From the Dust of Death

By Helen M. Martin

Grace Lively, once known for her beauty and charm, has been forever changed by the events of the past two years. The Great War has already taken her father, her sweetheart, perhaps her brother, and nowthe great plantation she swore she would never return to until she was its rightful heir. But as an irresistible force leads her back to Lively in 1867, Grace soon realizes that her nightmare is far from over.

After Grace marries Porter Jackson out of convenience not love, she tries to make him happy and find contentment in her own life. But when her former sweethearts best friend returns to Lively, Grace quickly falls in love with himjust as her husband is murdered. After a trail of clues leads the sheriff to suspect Grace is responsible for Porters death, she escapes Charleston on a railroad car without any idea she has just become a victim of a cruel lease system that is the primary penal caretaker for convicts. Now as she battles to stay alive, Grace is unaware that love awaits herthis time within the arms of a handsome Yankee officer.

From the Dust of Death is the historical tale of one womans attempt to survive seemingly insurmountable challenges during the chaos of the post-Civil War South.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491859698

Helen M. Martin

Helen M. Martin is a graduate of Brenau College and the University of Georgia. Now retired from the Gainesville City School System, Helen enjoys volunteering, interviewing veterans for the Library of Congress, and participating in church activities. She is a member of several historical organizations that include the Colonel William Chapter, NSDAR, and the Jamestown Society. Helen lives in Gainesville, Georgia. This is her third book. Bud Savage is a very gifted and self-taught artist. He has sketched and drawn hundreds of houses, churches and other buildings in North Georgia and beyond. Bud captured North Green with his pictured especially depicting the outstanding architectural features that has made these houses worthy of future protection. Bud serves as the church photographer at Central Baptist Church on Main Street.

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© 2014 Helen M. Martin. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/19/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4918-5970-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-5968-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-5969-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014902004

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

About the author

In memory of my beloved sister, Mary,

whose encouragement led me to complete this story.

Prologue

G race Lively had never felt happier in her life. She was celebrating her fourteenth birthday on a sunny May day in 1865. Grace’s celebration was to take place at Lively, her family’s two-thousand acre Charleston rice plantation, which had been her home since the day she was born. The war was over, and an air of jubilation prevailed everywhere. Yet people were happy and sad at the same time. Some had suffered great losses in family and in possessions.

Papa, Papa, Grace called as she entered the barn.

Afternoon, Miss Lively, Porter Jackson said as he stepped from the stall where her father’s horse, Star, was stabled and groomed.

Good afternoon to you, Mr. Jackson. Have you seen Papa? Mama is waiting dinner on him.

Well, he was here about an hour ago. He had completely winded Star and seemed tired himself. It has taken me all this time to settle the mare and rub her down. I asked if he was sick. He said he didn’t feel so good and thought he’d just go on up to the house.

Maybe he fell asleep and didn’t hear Mama calling. Thank you, Mr. Jackson. If he comes back, please send him on up to the house.

I will, Miss Lively. May I take the liberty of wishing you a most pleasant birthday and afternoon? Porter smiled and bowed.

You may, and afternoon to you, Mr. Jackson. Grace managed a weak smile in return. There was something about Porter Jackson that was a bit unsettling to her and often created a sensation of excitement. Grace lingered a moment, nodded her head slightly, and turned quickly to leave the barn.

Sir Jim was standing in the doorway, his eyes glaring with fright.

Massa Pota, Massa Pota, come quick, Sir Jim said, almost in a whisper.

Whatever is the matter, Sir Jim? Grace asked.

Lawd, Missis Lively, ah jest seed a big ole snake in da shuck hous, and you knows how aferd ah is of dem varmins, Sir Jim replied as he tried to calm his trembling voice.

Well, Sir Jim, it seems to me a little ole snake ain’t anything to get so worked up about, Porter said, laughing loudly. I’ll take a look in the shuck house for you, he continued.

Massa Pota, ah needs to talk with you befo you looks, Sir Jim pleaded.

We can talk while I look, Porter replied, and he started toward the shuck house.

Grace did not care for snakes either and started up toward the big house without waiting for a look at the snake that had created the uproar.

A terrifying shriek stopped her. Massa Pota, fetch the doc, quick, Little Jim screamed from the shuck house.

Grace wheeled and caught a glimpse of Little Jim running from the shuck house toward Porter and Sir Jim.

Grace’s first thoughts were that Little Jim had probably been bitten by the snake. She began to run toward the shuck house. When she ran past Porter, he caught her by the arm.

Now, Miss Lively, you need to go on up to the big house and let me handle this. His voice was gentle.

What is wrong? What is wrong with Little Jim? Grace asked.

Little Jim was now running as hard as he could toward the barn.

He is going to fetch Doc Black. Ole Sir Jim here has been bit by that blasted snake, Porter said.

Mama always cut the bite and sucked out the blood on the spot. Sir Jim, you need to show us where you were bitten, Grace demanded.

Now, Miss Lively, this is no job for you; just go on up to the big house, and Doc Black will be here pronto. See? Little Jim is on his way, Porter continued, pointing to Little Jim riding away quickly on Star.

Grace pulled away from Porter, deciding to have a look for herself. Porter caught her arm again.

Please, Miss Lively, go on up to the big house and let me take care of this, he pleaded.

Grace was stubborn and usually had her way. She pulled away and stuck her head in the doorway of the shuck house. Then she stepped inside and began screaming.

Papa, Papa. Oh God! Cut him down, cut him down, cut him down, please, Grace begged.

Porter and Sir Jim rushed in. Grace was holding onto Samuel Lively’s feet.

Cut him down, Sir Jim, Porter said. I’ll get Grace to the big house.

Porter pried Grace from her father’s feet. She felt the ground spinning beneath her, and she fell unconscious into Porter’s arms.

Samuel Lively was hanging to a stick of timber by a rope. Sir Jim took his pocket knife, cut the rope, and let him down. It was clear both to Sir Jim and to Porter: Samuel Lively was gone.

Chapter 1

G race had sworn never to return to Lively, where she was born and raised, until she returned as its rightful mistress heir, but an irresistible force seemed to sweep over her, forcing her back. Two incredible years had passed since she had lived in the great house. The events of those dreadful years had completely changed the Grace Lively once known for her great beauty and charm. A necessary leap from childhood to maturity had taken her into a new world of responsibility without warning her of its approaching fury.

The Great War had cost her the lives of her father, her sweetheart, and, perhaps, her brother. The past year had taken an additional heartbreak,—Lively. Nothing was left, but three lone Lively women and two very old former slaves who refused to leave the remnants of the Lively clan struggled for survival in their new world.

As Grace stopped at the gate of the great plantation, she felt herself a child once again. The trees, she said with a sigh. How lovely, and the flowers are just magnificent. Oh! Lively, my angel, with your splendid white columns reaching to the sky like massive giants standing against a beating storm, I have had so many happy hours within your hallowed walls.

Grace looked around but saw no one. She jumped up on the wall under a huge oak that had given her refuge for as long as she could remember.

Mama seemed so strong then, and Papa, well, he was such a funny little man, she thought. Where is James, that handsome brother of mine? Dear God, please let him be alive.

Most of all, I remember David, my true love. I can see him now: more than handsome, the right word must be beautiful. He had the bluest eyes I have ever seen. How empty my life will be without David. The last time I saw him, he was wearing the gray uniform of the gallant Confederacy. His face was pale and felt lean against my cheek. He stood tall and seemed much taller than his six feet. To forget David would be like forgetting heaven itself. The softness of his voice is still a comfort to my ears.

Hello, Miss Lively, may I jump up and join you? a voice penetrated her thoughts. It is a pleasure to see you. Are you well today?

Grace was startled and could not move for a few seconds. Suddenly, she leaped from the wall and ran. Porter Jackson ran after her and caught her by the arm.

Please, come and sit down. Let me talk with you, he begged.

Take your hand off of my arm, Grace demanded.

Yes, I’m very sorry. Did I hurt you?

No, you did not, but I do not want you to ever touch me again.

Please, forgive me. Let’s just talk for a little while.

Just a while, Grace reluctantly agreed.

How are you, Miss Lively, and your sister, Martin, getting along? Porter began.

Quite well, no thanks to you, Grace responded bitterly.

If you need money, I can arrange to—

No, absolutely not, Grace interrupted.

Marry me, Grace, and move back to Lively; bring your mother and Martin, Porter continued.

Never! Never! My family once lived here. Someday we will come here to live, not as poor beggars but as… I… I hate you, your family— Grace hushed as abruptly as she had started.

I would give up an arm to spare you all of this unhappiness. I love you enough for both of us, Grace. You cannot hurt my feelings. I passed that point long ago. I would be good to you. I want to care for you. It makes me hurt inside to think of you without things you need. At least, won’t you accept a little money? Porter continued.

No, no, absolutely no!

Very well, if you ever decide you need money or need anything, I’ll always keep my offer open to you.

Thanks, but we’ll be able to live without any help from you.

One other thing you must hear. It is not my fault that your father lost Lively.

Father did not lose Lively. It was stolen, and a month later he was dead. You are like all of the other turncoats. You are an opportunist and greedily took all you could from those who were left helpless, Grace said bitterly.

That is not true, but I see it is of no use to continue this type of conversation. I do not like for you to feel unkindly toward me. Lively is not mine, or I would make it a gift of love to you. When the war started, everyone in Charleston bought Confederate bonds, including your father, and he lost everything he owned.

A long silence followed. Porter continued, When the war ended Father made many fruitless tries to get everyone together to form an organization dedicated to clean up the place, make repairs as quickly as possible, and work toward restoration of some of the homes. No one was interested or trusted my father enough to join in his campaign. Your father was losing Lively anyway. All of the land had been completely lost. The only thing my father took was the house itself. Anyone who could pay the taxes could have gotten it. Any other man would have done the same, even your father.

I do not believe you, Grace cried as she walked away.

Porter followed her. Grace, how did you get here?

Sir Jim came with me.

Did you walk?

Of course not. He and I rode with some friends of his.

Could I take both of you back? You know, it isn’t safe on the roads yet.

Thank you, but I’m safe with Sir Jim, Grace said confidently.

Please remember my offer.

I will, but I will never need your help, Grace said.

Grace really did not want Porter to know that Cousin Robert had brought them to Lively. Robert did not trust Porter, and Grace was sure Robert would be upset if she told him she talked to him. Robert was sure that Porter was involved in some kind of illegal business scheme with the Yankees. It was not fair what the scalawags and others of their kind were doing in the name of restoration, he had told her. Cousin Robert had talked about the scalawag Southern traitors, the Northern carpetbaggers who were their allies, and the agents of the Freedman’s Bureau and members of the Loyal League.

Porter Jackson had grown up on the two-thousand-acre plantation named Lively. His father had been the overseer of the plantation; at that time it was owned by Samuel Lively, whose parents had come to the Charleston area from Ireland around 1820. Porter had spent hours playing and roaming the grounds with James Lively, the owner’s son, and Little Jim, the slave son of Annaha and Sir Jim Whelchel, both of whom were born into slavery and had lived only at Lively. During the war, Porter had distinguished himself in the Confederate army. At the close of the war, he had returned to the troubled plantation and had remained there.

Grace cautiously picked her way through the underbrush to find Sir Jim. She knew in her heart that Porter had spoken the truth. Her pride was hurting; as the son of Lively’s overseer, Porter Jackson had grown up on the plantation too. She knew her father had lost Lively by investing too heavily in Confederate causes. And the news of the possible loss of his son had been too much. He became depressed and despondent and finally took his own life.

Grace found Jim patiently waiting for her.

Let’s go quickly; I have a real uneasy feeling, Grace said.

We be alright, Missie. Yu gots tuh sez ma masta’s restin’place?

No, I couldn’t. I can’t walk inside the gate, not yet. Not until… She let her words drift off but then continued, "We must hurry