
for some tea and refreshments! I’ve been so lonely for female
companionship!"
"Rosa! No more Yankees? I’m so
disappointed! I so wanted to say my farewell to the Sergeant and of course…your
handsome Captain before they returned to their war!"
What started out as a giddy time of catching
up on all the gossip in town, fatefully ended with an inadvertent slip of the
tongue by Marie Dupuis.
"Rosa, I’m so very glad that the Captain
didn’t leave you in dire straits simply because you were engaged to his mortal
enemy."
"Whatever are you talking about,
Marie?" Rose perplexingly asked.
"You know, Rosa, the fact that Caledon
was wickedly responsible for your Captain's poor sister’s death."
Suddenly, the cup of tea Rose had been
sipping slipped to the polished hardwood floor breaking into a thousand pieces.
Holding her hand to her mouth as if in utter disbelief, Marie instantly
realized her blunder. The ashen pallor of her friend’s skin warned her that
Rose obviously was ignorant to that piece of information and was dangerously
close to a state of paralyzing shock.
"You mean you didn’t know this,
Rosa?" At Rose’s slight shake of the head, Marie at that particular minute
wished to kick herself…but better yet, the handsome Yankee Captain that would
intentionally hide such a secret to the woman he supposedly cared for. "He
never mentioned his sister before…or that Caledon had gotten her pregnant and
dumped her?"
Rose’s hand instantly came to rest on her
belly. Tears dangerously welled up in shimmering jade eyes and her breathing
seemingly halted in shock.
"My God, Marie. A baby? No…Jack wouldn’t
do such a thing…I mean, Cal would certainly…but not my Jack!" Rose began
shaking her head from side to side in denial as tendrils of copper fire danced
from the movement. It just wasn’t possible…Jack would never intentionally make
her pregnant and leave her for revenge’s sake.
"Of course he wouldn’t, Rosa. He’s too
much of a gentleman…oh, no, Rosa! Don’t tell me that you are also with
child!" Marie shook her dark head in pity, realizing what her young friend
must be feeling at her stupid albeit unintentional heartless statement. Poor
dear…surely not, she could have sworn it was love that the man felt for Rosa.
What man would not love such a girl? Damn the male gender!
"I’m sure there must be some mistake,
Marie. Jack loves me…I just know it. If you saw the way he looks at me, talks
to me, touches me…it wasn’t some sick morbid game of an eye for eye! He will
come back to us!" Rose emphatically declared hoping her voice carried more
conviction than she felt.
"Of course, he will, Rosa. Of course, he
will. The Captain will find a way to return for the mother of his child."
Marie sympathetically patronized.
As the weeks crawled by, Rose became as
restless as a newborn colt. Although she had tried to put the disturbing
conversation with Marie Dupuis out of her mind, tiny traces of lingering doubt
nipped at her conscience. And when they began invading her dreams, she knew she
had to talk with someone. Someone neutral…someone kind…someone that would take
into account her baby’s well-being and not whisper gossip around town. She had
to talk…with someone…but whom?
Shortly, the decision was literally taken
right out of Rose’s hands. The parish priest, Father Andrews, made an
unexpected but long overdue call to Rosedale. Perhaps to inquire as to the
lady’s welfare since the passing of the Colonel and certainly to satisfy his
own curiosity as to his favorite parishioner’s absence from mass for the past
two months. Of course, the Father realized Rose had as of yet to arrange for a
memorial service for her deceased father; however if he was completely honest
with himself, the main objective to his visit was to find out more information
as to the Northern Army Captain’s hurried request for a marriage. Did the man
wish to acquire land and wealth in the deep South…was the grand plantation too
tempting and impossible to leave behind? Of course, the beautiful lady was
tempting for any man…attached or unattached. He would see…
When Rose initially realized who the
gentleman caller was that Jacob had let into the manor house, her first
reaction was that of hesitation based on a tinge of guilt. She should have
known it was just a matter of time before the good Father made this visit.
Moreover that by her absence from mass or seeking him out, that Father Andrews
would come to check on her welfare after the demise of the Holy Church’s most
prosperous member. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath and burst through the
parlor double doors like a blast of spring wind.
What she found was the Father standing over
the mahogany, marble topped table where the heirloom family Bible lay open.
"Miss Rose! It’s does my heart good to
see you…and seemingly as bright as the Texas sun."
"Father Andrews, the feeling is
mutual." Rose glowingly smiled then did her best Southern curtsy in
welcome. "But tell me truthfully Father, don’t you ever get enough
studying the word of God?" Rose lightly teased instinctively knowing that
her blunt statement would not offend the kind, well-loved priest in the least.
"Never, my dear. Nor should you or
anyone else. But I couldn’t help notice as I was reading that you haven’t
recorded your father’s death in the family Bible as of yet. And it is for this
reason that I feel I’ve been neglectful in not seeking you out beforehand.
Especially with a hoard of enemy soldiers headquartered here for so long. I
find that I have not sufficient excuse to offer and I deeply regret my absence.
I truly apologize and wish to express my heartfelt condolences, Rose."
"Not to worry, Father. I’ve been getting
along just fine…even with the damn Yankees all around me. Oh…sorry, Father, for
the swearing. I just haven’t thought to record it until now. I mean it wasn’t
as if he was a DeWitt so…"
"But he was your mother’s husband and
your father; therefore, I would think…"
"Actually, Father, he wasn’t…not really.
But I don’t wish to bore you with such mundane trivia."
"Rose, my dear child, are you perchance
justifiably angry that your father died leaving you an orphan? Surely, you
don’t believe that he intentionally left you all alone in this war-torn country
to face all the hardships and heartaches all by yourself. Because, by the Grace
of God, Rose, our Lord will keep you in his care if you have faith."
"Thank you, Father, for your comforting
words. I’m not alone…and I know that." Rose secretively smiled as her hand
unconsciously slid to still flat abdomen. Seeking to change the subject, Rose
digressed. "And don’t feel bad that you failed to call during the Yankees’
stay here. I made out just fine. Of course, I’m sure there were a lot of souls
that certainly needed saving."
Mutual soft laughter drifted through the room
and an uneasy silence fell. "I would offer you a drink, Father Andrews,
but the deplorable Yankees greedily depleted the liquor cabinet…as if they
thought they owned the place." Rose mischievously offered as her green
eyes danced with laughter. "But how about some tea, think that might whet
your whistle?"
"Rose, if I didn’t know you any better,
I’d think you were serious. But tea would be splendid indeed, thank you."
The teasing glint in Rose’s demeanor was contagious and it wasn’t long until
the good Father and southern belle were conversing like long lost friends.
Finally, in a short lull in the conversation,
Father Andrews cast Rose a furtive curious glance. Thus far, the uncomfortable
subject had not came up as to any romantic tendencies towards the Union Army
Captain. Besides, it was more likely that the young girl would not divulge such
a secret to him anyway. Therefore, needing to get back to the parish before
nightfall, the priest knew he had better bring the matter up before it was too
late.
"Rose, do you have anything you wish to
tell me regarding a Captain Dalton?"
The unexpected question nearly caused Rose to
choke on her tea; however, she somehow managed to slightly grin and offhandedly
offer the Father another sugar cube to delay her answer. To be honest or
deceitful? What to do…what to do…
"Father Andrews, I promise to come to
confession this Sunday and wipe my slate clear."
"My dear, although I have meant to
caution you about your neglectful nature in obtaining absolution from your
sins, this inquiry has nothing to do with church business or saving souls…I
promise. It was just that I received a visit from one of the Union soldiers
before they departed Texas that left me quite…well…puzzled and concerned."
"Oh, Father? And why in the world would
I know what a Yankee came to see you about? Perhaps the man just came to seek
atonement for his sins before riding off to kill his fellow countrymen…or
something like that." Rose perplexingly probed albeit curious as to the
purpose herself.
At Rose’s obvious lack of knowledge of the
occurrence, the Father almost stopped there. For he was regrettably certain now
that he mistakenly knew what the Captain’s deceitful purpose was…so the lady
was not privy to the fact that she was almost forced to marry a Northerner for
financial gain. However, the further he thought about it, Father Andrews
realized that Captain Dalton might yet return to marry the girl in the distant
future; so it would be to Rose’s benefit to warn her of his diabolical intent.
Taking the girl’s hands into his, a serious worried countenance washed over the
parish priest’s face.
"Rose, it is my duty as your spiritual
adviser…and your devoted friend to inform you that this Captain Dalton has a
mind to make you his wife. And might I add, probably for the most decadent and
immoral of reasons. The Union soldier that came to see me was explicitly
ordered by his commander to retain me for performing the nuptials. I, of
course, refused."
"You what?" Rose surprisingly
blurted. "But…" Rose’s hand came over her heart as happy tears filled
her jade eyes. It took all the control and courage she could muster to keep
from jumping up and down like a juvenile…nonetheless, she couldn’t keep from
throwing both arms around the startled Father’s neck and pecking his cheek with
a joyous chaste kiss. "Thank you, Father…oh dear Lord in heaven, thank
you."
Mistaking the reasons for her sudden elation,
Father Andrews tried to reassure, "You’re welcome, my child. But be
assured, I’d never marry you to a man of his caliber…I’d never forsake you, on
my oath as a priest."
"You don’t understand, Father Andrews.
You simply could never know what your visit has meant to me. But like I said
before, I promise to come to Sunday mass and offer confession afterwards…and
then you will know…everything…and rejoice with me and for me."
As Rose eagerly escorted the confused priest
to this carriage, the feisty pep in her step was miraculously restored for all
to wonder after. Least of all to Nanny that had packed the Father a basket
filled with a variety of baked treats.
As Nanny waved from the porch, she swiped the
red kerchief from her head to fan the tired face that was heavily beaded with
perspiration. "Umpf…Miz Rose…s’pose yo’ tells Nanny why youse so frisky
after dat Preacher Andrews’ visit. Betcha youse jest happy he iz gone widout
tellin’ dat preacher of da babe?"
"Nanny, I will tell Father Andrews
eventually of my baby. But I’m just too happy right now…I’m walking in the
clouds." Grabbing Nanny’s wrinkled hands, Rose began spinning around like
in a game of ring around the rosy. Cackling, Nanny swatted Rose on the bottom
with her kerchief before she finally protested but with a winded curse.
"Iz declare, honey chile’. Whatz all diz
fer?"
"Oh Nanny…Jack does love me. He’s gonna
come back…and marry me." Rose gushed as her entire visage dreamily sighed
as her eyelids closed to drink up the May sun.
"How’z youse knows dis, Miz Rose?"
Nanny doubtfully pouted.
"Father Andrews claims that Jack sent
one of his men after him, so we could marry before they left. So you see,
Nanny, he will return for me and the baby…he will." And as Rose skipped
down the lane to Lizzy and Charles’ cabin, the black governess pursed her lips
in deep thought.
"Yassums…dat purty man mights yet makes
ole’ Nanny happy and proud. Dat iz if’n hez don’t go and git hisself
kilt." Looking up into the heavens, right then the old woman made a sacred
oath to pray every morning and every night for the Captain’s safe return to
Texas…for her babies and the future of Rosedale.