Sanders Cross Read online

  Sanders Cross

  by Stephy Smith

  Published by Astraea Press

  www.astraeapress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  SANDERS CROSS

  Copyright © 2011 STEPHY SMITH

  ISBN 978-1-936852-70-3

  Cover Art Designed by Paragraphic Designs

  Edited by Em Petrova

  Dedicated to Kathleen McBride and Lisa Alexander Griffin.

  Prologue 1837

  “Good morning, Zell. I have a surprise for you.” The tall, husky Lewis strolled to his wife and hoisted her up against his chest.

  “A surprise? Oh Lewis, you know how I love surprises. What is it? Tell me!” she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “If I tell you, it will not be a surprise, now will it?” his hearty laughter echoed the room. “Come, I will show you. The wagon has been loaded with a picnic lunch and the horses harnessed.”

  With an added bounce in her step, she hurried to the wagon and waited for him to lift her onto the wooden seat. He climbed in beside her and took the reins. His muscular arm flexed as he released the brake before he urged the horses down the street to a back road leading out of town.

  A wide span of green grass and newly budding trees stretched before them. The sun beat down on their backs and songs of the birds whispered in the wind.

  “One day I hope to live in the country. It is so peaceful, Lewis. Where are we going? Oh Lew, please tell.”

  “I assure you it is peaceful.” Lewis pulled the horses to a stop. “Before we move on I want to blindfold you. No peeking, you hear?”

  He gently tied a cloth over her eyes. Izella jolted as the reins slapped the backs of the horses and the wagon lurched forward. “Is this necessary? Are you taking me to a secret hideout I should not know about?”

  “Just a few more minutes, Zell. Keep your blindfold on and when we stop you may remove it.” His voice held a mysterious, happy tone. She entwined her arm in his. The taught muscle beneath her fingers sent a delightful tingle through her body.

  The wagon creaked to a stop. “You may remove your blindfold.”

  She yanked the cloth from her eyes and her jaw fell open at the scene in front of her. Lewis caught her as she jumped from the buckboard. He gently placed her on the ground.

  The giant plantation house stood prominent on the outskirts of the tiny Alabama town. Its white columns and wrap-around porch promised the serene life Izella had always imagined for her and her husband. Heavy, green bough oak trees surrounded the grounds, shading the many gardens and paths sprinkled with various shades of flowers. Windows on every side of the mansion glistened in the sunlight.

  “It’s beautiful. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in a place like this? Whose is it?” Izella drew in a long breath and then threw her arms around Lewis’s neck. He hoisted her to his chest and twirled her in circles.

  “It is ours. All for you my love,” he whispered in her ear. His dark blond hair waving in the breeze tickled her cheek. The beat of his heart quickened against her bosom.

  Anticipation coursed through her veins as the prospect of owning the place sank in. She sucked in another lung full of the air fragranced by flowers. Her gaze shifted to Lewis. “It is grand! Are you sure we can afford it?”

  “We already own it, Zell. Father left it to me in his will. I have been out here doing repairs so we can move in when you are ready.” His sky blue eyes twinkled as he gazed at her.

  “How many children do you think it will take to fill this mansion?”

  His laughter embraced her with warmth and comfort. Mysterious sparkles danced in his eyes. His low hot tone delighted her. “As many as you want. This is our new home, Zell.”

  Her heart skipped, then swelled with enchantment. Every time she gazed upon Lewis a new thrill, a new tingle, rippled down her spine. A new house, so soon after they were married…what more could she asked for other than a passel of children?

  “What do you want to call our humble abode?” Lewis’s voice broke her trance.

  She twirled around and scanned the area. “We can use both of our last names, Sanders Cross Plantation. Later, we can add a cross next to the entrance way.” She tugged at his arm. “Let’s go inside, Lew. How much help do we need to get it running?”

  Fingers entwined, they headed up the walk surrounded by blooming flowers on the left and the peach orchard set off to the right.

  “We will need plenty if we manage to have enough children to fill this place. Not to mention the field hands.” He winked, his eyes twinkling. It took little effort for him to lift her into his arms, and carry her over the threshold to the inside where large white columns connected the galleries.

  Izella pushed from his embrace and scurried from one area to another. The heavy, mahogany doors closing off each room secreted into the walls as she slid them open. Breathless, she raced up the stairway to peer down at him through the square opening of the second floor landing. Ceilings rose twelve feet in height, and brilliant chandeliers with dangling crystal accents lit the rooms in a warm, amber glow. Intricately carved rosettes graced the mahogany molding of the framed corners of each room.

  “This is our little piece of heaven. Thank you, Lew.” Anticipation of her new life coursed through her veins as her mind wandered into their future. Her visions of children laughing in the great room spread below and the thrills they would bring into hers and Lewis’s lives.

  Chapter One

  1861-1865 Alabama

  April 1861

  Izella Courtney Cross Sanders

  Izella breathed deep, and the aromatic scent of peach blossoms filled the air. Despite the freshness of spring, dismal clouds loomed over her inner soul. She gazed intently to memorize the forms of her husband, three sons and a son-in-law as they bravely marched down the stone walkway.

  The threats of war played havoc on the lives of everyone in the area. Now men were leaving to fight for their cause, homes were being shattered, women and children left behind and all had the delusion it would be over soon.

  What would become of her neighbors who depended on the servants to cook, clean and tend to the fields and gardens? If the South lost, so would the women who didn’t know how to do domestic chores. She was happy her mother had taught her what she needed to know if she ever had to fend for herself and her family.

  This war would rob children of their childhoods. She shivered thinking how her baby, Thomas, who at the age of eighteen willingly went to war against her wishes. Offering up a prayer for those families with more to lose, she tried to focus on a good future for the people of the South.

  Her husband and sons moved down the pathway to join the other men in town and sign up for the war. For weeks, the rumors spread from one mouth to another. With each version of the story told, more words were added until no one knew how much truth lay in the statements.

  A sinking sensation fluttered to rest in the pit of her stomach and the world dimmed in the bright sunlight. What evils lay in store for her and the girls while the men were away? She straightened her shoulders, refusing to let her emotions rule her mind. Her eyes blurred with the moisture collecting in them. A few beads of sweat slithered down her spine, and she fought to control the weakening in her knees. Blinking away the tears, she focused on the large iron cro
ss standing at the gate.

  Turning her head to the side, she glanced at the faces of her daughters. Grace and Mittie were holding up moderately well. When her gaze scanned Maggie’s face, her heart picked up a beat. Maggie and her husband had only been married for four months and Izella could well imagine the pain of separation Maggie experienced. Her own separation from Lewis riddled her soul. Maggie’s huge tears slid down her smooth cheeks, her lips quivered and Izella braced herself for the heart-wrenching scream.

  Pride filled her chest and heartache strangled her breathing. Her men journeyed into the throes of war. With little regard to her surroundings, she held strong to the foothold, her heart knotted tighter with each step of the men. She straightened her shoulders and choked back emotions she hoped she would never have to deal with again in her lifetime.

  One more hug, perhaps a lingering kiss, and a light touch as Lewis caressed her cheek with his calloused hand and she would have thrown herself at his feet and begged him not to go. But the war meant so much to him and the boys.

  Silently she peered at their backs and kept her emotions to herself. Their courage and bravery strengthened her in a strange and wonderful way. Yet, the possibility of never hearing another breath from their lungs festered into a fear so deep she thought her mind might explode.

  The dark-skinned groomsman stood at the end of the path, waiting for each of the men. They stood straight and with patience, holding the reins of well-kept horses. If it weren’t for the horses to carry them to war, they might stay behind. Their groomsmen would follow them to war. Izella suspected she and her daughters wouldn't be the only people on the plantation affected by the departure, but also the wives and families of the groomsmen.

  Her heart sank lower as she admonished the thoughts forming in her mind. Her senses pulled in all directions. How was she to keep this place going with everyone depending on her? She would do what she had to do when it needed done. Her only choice was to accept the fate waiting for her.

  Pride and confusion doused her soul with undeniable fear. Weariness invaded her limbs. How could rumors of war take her men away from the family? It didn’t seem fair that her daughters should suffer the grief and horror sure to come. It might be months, even years, before any of them laid eyes on the men again. She sniffed, a tear dampening her face. Determined not to cry in front of her girls, she wiped it quickly away.

  The sun beat down on her face. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the mighty oaks lining the walk. Birds fluttered from treetops in the distance as the men approached. Their powerful force emitted magic with each step until they reached the end of the path. All matter of time lay suspended in the air as each man reached for the reins of his horse and the groomsmen stood back from their masters.

  As her loved ones mounted and disappeared from view, memories of the first time she’d set foot on the plantation swelled her heart with sadness. Please bring them back to me. She glanced heavenward, allowing her mind to drift back in time. For an instant, the memories took over as she prayed she would wake up and find the day only a bad dream. When she opened her eyes again, her hopes swept away with the dust floating in tiny clouds from the horses’ hooves whisking her men away from their home.

  Times had been good for the past twenty-five years. Cotton and indigo had provided a nice means of support for the Sanders family. Sheep, cattle and chickens dotted the pastures while hogs wallowed in the cool earth behind each of the slave shacks. Six children flourished with love and respect beneath the plantation’s roof.

  For the first time in her married life, a destructive fear passed through Izella’s veins. Nothing good could come of the war—not with the lives of the men at risk.

  She clenched her apron folds and strolled back to the house. An eerie silence swept through the interior. Life, laughter and happiness dissipated into nothingness. The sound of servants sniffling as they carried on with their chores broke the silence. Wails from her daughters echoed through every inch of the structure’s frame. Her own tears threatened to spill.

  Be strong Izella, the girls need you. She stiffened her resolve, and fought to control her emotions.

  Dust danced in the dim rays of sunlight. Izella held tight to the feathers as she swept off the mantel and then glanced up at the family portrait. The innocence on those precious faces had faded with time but her love blossomed unconditionally throughout the years.

  On a deep sigh, she peered around the room to be certain her daughters were out of hearing range, and then let her emotions go. Sobs rattled her body as never before and an eerie emptiness settled hard and cold in the pit of her stomach.

  As each day passed, she fought the despair brought by no news from the men. Oh, how she missed Lewis and her sons. The mansion took on the gloom surrounding the area. Friends and neighbors fell prey to the bloodshed. How much more devastation could her community take?

  Dark, round fingers grasped her shoulder. Izella patted Letty’s comforting hand and twisted to glance at the swollen-eyed attendant.

  Letty sniffled into a handkerchief, and then blew her nose. “I’m sorry Miss Zell. I jes’ ain’t able to pull enough strength to dam up my eyes.”

  Izella smiled, took hold of Letty and led her to the sofa. With both of Letty’s hands encased in her own she urged her to sit. She took the hankie from her and dabbed at the tears running down the chubby cheeks of her personal maid.

  “Now, now, Letty, after twenty-three years I reckon you have the right to carry on like the rest of us.”

  “Yas’m, maybe’s I do. I jes’ cain’t git over the men folk being gone dis long. No’m it jes’ ain’t fittin’.”

  Izella fixed her gaze upon her moist black eyes. Letty’s bottom lip protruded with a sag in the middle. “Letty.” She paused. “What if…”

  “Don’t you go off what if’n now, Miss Zell. That man o’ yore’s is a good shot. I seen him shoot a turkey from a tree when I cain’t see the turkey. ‘Member that big un he brought in a coupla years back. No ma’am don’t go a what if’n. Yo’ hear me?”

  “You got it all wrong, Letty.” She lied. “We need some plans. The girls are torn up and we need to distract them. For a few hours anyway, you know, to take our minds away from the war.”

  “What yo’ got in mind? Quiltin’ bee, knittin’ or sewin’?”

  “We… I just don’t know. Let me think on it a few days.”

  ****

  Magdalene “Maggie” Irene Sanders Gentry

  Although the sun shone bright, the day held more gloom than a winter’s day. Maggie’s heart sank to the pits of hell as she stared at Robert’s back. A deep need to run after him, to plead for him not to go, overwhelmed her. Mouth clamped shut, she struggled to keep quiet and be supportive like her mother. Problem was, she wasn’t her mother. Her mother stood strong and brave, while she fell apart.

  Maggie glanced at Izella’s tiny frame and watched the tear slide down her mother’s weather-beaten face. It would take more effort than she possessed to stop the wails building in her chest. Even though her mother always emitted a strong will, holding her emotions in check, Maggie could never measure up to Izella’s courage. If this incident made her mother cry, there was more cause to worry than she’d thought.

  Even Grace and Mittie struggled with the idea of the men going to war. Grace had always been indifferent to political issues, or any issue of import. Mittie, the tomboy, would’ve gone to war with the men if given her parents’ consent. However, none of these things mattered. They all hurt for their own reasons. Maggie didn’t want to lose Robert to a Yankee bullet or any other faction in life.

  The men disappeared from sight and, the wails she held back broke loose. Tears flowed, and the blockade around her heart buckled underneath her sobs. Loving arms reached around her shoulders, her sisters hefted her to her feet and guided her toward the mansion.

  Robert had brought her home to stay with her mother and sisters while he was away at war. She wanted to stay in her own home—their home.
If she’d had a choice, Robert would be with her now. She didn’t want him to leave, but kept those thoughts to herself. What if he doesn’t come home alive? Unbearable pain ripped through her core. Nothing in the world had left her so lifeless, so helpless and hollow. How could she endure this torture until he returned, if he came home at all?

  With a shake of her head, she battled against the fear. Her hand went to her stomach. She’d kept the baby she carried a secret from her husband. If he worried about her on the battlefield, the distraction might well draw his attention away from enemy fire and cause his death.

  If something happened to Robert, he would never know about the babe. Unforgiving guilt, the torment of her secret, ate at her insides. There was no right or wrong in the situation. It was too late to tell him so, instead, she tried making peace within her mind that she’d made the right decision.

  Chapter Two

  Grace Anna Sanders

  Grace pulled herself together. The thought of losing her family pushed her closer to her mother and Maggie, who needed her to be strong. She wiped the tears from her eyes and helped Mittie lift Maggie from the ground to guide her into the house.

  Thoughts of the two presidents who couldn’t agree to disagree settled into a deep pool of anger and resentment. Why drag innocent men from their homes to fight a war they could have prevented in the first place? The life of the family spiraled out of control, slicing her mother and Maggie’s hearts to shreds. Fury surged inside her as she watched the men in her life make their way down the dusty road.

  The wages of war drove all else from her mind. The possibility of Willie, Sam, Tom, Robert or her father being deposited at the door for burial left a deep, dark hole in her soul. Half the family could be annihilated as they bravely stepped to the front line to fight for their beliefs. The presidents of the North and the South could care less about the outcome of loss for their respective followers.