But when Madeline and Sadie saw the Wheeling Suspension Bridge, the route to Ohio, they wanted to stay right where they were.

"Don't be silly, Madeline. It's just a bridge. It won't take long to cross over," William told her.

As they neared the high towers of heavy masonry sandstone, she looked up 100 feet, and could also see how far below the river was and how far it seemed across to the other side.

"It's not very wide, William," she said.

He pulled the wagon to a stop. "It's nearly fifteen feet wide, plenty wide enough. You're being silly." He glanced at Sadie and saw her eyes were wide as she looked ahead. "Both of you are being silly," he added.

"Well, it looks scary, and a long way down to the river."

He laughed. "If we fall, if the bridge falls, just hang on to one of those cables and ride it down."

"That's not funny, William," Madeline responded.

He moved the wagon ahead as he said, "Here we go, ladies, and here we come Ohio."

Chapter Thirty-five: A Change of Heart.

The new year of 1864 opened with a fierce snow storm in parts of northern Iowa. A furious wind blew in gale force from the northwest. Snow drifts from two to ten feet deep were pounded hard with the continuous winds. The howling, biting, whirling snow was so dense in the air that one could not see the length of a wagon and team. Such a blizzard had not been known for some time. The storm moved out within two days but left freezing temperatures. Newspaper reports over the following days indicated there had been several deaths from the storm.

On this day blue skies and moderate temperatures had returned, at least as far as weather was concerned.

But Lucinda Garrison was hot, bothered, distressed, and dark, and she could not hide it as she said, "I don't understand him, Elizabeth Jane. Why doesn't he understand that I was attacked and had nothing to do with causing it? James sounds as if he thinks I had something to do with encouraging Thomas Karns."

"I don't think he means that, Lucinda," Elisabeth Jane replied hoping to calm her sister-in-law.

Lucinda's voice raised in anger, "He doesn't huh? Then why?" She shoved her chair back and stood for a moment before she began pacing back and forth in the kitchen. "Then why have his letters changed since I told him! It does not make sense except if he thinks-"

Elizabeth Jane kept her voice calm as she said, "But in his first letter to you when he heard about it, he was very kind and loving and concerned."

"Well, that was at first," Lucinda's voice crackled with sharpness. "Then he had time to think about it. It was bad enough that he heard it from the other men before I wrote him."

"I'm sure James is still very concerned for you."

"Is he?" She taunted. "How can he be?" She threw up her arms. "I don't know. Now it seems he is even questioning why Benjamin was even there at our school. Or why Benjamin even felt so moved to go after the boy."

"He is?"

"Yes. More than once. I mean several times he has brought it up in his letters. Janie, I just don't know what to do."

"Maybe you're reading too much into what he says, Lucinda. He's upset by what happened to you and that he was not here to protect you."

"G.o.d, he even-" She moved back to the table and grabbed the letter laying open beside the envelope. "Listen to this," she said. "Lucinda, it is so hard for me to believe that the young Karns boy would do something as horrible as attacking you, and also that young girl. Thomas was always very much a gentlemen, even when he was twelve-years-old. He respected his elders, and he respected his cla.s.smates. He was always helpful in the schoolroom with the younger children.

I remember some years back when the little Cabot girl fell and injured her head and cut her face. He was right there to take charge of her before the other children got me.

I can't help but wonder what went wrong, what put him on such a destructive and evil path. I feel sorry for his parents, having lost their only son, and in such a horrible way, beaten to death by Benjamin. I heard from Blair Bridges and others that the town was pretty upset at what Benjamin did, kill a young man like that.

I wish I were home to be able to know about it all. I am sorry that you had to be in court over this."

Elizabeth Jane could not hide her surprise at James's comments. "Oh, Lucinda, I don't know what to say, he uh, he seems to be overly concerned about that kid."

"I told you. That is why I don't understand. What about me, what about his wife! He's concerned I had to sit in a court room! What about my emotions, my pain, my hurt, my violation! Dammit, what is wrong with him!"

Elizabeth was beginning to feel helpless in comforting Lucinda, and even more helpless in defining James's words in a positive way. "Maybe he doesn't know what to say to you," she said.

"d.a.m.n, he has said plenty. And he hates Benjamin!" Those words brought tears to her eyes and she threw the letter onto the table as she sat again. "How do I defend Benjamin, Janie? How can I let James think that way about Benjamin."

Elizabeth Jane was silent and allowed Lucinda her tears.

Before long, Lucinda said, "There's more, Janie. There's more."

"What do you mean? What else did he say?"

"He said I should stay away from Benjamin. Not see him, even at family get-togethers, like picnics and suppers. He is even accusing Benjamin of 'hitting the bottle' again and brought up when Benjamin left years ago, and all the talk of the pregnant girl. Janie, he just goes on and on about Benjamin. What do I do? How can I defend Benjamin? It would only make matters worse. James doesn't trust him now, and no way would he trust me if I started defending Benjamin more than I have."

"Leave it alone for now. When my brother comes home from war he will be just fine."

"I don't think so. He's changed. I hate this d.a.m.n war! Why are we all having to go through this awful time? The war has changed my husband, and I don't like this change in him!"

"As Pap has told us, war changes men, gives them maturity but also at times a coldness, a hardness, because they see so much of the awful things. Death all around them. And they kill. Yes, it is for a cause they feel strongly about, but it can't be easy to endure that, day in and day out. Silas tells me not to worry about him but I can't help it. He tells me worry causes disease." She sighed and said, "Sometimes I think the man I married is so smart, so wise."

Lucinda shrugged. "I used to think James was smart and wise. Now I don't know."

"Well, remember the strain and stress he is under. That could account for a lot of this thinking right now."

"Maybe."

"I think so. And if you want to know, I think it best you just forget about all he said about Benjamin. Don't defend Benjamin anymore than you have. It will only cause more problems."

"I know. But I sure want to."

"I know you do."

"I would like more tea if you don't mind. Maybe it will clear my mind," Lucinda said.

"Sure," Elizabeth Jane said. She rose from the table and went to the stove for the tea kettle. "You know when James comes home I'm sure you can set all this straight with him."

Lucinda gave a sarcastic laugh. "Yes, when he comes home. He also wrote in this letter that he will not come home on furlough next month as he had told me he would. He changed his mind and wants to stay. Can you believe that? His wife is attacked and raped, is an emotional wreck, has to go to court and testify, and worry that Benjamin may never be out of jail, and James does not want to come home. He'd rather fight some d.a.m.n war than comfort his wife? Tell me Janie, what is wrong with that picture? Don't answer that. I can tell you a lot is wrong with it."

Elizabeth Jane poured hot tea into their cups and returned the kettle to the stove. She opened a cookie jar and put several oatmeal cookies onto a plate and returned to the table with the cookies.

As she sat down she asked, "Are you going to not see Benjamin?"

Lucinda was silent for a moment as she sipped tea. She set the teacup down and looked directly at Elizabeth Jane. "I can't do that," she said softly.

"You can't?"

"Janie, it is so difficult being in love. I love James, but I'm afraid I'm still in love with Benjamin. He was my first love, and I admit I am not over him. The trouble is, I don't know what to do about it." She picked up the letter from James and stared at it a moment. "The one thing that is happening right under my nose is that the written words of my husband are making me love him less. And with that happening my first love is growing greater again in my heart."

She set the letter on the table. Her left hand lay across it and the sunlight coming in from the window touched the gold wedding band on her finger giving it a glimmer.

Elizabeth Jane could not help but notice the gold glimmer. She looked down at her own wedding ring, realizing how much things had changed since Silas slipped it onto her finger.

Chapter Thirty-six: Night Shadows.

Elizabeth Jane put her children to bed and had settled in her chair in front of the fire. Katrina had been a little fussy all day due to sore gums. Two of her teeth were about to break through and she was uncomfortable and had been hard to please. Finally, she calmed and fell asleep.

As Elizabeth Jane relaxed she thought about her visit with Lucinda the afternoon before. It was sad to see how upset Lucinda had been about James's letter. But, actually, she could not blame her for that. Her brother James was not being very thoughtful and Lucinda had a right to be angry. But that was not like James at all. He had always been a thoughtful person, as a boy and as a man.

It's the war, she thought. As Pap has said it changes them. She recalled the words of her son Denny not long ago when he said, "I want Daddy to be the same."

The reality of the thought that Silas wouldn't be the same brought tears to her eyes. And James, she didn't want him to be any different, either.

d.a.m.n this war. When is it going to end?

She thought about Silas's last letter, a short one he wrote on the 8th of January. Christmas had come and gone, with little celebration. And now a new year, but nothing had changed. In fact the letter had even upset her as he spoke of two friends who had died. He called them brave soldiers and how they made a charge and were repulsed by a flank movement the Rebs made on the right, and they had to fall back to the support or be gobbled as Silas put it. And they were gobbled. Dead. And then the fight went on all night and by morning the Rebels had even taken the shoes off the dead boys. Silas's troops had gone after the Rebels, while a brother of one of the dead men stayed behind to bury the men. Silas had written that it broke his heart to think of it, and that the rest of the dead men's division were said not to be fit for field duty and were in Camp at Bridgeport, Alabama.

She picked up the letter and read: the reason I do not write oftener is I am cooking for the company and it keeps me busy. And we have had no chance to send out mail until lately. I will try and write oftener if I can. We was paid two months pay and we settled for our clothing and Uncle Sam owed me two dollars and ninety-five cents and he paid that in cash so I got twenty-eight dollars and ninety-five cents. And the boys paid me for cooking which amounted to thirty-eight dollars. That is my wages for cooking. I will not send any home at this time. But I am sending twenty-five cents of new money for Denny, and five cents for the babe's piggy bank.

She put the letter on the side table and picked up the framed photograph sitting beside it.

Colonel William Kingsman.

Silas had sent the photograph and asked her to take care of it and put it in a frame. He wrote the colonel was their "Gallant Leader" and had died at Black River Bridge, May 17, 1863, while leading a charge. It was a battle not long before the victory at Vicksburg and actually a part of General Grant's Vicksburg Campaign. That had been months ago. Did that mean that Silas had carried the man's photograph all this time?

She didn't want to think about death. It came too often, and too soon for many.

Silas had asked about the neighborhood deaths. The storm at New Year's had brought some tragedy not too far north and across town the fever had killed two young children. She did not know the family but had seen them occasionally at church. It was a sad week for the community when two young ones pa.s.s on. And it always brought up fear.

Fear, she thought. Seems that was what her days, or actually her quiet nights, brought up. Too much fear. Every night when Denny said his prayers at bedtime he asked for G.o.d to bring his daddy home. So every night when she tucked her son into bed, she was reminded that Silas may never come home to them.

And her brother, James. He may not come home either, and it is possible when and if he does, it may be too late for his marriage.

Her heart ached for Lucinda and the dilemma she was apparently in. But her heart also ached for her brother. She knew how happy James had been when Lucinda came into his life. She could still hear his words, "She's the most exquisite woman in the world, with beautiful blue eyes and golden hair, and I'm going to marry her."

"Oh, James," she said, almost in a whisper.

She wondered if Benjamin had taken to the bottle again. Had James heard that from the men? Was it a rumor going round? Or had he only a.s.sumed that? Lucinda would have told her if it were so.

Alexander would know. She decided she would ask Pap when she saw him next. She knew her father-in-law was not the one to ask anything about Benjamin and she always wondered why Michael had a problem with Benjamin. Over the years it seemed always to be so obvious to her that Michael Storm favored his younger son Silas over his older son, Benjamin.

Was it Benjamin's drinking, she wondered. Or was it something else?

Chapter Thirty-seven: .Where the Gra.s.s is Greener.

Daniel was rounding up his cows for milking when he saw a wagon approaching the farm. He wondered who was visiting but the wagon was too far away to tell. Through the dust stirred by the wagon, he noted a horse appeared to be tied to the rear of the wagon and it looked as if there were three people aboard. He moved the cows to the feed troughs, left them to eat, and walked to the drive to meet the approaching wagon.

He strained to see who was driving the wagon but he couldn't tell. After all, his eyes were not as sharp as they once had been. He called across the yard toward the house, "Catherine, we have company headed this way."

Catherine came to the front door and looked out. "Who is it, Daniel? Were you expecting somebody?"

"Don't know who it is."

About that time, they both heard a voice call out, "Mama, Daddy!"

Daniel felt his heart jump at the sound of his daughter's voice. "Oh, my G.o.d, it's Madeline!"

Catherine flew off the porch. "Madeline!" she yelled as she began running down the drive to meet the wagon.

Daniel was right there in a moment, too. As the wagon came to a stop, Madeline jumped down into her father's arms, hugging, crying with joy, and reached out for her mother's embrace.

"I can't believe you're here," Catherine said with joy.

Both Daniel and Catherine expected to see her husband at the reins but instead they saw a stranger.

William stepped down from the wagon and helped Sadie down. He then walked around to the side and stood as Madeline and her parents continued their love-fest.

"Mama, Daddy, this is William Edson, and Sadie. William brought us here from Virginia."

Daniel held out his hand and said, "Daniel McCord," and the two men shook hands. "Well thank you William for bringing my daughter home. And thank G.o.d you made it safely. How about coming in for a bit before you head out."

"Sir, I'm not going anywhere without your daughter."

"Oh, um-"

"Daddy it's a long story but William is with me."

It took Daniel only a moment to recover. "In that case, come on all of you, let's go in the house and get comfortable, something warm to drink, something good to eat, is that right, Catherine?"