In His Eyes(8)

As the sun began to drift closer to the tops of the trees, they rolled into the crumbling ruins of Greenville. Another town of burned homes and ruined lives. Just like back home. Had the Remington home even survived?

She turned to look at the man beside her. He had spoken nary a word since they’d left from Parsonville, and Ella had been content to be left to her own thoughts, but now something bothered her. “Sir?”

He didn’t respond. Ella raised her voice and leaned a bit nearer. “Sir?”

He startled and turned to look at her. “Oh. Yes?”

She jutted her chin at the scorched ruins they passed. “Are you certain the home still stands?”

The man looked back at her. “I reckon so. No Yanks have been burning through here in some time.”

He turned his focus ahead again, as though he were none too interested in conversations. She likely wouldn’t get anything more. He hadn’t even given her his name. Not that she had told him hers either. Perhaps it was better that way. She merely needed the ride. Nothing more.

They rode about a quarter hour more out past the southern outskirts of Greenville before the livery master pulled up on the reins and brought his two gaunt mules to a halt. He indicated a stretch of water just up ahead. “Follow the river road there a bit more. You’ll pass by Willoughby by the river, then see another road on your left. Follow that ’un for a bit and you’ll see Belmont. Big brick house. You won’t miss it.”

Ella shifted uncomfortably. “You’ll not take me on to the house?”

He refused to look at her. “Bit rough on the wagon, see.”

Ella looked at the dry road without any patches of mud and wondered what he could possibly mean. He shifted in his seat. “I best be getting on back now….”

Understanding dawned. Of course. He didn’t wish for anyone to see him delivering a girl to the Remington house, a place that obviously had a reputation for seeing to fallen women. Ella mustered her best smile. “Thank you, sir, for your great kindness. I would have had a time toting this babe on my own.”

He returned her smile and then climbed down from the wagon and rounded to the other side to assist her. Valise in hand and the baby secured, Ella lifted a hand to wave goodbye, but the fellow kept his head down and didn’t send a glance back over his shoulder.

Ella squared her shoulders and marched forward, grateful she didn’t have to make the entire walk. Why, it would probably have been well past nightfall by the time she’d made it on foot.

She followed the road that snaked along the Mississippi as instructed, and after she rounded the bend she saw a long drive lined with fields. Through a handful of large magnolias stood a massive brick house. Her breath caught. A mansion for certain! Why, the people there would surely have the ability to care for one small child. Relief washed over her, and she clutched the little one close.

“Here, now, sweet one. See? I promised you would have a good home. And, my, I don’t suppose there is any finer than this one.”

The baby squirmed and let out a bit of a cry, and Ella paused to rock him a moment. He opened his eyes and watched her as she smiled and cooed at him, and then his lids drifted closed once more. She continued toward the house. He would want to be fed soon. That was the first time he had opened his eyes since right before Cynthia had nursed him. He squirmed once more, and she quickened her pace.

As Ella neared the house, she noticed four fine horses held by a young man in a dark blue uniform. Without thinking, she ducked behind the large flat leaves of one of the magnolias, dropping her valise to the soft earth with a muffled plop. Her heart thudded. Had he seen her?

She peeked out, but the Yank kept his focus on the house. Ella shifted to see past him. Belmont stood proud, boasting fine red brick and a sprawling porch not only for the bottom floor but for the top one as well. Ella counted eight windows across the front that looked like they might be taller than she, and no fewer than six chimneys. But she didn’t have much time to admire the babe’s new home, as the three blue bellies standing at the front door drew her attention.

The one with a sash about his waist and a saber hanging from his side pounded on the door. They waited, and Ella held her position. After a few moments, the man pounded once more. If there was anyone inside, they must have heard it. Her chest constricted. Had the home been abandoned?

She was about to decide that was, indeed, the case when the large front door swung open. She couldn’t quite see who stood on the other side, since the soldiers blocked her view. The man with the sash, who apparently led this group, spoke loudly enough that Ella had no trouble hearing him.

“We are here to speak to Mr. Remington about the compliance of these lands with the Freedman’s Bureau.”

The men shifted enough for Ella to see a dark skinned woman at the door. She stood about middle height, with a trim figure and a straight spine. The woman exited the house and closed the door behind her, regarding the men with concern etched on her features. Ella placed her fingers to her lips. Could she be the wet nurse? Ella eased up to a nearer magnolia, this one just out from the porch. No one seemed to notice.

“I’s sorry, suh, but the elder Mr. Remington died this past winter. Him and the missus both.”

“Then who controls these lands?”

Her gaze darted back to the house. “There ain’t no slaves here, mister.”

Ella couldn’t see the man well enough to be sure, but she guessed he wasn’t convinced. Many slaves would have been told to lie about such things. Ella wondered about the truth of the words herself.