LONG WAY HOME Read online

  LONG WAY HOME

  By Caroline Clemmons

  Copyright 2013 by Caroline Clemmons

  Formerly published in the anthology

  NORTHERN ROSES AND SOUTHERN BELLES

  by The Wild Rose Press 2009

  Cover design by Lilburn Smith

  Photo by William Sherman

  Dedication

  To my family

  Chapter One

  Witherspoon, Georgia

  December 1864

  Parmelia Bailey crept closer to the Union army’s makeshift corral. She shivered, but not from the cold air. At best, a prison cell awaited her if she were caught. What would soldiers do to a woman of twenty caught stealing back her own horses? Suddenly, she stopped.

  Good heavens, was that Darrick McDonald in a Yankee uniform? When had he shown up? Four years had passed since he left Georgia, but there was no mistaking the man she’d once loved. Memory’s pain almost felled her, and tears welled. She’d waited for him, dreamed of his return. The love she’d thought they shared still haunted her. He’d returned to Witherspoon and hadn’t even contacted her. Had he forgotten her so easily?

  Across the way, he talked to half a dozen soldiers near a campfire. All seven men walked away, but there had been no mistaking Darrick McDonald as one of them. How could the man she’d loved turn traitor? Looked as if he’d joined the low down, cheating Yankees who had taken her horses and held the town captive. Worse, although she couldn’t calculate his rank, he was an officer.

  Her ten-year-old brother, Rob, duck-walked to a nearby holly bush. “How much longer we have to be here?” he whispered. “I been tired of this for a long time. I’m freezing my ass—”

  “Robert Gibson Bailey,” she whispered back fiercely, and her breath clouded in frost.

  “Um, I’m freezing my arms off. I can hardly move.”

  “Won’t be long now. Not another word.” Bad enough they had to steal their own horses, but Rob’s complaining and her reaction risked giving away their location.

  Her nerves couldn’t be more frazzled if a gun were pointed at her head. She tried not to think of the consequences of her daring. What would happen to Rob if they were caught? Surely even Yankees didn’t jail boys.

  A sentry walked within ten feet of her, and she shrank back from view. Her loss of focus had almost caused her capture. And after she’d been freezing here for two hours, timing the patrols.

  The guard glanced around. “What’s got you critters stirred up? You done been fed all you’re going to get, so quiet down.” Warily, he peered around again, then moved on.

  In the shadows of an ancient oak tree, she stood hidden from his view. Parmelia thanked her luck she’d worn men’s clothing so no skirt billowed to catch the sentry’s attention. She had ten minutes before he came by again.

  Across the corral, her mares’ ears were up. She waited a minute, then made kissy noises to get their attention. When they’d been hers—before those cheating, thieving Yankees had confiscated them—she’d used that sound to cajole her pets. They knew it meant treats.

  “Get ready, Rob.” She moved toward the horses.

  He raced forward and climbed onto the corral’s rails. He straddled the top bar, ready to mount a horse.

  Two of her mares, Lady and Beauty, pushed their way through the herd toward Parmelia and Rob. Guinevere, Star, and Venus crowded behind Beauty and Lady. How she loved these horses. She’d raised all five from foals. Seeing them in army possession sliced open her heart. Innocent horses died in battles, too. What if one of hers fell from a cannon ball? What if a bayonet slashed one’s neck?

  She gave them each a shriveled apple from her family’s decreasing supply. Running her hand over velvet noses aroused happy memories. Briefly, she rested her face against Lady’s head. But she had no time to indulge in sentiment or reverie now. She raised the bar holding the gate closed.

  Rob swung onto Lady’s back. He grabbed her mane to guide her and used his boots to nudge the mare forward.

  Parmelia opened the gate barely wide enough for Lady to pass. Beauty followed. Parmelia’s other horses pushed forward, but Parmelia forced the gate closed.

  Tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry, babies, but Lady and Beauty are the strongest.”

  She lifted the heavy board used to bar the gate, then dropped it. The sound seemed to reverberate forever. Good Lord, how could she have been so clumsy?

  Star whinnied her distress and pushed against the wooden bars. Keeping the gate closed took all Parmelia’s strength. With her hip and leg firmly pressing against the rough wood, she slid the bar into place.

  Rob threaded his way through the shadows.

  Parmelia grabbed Beauty’s mane and led her into the night. Behind her, her other horses whinnied, obviously upset at being left behind.

  From the darkness, a voice called, “Calm down, you critters. What’s got you spooked?”

  Parmelia prayed he didn’t count the herd.

  By the time Parmelia reached her grandparents’ barn, Rob had a bridle on Lady and was tossing a saddle onto her back.

  Grammy stood nearby. Her gray, night braid hung down her back, and she wore a cloak over her dressing gown. Mud boots encased her feet against the cold. “You’re being foolhardy, my dear. Do you have any idea what could happen if you’re caught?”

  Parmelia refused to dwell on it. She hefted the saddle onto Beauty. “They’d take our horses. Again.”

  “Child, I’m serious. In wartime, men lose what little civility they had. That red hair is a beacon luring any man. And you may think those clothes hide you’re a female, but they don’t.”

  “We’ll be fine, Grammy. Mama’s old felt bonnet hides my hair. Most of my face, too.”

  “Listen here, Missy. A twenty-year-old woman and a ten-year-old boy are no match for soldiers, much less for rough deserters.”

  Parmelia tightened the cinch. She hated involving Rob, but she didn’t think danger would be as great for him as for her. She’d needed help from another person, and there was no other choice.

  “Remember you were married with Papa on the way by the time you were my age. Besides, you know I promised Matt, and I keep my promises.” She hugged Grammy. “When we return, I’ll have Sarah and her family with me.” Though another four people would put a strain on their dwindling food supply.

  As if reading her thoughts, Grammy said, “We’ll make room for them, never you fear. I’ve never turned away a neighbor who needed help, and I won’t start now.”

  Parmelia took her grandfather’s pocket watch from her shirt pocket and handed it to Grammy. “I don’t need this now. Better take it into the house and hide it again so it’ll stay safe.”

  “You’d best keep Rob and yourself safe.”

  “I intend to, Grammy.” Parmelia climbed in the saddle. “Go back to bed, and get your beauty rest. We’ll be back home as soon as we can.”

  Parmelia and Rob left her grandparents’ barn and wended their way to the edge of town. They’d made their plan that afternoon and didn’t need words now.

  The Union army had decided to use Witherspoon as headquarters two months ago. Since then, the town was locked down in a ten o’clock curfew. Guards blocked every road. At least they’d escaped Sherman’s destructive forces when he passed cut his swath across the state.

  Following soft ground and away from streets, they kept their horses to a slow walk. People would find their hoof prints on lawns tomorrow. With any luck, no one would be able to point blame.

  From the Mitchells’ large yard at the town’s edge, Parmelia and Rob slipped into the woods. Soft pine needles cushioned the sound of clopping hooves. They’d evaded the Yankee guards, and praying no Rebel soldiers or deserters hid nearby, she rode on with Rob following.


  Concentrating on picking a path through the dense shadows, she failed to see the man lurking there. He leapt, reaching for her horse’s reins.

  Parmelia kicked out as Beauty reared. “Ride,” she yelled, her signal for Rob to run away.

  Her attacker tried again, but Beauty’s hooves crashed down on him. The man cried out, and Parmelia urged Beauty onward. Racing through the trees, she watched for Rob. Was he all right? Had he lost his horse? Icy fingers of fear clutched her heart until it threatened to explode in her chest. She gasped for breath, frightened other men might accost her or her brother.

  Parmelia knew the contours of this land as accurately as her home. Rob knew it almost as well. A half-mile or so further, her brother emerged from hiding.

  His face appeared ghostly white in the moonlight. “I was sure scared. How many of them was there?”

  “I think only one.” She still shook inside, her heart beat as fast as hummingbird wings. What if that man had pulled her off her horse? What would Rob have done?

  “Grammy was right,” he said. “We shouldn’t have tried this.”

  “Too late to think of that now. We’ll be at Sarah’s soon. Help me keep a better lookout for trouble.” She wanted to turn tail and head back home, but she had to fulfill her promise. Others’ lives depended on her.

  Without further incident, they kept to woods and meadows until they were near the Hardeman farm. A faint glow in the east promised the sun would soon show over the horizon. Parmelia smiled at her timing. With luck, they’d eat supper at Grammy’s that evening.

  Sunlight brought the sounds of war—cannons booming and gunfire popping. To the north, smoke billowed. A house on fire? She wondered how her parents’ home had fared, then pushed the though away. No point worrying about what she couldn’t control.

  When they reached their destination, Sarah ran to meet them. Parmelia dismounted and hurried to her brother’s fiancée.

  “Oh, Parmelia, I’ve been frantic.” Sarah hugged her. The two were the same height, but Sarah’s eyes were brown and her hair chestnut. “Thank goodness you’ve brought horses. Ours were stolen.”

  Relief at reaching Sarah’s home didn’t derail Parmelia’s purpose. “We feared as much. Two are all I could manage, but they’ll pull the buggy. You do still have it, don’t you?”

  Parmelia didn’t comment on Sarah’s strange appearance, or the fact that her friend’s dress was unbuttoned and another showed through the opening. Sarah wore two bonnets.

  “The buggy’s in the barn, but it’s useless without horses. My sisters and I tried to get Mim to gather a few things and start walking toward Witherspoon.

  “That would be hard for your mother.”

  “The girls and I are ready to leave and have a pile of things to take with us. We were trying to rig some sort of cart so we could pull Mim, but we’ve made a mess of it. Worse, Mim says she’s not leaving.”

  “Rob, can you hitch the buggy by yourself?”

  “Sure. I’ve watched Grandpa lots of times.”

  “I’m sure you can,” Sarah said. “It’ll go faster with help, though.” She called, “Nancy.” When her youngest sister appeared in the doorway, Sarah said, “Please help Rob hitch the buggy.”

  The two youngsters led the horses toward the barn.

  Inside the house, Mrs. Hardeman sat with crossed arms. She was a small, thin woman with graying hair. A petulant scowl permanently marred her face. “You’re welcome here, Parmelia. But if you’ve come to take me away, I want you to know I won’t leave. My husband would never desert his land.”

  Parmelia leaned to whisper in Sarah’s ear. “Get your things into the buggy, and I’ll talk to her.”

  Sarah mouthed her thanks and left the room.

  “We’ve lived in this house twenty-five years. I’ll not abandon my home now. George will return when he can. How will he find us if I’m gone?”

  “He’ll think to look in town, Mrs. Hardeman. I promised Matt to take care of you and your girls. That means we have to go into Witherspoon before the Yankees come.” Or the Rebs. Remembering stories she’d heard of looting, rape, and murder from both sides made her wary of all soldiers in this isolated area.

  Sarah’s sister, Katie, passed through with an armload of quilts. “Mim, please don’t fight us any more on this. We must hurry. I hear shooting over the ridge.”

  Sarah followed her, carrying clothing. “You’re right, Katie. I’d judge those guns to be no more than half a mile away.”

  Parmelia went to the door. “The skirmish is headed this way.”

  Gunsmoke’s haze drifted over the ridge. Fear knotting her stomach coiled tighter. Little time existed before they’d be under siege and trapped.

  Rob and Nancy stood beside the buggy, which was parked near the porch.

  Calming herself, Parmelia called, “You two did a fine job of hitching the horses.”

  Rob puffed out his chest but then motioned Parmelia aside. “Nancy said they have too much stuff for us to take the saddles. We left ‘em in their barn. I’ll ride bareback on Lady half way, then switch to Beauty.”

  “Put the bridles in the buggy. I’ll probably need them when I take the horses back.” Parmelia doubted they’d ever see the saddles again.

  Rob patted his chest. “Got ‘em right here inside my shirt.”

  “Good thinking.” Parmelia hugged his shoulder.

  Sarah and Katie had spread quilts on the two carriage seats.

  Katie pulled a second bonnet onto her head. “We’ve stashed our things in every space. There’s barely room for us.”

  With the help of Sarah and her sisters, Parmelia hefted a crate of chickens onto the top of the buggy. Rob helped tie the container to the support ribs. The fowl squawked at the indignity. Parmelia brushed feathers from her face and clothes and hoped that’s all that had fallen on her from the crate.

  Rob tied Bossie, the cow, to the back of the buggy.

  When they’d readied everything, they stood back to look at their handiwork.

  Katie hugged her arms. “If I weren’t so frightened, the appearance would be comical.”

  Parmelia said, “Sarah and I will get Mrs. Hardeman. Everyone else get ready to leave.”

  In the parlor, Mrs. Hardeman repeated, “I’m not leaving. If you girls care nothing for me, you can abandon me here alone.” Self-pity laced her words.

  Parmelia and Sarah looked at one another and shrugged. Parmelia slung Mrs. Hardeman over her shoulder and carried the protesting woman to the buggy. Sarah helped get her mother settled onto the quilt-covered seat.

  Sarah dashed back to the house and returned laden down. She thrust a basket of food onto Katie’s lap and tossed a bundle of fresh bread to Nancy. “At least we won’t starve this week.”

  “We can definitely use the supplies,” Parmelia admitted.

  Sarah rushed back for another load while her sisters crowded into the two-seat carriage with Mrs. Hardeman, blocking her exit. Parmelia climbed onto the front seat and gathered the reins. Sarah returned with a bundle of clothes and a large box. She gave her mother the carton. “This has our family Bible, our best jewelry, and a few precious mementos.”

  Rob climbed onto Lady’s back.

  Sarah spread a quilt over their laps then climbed up beside Parmelia and spread another for the two of them. “My sisters and I are each wearing several dresses.”

  “That explains your unusual appearance,” Parmelia said.

  Sarah folded garments in her lap. “I grabbed these for Mim. We’re wearing extra chemises and drawers as well.”

  Mrs. Hardeman clutched the box to her. “Sarah, it’s rude to speak of private garments in public.”

  Katie said, “We’re all women here, Mim, except Rob and he’s not paying attention to us. Sarah was just explaining our preparations.”

  “Hmph,” Mrs. Hardeman huffed. “How devious you girls are to have planned this without consulting me.”

  Gunfire accompanied a cannon’s boom.

>   “My word, that sounded close,” Sarah said.

  Katie pointed. “Look there, beyond the fields west of the house. See, men have crested the ridge.”

  Parmelia snapped the reins and set the horses in motion south toward Witherspoon.

  Chapter Two

  As the buggy bumped along, Sarah clutched her corner of the quilt. “I wish Matt were here. I always feel safe with him near.”

  Parmelia said, “If he were with us, it’d mean there was no war and your escape would be unnecessary.”

  “He sent one letter. At least, that’s all I’ve received. I wonder if the letters I mailed reached him. Mail delivery is so unreliable with the War raging.”

  “We’ve only had one letter from Papa. Mama has read it so much it’s almost in pieces.” Parmelia tried not to think of pursuit, but wondered if soldiers on horseback would pursue them.

  “Matt’s letter is in my pocket. I’ve read it so many times I know every word by heart.” Sarah slid it out and unfolded it. Words scrawled close together wrapped around a single sheet of paper folded into its own envelope. “Shall I read it to you?”

  Katie groaned, “No, not again.”

  Nancy chimed in, “Please don’t make us listen.”

  Parmelia chuckled, “I’d like to hear it.”

  “Dearest Sarah, How I wish I could be there with you now. You cannot know how much I love you, my beloved. When this war is over, we will be together forever. Remember your promise to move to my family’s home if there is danger nearby. Take your mother and sisters with you. You will all be welcomed, I assure you. War is hell; pardon my frankness. Facing the constant battles and the men dying is worse than any nightmare. I will spare your tender heart the details, but I will never be able to erase the carnage from my mind. Paper is so scarce men fight over it. This small sheet is all I have. I hope this reaches you. I have not heard from you, but I am not surprised. Often men get two or three letters at once, all mailed days or weeks apart. If you can, please write to me. Send me paper and a book or two. Time between our battles drags. Then, when the fighting starts, we wish for it to be over and hope for peace. I yearn to see you, long for our wedding. Our home will be a happy one, and our children will know they are loved by parents who love each other. There could be no greater gift than living by your side for the rest of my days. Ever your devoted servant, Matthew Bailey”