To Whisper Her Name (49 page)

With the exception of Ridley, each of the men at the table had served with the general in the war, and each had stories of valor and bravery they shared. Some stories drew tears, others applause, while more lighthearted stories drew laughter. Occasionally Olivia caught snippets of other exchanges that proved more than a little interesting.

The woman who had earlier delivered the most scathing stare at Olivia was seated directly across the table from her — just to Ridley’s right — and was in deep conversation with one of the many Confederate generals in attendance. But apparently the woman had never perfected her whisper.

“Well, you
do
know that General Harding contributed five hundred thousand dollars to the Confederate cause. And, of course, my husband and I did nearly that much as well.” The woman huffed. “Those dirty, filthy Yankees. Look at what they did to us, General. To our lives! And they dare call
us
traitors to the Union.” The woman slid a brief but well-aimed glare across the table at Olivia. “My husband says that if any of them have the
gall
to show up here tomorrow, he will outbid them all!”

Olivia confined her gaze to her plate. Two years since the war had ended and still such bitterness. In the thrum of conversation around her, a quiet realization came, and she searched her heart to make sure it was true. And to her amazement, it was. When had she put away the sharp bitterness and loathing she’d had for Charles? She still thought of him, on occasion, but although the memories were far from pleasant, neither were they drenched in animosity. She felt a stirring within, and her gaze was drawn across the table.

Maybe that’s why God had brought Ridley into her life. To help her forgive, to heal, and to let go. In one sense, it felt a little cruel. To dangle something so beautiful in front of her. A relationship she could never have. And yet she wouldn’t want to go back to being the woman in that carriage. The woman she’d been before she met him.

“Susanna!”

Olivia blinked at the name, then dabbed her eyes with her napkin.

Susanna refilled a gentleman’s water glass down the table. “Yes, sir, General Walker. You need somethin’, sir?”

The older man winked at the woman beside him. “I need you to confirm to my wife here that you did indeed hide the Harding family silver during the war. At the general’s request. And that General Harding wasn’t the least concerned that he didn’t know where you’d hidden it.”

Susanna stood a bit straighter. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what happened, all right. Them Yankees were camped out in the deer park, been takin’ everythin’. So the general, he asked me and Uncle Bob to hide it for him. So we did.”

The wife nodded as though still not quite believing. “And he didn’t ask you to tell him where it was?”

Susanna shook her head. “No, ma’am, Missus Walker. General Harding, he trusts me and Uncle Bob.” Susanna glanced down the table, and General Harding gave her a kind smile.

“Would you tell
me
where you hid it, Susanna?” Another man asked, humor in his tone.

“Why, no, sir. I will not.” Susanna winked. “There might come another war, and we need to be keepin’ that silver safe.”

Laughter filled the room, followed by the telling
tink
of silver on china, and one of the general’s friends stood and raised his glass. “To our gracious host, General William Giles Harding, owner of the finest plantation and thoroughbred farm in the country, and one of the best men the South has ever known.”

His remarks were met by affirming nods.

“A true son of the Confederacy, he set an example and made us proud by choosing prison rather than signing the Oath of Allegiance to a Union he didn’t support and a cause he did not believe in. To General William Giles Harding …” He lifted his glass. “A man among men.”

“To General William Giles Harding,” everyone repeated. “A man among men!”

“Hear, hear!” rose up throughout the room, and everyone drank a toast.

“Now if we could only get him to cut that scraggly old beard!” another man said, but the comment drew only the shallowest of laughter.

And the room grew quiet.

General Harding merely smiled. “The war may officially be over, gentlemen … and ladies,” he added with a nod. “But my allegiance to my true country, to my South, will never end or be diminished in my heart.” His smile faded, his attention focusing on the man who’d made the comment. “And I swear to you, my good friend, that I will wear this beard proudly until the day the South has won, or — if the Almighty wills it — until the day I die.”

Seconds passed in awkward silence.

Olivia looked down the table at Aunt Elizabeth, whose carefully arranged smile couldn’t mask the concern — and love — she felt for her husband. She also glimpsed the weight of worry and stress that her aunt’s letters during the war had so painfully reflected.

General Harding rose from his seat, and all eyes turned. “Before we continue with dinner and with what I’m certain will be one of Susanna’s delicious desserts, I want to offer my gratitude to all of you for coming here tonight. And for helping us to celebrate Belle Meade’s
first
annual yearling auction.”

Applause followed, sprinkled with congratulatory remarks.

“I’ve asked one of my foremen, Mr. Ridley Cooper, to join us this evening with the purpose of giving you an overview of the auction tomorrow. As you’re able to visit with him tonight following dinner, or tomorrow during the auction, know that he has my full confidence and therefore full authority to deal with you on any account. I’ve also instructed him to teach you how to bid high and bid often, which is something I highly encourage.”

The guests laughed, and any momentary awkwardness from earlier faded.

“And now, without further ado, ladies and gentleman … Mr. Ridley Cooper.”

Olivia’s eyes burned with quiet pride as Ridley rose to his feet.

“Thank you, General Harding, for that introduction. I’m honored not only to be here with you tonight, but to be here at Belle Meade. As the general said, if you have any questions, seek me out. But something you must do while you’re here tomorrow is visit the stables of Belle Meade. When you do, you’re going to meet a gentleman by the name of Bob Green. But within five minutes, you’ll be calling him Uncle Bob, as we all do. Uncle Bob is the head hostler here at Belle Meade and is the finest horse trainer in the country. Maybe the world, but I haven’t traveled that far yet.”

More laughter drifted up from the table, and as Ridley continued speaking, Olivia watched the people in the room respond to him. He was a natural-born leader. People followed him, because Ridley Cooper knew where he was going.

After he sat down, Susanna, Betsy, and Chloe cleared the dinner dishes and served warm carrot cake, a Belle Meade specialty, as Susanna called it. Conversation ensued but most of it, Olivia noted while listening to General Meeks beside her, was directed toward Ridley.

“Where are you from, Mr. Cooper?” One of the generals asked.

“From South Carolina, sir. Near Hilton Head.”

The man nodded. “Beautiful area. Nothing like the ocean, is there?”

Ridley shook his head. “No, sir, there’s not.”

“I bet you miss it,” a woman added.

“I do.” Ridley shot Olivia a look. “But I keep a seashell with me, as a reminder.”

Olivia warmed at the silent, personal exchange and was glad when General Meeks turned to Mrs. Fairbanks on his right.

A gentleman three seats down from Ridley leaned forward. “I served with a few of the regiments from South Carolina, Mr. Cooper. Which regiment were you in?”

Olivia tensed at the question, knowing Ridley didn’t like talking about the war.

Lifting his water glass, Ridley took a long drink, then cleared his throat. “I served with the 167
^th
, sir.”

The man frowned. “I don’t recall that regiment. But you were stationed here in Nashville?”

Ridley nodded. “For the majority of the time, yes, sir.”

“What was your rank, Mr. Cooper?”

“I was a first lieutenant, sir.”

“My gracious, dear,” the gentleman’s wife interrupted. “Would you stop badgering poor Mr. Cooper and give him a chance to eat his carrot cake while it’s still warm?”

Smiling at the woman, Ridley took a huge bite.

“We’re not badgering him, ma’am,” another man offered. “We’ve just heard all of our stories, so we want to hear his.”

People laughed, even the woman who had done the gentle scolding. But Olivia didn’t.

“A first lieutenant, you say, Mr. Cooper?”

“Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“I bet you saw a lot more hand-to-hand fighting than the rest of the old men sitting around this table, myself included.”

Ridley looked down at his plate. “Yes, sir. I … guess I probably did.”

Olivia sensed the desire from the men in the room for Ridley to share his stories. But while she had long wanted to know more about his experiences in the war and to understand why he wanted to leave here so badly, she wished they would stop peppering him with questions. If only they knew how hard it was for him.

“So were you with us at the Battle of Franklin, Mr. Cooper? Horrible night that it was,” the man said softly.

Ridley laid his fork aside. “No, sir, I wasn’t at that battle.”

“The Battle of Nashville then?” an older general asked from down the table, his voice somber. “I lost 237 men from my company that day. But we made a valiant last stand.”

“No, sir.” Ridley bowed his head. “I wasn’t there either.”

Conversation at the table fell silent, and Olivia felt much like Aunt Elizabeth must have moments earlier as she’d watched her husband hurt so silently, yet so publicly.

One of the men at the far end of the table, at least twice Ridley’s age, leaned forward. “So tell us, son. Where did you fight?”

Ridley lifted his head, and to Olivia’s surprise, he looked at her, then looked with resolve at the man who had asked the question. “I was stationed in Nashville at the start of the war, sir. But I spent the majority of my time toward the end … at Andersonville.”

T
he room went still.

Ridley felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by Jack Malone. His heart hammered, his breath would hardly come. The faces around the table were a blur. All but one: Olivia’s. He sought her gaze and held it, finding strength in the compassion and understanding in her eyes.

Although, he knew she didn’t fully understand. Not yet. But she would. Before he left.

An older gentleman a few seats down looked Ridley’s way. “I was stationed at Andersonville for a while too, Mr. Cooper. Three of the hardest months of my life,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we needed prisons. And both sides had them, but …” He looked down. And when he looked up again, his gaze was watery. “That place was brutal. And … I’m sorry to say, Lieutenant Cooper, but I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“That’s all right, General.” Ridley acknowledged his kindness with a nod. “With all respect, I don’t recall seeing you either.”

The distant clank of pots and pans drifted in from the kitchen and, slowly, Ridley’s heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm. He hadn’t planned on admitting he’d been at Andersonville. But when the questions kept coming, the only way he knew to silence them was with the truth. Or part of it. Now he weighed the cost — not only to himself, but to General Harding — of revealing the whole.

The woman beside him scoffed. “All this talk of Andersonville being brutal …” She shook her head. “Of course it was brutal! It was a prison, for heaven’s sake. And for thieving, lying Yankees. The men who …” Her voice caught, her features twisted. “Who killed
my
son! We can never allow ourselves to forget what they did. How they —”

“Mrs. Stewart!”

All eyes turned to Elizabeth Harding. Ridley had never heard the woman raise her voice in such a manner. He’d thought earlier that she looked weary. But now she appeared almost too fragile to sit upright.

“Mrs. Stewart,” Elizabeth began again, softer this time. “My heart grieves with yours over the loss of your precious son. I did not lose a son to this war, but I’ve lain seven children to rest, so I am familiar with grief. But let us not forget that
all
the men who fought and lived, and who fought and
died
— on both sides — were someone’s sons. Now …” Lifting her chin slightly, she directed her gaze to the opposite end of the table. “To my husband and all the gentlemen in this room, I extend my heartfelt gratitude for your devoted service to our beloved South. But please …” Her voice strained to the point of breaking. “At least for the remainder of this one evening I beg of you …” She smiled or tried to, “Let’s have no more talk of war.”

A while later, retired to the central parlor, Ridley fielded questions from the gentlemen about the auction and the yearlings, always aware of where Olivia was. Which, so far, had been across the room from him and consistently by General Meeks’s side.

Ridley hardly recognized the man. But he didn’t have to think long to understand the motivation behind the changes Meeks had made in his life —
and
his person! General Meeks was smitten. It was written all over his face. And with good reason. What man in his right mind wouldn’t move heaven and earth to have Olivia Aberdeen beside him? Even if it meant not going to the Colorado Territory.

And yet, Ridley
knew
that was where he was supposed to be.

“Making foreman in so short a time, Mr. Cooper. That’s impressive.”

Ridley turned back to the group of gentlemen. Specifically General Maddox, the man who’d been stationed at Andersonville. It was sobering to stand face to face with one of his captors, even though he didn’t recognize the man. “Thank you, sir. I’m grateful for General Harding’s trust and appreciate working here.”

“If that’s the case, Mr. Cooper,” another man said, his tone hinting at tongue-and-cheek, “then explain the rumor I heard a few moments ago about you wanting to give all this up for some plan to go to the Colorado Territory.”

Ridley managed to smile. “I see you’ve been speaking with our host.” He glanced at General Harding across the room, who merely lifted his coffee cup in mock salute. “The answer is simple, gentlemen. I’ve always wanted to see the Rocky Mountains and have been making plans to do that for some time.”

“Still,” the man countered, “why not wait two or three years until the railroad is built and go then? I’m fairly certain the mountains will still be there.”

The men laughed.

Sensing an ambush, good-natured though it may be, Ridley shook his head, eager to put the topic to rest. Especially with Olivia just across the room. Thinking of leaving was hard enough for him without seeing that look she always got whenever they discussed it.

“I purchased land in the Colorado Territory four years ago, gentlemen. And if I don’t go now, I’ll lose it. So while I appreciate the opportunities General Harding has given me, I’ll be leaving within a week.”

“I believe I heard my name mentioned.” General Harding joined them. “I hope it was being used in the best sense.”

General Maddox smiled. “Not to fear, Harding. We’d never talk unkindly about you. Not in your own home, anyway,” he added.

The comment drew laughter, as intended.

“Mr. Cooper here,” General Maddox continued, “was telling us about his plans to go west. I think a few of us — myself not included — were questioning his decision. If I were his age and without attachments, I’d be tempted to hop on a wagon and join him.”

“You always
have
been a bad influence, Maddox.” General Harding smiled, stroking his beard. “I would appreciate you men working on Mr. Cooper here. I’ve done everything I know to encourage him to stay. I even created a new position.”

Ridley tensed. He purposefully hadn’t shared Harding’s offer with Olivia, afraid it would hurt her further if she knew he’d turned it down. If she had her preference, he’d stay here at Belle Meade. But she didn’t know the whole truth. Yet. He looked across the room to where she’d been sitting, but she was gone. He looked around. She stood only feet away now with Mary and Selene and a handful of other women.

“And what position was that, Harding?” Maddox asked. “If Mr. Cooper’s declination is final, I might be willing to come work for you. For the right price.”

Harding laughed. “My friend, there is no price right enough for me to hire you.”

The men laughed all the more, which drew the women’s attention.

“The position I offered Mr. Cooper was that of head foreman of Belle Meade. I offered it to him awhile back. But he turned me down flat.”

Even without looking back, Ridley knew Olivia had heard. He sensed it from the silence behind him. But he knew it for certain when he turned and saw the hurt in her eyes.

Olivia closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it in the dark, grateful the evening was finally over. She’d wanted answers to questions, and she’d gotten them tonight. But they weren’t the answers she wanted.

The general had already made an offer to Ridley. Supposedly a very good one. Yet Ridley had refused. That told her plenty right there. Learning he’d been stationed at Andersonville told her even more.

Every Northerner and Southerner alike knew about Andersonville. Reports describing the deplorable conditions of the Georgia prison and the inhumane treatment of Union soldiers there had circulated in newspapers for months following the war. She remembered the public outcry from the North for one officer of the Confederate prison to be hung for his offenses. And he had been.

The things Ridley must have seen and orders he’d had to carry out. She couldn’t imagine.

She had wanted to see him privately tonight, but with all the guests — and General Meeks — that had proven impossible. As soon as General Meeks had left, she’d looked for Ridley, but he’d already gone. Other guests were still here, visiting in the central parlor or on the front porch in the rockers. But she’d excused herself.

She wanted to see him. Needed to see him. And by the time she looked toward the side window, her decision was already made. She changed out of her dress and into a simple skirt and shirtwaist.

Halfway down the lattice, she heard voices coming from around the corner. And froze. It wasn’t a full moon but she was hanging from the side of the mansion, something that would be a little hard to miss. Much less explain. She scrambled down, watching the side of the house, and as soon as her foot touched the ground, someone clamped a hand over her mouth.