Songs of the Shenandoah (6 page)

“Miss . . . Ashlyn?” The woman stepped forward and a curious smile lit up her expression, but then she halted and looked up to Seamus with fear.

He followed her gaze and realized he was holding the cane up, still poised to strike. “I'm sorry.” Seamus lowered the cane and laid it against the mantelpiece. “It's all right. Come on out.”

Mavis relaxed her shoulders, and her smile returned. She reached a slender ebony hand up to Ashlyn's cheek. “Why . . . you was just a girl.”

Ashlyn leaned forward and gave the woman a firm embrace. Then she spun, wiping a tear from her eye. “Seamus. Gracie. This is Mavis. She is Annie's sister.”

Of course! She looked just like Annie, the faithful woman who had accompanied Ashlyn and her father on their journey to San Francisco. Annie had become Ashlyn's best friend. She was one of the only ones trusted to keep Ashlyn's secret.

“I didn't know Annie had a sister.” Seamus held out his hand to the woman, but she was still looking to Ashlyn for an answer to a question.

“Is she?” Hope lit in Mavis's eyes.

Ashlyn shook her head, her eyebrows raising with compassion. “Annie passed away two years ago.”

Mavis looked away. “Oh. I feared I never seen her again when I first say my good-byes.”

“She was like an aunt to me.” Ashlyn put her hand on the shoulder of the woman's brown dress.

“She sure doted on you a might bit. Annie loved the baby Ashlyn. And your sweet mama too. Just as I did.” She looked past Ashlyn. “And who might this be?”

Grace had made her way to join them. Seamus nodded to her that it was okay.

Mavis stared at Ashlyn. She was about to speak but seemed to catch herself.

Ashlyn just nodded and gave Seamus an uncomfortable look.

Of course, Annie would have told her sister Mavis about the reason for Ashlyn having to leave for San Francisco. How many others would know of his wife's shame? Would he be able to shield his daughter from these impending whispers?

The worst was yet to come. There would be no avoiding their past. In response to this revelation, he put his arm around Grace and pulled her toward him. Oh! What he wouldn't do to allow his precious girl to avoid all of the struggles he had to face in his life.

“You are Annie's sister?” Grace looked up with awe as if she was getting another chance to gaze upon the woman who raised her as a second mother.

Ashlyn still appeared uneasy about the subject. “Gracie was very close to Annie. She took her passing quite hard.”

“I's surprised about it, that's all.” Mavis's lips trembled, and she slipped her teeth over them. “I wouldn't never thought she'd go before me. Annie was the strong one. Since we's both girls. How?”

“Her heart.” Ashlyn glanced toward the fire. “She liked to play the role of this tough lady, but as you know, her heart was her softest part.”

“That's a true thing there. Hmmm.”

Seamus held out his hand to the man whose shoulders and glare remained stiff. “I'm Seamus. Seamus Hanley.”

He seemed uncomfortable shaking Seamus's hand but did so limply. “Name's Tatum. We's don't mean no harm any in being here. We ain't looking for no trouble. We can just be on our way. Besides. We've been giving Master Fletch his due. Just as he say.”

“His due? Master Fletch? I . . . don't . . . understand.” Seamus turned to his wife.

“Are you talking about Virgil Fletcher?” Ashlyn spoke with surprising contempt.

“That be the one,” Tatum said. He then looked beyond Seamus and his eyes widened. “That, in fact, be Master Fletch coming now.”

Chapter 6

Fletch

Seamus followed Tatum's finger toward a window with view of the front pathway leading to the house. Although there was little lighting inside, there was enough remaining of the dusk to clearly show a wagon pulled by a large horse, which appeared to be laboring under its load.

In the driver's seat sat a burly man hunched over the reins wearing a plug hat. Next to him was a woman in a large hoop dress who, in contrast to the man, was sitting erect. The rear of the wagon was covered with canvas, and barely noticeable, a young man sat on the edge of the rear gate.

“Whoah.” The voice came from outside and was deep and bellowing. The man cranked the brake and lurched his way down, then waddled around to other side where the woman awaited his hand.

Seamus stabbed a glance at his wife.

Ashlyn waved her hand dismissively. “They are harmless enough. Unless one can be mortally wounded by idle prattle.” She headed to the front door before he could protest and Seamus had to skip to keep pace.

She pushed through the door and spat out in her newly recalled Southern tone, “Could this be the one and only Mr. and Mrs. Virgil Fletcher?”

They halted as they were approaching on the walkway. “Well, hello there, little lady,” the man said in a voice that sounded like laughter. Even in the diminished light, his striking features stood out. He had a large head, almost crookedly placed on his neck, with a bulbous nose and one eye that seemed clouded. “We was a figuring it was you.”

“Well . . . I'll be.” The woman waved a handkerchief in her hand like a flag. She appeared much younger than the man, and it was now clear it wasn't just the dress that was wide, as her cheeks were broad as if filled with acorns. “Why if it isn't our little Shenandoah Rose, Miss Ashlyn Whittington. That might just be the most beautiful sight these tired eyes have seen.”

“Hello, ma'am.”

“Don't you ma'am me, little Rose, as you are a grown woman now. I am Coralee henceforth.” She held out her gloved hands and pulled Ashlyn's toward hers and then eyed her up and down. “And you have grown well I see. How long has it been?”

Before the question could be answered, Coralee extended a freed hand toward Seamus. “And who might this be?” She winked at Ashlyn and pursed her lips.

“This wonderful man is my husband, Seamus.” Ashlyn waved for her daughter to approach. “And this shy lady is Grace.”

“I am not shy.” Grace wrinkled her brow and shot an embarrassed look toward the young man standing in the background with his hands in his back pockets.

Coralee had not taken her eyes off of Seamus. “Well, I'll say you have done well with this one, Ashlyn child. And I always thought you would be married to Percy all these years, but I can see now why you spurned that unpleasant boy and better spent your affections on this gentleman.”

The name Percy made Seamus cringe and his wife stiffened as well.

Ashlyn cleared her throat and straightened. “My husband is handsome indeed.”

These words brought Seamus to his youth, back when he captured the gaze of most women, with his tall, fit frame, his black wavy hair, and his Hanley blue eyes. Having spent so many years wearing a collar it seemed odd to be spoken of in this way.

Ashlyn continued. With her melodic, swaying voice, it was as if she had become a different woman. Yet it appealed to him because she sounded happy, something he had missed. “My dear husband is a preacher, a man of God.”

“Ohhh.” Coralee gave a slow nod of approval.

Seamus shifted his foot. Why did Ashlyn say that? Weren't they here to start anew?

“And a man of God to boot.” Coralee paused. “I think this makes a man even more striking. Don't you, Anders?”

The boy pulled out his hands from his pockets and tucked them under his red suspenders. “Yes, Ma.” He appeared to be in his late teens and had a nest of dark hair, which seemed more untended than curly. Although almost as tall as his father, he was fortunate enough to share few other features.

Ashlyn put her arm around her daughter, who received it stiffly. “Gracie, this is Taylorsville's pride and joy, Mrs. Coralee Fletcher. If there is anything, and I do mean anything, you need to know about anyone, our Mrs. Fletcher will have your answer.”

Seamus outstretched his hand toward Mr. Fletcher, who seemed to have lost his patience in his wife's chatter.

“Virgil Fletcher. Although everybody just calls me Fletch. Now dear. We best be leaving these folks be for now. We was just happening to pass on by, and hearin' the young miss was on her way home, wanted a welcome. Not a wearing out. And it's turning dark on us besides. Anders!”

“Yes, Pa?”

“Get these folks a few items to hold them over for now.” He gave a gravelly chuckle. “We'll open an account for them soon.”

“Now we thank you kindly, Mr. Fletcher.” Ashlyn glanced toward the wagon, where Anders was barely visible in the fading illumination but could be seen carefully unfolding part of the canvas and tucking some items under his shoulder. “But we won't be interested in any of your famous shine.”

“No liquor, boy!”

“Yes, Pa.”

“Fletch has expanded his enterprise quite a bit since you left here,” Coralee said. “Now with these hints of war, his abilities at importing are going to be mighty valuable to the cause.”

“Troubling times,” Fletch said, in a way that didn't sound concerned. “We should be getting gone.”

They all started walking toward the wagon. Coralee put her arm under Ashlyn's. “And with Taylorsville in such a huff about all the goings-on in our state, there will necessarily be some talk of your arrival here.”

“What do you mean?” Ashlyn helped the woman climb up to her seat.

“It's the timing, that's all.” She glanced to Fletch who had made his way up to his side of bench and lifted the reins. “Everyone's on edge. It's natural to be concerned about people who suddenly arrive from the North. Oh dear, I wouldn't take any of it personally.”

Seamus wondered what kind of trouble this could mean for them. Anders reached out to him with a small crate of Mason jars, which appeared to be preserves of several different fruits and vegetables, and a couple loaves of bread. “Thank you, son.”

The boy nodded, gave Grace a nervous glance, and then went about lighting two lanterns hung from the front of the wagon.

“I appreciate the kindly greeting.” Seamus walked around to extend his free hand to Fletch. “We hadn't even put thought to food yet.”

Fletch leaned over with his good eye and saw what his son had gathered. “Just a few items to hold you by.” He gave Seamus a wink and spoke with a hush. “Most of my customers ain't supposed to be partakin'. Let me know when you're ready for the good fixings and it'll be between us.”

He started to sit up but then nodded toward the house. “And . . . a . . . we can talk about business next time I'm by.”

“Business?” Seamus shifted the crate under his arm. He could hear Ashlyn tied up in a conversation with Coralee.

“The Negroes.” Fletch rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I got the papers on them two from Ashlyn's uncle. He had some debts and wanted to clear things up some before he moved on. Didn't want to burden his niece none.”

“I see.” Seamus felt awkward holding the food now, as if he had compromised himself. He wanted to give it back to this strange man.

“Don't bother yourself none. We'll come to arrangements.” Fletch gave Coralee a nudge and she bade farewell to Ashlyn and Grace who came over to join Seamus.

They watched as the horse spun the wagon and then drew the Fletcher family away from the farm in near darkness except for the lanterns, with Anders staring at them with his legs dangling off of the back.

“What were you speaking about?” Ashlyn squeezed Seamus's arm.

He didn't want to burden her with his odd exchange with Fletch. All he wanted was to see the glow in his wife's eyes, the one she had when they first arrived at Whittington Farms. “We'll speak on it later.” Seamus cradled the crate with both hands. “What do you think we have here?”

Ashlyn laughed. “Well, if it wasn't Fletch's Shenandoah Shine, then it must be the possum jerky or some hogs' feet. Who knows what he's running these days?”

They turned and walked toward the house, which was framed in the background with sunset hues glowing behind the mountains. This was indeed bucolic country.

Tatum had come out to the door to greet them with an oil lamp in his hand. “Come on in and warms yourselves up a mite. Mavis has done gone ahead and fixed a fine meal for you.” They followed him inside.

But at the doorway Seamus touched Ashlyn on the shoulder and they allowed Grace to go ahead. Something bothered him about Fletch's appearance. “What was with his . . . ?” Seamus point to his neck.

“That,” Ashlyn leaned in to whisper, “was when they tried to hang him.”

Chapter 7

Lincoln's Army

Manhattan, New York

April 1861