Bittersweet Second Edition

By Linda Cushman

Anna Lea Pepper is a fiercely independent woman. Her husband joins the Confederate army and disappears without a trace, leaving her to provide for their children. She is thrust into the violence of war after Union soldiers destroy her crops. Anna Lea discovers her greatest enemy is herself, and she must learn to trust God and those who love her. She learns that life can sometimes be Bittersweet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Cushman
• Release date: Jan 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301089321

Linda Cushman

Linda Cushman and her husband live in rural Polk County, Missouri. Her greatest love is the Lord, who saved her soul and promised a home in heaven. Her children, grandchildren, and great granddaughter are the joy of her life. They have encouraged her to write stories of faith, hope, and inspiration. It is her desire that her writing will help her readers turn to God during life's troubles and trials.

Book preview

Chapter Two

No. Somehow I kept my tone strong and unwavering. You’re a coward, using a boy to bully your way in here and drawing a sword on an unarmed woman. Nothing but a coward. It got deathly quiet. No one breathed and even the usual summer serenade of frogs and crickets hushed. My eyes locked onto his steely gray orbs, but in the edge of my vision I noted his white-knuckled grip on the haft. Slowly his hand moved closer.

His glittering eyes dared me to stand my ground. The prick of the gleaming blade deepened to a cut. Fury made me unmindful of the pain. After a while, it seemed like an eternity but was surely only a few seconds, something warm and sticky soaked my bosom. It was blood and I knew it would mean nothing to him to cut out my heart.

Is this how you brave northern soldiers win wars? I taunted, still leaning over the table. Is this how you got to be a general? You’re nothing but a little bitty man with a great big weapon, fighting women and kids. I kept staring at him, not backing up a fraction of an inch. The tip of the sword push deeper into my flesh. The spatter of blood, as it ran part way down the blade and dripped on the table, was unnaturally loud. A soft click sounded behind me, but all my attention fastened on the man before me. I could not and would not back down.

Anger and humiliation gleamed in Lyon’s eyes. He seemed to struggle with an overwhelming desire to shove that blade through me. He surely knew if he killed a woman his men would lose all respect, perhaps desert or kill him on the spot.

All at once, with a harsh cry of disgust, he jerked the sword away then pointed it at my throat. Captain Saunders, get this witch out of here. Don’t let me see her again or I will take her speckled little head off, he bellowed, slashing the sword under my chin.

The stained blade flung drops of my blood on Saunders when he moved beside me.

I stared defiantly at the general. The mustached soldier gently touched my arm. My left elbow flew back and caught him solidly in the belly. He moved a step away and gasped for air. Come with me, Mrs. Pepper, he said firmly, when he regained his breath.

No. This is my house and I intend to stay. He gripped my arm in an attempt to pull me to the door before I could deliver another blow. I braced my feet like a balky mule and clung to the frame of the heavy table with my free hand. Nervous snorts of stifled laughter sounded from the soldiers as I resisted the officer’s effort to move me. With an exasperated sigh, he broke my grip on the table and slung me over his shoulder in a quick, effortless motion.

My belly landed hard, whooshing air from my lungs. I drew a breath then kicked at his front as I beat on his back. My will to fight ebbed, but I twisted and clawed, trying to hit something vulnerable. Unfazed, he held my legs away from him. One by one, the pins holding my hair fell out, sending my hair flying.

I caught a glimpse of Pearl and Phil following behind us, as well as a hand full of soldiers, including the short, thick man with evil eyes who had wrenched Phil’s arm behind his back. The light of campfires revealed his unsettling grin. He appeared amused, even relished the sight of me being carried away. He deserved to be horse whipped for hurting my son and for his very obvious wicked thoughts. I bobbed along like a bag of meal while Saunders carried me down the steep steps to the spring then turned east. He strode past several camp fires fueled by our fence rails. Some of the soldiers made lewd comments and guffawed after we passed.

Captain Saunders came to a stop and finally set me down. My feet stumbled as my vision swirled. He steadied me by my shoulders until the dizziness left. Pearl quivered as she pressed against me and Philip wrapped a protective arm around my waist. I took them in my arms, as much to comfort myself as to reassure them.

Pearl pulled away and faced me. Ma, are you hurt bad? You’re still bleeding. The glow of a campfire revealed her worried face.

I pressed one hand over the wound and blood seeped between my fingers. It wasn’t a deep cut but it bled freely.

Saunders pulled a clean handkerchief from his jacket pocket and pressed it in my hand. Here, use this until I can get something better. His deep, compassionate tone contrasted sharply with the General’s.

Still, I couldn’t force myself to say a civil word to him, and I was not going to put the cloth on the cut with the ogling eyes of the other soldier watching. What did the General call him? Burton? I turned away from his prying eyes and placed the cloth over the gash. Immediately it soaked.

Mrs. Pepper, I truly am sorry. I’ll have Burton fetch the surgeon. The captain’s brow furrowed.

No, I’m fine. I lifted my chin. I don’t need your help.

He eyed my blood-soaked bodice. Are you sure?

I can take care of things myself. I won’t ask for help, not from you, your surgeon, or anybody else. Not even God. Bitterness rose like bile in my throat. Just look at the mess He allowed to happen, and I’d been faithful to go to church every Sunday. What kind of God would let this destruction take place? We lost everything we’d worked for all year. Everything.

The captain’s words brought me back from my internal rant.

I’m going to put you under arrest and guard you. Please understand I don’t want to do this.

For once I decided to keep my mouth shut. There was a degree of safety with Captain Saunders, and I sure didn’t want to be left in the care of Burton, who lurked nearby like a hungry wolf.

Son, the captain turned to Phil, do you know where we could go to get a little farther from the camp? A place that would be private for you folks to stay overnight?

Just a few yards north, over that branch, is a moss-covered bank. We could stay there. The officer nodded and Phil led the way into the darkened woods. I knew the spot, and it was a good choice. The storm blew from the west, and we would be fairly dry if we moved under the cedar trees. Saunders held firmly to my arm, but I didn’t try to escape. He ordered a soldier to bring bandages, blankets, and a tent. He placed three other aides beyond us to act as guards.

As I walked beside the captain, the reality of what I’d done sank in. Uncontrollable trembling overtook my body. I’d almost died and left my children to fend for themselves. What had I been thinking? I had to stop being impulsive and stay well for my family.

Captain Saunders must have felt the tremors as he clung to my arm. I fought to stop, but couldn’t. He shifted his arm until it was under mine. I didn’t want his support, but it was needed. I leaned on him as my trembling limbs threatened to desert me.

This is the place. Phil pointed to a clump of cedars.

Sit here, Mrs. Pepper. The captain pushed rocks away with his boot then eased me to the ground. Pearl plopped beside me and clung to my hand.

I’ll have a fire going in a moment, and the aide will be back with bedding for you and the children. He stood over me, rubbing his chin, and seemed to be considering something.

Not sure what to do with your dangerous prisoner of war? Sarcasm spewed from my mouth. You can go back to the house and make yourself comfortable. I’ll take care of my family. I certainly don’t need your help.

He grunted. I have no doubt about that, Mrs. Pepper, but I have orders not to leave you unattended. He scraped out a place to build a fire. Son, would you help gather wood for the fire?

My name is Phil, sir. He moved out of the shadows of the trees and began gathering dry sticks. In a matter of moments a blaze chased back the deep shadows.

That was my son, not his, and I couldn’t be more proud of him. Except he showed too much respect for the soldier. I’d have a talk with Phil about that. yankees who overran the countryside and senselessly destroyed other people’s property didn’t deserve respect.

Wind swept hair in my face, and I bunched it behind my neck. It was a constant battle with nothing to hold it in place. I reached for my bonnet, but realized it had been left in the house. I felt absolutely bare. I never left without it. I kept reaching for it, trying to control my waist-length hair.

Captain Saunders must have noticed. When the aide got back with supplies, Saunders put him to work cooking, with strict orders to keep an eye on me, while he made a trip back to the house. A few minutes later he returned and handed me the bonnet and a ribbon to tie my hair.

My lips almost said thank you before I had time to silence them. I would not be civil to an invading yankee. It was Phil who remembered his manners.

Thank you, sir. Could you have brought a quilt for Ma? She’s still shivering.

No, lad. The general’s still sore about being challenged. A smile lifted the corners of his thin mustache. And beaten. He opened the pack of supplies and retrieved a blanket. He shook it and handed it to me. Wrap this around you, Mrs. Pepper. I surmise you’re suffering from shock instead of chill, but this will make you feel better. You probably need to lay down for a while. He dropped a packet in Pearl’s lap. Bandages, he murmured before turning back to the fire.

I’d just made myself comfortable on the ground when he returned with three steaming plates. Food from my gardens? My beautiful ruined gardens. A sick feeling built in the pit of my stomach, and I determined not to eat anything, but I wanted to stay alive and healthy to protect my family. I ate, and prayed the pain from my wound wouldn’t make me lose my supper.

The soldiers set up a small tent for our use and Saunders spread an oil cloth inside to keep the dampness of the ground from seeping into our clothes. I was grateful to crawl into the tent and hide. Phil lay on one side, his long legs sticking out, and Pearl snuggled next to me. We were surrounded. I would never sleep with so many strangers near, except exhaustion overtook me. I was drifting to sleep when the soft hooting of an owl sounded in the hollow behind us. Phillip tensed.

It’s that Indian, isn’t it? I’ve heard that signal before and didn’t realize it was him, I whispered.

Yeah. I need to go see what he wants. He might know something that will help us.

Right, I growled. It’s too late for help now.

Phil sat up and pulled on his boots. Well…

I sat up and whispered in his ear. Go ahead and say it. He warned us, but we didn’t listen.

He tried. Phil folded his long frame and crawled out of the tiny tent. Saunders nodded at him, but didn’t object to his leaving. I suppose I was the only criminal.

Eternity passed while I waited. Was he safe? He trusted the Indian family, but I didn’t. Rain drops pattered on the canvas as the wind whipped. Soon the storm would blow past, more thunder and lightning than rain. When the flap of the tent puffed open I saw Captain Saunders outlined by the embers of the camp fire. He smoked a pipe and kept a constant vigil, protected from the rain by only a piece of oil cloth around his shoulders. It barely covered the dark stain on the back of his white shirt. My blood had soaked through his coat and his shirt. How did it feel, to spend the night in clothes wet from my blood? Was he sorry for us or was it an act?

At last Phil slipped inside, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He was damp from the sprinkles, but I didn’t care. I wanted him right beside me. Pearl slept on the other side.

What did he say? I whispered as softly as I could.

If we want to slip away in the night he’ll lead us to safety, but his father is sure we’ll be safe here. He’s watching from over on that hill, he pointed to the southeast, and he heard Saunders threaten to kill any man who came near the tent.

Breath lodged in my lungs. He threatened to kill his own soldiers? I shook my head, trying to comprehend it all. Wait. Who is watching from the hill?

George’s dad, the man that lives down by the river. We’ve seen him at Rondo sometimes. His name is George, too. They are both George Washington Brown. He knows Pop pretty good. They used to fish together some before you and Pop got married. Anyway, both of them will be keeping watch tonight.

Why would they do that? I rubbed goosebumps from my arms. Indians lurking in the woods? James always assured me the Indians wouldn’t come near the house, and now they were right outside. I shuddered.

They’re good people, Ma. Really they are.

I suppose snakes are good for something too, but I don’t like them any better than I like Indians. I settled back on the hard ground. Someday I’ll explain why I hate them.

You’ve said that several times. Pearl and I are old enough to handle anything, Ma, so stop putting it off.

Pearl’s asleep. Later. Fatigue and excitement of the long day made my thoughts swirl. My stars, who else was here? Might as well call in the whole Indian nation, maybe some Confederate cavalry. This was crazy. Do you realize we have two George Washington’s and the Federal army watching us?

Phil chuckled. Oh, he whispered, I forgot to tell you. George’s wife’s name is Martha. George and Martha Washington.

Overcome by the giddiness of fatigue, I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

One more thing, he added. The older George was hiding in those bushes west of the house earlier, and saw everything that went on inside. Captain Saunders had his pistol aimed at Lyon. He said if General Lyon’s sword would have moved one whisker closer to you the general would’ve gotten a bullet from Saunders and an arrow through the heart from him.

My breath whooshed out. Could it be that these savages would defend me and my family? Was it possible to find a federal soldier willing to risk his life to save mine? Maybe I’d been wrong. I needed to do some serious praying. Later. Right now I had to figure out how to get through this mess.

Chapter Three

Pretty girl! Pretty girl! Pretty girl! Tweet, tweet, tweet! The raucous call of a cardinal perched in the tree above the tent jerked me from sleep. A distant trumpet reverberated through the valley. It must be the soldier’s wake up call. Untangling myself from the arms and legs of my kids, I sat and stretched my aching muscles. The blood-caked dress stuck to my skin, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out when the cut ripped open. The black cloth bag filled with bandages lay on the other side of Pearl. Careful not to wake her, I reached across her sleeping form.

Nausea swept over me at the sight of the ugly gash. How could I have been so hotheaded and silly? And why did I play cat and mouse with a general when I was certain to lose? Sweat beaded my forehead. I had to get fresh air. Fast.

Gingerly moving one of the tent flaps, I peeked out. The captain stood a few yards beyond a little spring-fed brook where I wanted to wash my face and hands. He leaned toward Burton and pointed toward the cabin. His right hand formed a fist.

I eased away from my kids and crawled outside. Drawing deep breaths of the moist air brought relief from the queasiness as I rose. The men had their backs to me so I quietly made my way toward the stream. If I could sneak down there in the dim light of dawn and wash up I would feel much better.

Kneeling beside the stream, I scrubbed my hands and soaked the dried blood from my fingernails. I glanced over my shoulder. Were the Indians still watching? The thought was unnerving. Bracing myself against the splash of cold water on my face, I heard my name spewed from Burton’s lips. The double handful of the frigid liquid stopped in mid-motion and dribbled onto my lap.

Mrs. Pepper is my responsibility now. General Lyon is leaving me in charge of the prisoner. He crossed his arms and planted his feet.

A chill, colder than spring water, crawled up my spine. No. Not him.

That isn’t going to happen. Captain Saunders’ right hand formed a fist.

The General ordered you to travel with him this morning.

No. His icy retort sliced the stillness of the valley.

I’ll have you court martialed. Burton turned to face the captain and spied me. We have a little eavesdropper. He nodded my direction.

I froze as they gazed at me.

Mrs. Pepper, I didn’t realize you were here. A furrow creased Saunders’ brow.

For once I was speechless. I licked my lips and swallowed. My focus set on the captain. Please. Please don’t leave me with him, I stammered, when my mouth finally worked.

Don’t worry. He turned to Burton. Tell General Lyon I’ll see him in a few minutes.

The other man stomped toward the cabin then turned and jabbed a finger our direction. Just remember who the senior officer is here, Saunders. And you better hurry up. He’s leaving as soon as he gives each commander orders.

Soft, indistinct rays of sunlight filtered through the trees on the east side of Dry Fork Creek, and hope trickled into my heart. General Lyon would be leaving and the captain’s words reassured me. He’d find a way to keep Burton away from us. He reminded me of James; quiet, steady, dependable. So far he’d been the only compassionate man in the bunch. He provided an anchor during this storm, but he still wore the blue coat of the enemies who had wrecked the farm. And surely had done something to James or I would have heard from him before now.

I scrubbed my face with the cold water and stood, dripping, knees muddy. Saunders’ brown eyes studied me as we regarded each other. What was he thinking? Did he wonder if the disheveled, filthy woman with a razor-sharp tongue was worth the trouble he would face with the general? If I’d been in his shoes, the answer would be a resounding no.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I dropped the haughty angle of my chin. I appreciate your care of me and my children. There. I’d said something nice and it didn’t hurt. Much.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. He nodded his acceptance of my morsel of gratitude. Are you sure you don’t want me to get the surgeon to dress your wound?

My chin lifted. No. Absolutely not.

It might help if you put a tight band under your arms. He had the grace to keep his eyes averted as he spoke. It would pull the cut together and help it heal faster.

How would he know, and who did he think he was, trying to tell me how to care for a cut he’d not seen? My mouth worked with unspoken sarcasm, but the searing pain in my chest begged for relief. I’ll try it.

Stay close to the tent. I’ll be back in a while. Turning on his heel, he strode to the next camp and spoke to one of the men squatted near the fire. The man rose and moved my direction.

Not wanting to face more curious stares, I went back and sat in front of the tent, watching the sun streak the sky with pink and gold. I tried dragging my fingers through my hair, but lifting my arms pulled the wound. I’d have Pearl tie my hair when she got up. By leaning forward I was able to pull on the bonnet. I could pull the floppy brim around my face if I wanted to hide, but now it was important to know what was happening. I folded the brim back, and noted the soldier Saunders had sent as our guard. He cradled a rifle in his arms and checked every noise or movement in our area.

A trumpet blared, and from my vantage point up the hillside I could see the road on the southwest side of my garden. Mounted soldiers gathered and formed columns behind a flag bearer. The rows, four across and twenty long, were set in motion after General Lyon moved to the front. Hooves clattering across the wooden bridge was music to my ears. He was leaving.

Trying not to appear too eager, I watched the path Saunders had taken. Please, Lord, let it be Captain Saunders who comes back instead of Burton. My breath, which I didn’t realize I’d been holding, rushed out when I saw him return. I stood to meet him.

Is he gone? I nodded the direction the soldiers had gone.

Lyon? Or Burton? A quick smile flitted across his face.

Both.

They’re gone. He handed me a small jar. Salve from the doctor. Don’t put it directly on the cut, just on the edges. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. He turned to leave.

Wait. When he faced me again, I continued, Can’t I go back home now? Aren’t the other soldiers leaving too?

I’m afraid not. He rubbed a hand over his smooth-shaven chin.

When did he have time to shave? I crossed my arms and clamped my lips tight. He’d been in my house grooming himself while we were out in the open with no privacy. Now we couldn’t go back? I impatiently stomped one foot.

We have to wait for the infantry and baggage train to catch up with us, which will probably be tomorrow then we have to give them at least a night to rest up. So we’ll probably be here until Saturday morning.

Saturday? My arms dropped, shoulders sagging. Two full days before they left. But General Lyon is gone. Who’s in the house now?

Other officers. He shook his head. I’m sorry. War is a rough business.

You northern brutes make it nasty. What had I been doing to harass you? Nothing. Yet you come in here and, on the gossip of one woman, destroy everything I own plus turn us out like animals. I blinked back tears. Angry tears, not tears of self-pity.

Please believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that. His Adam’s apple bobbed with unspoken words. I’ll find a time this morning for you to slip back in your house and get some things to make you more comfortable. His eyes strayed to my bodice, and he winced as if he felt my pain.

A scowl wrinkled my face. Too bad he hadn’t sliced his chin when he was shaving.

Later that morning, the soldiers were drilling in much the same way as I’d heard James describe his practices with Major Gibbons in Bolivar during the weeks before he left with his unit of the Missouri State Guard. Phillip watched them, and I sent up a prayer of thanks that he was too young to join in this turmoil called war.

Captain Saunders grinned as he walked to our camp site just before noon. Mrs. Pepper, now’s your chance to get in your house.

I’m coming too. Pearl jumped up and walked beside me.

I paused at the spring. Everything looked different, defiled. Everything except the bittersweet vines twining around a sassafras sapling. The berries drooped in yellow clusters now but would turn brilliant orange in the fall. I heaved a long sigh.

Trouble? Saunders asked.

Of course not, I snapped. You wouldn’t understand.

Try me.

Words tumbled out, like usual, only this time I wasn’t spouting something hateful. Touching the berries, I said, My life is like this bittersweet. Life seemed good, and I am blessed with a family I love. That’s like the beauty of the berries. But if you look close at the vines, they aren’t sweet at all. They’re choking the sassafras and will eventually kill it. I glanced at him. He nodded as if he saw it clearly and didn’t think I was daft. I’m being strangled by this War of Northern Aggression.

I understand. Believe it or not, we’d all rather be safe at home instead of making your life miserable. There isn’t a man among us, with the exception of Lyon, who is proud of what we’ve done here. And the destruction and hurt goes both ways. We suffer too.

Almost, my hard, bitter heart cracked enough to let in a little empathy for them. Almost. I wish I could believe that, but I don’t. I climbed the familiar stone steps up the hill. They even felt dirty, knowing the Federal army used the path when they went to draw water from my spring.

Pearl led the way, but Captain Saunders overtook us and stopped at the door, a frown creasing his brow. I’m taking a big risk letting you in, so grab what you need and hurry out. Don’t be alarmed when you go inside. It’s a mess, but I think everything is still there. Disgust dripped from his words as he pushed the door open and waited on the step.

My steps faltered when I saw the disarray inside, but remembering his words, I went to my bedside and opened the dresser. My stomach lurched. Those swine had been rummaging through my drawer of undergarments, through everything. I shook the clothes then made a bundle inside a clean frock. My mind swirled. What could I take? Dried Yarrow plant hung from the ceiling in the pantry, just what I needed to put on my cut. What else? I certainly needed something to do while I waited for the soldiers to move out. My gaze fell on the basket of mending. There was never