Wild, Beautiful, and Free(96)

“How bad was the fight?”

“That’s just it, Jeannette. There wasn’t much of one.”

“Why?”

“The force that was supposed to guard New Orleans got sent to Shiloh. The city was totally defenseless.” Christian unbuttoned his uniform coat and removed it. The day was growing hotter, and he rolled up his shirtsleeves as he spoke.

“The people were dumping all the town’s goods into the river. I couldn’t believe it. They were burning the cotton, emptying the warehouses. They dumped molasses, sugar, even the wine and whiskey. Crowds got on top of the levees and were screaming at us, just howling with pure rage. You can imagine, Jeannette, how it felt to hear those screams. I kept thinking I should have been with them. Not as a rebel but as a citizen of New Orleans. I wasn’t sure if I could fight them.”

I did understand and took hold of his hands. “You must have been so torn,” I said.

“Yes. I couldn’t take part in destroying the city. I prayed constantly that I wouldn’t have to. And then a man named Lovell—he was the Confederate commander—he knew he was badly outnumbered, and he withdrew his troops.”

“Thank goodness.”

“I was grateful, I’ll tell you that. We established a headquarters. The commanding officers appreciated that I was from the area and knew the land and its resources. That’s how I learned that the plantations were being raided—some of them even burned. There was a Major General Banks who knew about the raiding and the looting, and he was worried about the waste of cotton.”

“Why would he care about that?”

“He was from Massachusetts. Had worked in a cotton mill when he was a young man. He said nearly two-thirds of the cotton mills in the North were closed because they couldn’t get any cotton from the South.”

“Calista said they’ve been making homespun here—the rudimentary fabric.”

Christian nodded. “Yes, I told Banks about Catalpa Valley. I said if he could give me a regiment of men, we could ride west and secure it and its products for Union use. He liked the idea right away. And he approved of my plan to free the slaves because he thought it would be hypocritical if we didn’t. We’d be no better than the rebels, he said. Within days I had my troops, and we made it to the property, found everything intact. We’ve been here since.”

He pulled me closer to him. “Jeannette, there’s something else I have to tell you.”

“What, Christian?” I could see on his face that he was trying to work something out. “What is it?”

“My men know I’m not white. I don’t hide it anymore.”

I stood so I could hold his face in my hands and look at him. I wanted him to see my eyes, to know how proud I was. I kissed him on the forehead and held him to me. “How did you come to that?”

“There was a man named Pinchback among my troops. On one occasion at the campfire he shared his story with me. When his white father died, he left Pinchback’s mother and the rest of his family penniless. He started working as a cabin boy and then a steward on the gambling boats on the Mississippi to help keep his family free.

“He reminded me of you, Jeannette. He refused to hide, was determined to honor both sides of his blood. In fact, he’s not with us because he left to form a regiment of colored soldiers.

“Anyway, he and I talked a lot. I told him my story and about you. He’s the only one who knew the real reason I wanted to come to Catalpa Valley.”

“What did he say?”

“He said I was fortunate because I was in possession of my inheritance and that I should be confident about it. Once this war is over, he said, it will be important to hold on to what’s intact. He told me not to be afraid. ‘Don’t make up fights that aren’t there,’ he said. ‘Take care of what’s in front of you, what you have now. Don’t waste time being afraid.’

“He asked if I had planned to live in the North. I said I didn’t know, and he said Louisiana is where I belong. That I should think about being here and being who I am.”

“And have you?” I wasn’t sure if I could bear to hear his answer. I already knew I wouldn’t live anywhere that wasn’t Catalpa Valley. I wanted this dirt always beneath my feet, the sounds of pelicans and bullfrogs in my ears. I craved the rhythm of the land’s seasons, of planting and harvesting. If Christian didn’t want to live here, I could not follow him.

He seemed to know what I was thinking and took my hands. “I have never felt more like myself than I do here,” he said. “And I’m bound and determined to live as who I am. I will be here, and I will be who I am.”

His eyes fixed on me with an earnest gaze.

“And if you’ll have me, I’ll marry you.”

Already, I felt this was different from the last time he had asked me. There was no sense of bewilderment, nothing that made our love seem like a puff of a dream that might evaporate at any moment. I, too, felt like myself and more real and alive than ever.

I kissed him. I told him, “Yes.”

How long we sat together like that in the gazebo, I hardly know. It had taken so much of me and Christian to get to that moment that now we were content to just stay there on and on until we grew old. But eventually I noticed the changing light and how the shadows of the trees were growing long upon the lawn. I took Christian’s hand. “Let’s go to the house,” I said. “It’s getting late, and Calista will be wondering what happened to us.”