SIX
The wagon rolled out of the parsonage yard a quarter past nine the following morning.
Reverend Adams had kindly offered to reach out to some of the women in town to see if they would let Maggie board with them for the night.
But she declined, requesting permission to spend the night in the church.
It was safer than where she’d lain her head many nights before.
She could tell that Adams was unsure of the idea, but he allowed it.
The Joneses arrived at the house at eight thirty that morning. Mrs. Jones, or Cynthia, was a tiny woman, standing at just under five foot three. What she lacked in height, she made up for in spirit.
Tucker hitched up the wagon while his wife ran through a list she pulled from her pocket, checking everything put into the wagon. Twice. Only when she gave the okay did Tucker help Adams onto the front bench, where the two would sit.
Maggie didn’t worry about her possessions. Both Henry’s uniform and pistol were hidden inside a rolled quilt. All of the maps that Elijah, Ruth, and her father had drawn were burned in Adam’s fireplace. Should the worst happen, she didn’t want any of their contacts to be found.
Cynthia declined Tucker’s help to get into the back. “We’re quite capable of managing ourselves.” She hoisted her skirt and climbed in. Maggie knew in that moment that the two of them would get along nicely.
Before climbing in herself, Maggie tried to hand Tucker the folded bills. But he wouldn’t take it. “Is something wrong?” Was he wavering in his decision?
“No, it’s just that I didn’t expect it until we got back.”
He still hesitated, seeming unsure. Maggie didn’t know what to do.
“Take the money the woman is handing you, Tucker,” Cynthia called from inside the wagon.
Hearing his wife’s orders, Tucker chuckled and finally accepted the money. “Guess I better do as she says. As long as you’re sure you’d not rather pay us when we’re done.”
“I’m sure.” Not waiting for him to protest any further, she followed Cynthia’s lead and hoisted her skirt and climbed in.
When the wagon wheels began to roll, she began to quiver.
I’m almost there, Henry.
“Whoa!” Someone yelled, breaking Maggie from her trance. The wagon stopped abruptly, shaking her and Cynthia. She peered out of the canvas opening and her stomach dropped.
It was the Home Guard. They encircled the wagon, coming in tight near the horses pulling the reverend’s wagon, causing them to dance their feet nervously.
“Settle down, steady,” Tucker murmured to the horses, reins tight in his grasp.
“Going somewhere, Preacher?” It was the same man who had questioned Mary and Maggie the day before.
“Good morning, Mr. Abbot,” Adams addressed him.
“As a matter of fact, we are. I’ve felt a calling for some time now to go and minister to our boys camped near the border.
Word has reached me that disease and low spirits are spreading like wildfire.
With my companions, I thought I’d do my share to help where I can. ”
At the mention of companions, one of the men near the back of the wagon urged his horse forward, and he pulled the canvas top open, staring down at Maggie and Cynthia. Maggie jumped. Cynthia was very still.
“It’s one of those girls from yesterday, boss,” the man called.
“One? Where’s the other one?” Mr. Abott called back.
She trembled, unsure of what to answer. She prayed that Mary was long gone by now.
Reverend Adams answered for her. “If you’re speaking of Miss Burson, she decided that this trip was not for her.
I cannot allow a pack of dogs to accompany us, you see.
The majors in the camp might not look too kindly on that.
Thus, hurting our mission. I advised her to ask around town for somewhere to stay until we return.
But don’t worry, Robert is going to do the preaching while I’m away if that worries you. ”
“Preacher, the least of my worries is who is going to be yakking instead of you. I think we’ll visit our good townspeople. See if we can’t find Miss Burson and check on her for you.”
Adams shrugged. “Suit yourself. But be advised, those dogs are right vicious. One about bit me in the leg when I walked by her this morning.”
“I can take care of myself, don’t you worry.” Mr. Abott pushed his coat back, revealing his holstered pistol.
“Good to know. In that case, I won’t pray any extra prayers for you while I’m gone.
We should be back in two weeks or so. I’ll check on you and the boys then.
Thank you, kindly, Mr. Abott.” The reverend was direct but witty, steering the conversation in a way that not even Mr. Abbott or his companions could pick up on.
Maggie marveled at him as the Home Guard rode away. They hadn’t realized what he had done. As soon as they were gone, Adams glanced about. “Everyone alright?”
They all three nodded but didn’t speak.
“Pure terrors to this town. God forgive me for speaking dishonestly.”
“What’ll they do when they don’t find Mary?” Maggie was fearful for her friend.
“I doubt that they’ll truly look for her. And if they do, she’ll have had a full day ahead of them. They won’t leave the county to look for her, that is for certain. Enough problems lie here for them to worry about one woman.”
Maggie hoped that he was correct. Still, as they began to move again, she closed her eyes and placed her head down on her knees and begged God to keep her safe.
It was the third time she had offered a prayer.
But she knew that it would be the first thing that Henry, Levi, Abigail, or any of those whom she loved would do.
The journey by wagon was slower than expected, and Maggie found herself anxious to stretch her legs.
The reverend wouldn’t hear of it. Aside from pausing to let the horses rest an hour, they kept moving, even past dusk.
Tucker lit lanterns hung on poles and guided the horses in the moonlight.
They couldn’t stop until they found a camp, Union or Confederate.
There was too much risk of someone stealing the horses if not.
By the time they crossed into Virginia, the horses were tired, evident by the slow pace they traveled, but Tucker didn’t stop. Traveling on the main road, they were too exposed. Cynthia and the reverend both slept, but Maggie couldn’t.
Another hour passed, and she thought she saw light up ahead, but figured it was her eyes playing tricks on her. Tucker pulled back on the reins and she realized he’d seen it too. He touched the reverend’s knee. “Sir, you best wake up,” he said softly.
Jumping slightly, Reverend Adams sat up straight at once. “Trouble?”
Tucker pointed. “Someone’s blocking the road.”
Squinting, Maggie could barely make it out, but she trusted what he said. She thought to wake Cynthia, too, but when she turned around, she saw that Mrs. Jones was already awake and watching.
“Let’s ease on, then. Find out who they are. Remember, all, keep calm,” Adams gently stated.
Clicking his teeth, Tucker moved the team of horses forward, slowly up the road.
As they drew closer, they could see it was two men dressed in ratty homespun clothing, evidently on guard. Spotting the wagon, they immediately rose, grabbing their rifles. “Stop,” they shouted.
Tucker pulled the reins, stopping the team, and then pulled the brake on the wagon. The reverend held up his hands and called out, “Hello there. We’re traveling missionaries, seeking to bring God’s word and comfort to the battle front. Who might you men be?”
“What’s in the wagon?” One yelled.
The reverend lowered his hands. He gestured behind him for Maggie and Cynthia to rise. “Just two that ride with us. Mrs. Jones and my daughter, Margaret.”
Only a slight twitch in his cheek would’ve given him away. They all knew Maggie was young enough to be his granddaughter. The men didn’t question it, though. “Anyone else with you?”
“No. Only the four of us. Would you like me to pull back the cover to prove it?”
Adams didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed one side of the canvas and lifted it, while Tucker lifted the other.
It was hard to see at night. The men squinted, guns still drawn at an unknown threat.
Finally, one of the men grabbed their torch and inched forward.
Seeing nothing, he kept his gun up with one hand and side-stepped around the wagon until he peered in the back.
Satisfied with only a few bedrolls and packs, he stepped back to his companion. “Clear.”
They lowered their guns. “Who are you? How is it you’ve got this wagon and team?”
“I’m Reverend Adams, this is Tucker, and I’ve already introduced the women. As a traveling minister, I’ve found that in payment for my services, I’ve been given some liberties. To whom do your loyalties lie, gentlemen?”
One spit. “The only rightful side there is. The Confederate States of America. Where do your loyalties lie?” He cocked his gun.
Adams wasn’t alarmed. “With God.”
“What do you want?” The second man asked.
“I’d like to come into your camp and minister to all of the injured souls. Provide last words, should that be necessary. And any other spiritual needs. The women here can assist with the nursing.”
“What about him?” The man pointed to Tucker. “He yours?”
Tucker didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Not glancing at him, the reverend responded smoothly. “No, he’s a free man. But he is in my employ. I wouldn’t be able to travel without him.”
“Suppose you got papers to prove that?” They now addressed Tucker.
Without responding to them, Tucker pulled a folded paper from his chest pocket and held it up. Maggie shook but didn’t dare look at Cynthia.
It wasn’t possible for them to read it at that distance, but they didn’t seem to want to come close to the wagon again. “Keep that on you,” the man said.
“Are we allowed entry?” Adams asked them.
“Not yet. We’ll check with our commanding officer. Jimmy, go get him.”
The second man left, leaving them alone with only one soldier. They waited patiently, not moving until “Jimmy” returned.
“Captain Kirkpatrick will speak to you. Drive on.”