As the various courses were served, Doc barely noticed the food. His entire world had funneled down to Ann Marie: her eyes, her enchanting laugh, and that smile that seemed to wring his very soul.
Too quickly the food was gone, the plates collected. Doc hated to stand, hold her chair, and leave her behind as he retired to the parlor with the men.
“Still thinking of heading back to Arkansas at your first opportunity, Dr. Hancock?” Reverend Nelson asked at the end of the evening. He indicated Ann Marie with a casual tilt of the head. She sat listening attentively to Mrs. Nelson, though she kept sneaking glances Doc’s way. “Someone, I think, would miss your company should you leave.”
“I am sure that Miss Morton has no shortage of gentleman callers, Reverend.”
After he thanked Benjamin and Felicia for their hospitality, Ann Marie stepped forward, a gleam of delight in her eyes. “Do come again, Dr. Hancock. I can’t think of when I have so enjoyed an evening. Mother and I would find your company most agreeable.”
“Of course.”
As he turned to leave, Dr. Morton had a suspiciously satisfied smile on his face.
So smitten was Doc by green eyes, a dusting of freckles, that musical laugh and auburn hair, that he got lost twice on his way back to his room.
5
August 10, 1861
Hoe in hand, Sarah chopped a gap in the ditch bank, watching water flood down the row of maturing green corn, intermixed as it was with spreading squash and the beans just starting their pods. Her bonnet shaded her eyes and face, and her bare feet gripped the grass-covered soil. She’d tied her pale blond hair into a ponytail that hung down her back.
Behind her, Billy used his spade to block yesterday’s diversions and rechannel the ditch water downstream. The garden plot was only six acres, but with the war, food prices—along with everything else—were already soaring. The floodplain fields below the house were covered with twenty acres of wheat, ten of cotton, and five of tobacco.
In the three months since Paw and Butler had left to enlist, gold, silver, and even copper coins had nearly vanished from the country. State-issued Arkansas war bonds had begun to circulate in place of currency, but they were failing. Devalued to seventy cents on the dollar last she’d heard.
Barter—always the heart of the northwestern Arkansas economy—now resurged with a vengeance. Pratt’s store, up on the Telegraph Wire Road, carried only locally produced goods. Down in Fayetteville—so the stories said—merchants’ shelves were picked bare. Only last week General Ben McCulloch had marched his troops north into Missouri to “go whip the Federals.”
Sarah and Billy had taken the springboard up to Elkhorn Tavern to watch them pass. And that was an army? That motley hoard? She’d seen a ragged mismatch of men bearing just about every sort of weapon from flintlock fowling pieces, to muskets, to engraved-and-inlaid hunting rifles. The poorest of them, barefoot and half naked, had only carried cane knives. They’d shuffled along, joking and jesting, as they choked Telegraph Wire Road. From the heights, she’d watched them funnel down into Cross Timber Hollow and on into Missouri.
All of her life Paw and Butler had told her stories of armies marching off to war. She’d been forced to read the histories. Armies were supposed to step high with their colorful banners, gleaming armor and steel, and dash and pomp. She’d expected something grand.
To say she’d been disappointed was an understatement.
More than anything, she wanted to get on with her life. Paw had taken her to Little Rock when she was fifteen, and she’d fallen in love with the bustling city. Given Paw’s status in the legislature, she’d been introduced to some of Little Rock’s most prominent ladies. Paw had taken her to one of the Conways’ receptions. Awed by the peoples’ manners, their fine clothes, servants, and the stunningly furnished brick houses they lived in, she felt that night had changed her life. She had marveled at the embroidered—
“Hey!” Billy’s voice snapped her back to the present. “You dreaming again? You don’t cut that bank right soon, it’s gonna wash out the damn ditch!”
She shook herself, chopping with the hoe.
“Let me guess,” Billy told her snidely. “Dreaming of Little Rock again.”
Paw’s house on the upper White might be among the most imposing in Benton County, but compared to what she’d seen in Little Rock, it was less than second rate. “What if I was? I gotta marry somebody. If I stay in Benton County, my choices will be farming, tanning, or tavern trade. Not only do you keep beating up any beau who sets foot here, but I ain’t interested. Now, in Little Rock—”
“You still think Paw’s gonna take you come November?”
“He promised.” Her father made his seasonal journey to the capital every fall. Sure, Paw had his own motives for parading his beautiful blond daughter among Little Rock’s rich and influential. He undoubtedly figured she’d give him an advantage while playing one beau off against another.
Sarah smiled warily. Two could play that game.
She knew exactly the sort of man she’d be interested in. Solid, smart, and ambitious. Little Rock, she’d been led to believe, was bursting with eligible young bachelors. And Paw would be her avenue into the finest parlors in the city.
“Promised, huh?” Billy muttered. “But there’s no telling how the war’s going to reshuffle the deck. Paw might still be fighting.”
“War’s gonna be over soon,” she declared. But Billy had a point. Although in a way he hadn’t intended. Young officers—men who previously had had limited opportunities—would rise to prominence. Everything hinged on finding the right man. Someone she could love and respect. Someone seeking the same advancement of his position. The town belles, however, might have the benefits of the inside track with their fine dresses and houses.
“Which means I just
