"I'm sorry you had to go through that in your marriage, Madeline."

"Thank you, Mama. I just want to put that all behind me and get on with life. A good life. A life with the man I love."

Michael had very little memory of the first night he spent with Susanna. The s.e.x had been hot and frequent as it always was with her. It was if he built up all year waiting to express his stored up anger and converting it to s.e.xual pa.s.sion. Every time he was with Susanna, and there had been many times over these past years, he would explode into a high s.e.xual experience, doing things with her he only dreamed about. And she loved it. Every moment of pa.s.sion carried them both beyond belief into a drunken thrilling place, until the alcohol or the lack of sleep slowed him down.

And after a short rest, it would start again, and when he left there the second night, he fell onto the bed in his hotel room, hoping to get some sleep before heading back home the next afternoon. Two days of bliss, hot bliss, bliss that might hold him over for many months.

Until that time next year when he remembered, when he would hear the laughter.

He rolled onto his side and pulled the pillow under his head, and hoped to fall asleep. But he could not. The laughter would not leave his mind. He tried to replace it with visions of Susanna, naked, sitting astride him, but he could not bring that image into focus no matter how hard he tried.

His eyes began to fill with tears, and in his mind he again heard the laughter. And there was Henry, little Henry, joyfully laughing and being chased by his older brother Benjamin.

Then the laughter turned to screams. Oh my G.o.d!

And Michael began to shake as he muttered, Benjamin I hate you! and he quickly clamped his hand over his own mouth to hold back the scream that wanted to come out of him.

Soon Michael fell asleep but not before soaking his pillow with tears and calling out his young son's name. Henry. Oh, Henry.

Chapter Forty-one: Monday, February 22, 1864.

Indianola, Texas Dear Companion, It is again I take this opportunity of writing you a few lines to let you know I am well and hearty. I received a letter from you and was glad to hear from you. I have not had a letter from you before this for nigh unto a month.

Well Jane, we have a very comfortable place here and I have taken a great fancy for Texas. If it was a good grain country as Iowa I would never live in Iowa. The climate here suites me to a T. The sun shines very warm but a breeze from the bay makes it very pleasant unless a person gets in the sun where the wind does not blow. How long we will stay here I can not tell. Some say we will go to Mobile but I think that is all a folly but a soldier has to go where ever they are ordered. I think if we leave here we will cross over on the peninsula and go to Galveston.

Our orderly is going to Iowa to recruit and I wish we were paid so I could send my money by him. We will soon have two months pay due us and then I will have very nigh a hundred dollars coming to me.

You say you don't want me to reenlist. You need not be uneasy about that yet for we have no chance as yet but probably will have before our term of service is up. I cannot tell at present what I would do. I might and I might not reenlist but there is not use talking about that yet. You said that Mary Thompson has gone to Keokuk to see Bill and you imagine the pleasure that they have. I cannot agree with you for I could not see very much pleasure in being at a hospital or such a place as that. I would rather see you at home if I see you at all. It is not that I don't want to see you. There is no one on earth that I would rather see than you. I think a great deal of you and the children. I think of the pleasure we used to enjoy and the pleasures that are to come if I am permitted to live. I will know how to enjoy the home fireside.

Well Jane, I was to church last night and I heard a good sermon preached. There were some ladies at church and it seemed a little like old times for it is the first I have seen women at church since I left home but I could not enjoy myself as well as I could at home where I could see you.

We have had preaching here for two or three weeks and they have made the sinners tremble and repent of their wicked way and brought them to a knowledge of the Gospel. A great many of the soldiers in the division have repented of their sins. I rejoice to see it. It would do my heart good if I could be one of them but my heart is so hardened that it was no impression on me, although I attended the meeting. I have thought from what you have written that you are a praying woman and if such be the case (for I hope it is) I want you to pray for me that the Lord will awaken me (as it were) from my slumber and to know a truth that the Lord is Good.

Silas

Chapter Forty-two: Alexander and Benjamin.

Alexander sat rocking on his porch, tapping tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. He struck a match, lit the tobacco and sucked on the pipe stem allowing the tobacco to burn evenly. When he was a.s.sured the pipe was lit well, he pulled it from his mouth and leaned forward in his chair, stopping the rocking movements.

With his elbow on his knee, he looked his grandson in the eyes and asked, "So what's on your mind, Benjamin."

Benjamin was sitting back in the chair with his feet raised onto the porch rail. "Pap, I don't know what's wrong. I can't seem to knock a feeling of tiredness, I guess."

"So as I said, what's on your mind?"

"Dad has been complaining about my work again."

"He has?"

"h.e.l.l he goes off to Des Moines for four days and comes back raising h.e.l.l with me, telling me I didn't do s.h.i.t while he was gone. I worked my b.u.t.t off."

"I've noted he's not been in a very good mood, so I wouldn't worry yourself about it."

"Sure. Guess I should get used to it. I'm never going to please my father no matter what I do."

"Ah, I think your daddy is prouder of you than you think."

Benjamin studied his grandfather a moment, eyes taking in each of the deep lines of wear and tear on his face, and knowing those creases and wrinkles represented a lot of wisdom gathered over the years, yet he wondered how much Alexander really knew of his own son. He said, "I don't know, Pap, I don't ever see any clue of that. Never have."

Alexander was quiet as he puffed again on his pipe. The only sound heard was the crowing rooster near the hen house.

Then Alexander said, "The chickens have quieted so guess it's time to gather eggs. Mr. Rooster c.o.c.k-a-doodle-do is acting a little c.o.c.ky and one day soon I think he's gonna join us for Sunday supper."

Benjamin laughed as he watched the rooster strut his stuff. "If you wait much longer the old bird will be too tough to eat."

Alexander laughed. "You mean I gotta soft spot for the old guy."

"d.a.m.n right you do or you would have had a nice supper a long time ago."

"Ah shucks, guess I do have a soft spot now and then." They both sat quietly, Alexander rocking and puffing, while Benjamin fidgeted some in his chair.

After a few minutes, Alexander relit his pipe and then asked, "And what else is bothering you?"

Benjamin wanted to laugh but he didn't. His grandfather was always so perceptive, he thought, and had this uncanny ability to read minds, especially if you were around him long.

Benjamin looked at his grandfather, "You always know, don't you?"

"Know what?"

"When something is on my mind, when there's more to the story."

lexander chuckled. "Maybe it comes with experience and age. My bones may be sore and slowing me down, but my mind is still sharp."

Benjamin smiled, "That's not the way it usually works. But then I should know you're unique. They don't make them like you anymore, Pap."

"So tell me."

"Well, something is bothering me and I'm not sure what to do about it. It's a woman and I uh-"

"Huh, huh. A very pretty one at that," Alexander said. "Lucinda, isn't it?"

Benjamin nodded. "Yeah, Pap, I've always loved her, and d.a.m.n the feelings are so strong now and I don't know what to do about it."

"Ain't much you can do. She's taken," Alexander said with more softness in his voice than usual.

"I know. That's what makes it so d.a.m.n hard. Pap, you don't know how I kick myself for letting her go way back. If it hadn't been for the d.a.m.n bottle I'd still have her."

"Would you?"

Benjamin stood, leaned on the porch rail looking down at the ground for a moment. Then he turned and leaned his back against the rail, and looking directly into the eyes of his grandfather said, "d.a.m.n right I would."

"How does she feel about you?"

"That's the problem, she still has feelings, too."

"Hmm, this is serious isn't it, Benjamin?"

"Yeah. I can't get her out of my mind. Maybe because James is gone, but even if he was back from the war it would still be hard for me."

"I wish I had an answer for you son, but I don't. Your heart will break no matter what."

"Maybe I need to go away again. Move on."

Alexander's thoughts went back many years to the women in his life, his wife Sally who he loved dearly, and Abigail who saved him during the very bad days of Sally's illness. Although his personal situation was different, he was the married man, and Abigail was not married, it had been a difficult time for him, a soul searching time when he was making a decision to bring Abigail into his life. And at that time he had no idea that Sally would kill herself. All he knew was Sally was sick in the mind and that was not going to get any better for her or for their marriage. So he felt bad now for his grandson as he listened to him, faced with a woman he wanted and loved and rightfully could not have. That is unless James did not come home. But one could not see into the future, not even him, at least not clearly or for sure.

"It won't do you any good to run away, Benjamin. If she's in your heart that much, she will stay there no matter where you are."

Benjamin nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Alexander shrugged his shoulders. "Can't tell you what to do or not do, Benjamin. That's a decision for you, and for Lucinda. Whatever you do, you're going to find pain. It won't be easy. No matter, it will be difficult for her, too. It's up to you to decide how much pain you can afford. "

"I know, Pap. And that scares me. At times I want to escape with the booze, and it can be difficult to deny myself that. It seems life would be easier if I poured the whiskey down my throat."

Alexander rose from his chair, stood in front of Benjamin, reached out with a hand on his shoulder and studied his grandson's face before he said, "You've had the courage to leave that behind, and you'll keep that courage to stay away from the whiskey bottle. But it will also take courage to stay away from her if that is what you decide. If you have the urge to pick up a bottle, I give you the strength from my heart to pour that whiskey down onto the ground. I also give you the strength from my heart to make the kind of decision about her that you need to, for you and her, not for anybody else."

Benjamin reached up and put his hand over the boney fingers of the hand giving him strength, and with moisture filling his eyes, he said quietly and sincerely, "Thank you Pap. Thank you for under-standing."

Alexander nodded his head and broke his hold on his grandson. "Well, it is time to gather eggs. Want to help?"

Both men moved down the porch steps and into the yard, walking together toward the hen house.

Elizabeth Jane had cooked a big pot of stew and made b.u.t.termilk biscuits for supper and invited Alexander to join her and the children. There were things on her mind and Alexander, in his wisdom, was always the one to talk things over with.

After dinner she had put Katrina to bed, and as soon as Denny helped with the dishes she had him say goodnight and she went upstairs to tuck him in bed.

Alexander had made a pot of hot tea while she bedded down the children, and when she returned to the kitchen he had dessert and cups of tea waiting for the two of them.

He said, "I hope you don't mind, I cut the pie and actually took a fork or two. It looked too good to wait any longer."

She laughed and said, "No, I don't mind at all. Tea sounds very good. It always makes me relax in the evenings." She added, "Thank you, Pap," as she sat opposite him at the table.

He said, "I can't get over how little girl Katrina is a' growin'."

"She sure is. Too fast. There are times that I sure wish her father was home with us so he could come to know his little baby."

"I'm sure Silas wishes that, too. It's hard to be away from family like he is."

"It's not good," she said, not only thinking of Silas but also thinking of her brother, James. And Lucinda. "When do you think this war will end?"

"Don't know. People are getting restless with it all. Too many good men killed. Later on we'll have an election and I think President Lincoln will be our president but it might depend on how people feel about the split in our country. If states keep coming back to the Union, that is good news. But if more leave, that's not good."

"Oh Pap. I never know by Silas's letters how he is really doing. He wanted me to pray for him to find the Lord again. That bothers me that he feels he lost the good Lord or whatever it is he's thinking."

"Oh Janie, he's just tired of people dying, on both sides. He's fine but if it makes you feel good send up some prayers in his name, but you can bet his Mama Rachel is sending plenty for both of you."

She smiled. "You're probably right."

He took a bite of pie. "You sure do make a good pie. Catherine taught you pretty good."

"Thank you," she replied. "Maybe I was lucky that Mama let me help in the kitchen when I was pretty little and then before long I was mixing pie dough and rollin' it out."

"Good for you. Before you know your little one will be right there getting her hands in the flour, too."

"When Denny heard Silas is cooking for the army, he told me he wants to cook, too, like his daddy. So I may have four hands in the flour before long."

Alexander chuckled.

"Pap, I know I've talked to you about this before but Silas has brought it up again. I think he wants to reenlist and not come home when his time is up. He told me not to worry about it now, but I do because I don't understand that. He still says he wants to be an officer for the Negroes."

"Doesn't surprise me, Janie. He's a good soldier and he takes that soldier's life and commitment very seriously."

She played with the pie with her fork, her eyes averted from Alexander's. "I don't like it that these men would rather be away at war than with their families. It makes me sad, and even makes me mad. It's not right."

"Let me try to explain why men do this. They are the protectors, they protect their family, their loved ones, but they also want to protect their country, for if things are not good in their country then it is not good in their community or their own home. I've said before, if I was a'younger I would be there with Silas, James, and all the rest of our Iowa boys taking down them Rebs and preserving our Union."

He sipped his tea watching her reaction to his words. "Janie, I know it is hard for you to understand the way a man thinks like that, and you are sitting home worrying all the time that he may not come back home to you. That worry is real but it is better if you can trust that he will be home when the time is right. It does you no good to sit and worry that he might be shot like Bill Thompson and you'd have to go to the hospital to see him. Does you no good at all."

She smiled, knowing that Alexander was trying to comfort and rea.s.sure her in the best way he could. "I know Pap, but you sound just like Silas. He told me that I would not have pleasure, nor would he, if I went to visit him in a hospital like Mary Thompson did to see her husband. I know that wasn't pleasant for her to see her husband in that condition. And it may be he may even die before he comes home. He may not get well, and Mary knows that.

"Things can sometimes be difficult."

"I know. I feel bad for Mary. Maybe I should ask Rachel to send prayers her way."

"Knowing your mother-in-law, I bet she already is," he commented.

"I guess Mary going to the army hospital brought up those feelings for me and I told Silas. Sometimes I tell him too much in my letters," she said. "Do you know that he even likes Texas and would even consider living there?"