ROSEDALE IN APRIL
Chapter Thirty-Two

Time passed as it always does but for two miserable long days, Rose remained in disbelieving shock…unable to face the grim reality that her father was dead…shot in cold blood by the black-hearted monster that would shortly become her husband. Suspended in a realm of evil pirated by a diabolical maniac, Rose suffered unimaginable remorse, pain, and grief. If only she hadn’t cried out when the labor pains had struck…maybe…just maybe, Rafael would be alive and safe. She couldn’t remember anything much past the horrendous discharge of a gun blast then helplessly watching in horror as Rafael had fallen to the snow while red patches of blood gushed into the whiteness as if a large bucket of paint had been carelessly dumped on the snow covered ground. Words were now meaningless…no feeling whatsoever remained in her grief stricken body….just a hollowness…hopelessness…and nothingness. Even the false contractions had thankfully stopped by some miraculous feat, perhaps somehow sensing that Rose would be unable to give birth in the state that now gripped her haunted, wretched soul. Although she did recall desperately begging Cal to bury Rafael in the family cemetery next to her mother. And the only thing that had finally persuaded him was her agreement that she would go through with the wedding ceremony; however, not before he wickedly threw a shovel at her feet and gruffly ordered her to dig away…unless she preferred buzzards to eat away at the carcass.

And consequently, for two days she had been continuously digging…never stopping but for a minute to catch a harsh, ragged breath that up until then, she was sure had stopped altogether. Her hands were frozen numb, blistered, and raw…her nails broken and split to the quick; but remarkably there were no more tears…the ones that had been initially shed were now crystallized to her ashen cheeks…while the frigid coldness sliced clear through to her bones stabbing her like a thousand knives all over her body. Her heart was painfully beating…or was it just the pounding of the shovel as it bit into the frozen black earth as shovel after shovel of clay piled higher on the sides of the slowly deepening new grave? Maybe the sides will just cave in and crush me…save me from the life that I am about to face and endure for all time. My God, Jack…where are you? I desperately need you now more than ever! Please understand what I’m about to do…what I must do to save our baby! Somehow…some way you must! Please forgive me!

*****

Inside the grand white pillared manor, Nanny and Lizzie were forcefully held at bay by a musket that Major Caledon Henley kept leveled at their heaving chests before darkly threatening, "If any of you get any ideas to help your mistress…think again, darkies! I’m about to become the Master here at Rosedale. So get used to the idea…and you," Cal pointed to Nanny in impatience. "Bring me something to eat…and it better be hot, delicious and worthy of my exalted station in life. I demand the best from my slaves…understood? And if it’s not…keep in that empty, ignorant minds of yours that I’ve just installed a new whipping post for those special occasions when the sting of leather seems to speak louder than mere words!"

"Yessaw, Major Henley…Iz hears ye. But does Iz needs to remind ye dat Miz Rose wid chile…shez not fit to be digging her Papaw’s grave in the snow…or no times fo’ dat madder. Iz skered bout hers…" Nanny inadvertently revealed.

Abruptly, Cal dropped the whiskey glass to the floor and impaled her with feral, satanic eyes of midnight black. "What did you say, ole’ woman?"

"Iz sez dat Miz Rose gonna have hers babe real soon and…"

Coldly and impatiently interrupting, Cal astonishingly ground out, "Not that you ignorant chit! Did you just now declare that Rafael Bouvier was Rose’s father?"

Icy chills crawled up both Lizzie and Nanny’s spines at the evil man’s countenance and dangerous demeanor. Lordy have mercy…but the devil himself had come down to Texas in the body of Major Caledon Henley and all hell was fixin’ to break loose. Not sure whether to lie or tell the truth, Nanny stood transfixed not daring to move…unable to speak.

At the lengthening silence, Cal fiercely motioned with the loaded gun and purposefully cocked the hammer back. "I’ll ask this one last time before you join that gypsy gutter rat in the graveyard, old woman!"

As Nanny stared with eyes as large as saucers, she slightly nodded her kerchiefed head in affirmation before Cal hurled a vicious curse and stalked out the front door like a raving lunatic that had just been released from any grasps on reality.

"Lawdy, Lizzie…wez fixin’ to dies and meets our Jesus…what wez gonna do now?"

"Nanny, Iz thinks wez all run out of dem miracles…Miz Rose done used dem all up…but wez kin pray…alls wez kin do…jest pray fer da Cap’un to comes back...but hez gotta bees quick, fast and in a hurry to do any good!" Lizzie tearfully offered then grasped Nanny’s trembling hand and bowed their dark heads.

A tear ridden little Jacob hidden and crouched under the oak desk suddenly jumped up, then turned on his heels and ran for the plantation’s schoolhouse but not before bravely swearing, "Iz promised da Cap’un to take cares of Miz Rose…and Iz iz, Nanny!" Despite Nanny and Lizzie’s heated protests for the boy to come back, Jacob rebelliously disappeared out the raised window and headed towards the west wing.

*****

Outside in the graveyard, Rose had carefully wrapped Rafael’s lifeless body in the woolen cape and clumsily managed to place it in a large wooden crate left over from a furniture shipment that had arrived from the East some months before the war had broken out. As she exhaustedly hammered the lid closed, she was abruptly and violently pushed from behind, knocked clean to her knees.

"You lying bitch! It is Dalton’s bastard you’re carrying…you have just sealed your fate, whore!" Cal bellowed like a raving lunatic.

Silence greeted his heatedly flung words. The silence, taut and heavy stalled as Cal deliberately pulled out a coiled rope. Rose couldn’t think…she existed in a listless haze…she never even tried to understand anything Cal said anymore. She was overwhelmed with a numbing emptiness, encompassed in a protective dreamlike state. Before Rose had a chance to come to her addled senses and question him, he unceremoniously slung the rope over a steady oak tree limb that shaded the new grave and tightly tied the ends around both her wrists until they chafed and oozed blood. Dazed, Rose opened her mouth to protest but was roughly hoisted up into the tree with her hands bound over her head to precariously dangle several feet above the ground.

"Now hang there till you freeze, whelp or die! Cause nobody of any worth is around to hear your lying, whoring cries! Because you see, my pet, all I have to do now is pay some greedy preacher to sign a marriage certificate and all this is mine! With or without you, Rose…Rosedale, the jewel of Texas, will finally be mine!" Cal glaringly gloated then ominously stalked towards the house to sulk and plan his next move.

Determinedly, Rose desperately tried to free her hands, but the weight on her arms felt like they might be pulled out at the sockets with each futile effort. All she could do was swing her feet yet the pressure caused the thick rope to hurtfully cut into her wrists as sticky warm blood trickled down her arms. Then, suddenly, without warning, tragically another contraction hit with the force of a punch to her middle. A horrendous scream was torn from her throat that could be heard clear to the house. The agony quickly built to an unbearable pressure before a gush of water ripped from her body to drizzle to the frozen ground. Quickly finding her voice, in a high pitched shrill, she screamed for Cal to come back. "Please, please cut me down, Cal! The baby…it’s coming…it’ll fall to its death…I’ll do anything…anything…just let me lie down! Come back!"

Perspiration was already breaking out all over her and as she stared in wide eyed horror, she could barely make out Cal’s unconcerned reply, "Good…it’s just as well the bastard will die! I don’t need another Dalton hunting me down in my old age."

*****

A frantic Captain Jack Dalton had just crested the river road to make out the large plantation house sitting majestically upon the hill, when a soul shattering scream rent the winter’s air. It was the same agonizing wail that he had heard countless times since the onslaught of this war…the same blood curdling cry from a soldier suffering the epitome of tortuous pain. But this time, it was heart wrenchingly different…this was not from a man…but the distinctive cry for help from a woman…his woman!

Duke sensed it and before Jack had a chance to touch his heels to the steed’s flanks, they were both charging in a dead heat for the house. An air of tragedy hung in the air, but Jack jerked a blowing, snorting Duke to a rearing halt as a flutter of yellow caught the corner of his eye as they had dashed up the oak alleyway…off to the right was the private family cemetery surrounded by a black ornate iron fence. And what met his astonished stunned eyes…caused his heart to stop in mid beat and his blood to congeal in his veins. There…hanging in a large shade tree, was the only woman of his life …the mother of his child. As another anguished moan burst from Rose’s lips, the color drained from Jack’s face as his hands began to tremble. As his jaw gaped open in shock and disbelief…Duke instinctively turned bearing down on his mistress’s location.

"My God…Rose!" Jack yelled at the top of his lungs. Before Duke could draw to a halt, Jack dismounted and bolted to the tree to cut her down. Rose’s screams were like a knife through his heart. In one swift motion he cut the rope with his saber; then dropped it as she fell heavily into his arms. She whimpered in agony at the sudden movement, sending a cold chill down his spine as his face turned a whiter shade of pale.

"Jack!" Rose sighed as she opened green eyes that were remarkably filled with calm and relief. In an economy of movement, Jack laid her down and began to wipe the blood from the cuts on her lips where she had bitten them to stifle her cries. Fiercely holding her tight and burying his lips into her hair, the Captain let out a pent-up breath as his eyes closed in relief. Blood was smeared down her arms and the bright yellow dress was soaked causing Rose to break out in shivers.

"Who did this, mia…" Jack harshly asked with a broken whisper.

"Well, I’ll be damned, if it’s not the Rose’s lowly knight in shining armor…come to rescue your whoring damsel in distress?" Cal maliciously snarled.

"You’ll be damned all right, Henley! You’re as good as dead!" Twin orbs of blue steel lethally glinted into satanic onyx beads of hatred.

"Tough talk from a low born gutter rat…but it looks as if I’m the one in charge here you filth. In case you haven’t noticed, I have the gun…you may have the slut…but for only a little while. So you better make your peace, Dalton…because you have five seconds…and then you die…and your bastard shortly thereafter."

There was no reasoning with a madman…Jack never even tried. But he did take one last glimpse at Rose’s terrorized features before murmuring a savagely swearing at his luck. As a snake of extreme caution slithered down his spine, Rose clutched his hand and squeezed as another painful contraction seized and twisted her abdomen.

"You’ll pay for your sins and cowardice, Henley. May you be cursed till all eternity for your evil deeds towards the innocents you have destroyed!" Jack venomously snarled in a deadly calm…bravely never revealing one iota of fear as he shot Cal a hardened unpleasant frown that would chill Satan himself.

As Cal purposefully cocked and aimed the rifle, suddenly, he violently lurched forward as a blast exploded behind him. As the smoke cleared, Jack and Rose locked wide-eyed gazes with a young Jacob that calmly stood with a smoking pistol clasped in both tiny black hands. Relief surged through their tense bodies as they both let own a pent-up breath.

"Jack!" Rose screamed as another pain ripped through her insides.

The anguished shriek seemed to propel Jacob out of his shock prompting the boy to run for the house, throwing back over his shoulder, "Iz go gits Nanny, Miz Rose! Youz stays wid Miz Rose, Cap’un!"

As Rose tightly held onto Jack’s hand, she pitifully groaned, "There’s no time, Jack…you will have to—"

Jack was struck with horror as the screams were ripped from her lips once more. Snapping into action like a bull charging a matador’s cape, Jack hastily pulled his saddle bags from Duke and knelt down beside his Rose. Before Nanny and Lizzie descended the verandah’s brick steps, a baby’s loud distinctive whimper blasted from the cemetery. The tiny infant wailed her first breath as if to announce to the world her glorious and miraculous birth. She…Sarah Elizabeth Dalton…first born child to Captain Jack Wilhelm Dalton and Rose DeWitt-Bukater had arrived at Rosedale Plantation.

Carefully wrapping the tiny wrinkled baby in a blanket from his saddle roll, Jack placed her in Rose’s outstretched arms. And just when he thought he couldn’t stand all the raw emotion of the last few days, Rose took his hand and gently squeezed. For a few magical moments, time stood still until at last Rose softly whispered as her throat ached with unshed tears, "How did you know we needed you?"

As Jack tried to answer, no intelligible words would come. Simply unclasping Rose’s golden St. Mary’s necklace from around his neck, Jack gingerly reattached it to hers. "This is what saved us…and all the rest was God ordained."

"Yes…I believe that, Jack. Love knows no bounds."

Then suddenly in the next breath, Sarah Elizabeth Dalton let loose the shrillest cry to rival that of a screeching flock of mockingbirds. Both parents gently bent down to kiss their newborn’s cheeks and brow…then Jack lifted his family up into his arms in one swift movement to carry them to shelter…inside their house…inside his heart.

Although many siblings would come later in the years to follow…none ever possessed the tremendous spirit, courage, and passion of the tiny, blue-eyed, blonde angel with honey gold highlights that forever remained most special and cherished in the proud Captain’s and his lady’s hearts. Rosedale’s destined legacy was assured for all eternity by the great endless love that bloomed and bore seed between one damn, dirty Yankee Captain and his fiery, passionate Confederate Rose…in the magical year of 1863…Yesterday in April.

The End.

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