Varina(66)

—If it is true, we’ll all pay for it.

—Shit. Far as I know, Lincoln or not, we’re all paying, every minute of every day, Delrey said.

He flapped the reins, and a hundred yards on he leaned around and said, If somebody comes up behind asking the right questions, I doubt they’ll have forgotten us.


TWILIGHT THE NEXT DAY, a storm began brewing far westward. Clouds lit up with pale blooms of distant lightning. Faint thunder. The wind blew the storm their way, and it looked like a bad night to be on the road.

An hour later, lightning flashed a couple of miles away, jagged bolts. Ryland walked toward a dark plantation house, one end burned to nothing but black, crazed timbers in a heap and tall Doric columns scorched halfway up. Empty fields, deserted rows of facing slave cabins off to the side. Thin wisps of human-shaped smoke rose from the burn pile and stood in the last beams of moonlight pinched off through a closing crack in the clouds.

Lightning struck nearby and then immediately a swelling sound like shredding metal. Rushing wind climbed the hill and whirled limbs of pecan trees. In the flashes, stacked parallel rows of sapsucker holes in the trunk bark—bands of black dots—appeared and vanished immediately like unreadable lines of ancient text, a false prophecy. Big greasy drops of rain, widely spaced, hissed as they fell, and off in the woods, a yap of distant dogs carried in the stirring air, faint and wavelike in rhythm.

Delrey said, That’s the very way dogs sound when ghosts are roaming.

They stayed in the dark, watching, ready to flee while Ryland walked under the pecan trees and climbed the steps to the front porch. Horizontal jags of lightning silhouetted him. He knocked on the door, acting like a gentleman, and then tried the knob. The door swung open. He humped over against the wall to shield a match and lit a candle and went inside. One by one the windows of the front rooms lit up yellow as he scouted and then went black when he searched the back rooms. Soon the light grew brighter in increments as he pilfered around and found candle stubs and lit them. He came back onto the porch.

—Empty, he shouted.

The rain picked up and they all hurried unloading. Ellen carried Winnie under her shawl, and Burton led Maggie and Jeffy. Jimmie Limber and Billy walked fast across the weedy plot of lawn holding V’s hands.

Bristol and Ryland ran back and forth in the flashes of storm carrying food and bedding while Delrey settled the mules and horses under the trees. Then all three of them collected downed limbs and broke them up the best they could, stomping them into firewood.

Inside, V and Ellen sat with the children and arranged their nest of quilts in front of the cold hearth. The house was all chaos, gaumed up beyond belief. Everywhere scattered plunder, broken things. A wide drag-trail parted the clutter. All denominations of Georgia bills littered the floor, and Burton drew the worthless paper together to strike a fire. A few thousand dollars did the job. Twigs and spindles from dining chairs served as kindling.

Black windows flashed white, projecting images of pecan limbs like etchings against the glass, and then went black again. The fire caught and the chimney drew. Burton closed the curtains to keep firelight from showing down at the road.

The navy boys took candles and went exploring the back of the house, and returned shortly with a crock of strawberry jam and another of dark-colored honey, almost coffee black.

Ryland said, There’s a case of wine sitting back there if anybody would care for some.

—Yes, please, V said.

She began digging around in her reticule, down past her pretty pistol, and came up with a corkscrew. Ryland set the case of Chablis down beside her, and she opened a bottle.

—Did you notice wineglasses? she said.

—Be right back, Ryland said. He and Bristol returned with Bristol carrying the candle and Ryland holding six stems upside down between spread fingers, and the bowls chimed against each other as he walked.

Burton and Delrey stood on either side of the fire. Delrey’s clothes hung dark and nearly soaked on his frame, and as the fire heated up, he started steaming. Rain fell hard and drops sizzled in the hearth where they found a way down the chimney throat.


NO MILK FOR THE CHILDREN and everybody too weary for much cooking, V said, A good night for bacon and warmed-up biscuits.

Delrey said, Good Lord, a few more days like this and we’ll be shoveling for terrapin eggs along the creek banks.

V said, Delrey, I count on you for optimism.

—Scrambled terrapin eggs—mighty good eating. Tastes like duck eggs but with a lot more tang.

—Thank you for the effort, V said.

Ellen fried two skillets of thick-cut bacon and then fried the old dry biscuits in the grease for a minute to freshen them up.

A sound carried from the second floor—a squeak of floorboards, a bump. Then silence.

Burton said, No worries. Just a possum or a bird that’s gotten in and can’t get out. But the boys and I’ll go check. If you hear anything more than just the three of us walking around, get out and go to the wagon. We’ve left the teams fed and in the traces and ready to roll if there’s trouble.

Burton and Bristol and Ryland went upstairs, searching for the source of the noise, and Delrey waited near the fire with his shotgun ready. Hardly sooner than they got up the steps, V heard many feet thumping on floorboards, raised voices, the sounds of things falling. Ellen and Delrey grabbed the younger children under their arms and V yanked Maggie by the hand. They fumbled out of the house and into the rain. Winnie cried, and then most of the other children started crying.