Whispers of War Read online

  Copyright @ 2020 Huntson Press Inc.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  ISBN: 978-1-7750676-7-2

  Cover designer: Victoria Cooper Art

  Website: www.facebook.com/VictoriaCooperArt

  Editor: Scripta Word Services

  Website: scripta-word-services.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Reading Order for the Series

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Preview of For Home and Country

  About the Author

  Novels:

  A Slave of the Shadows: Book One

  A Guardian of Slaves: Book Two

  Novellas:

  The Black Knight’s Tune: Novella One

  The Master of Ships: Novella Two

  The Promise Between Us: Novella Three

  The Fair Magnolia: Novella Four

  Novels:

  Whispers of War: Book Three

  For Home and Country: Book Four (Pre-order)

  Novels can be read alone or with the novella series. The author’s shorter works are best read in the suggested order.

  1857–1861

  Livingston Plantation

  TEARS CASCADED DOWN MY CHEEKS as I touched the fabric of the tiny nightshift my son had never worn. The babe had breathed for a few precious moments before the rise and fall of his chest had ceased.

  The hot summer sun enveloped the nursery I’d decorated with the hopes and dreams of happiness in the years to come. As the babe had grown inside of me, I had loved him with a fierceness observed in other mothers, equivalent with the love and protectiveness I felt for Josephine’s son, Sailor.

  I kissed the garment and clasped it to my chest before opening the drawer and placing it underneath the other garments, each purchased with love, care, and anticipation of my son’s arrival.

  A sad smile played on my heart with the memory of Bowden’s elation when I told him of the pregnancy. He’d swept me off my feet and whirled me in the air before marching to the forge to tell Jimmy the news. After, he’d insisted on gathering the plantation folk to celebrate, and oh, how we’d celebrated! We had danced arm and arm with the folks in the quarters until my feet swelled and ached. The new life had signified hope and change for Livingston; the family Bowden so desperately desired.

  In the months after, worry had controlled my days. What if it sensed my nervousness and screamed, as Evie had as a babe? What if I didn’t feel a connection to the child? The latter worry had become almost paralyzing. But ever dutiful and with loving devotion, Mammy and Mary Grace had tried to soothe me with the assurance that being a mother came naturally. I hadn’t been so sure. Such worries seemed trivial after his birth.

  Together the women had taught me much about life, and it was Mammy I’d cried out for as Ben and Bowden fought to save my son. Then, when Little Ben took his last breath, she’d pulled me to her bosom and held me as I soaked her blouse in my grief.

  Afterward, days melded into weeks, and I couldn’t conjure the strength to pull myself out of bed or leave my chamber. Mammy and Bowden brought food, but, full of misery and despair, I refused their efforts. Wallowing in my anguish, I begged God to take me and return my son to his father.

  I walked to the bassinet sitting in the middle of the room and ran my fingers over the angel wings etched into the headboard, masterly crafted by Jimmy, and engraved as he had Ruby’s.

  Earlier that morning, Mammy’s patience had worn thin. Storming into my chamber, she’d thrown open the drapes against my protests. “I know you hurting, angel gal, but Masa Bowden be leavin’ today. And I know his heart could use some love. He hurting too. You got to ’member dat.” She perched on the edge of the bed and pushed the hair out of my eyes. “You got to git outta dat bed and let de sun take a drink of ya.”

  Pulling myself together, I’d walked down the corridor and paused outside the nursery on the way downstairs. Since my son’s death, I hadn’t been inside, but my heart yearned for comfort and wholeness. I strode through the room, touching each item, losing track of time until he spoke.

  “Willow, I really must go,” Bowden said from behind me. The hollow ache in his voice tugged at my heart, but I didn’t turn to face him.

  His boots scuffed the floorboards as he crossed the room, and the warmth of his hand on my shoulder conjured a tear and sent a shudder through me. Squeezing my eyes tight shut, I paused before turning my face to kiss his wrist. He embraced me, and I leaned back against him, soaking in the comfort of his nearness.

  “Must you go?” I lay my head against his chest. The tension in my body eased at the steady beating of his heart.

  “I have to,” he breathed into my hair. “The banks in New York have closed, and most shipments have come to a halt. If I don’t get our goods out of the harbor, we stand to lose much.”

  I turned to face him, trying to quell the desire to beg him to stay. “I shall miss you terribly.”

  He gripped my arms, eyes searching my face. “Listen…” He struggled to speak, and his eyes mirrored the pain in my soul. “Someway, somehow, we have to find a way to go on.”

  “I don’t know how to fill the void. It feels like part of my soul is missing. Like I’ll never feel whole again.” I knotted his shirt in my fingers.

  “I know.” He brushed back a tendril of my hair and cradled my cheek in his hand. “Like you, I’m trying to figure this all out while grasping at anything to keep from crumbling.”

  “I’m sorry.” I bit my quivering lip.

  He had gotten up each day and managed the plantation and ventured into Charleston to see to operations at the docks.

  “Forgive me. I wanted to be there for you. Indeed, I did…I do. I will try harder.”

  He enfolded my hand in his. “There is no need to apologize. I cast no blame. No parent is eq
uipped to lose a child.”

  Many nights, I had pondered Reuben’s—alias Silas—belief that my mother had cursed his family. When I’d been overcome with grief, I’d wondered why darkness overshadowed our family. Would heartache and loss continue to follow us?

  “Somehow, with the loss of him, it’s guilt that takes precedence over my sorrow,” Bowden said.

  “Guilt? But there was nothing you and Ben could do. It was out of your hands. You can’t blame—”

  “It isn’t that. I’m fully aware we are only men, not miracle workers.”

  “Then what troubles you so?” I placed his hand over my heart.

  His words came out thick and weighted with a truth that no amount of comfort could erase. “How can I grieve for the loss of one son when I’ve inflicted the humans I held in bondage with this same pain? I sold their children without a second thought. Like an angel of death, I sowed my lands with their blood and misery.”

  I’d witnessed the bitterness and shame that chased him, and each day lashed his soul.

  He shook his head as if to dislodge the melancholy seizing his thoughts, and feigned a smile. Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss on my lips before straightening and scooping an arm around my shoulders. “Knox awaits. He is taking me to catch the steamer.”

  “Will you see Kipling while you’re in New York?” I asked as we descended the back steps of the veranda.

  “I’m unsure. I have much to discuss with Saul and Ruby about the building of the black school. Our funding will help get their ambitions off the ground.”

  “Please give her my love and congratulations on the baby. I’ve meant to send her my well wishes.” There was enough self-blame between the pair of us, so I stifled the guilt chewing at me over my selfishness and shortcomings as a friend. “Did Mammy give you the gifts to take to her?”

  “That she did.”

  We rounded the side of the house to find the private carriage ready. At the open door of the buggy, Bowden released me. “Promise me that you will take care of yourself while I’m gone. I should be back in two weeks.”

  “I will manage. You needn’t worry.”

  He kissed me again, and all too soon he pulled away. “We really must go.” He turned to scan the grounds until his gaze fell on Knox, who sat on the front veranda with legs outstretched and boots resting on the railing. “You ready?”

  “Waiting on you.” Knox pushed to his feet and strode across the veranda to the steps.

  “I expect you will keep my wife out of trouble while I’m gone,” Knox said with a grin.

  A light laugh escaped me. “I can’t make promises.” I marveled at how good it felt to laugh, and the magic Knox had over people. I caught Bowden’s smile out of the corner of my eye.

  Knox shrugged. “I figured it was worth the effort.”

  “You know how it is when two stubborn women get together.” Bowden gave my shoulders a playful squeeze. I’d missed the lightheartedness between us and I made myself a promise: upon his return, I’d see to it that we spent more time laughing.

  “Let’s get on our way. Whitney will be fuming if I miss the evening meal.” He feigned a frantic look. “Don’t dally, Knox. Put your feet down. Empty the chamber pot. Gather the wood. A fellow gets married, and his daily duties become a full ledger that will keep him hopping for the rest of his days.” His face split with an ear-to-ear grin.

  “I have no sympathy for you. You knew the woman you were marrying and you chased her anyway.” Bowden slapped his friend’s back.

  Laughter erupted from the pair, and I joined in their merriment; the clouds of the day somehow faded. The desire to feel whole again gripped me, and I put my mind to the task.

  “I wonder where he is?” Bowden said.

  “I right here, Masa Bowden,” a breathless voice said. Jimmy dashed into the front yard, polished and gleaming in a dark suit. His fingers fumbled with the felt bowler hat he held while his eyes flitted around the grounds as though reconsidering his decision. “You certain we ain’t gonna drown on dat big boat? I mean, I wants to see my gal and my grandbaby, but I skeered de boat go down ’fore I git to see dem.”

  “Plenty of ships travel the Atlantic and safely reach their destinations without sinking. You’ve nothing to worry about,” I said.

  “Ef you say so, Missus Willie.” He shook his head, seeming unconvinced.

  “I’ve never seen you look more handsome.” I touched his arm. “Ruby will be delighted with the surprise. I only wish I could be there to see her face and kiss the baby.”

  “She will understand. You gots to take care of you now.” He regarded me as if I were fragile, and to be honest, lately, I’d felt like it. But it didn’t sit well with me. The people of Livingston needed me.

  “I’m fine.” I squirmed under the men’s gazes.

  “You and de masa had a great hurt. You don’t need to be strong dis time. We take care of you, ef’n you let us.”

  “Thank you.” I patted his arm, my heart expanding with love and gratitude.

  Over his shoulder, I spotted Mammy marching toward us in her take-charge kind of way. We all stood a little straighter at her approach.

  “Let’s get on the road,” Bowden said.

  “Don’t you worry ’bout a thing, Masa. Missus Willow be in good hands while you gone,” Mammy said.

  Bowden smiled at her. “I can’t think of more capable hands.”

  She stretched to her full five feet and beamed. “As long as I ’round, de missus never be alone.”

  “Dat makes two of us,” Jimmy said.

  Bowden pecked my cheek and lips before boarding the carriage, and Jimmy climbed in beside him. Knox closed the door and clambered onto the driver’s seat.

  Mammy and I stepped back and waved as the carriage lurched forward. Bowden turned and waved while Jimmy sat, board stiff, staring straight ahead. My chest felt empty as they exited the gates. The next weeks would be long and empty without them.

  Mammy trudged back inside, and I turned to follow.

  A small voice stilled my footsteps. “Missus.”

  Turning to Sailor, a beautiful boy of four, I smiled. “Well, hello.”

  His blended parentage was evident in his lighter-toned skin and kinky textured hair. His coffee-brown eyes scoured my face. “Are you still sad?”

  The innocence of his question tugged at me, and I placed a hand on his shoulder. “A little, but I’m happier now that you’re here.”

  A broad smile revealed gleaming white teeth. “Mammy said I need to let you be. But I miss you.”

  “Mammy means well. I’m happy to see you.” I dabbed his nose with my finger. “Where is Evie?”

  “In de house. Her mama said she can’t play today.”

  An image of Mary Grace and Gray’s daughter flashed in my mind. The girl had more sass and attitude than folks would deem acceptable in a Negro, but it was her spunk I admired most. A mirror vision of Mammy.

  As of a year ago, I had moved Sailor into the house, and he resided in the living quarters with the other house folks. The danger of raising the child as though he were white was great, but I wouldn’t let him remain a ward of the quarters. Bowden had agreed that we should do what was best for the boy. Rumors had spread amongst the good folks of Charleston that Ben, or Bowden, had bred the boy with a slave. Although such vulgarity irked me, it was a cover and protection for the boy we were willing to endure.

  “Well, her mama must have had her reasons.” I encircled his shoulders with my arm and led him toward the front steps.

  His brow furrowed, then he said, “Missus Willow?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Wid Masa and Jimmy gone, who gwine to take me fishing?”

  “They won’t be gone long. Only a few weeks. I expect you can wait until they return.”

  His face fell but he didn’t put up a fuss.

  “All right, you run along and see if Mammy needs any help shucking peas.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I waited un
til he disappeared around the corner of the house before ascending the steps.

  “He is a beautiful boy,” Mary Grace said as she walked out onto the veranda.

  “He is.” I crossed my arms and leaned against a column and regarded her.

  “I see the battle in your face. You still question if you are doing right by him.” Mary Grace had learned to live with her grief over the death of Gray and focused all her attention and free time in raising Evie and Noah, her adopted son from the swamp massacre.

  “Keeping a mother from her child isn’t right,” I said.

  “But you know what her husband would do if he discovered she bore a son with a Negro.”

  I recalled the luncheon I’d had with Josephine in the spring. A yellow bruise had marred her cheekbone, and another was revealed beneath her cuff as she reached for a teacup.

  I rubbed my temples before regarding the woman who’d been like a sister to me. “But perhaps knowing of him would give her hope.”

  “What does Masa Bowden say?”

  “He shares your outlook.”

  “I know that look in your eyes. You would defy him.”

  “Only if I thought I was doing the right thing. I know what my heart tells me. Especially after what I’ve lost. I know her pain, and telling her the truth may relieve the heartache.”

  Her brows drew together. “You best give it more time before you react. You’re still grieving.”

  “Then I’d never say anything.” I looked at her, feeling bleak. “If she decides to claim him, the hole in my heart will deepen, and I’m not sure I could bear that.”

  She touched my wrist, and her eyes softened. “I understand all too well. But life does go on, and you find a way to get up each morning.”

  “It’s just that Bowden was so excited about the baby.” I choked back the emotions. “We both were.”

  “I know.” Her voice thickened.

  Sensing the return of the melancholy, I tried to shake it off and turned my thoughts away. “What has Evie done now, to earn her a day in the house?”