Minnesota Bride Page 5

  “I’ll try to lend Carlton a hand, as I’m able,” Captain Trumbull added. “I don’t know how long they’ll keep me from the fray.”

  “Thanks, Cap’n. I knew you would,” Brent managed, tipping his hat in the neighbor’s direction. Her cousin was looking a little choked up to Melody, as if he might change his mind about going off to war if he thought about it too much.

  It made Melody on edge to hear her handsome Captain might have to join “the fray,” as he put it. For a moment, she had a taste of what Lavinia must feel every waking hour, but she tossed the feeling aside for the present, attempting to remember Mama always said not to borrow trouble from tomorrow.

  She glanced at Eugenie and Lena, who’d been silent through the exchange. Melody was sure Lena had her own difficulties to sort through with her brother marrying Lavinia and leaving for the war any day now. Eugenie burst into tears and then Frank’s sister moved to put a comforting arm around her.

  “We’ll pray for Brent’s safety,” Lena said softly as Eugenie sobbed, her head down.

  Brent shook his head, but he didn’t say a word. Melody could tell he knew they didn’t understand the pull he felt to help his nation.

  “It’ll be all right, Jeanie,” Donavan offered. They sometimes called her Jeanie because it was easier, but Melody loved the way Eugenie’s full name rolled off her tongue. She avoided the use of the nickname whenever possible.

  She wished she could comfort her cousin, but she didn’t want to waste a single moment of being able to sit beside Charles, even if it meant sitting on that uncomfortable log. Then her fears returned again. What if he had to go off to war, too? He already had the rank of Captain from some sort of previous military experience. Hadn’t someone said he’d been honorably discharged? Did that mean he would never have to fight again? She thought she’d heard the men talking about his being a Captain from the Mexican War. Yet another reason to protect her heart from him.

  What could she do about any of it? She detested that they’d have to lose lives if the war escalated, and the way things sounded in the newspapers and the look on Lincoln’s face told her it would escalate. They all hoped the rebellion could be easily squashed in a matter of weeks or a few months at most, but what if it took longer?

  Her fears were an exercise in futility. They couldn’t be prevented, changed, comforted, or quelled. It was futile to repress them, but the better way was to be brave and selfless. What was it the Bible said? To always have hope...to never give up hope.

  Her entire future was unknown. Their fates hung in the balance and outcome of a divided country. Would she ever be able to heal from Ned and return home to find a teaching position? Would she ever find true love if the Captain’s attention amounted to nothing? Would she be able to help Lincoln in some small, yet significant way with the war effort?

  Then and there, she decided she would enjoy the relationship for what it was and take each day as a blessing, one at a time. Only God could keep Cousin Brent, Lieutenant Frank Kilpatrick, and her rugged, charming, handsome, mountain man safe, she reasoned. If only Aunt Ruby wouldn’t take it too hard, maybe they could all survive it.

  Chapter 6

  The Lord says, “Because he is devoted to me, I will deliver him: I will protect him because he is loyal to me.” Psalm 91:14, NET

  * * *

  It was hardest of all after Frank Kilpatrick and Brent Jenkins left to report for duty. It was the most difficult for newlywed Lavinia, who was determined to remain brave with Aunt Ruby. Melody could hardly know where they drew strength. It all seemed like a strange dream they might awake from at any minute.

  Nearly every other day, for the following few weeks, Captain Trumbull called upon her at Blue Meadow. Sometimes he walked over from his neighboring farm, and other times, he’d bring the buggy or ride one of his horses. He always asked to see Miss Ramsey first. Sometimes they would sit on the front porch at the end of a long day. Other times, she’d invite him to join the family for dinner. Frequently, they all went for another buggy ride.

  On Sundays, he’d offer to escort her to the Sunday morning service in Beverly. On Saturdays, they went to town and browsed the shops in the tiny town. There were only a little more than half a dozen establishments in Beverly. These included a mercantile, blacksmith, livery, seed depot, a church, a seamstress shop, and a small restaurant with a little store in front selling a few specialty items such as toys, candy, books, jams, candles, soap, and fresh baked goods.

  It was on these buggy rides and various excursions they began to share about a variety of topics, as well as notice how many southern rebels were creeping into the area along with a variety of rumors. One in particular circulated about an attack planned on Washington, D.C. to take over the White House. This rumor always made Lavinia start to cry when she heard it. She worried so about her new husband, praying hard each day since he’d gone.

  Charles always finished his chores and farming responsibilities before coming to Melody’s side. On a few of the days, she took a walk to meet him with a picnic lunch. During one such picnic, she arrived with dread in her eyes as he was plowing a field. His furrows looked straight and long. She knew he planned to sow corn in the field. Surveying his work while he untangled himself from the plow and patted his horse, she admired his strength and muscular build along with his farming technique.

  “What is it?” he asked when he reached her side, taking her by the hand and leading her to the shady tree where she’d laid out their lunch. They sat down on the quilt she’d spread, his eyes searching her face. She handed him the corked jug of cold water and he drank nearly half of it at one time.

  When he set the jug aside, she began. “My father has written. He thinks ‘tis too dangerous for me to remain in Virginia and wishes for me to return to Minnesota.” She looked at Charles with his handsome dark hair, fashionable sideburns, neatly trimmed mustache, and blue eyes a shade darker than her own.

  “I see. You did say you want to teach. Maybe now is the time,” he replied somberly, taking her hand in his again. He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve had a letter, too.”

  “You have?” His remark took her off guard. He rarely spoke of his family. From all she’d been able to gather, he was born to Reginald and Mary Trumbull, slave owners residing at their estate near Richmond, Virginia. He’d graduated from West Point and served for one year in the Mexican-American War before purchasing his own farm to settle down at the base of Rich Mountain.

  When he didn’t say anything else as he continued to hold her hand, fear rose in her throat. “You’ve been asked to report for duty, then?”

  “No, it’s from a friend.” He withdrew the letter from his back pocket and opened it. “I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I trust you.”

  She nodded and tilted her head, listening.

  He continued, staring at the neatly penned letter in his hands. “My friend has fallen in with the wrong kind of people. He has accepted the position of becoming the private secretary for the temporary president of the Confederate Government.”

  “That is the very last thing I’d ever have expected you to say, but do go on. Let drive,” she encouraged, wanting to hear more.

  He folded the letter and returned it to his back pocket. Squinting, he appeared to look out over the rows of furrows he’d plowed and beyond, at what he still had to do. Then he turned to her. “Remember how you wanted to see the elephant?”

  “See the elephant?” She didn’t understand what he meant.

  “That adventure you said you wanted to go on? My unit always called it seeing the elephant...to go into battle or go on any adventure,” he explained.

  “You do indeed listen to every word I say, Captain Trumbull.” She laughed. Ned had never remembered anything she said.

  “Beau wants me to come to his side in Richmond and see the Confederate White House as his guest. He wants to recruit me, and if he cannot succeed, wishes for me to talk him out of treason. I think he writes that jokingly, but I cannot b
e sure. On weekends, he sometimes goes to his rented house and also invites me there, but he says we are invited to stay with the Davis family where he also has quarters, though they are just moving into Richmond. I think he isn’t sure if he should continue to work for the southern rebels. He knows he could be hung, or at the very least, imprisoned when they lose. And mark my words, they will lose.”

  “My, t’would certainly be an adventure! An opportunity to spy on Jefferson Davis!” she breathed.

  “How’d you know they chose Davis?” he asked, looking stunned.

  “As I mentioned before, my father is Governor of the state of Minnesota,” she replied, a coy smile curving on her lips. “We read stacks of newspapers each week from major cities around the country. He orders half a dozen from the south and more from the north, not to mention a few from Europe. Oh, and there are his political friends in the Congress and Senate from the time when he served in D.C., and other governors and military figures who write to him.”

  “I see,” Charles rolled his eyes. “Your mind is top rail. How’d you know what I was thinking before I mentioned any details?”

  “Must be the blame of the fancy girls’ school my parents sent me to in Philadelphia. They taught me to think on my feet.” She chuckled, and then grew quiet, remembering Ida’s warning. “So what exactly is your plan? Are you going to go to Richmond?”

  “’Tis against my better judgment, but I thought we might both go,” he replied as she handed him a plate of lemon cake, cold slices of ham, a wedge of cheese, and three buttermilk biscuits. “Since all of my decision-making ability left the moment I danced with you.” He grinned at her.

  “Both of us! It left both of us.” She leaned forward giggling to hug him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders until they toppled over on the quilt. “Yes, yes, I will go with you! But you’ll have to convince Uncle Edward. He’ll be the easiest to plead with. Aunt Ruby is the one who will be more than reluctant. She’ll probably say no at first.”

  “All right, all right,” he laughed, struggling to hold the plate he still balanced in one hand.

  She sat up and leaned back, pulling him up by his other hand. “Wait, exactly how will we accomplish this? Aunt Ruby won’t simply permit me...you do realize they’d never allow it, don’t you?”

  He held up a hand to silence her as he settled into an upright position again. “I’ve already thought of that.”

  “You have?” Her eyebrow rose.

  “I have.” He nodded.

  She stared at him blankly, waiting for his answer.

  “We shall be married,” he replied. “We’ll tell them we’re going to meet my family, but nothing of this spying business.”

  “M-married?” she stammered as waves of disappointment washed over her. Never in her life had she imagined her future husband proposing like this.

  “It’s the only way,” he said.

  Her lips clamped shut as he continued talking.

  “You’ll be able to entertain that way. When he’s had too much to drink, we can search his desk and papers for information for Lincoln.” She grew dizzy as he talked about how far Richmond was from Beverly and went on about other travel details. The trees were spinning and the field began to look upside down. Then everything faded.

  When Melody awoke, Charles had apparently found her smelling salts dangling from one of her wrists. He was waving them beneath her nose. She gasped, opening her eyes, realizing his eyes appeared frantic with worry.

  “Mellie, are you all right?” he asked, a fear in his eyes that suddenly made her realize how deeply he truly did love her in spite of her groggy state.

  No one ever called her Mellie except Uncle Justus.

  “Here, let me help you sit up. Perhaps you need to drink something.” Charles poured her a cup from the jug and held it to her lips while she drank the refreshing cold water.

  “Th-thank you,” she stammered as her body began to recover from the dizziness and foggy feeling that had settled on her.

  He grew quiet, waiting for her breathing to improve. When she didn’t say anything for a while, he began to speak. “It’s the way I proposed, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “Not quite what you’d imagined.”

  She shook her head again in agreement.

  “Miss Ramsey, Melody, I do care for you, deeply,” he said, scooping her hands up into his larger ones. “I think I even love you, but it’s likely too soon to know. I do however think it will grow, and I believe it could work between us.”

  “You do?” she asked in a small, quivering voice. He was ruining his attempt to straighten out the proposal, and she resisted the urge to slap him. He didn’t even know if he loved her.

  He remained quiet, for which she was thankful, allowing his few words to sink into her soul. He’d said he thought he loved her, he thought it would grow, and believed it could work. It was a horrible attempt at being romantic in her mind, but it was an honest proposal.

  “What if it doesn’t work?” she hiccupped nervously.

  “We won’t know if we don’t try,” he replied.

  “I don’t know,” she shook her head and shrugged. “I only want to marry for love.”

  “Well, then I’ll love you, and only you, even if...” He stated it as if it was merely a choice, and not a complex decision. “Anyway, I think it’s love. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before.”

  Then she thought of Celia Johnson. Here was a man before her who wasn’t sure of his love, but promised he’d only love her, even if it wasn’t working. He’d remain true. She’d never have to worry about the Celia Johnsons of the world ever again. One thing was certain; Captain Trumbull was a man of his word.

  “So you mean our marriage will begin as a marriage of practicality? Convenience?” she asked. “And even if it isn’t working, ten years from now, you will remain true to me and only me for the rest of our days, even if you come to realize you don’t love me?”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “That’s one way to put it, or maybe I’m truly horrible at marriage proposals.”

  “Have you ever proposed before?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Then she laughed until her side ached, puzzling him the whole time. “Captain Trumbull, you’re absolutely terrible at proposals.”

  Then he laughed with her for a while. Finally, when they’d both stopped laughing, he added, “Especially with this spying business. It made my proposing complicated.”

  “All right, but I expect you to give me the full married and in love treatment. I’d like the ring and the whole ten yards as Mama would say. And when we’re in Richmond, I expect you to protect me.”

  “Of course,” he said, drawing her hand to his lips.

  What a confusing mess this getting married business was as far as she was concerned.

  “When do we marry?” she asked.

  “Well, we need to marry at once if we’re going to Richmond, or your father will expect you home. I believe most of your relations are leaving for Pennsylvania soon, too. The only way is if we marry soon.”

  “The circuit preacher is coming to Beverly this Sunday, so chances are he’ll be in town Saturday. I have my purple silk, the one I wore when I met Lincoln.”

  “I’ll take care of the license, getting the preacher there, a bouquet of flowers, and the ring,” he promised.

  “You can wear your uniform, and we’ll be married at the little church in town. Aunt Ruby and my cousins can be our witnesses.”

  “What time on Saturday?” he asked.

  “Two o’clock,” she replied. “When do we leave for our spying adventure?”

  “As soon as we are wed,” he promised.

  “A honeymoon in Richmond it ‘tis. Shall I expect to meet your parents?” she inquired.

  “Yes, of course, I mean, maybe,” he sighed. “I promise you won’t like them. Let’s decide later. I suppose a brief meeting would be all right. Maybe one night at their home...”


  “All right then, eat your lunch or you’ll starve,” she instructed.

  “Does this mean we’re engaged?” she asked after he’d eaten a few bites of ham. She looked at her bare hands and held them out, wishing he’d remembered to purchase a ring in advance. Evidently, Charles was going to need some training in being a proper husband.

  Noticing her bare hands, he paused from eating. “I believe I have a ring for you here in the house. You might like it.”

  “You’ve only shown me your farmhouse once, a long time ago,” she remarked.

  “Would you like a tour?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, I very much would,” she replied, admiring the large front porch. True to his word, after he’d finished eating, he gave her a tour and a ring. Then he returned her to Blue Meadow in the buggy.

  Chapter 7

  She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple. Proverbs 31:22, NIV

  * * *

  “Not a word about this spying business,” Charles reminded her as they crossed the front porch of Blue Meadow.

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” Melody agreed, offering a weak smile as she wondered how her cousins would view the engagement.

  When she showed Uncle Edward and Aunt Ruby her ring, Lavinia, Eugenie, Lena, Donavan, and Carlton surrounded her with showers of congratulatory remarks and approval. Mr. and Mrs. Kilpatrick, Frank’s parents, were equally happy, though they hung back until there was room for them to come forward with more congratulations. Melody thought it felt odd that her parents, Brent, and Frank weren’t there, too.

  “I knew it would happen eventually. You two were made for each other,” Lavinia gushed as she hugged them both.

  “I completely agree. It was bound to happen.” Eugenie embraced each of them. “The two of you are inseparable. I’m completely happy for you both.”