Jack scowled. “How will I be able to live in the South after fighting for the North?”
“The real concern is where Missouri ends up. If she stays part of the Union, you claim the house, leaving me and Jesse out in the cold.”
“And if the Confederacy wins Missouri back?”
“Then I take up residence again. Either way, it’s only temporary. Either we all end up back in New Madrid or I sell the place and we start over somewhere new.”
“I’d like to head west. Lots of opportunity there,” Jack said.
“Are you serious?” Janet asked. “After all the work we’ve put into the house and farm? It’s our legacy.”
“Janet’s right. We won’t give up Hickory Grove without a fight. But Jack’s got a point, too. As long as we have capital, we can put down roots anywhere. Maybe even go back to Scotland.”
“You came to this country as a toddler, so don’t go on about the ‘old country.’ You probably can’t even remember Scotland.”
“A man never forgets the country of his birth.” He turned his bright gaze towards Diamond. “You were born and raised in Missouri, right?”
“Tennessee. I grew up in a small town on the river.” She stuck to the story she and Jesse had devised. If pressed, she would say it was close to Memphis, but she wouldn’t claim to be actually from Memphis since she wasn’t familiar with how the town looked in the nineteenth century.
“Your family no longer owns the property?”
“No, we lost if after my father’s death.” Again sticking to the made-up story. In actuality, her mother had held on to Diamond’s childhood home, but she didn’t own it in the 1860s. It hadn’t even been built yet.
“Too bad. It would have been nice to increase our holdings.”
Resentment surged as her father-in-law once again reduced her to dollars and cents, but she now knew it wasn’t personal. Ian judged every relationship by how much it would benefit him.
After breakfast Janet suggested they pay a call on Amy.
“Are you crazy? I only go there when I have to for Association meetings. Amy doesn’t like me. She thinks I stole her beau.”
“You did.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Fine. I will go alone.”
Diamond’s curiosity piqued. Janet hadn’t a lot of friends in the Association, because of Finn’s courtship, but some of her close friends had remained steadfast. Amy was not among them. Not only was she an ardent Rebel supporter, but she was too young to have formed a bond with Janet in childhood. Her reporter’s nose smelled a story. “No need. I’ve nothing better to do. I’ll go with you.”
A couple hours later, they set out for the Verdine house. To Diamond’s surprise, Sarah did not accompany them. Amy was out in the garden when they arrived and a maid led them to her.
Amy stood before an easel, painting a flowering dogwood tree in the yard’s corner. A flash of annoyance crossed her face when she saw her visitors, but she greeted them politely and instructed the maid to bring lemonade.
She dropped her brush into a cup of water. “I practice my painting skills most mornings.” She stepped back and studied her work.
Diamond preferred photography to sketching or painting, probably because she could barely draw a stick figure. Amy had captured a dreamy, impressionistic version of the tree and Diamond grudgingly admired it. “You’re very good.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t stop on our account,” Janet said. “I just wanted to ask you a couple questions.”
Amy plucked her brush from the water, dried it on a towel and then swirled it into a puddle of blue on her palette. “What do you want to know?”
“You’re friends with Beatrice. I wondered if she had heard from her sweetheart or if you had any news of Quantrill’s men.”
Beatrice was the girl who had fainted at the Ladies Association meeting. Was Janet probing for news of Finn? Odds were against him having taken part in the attack.
“I’m not sure I can trust you,” Amy said as she tinkered with the sky, deepening the shade of blue.
“Are Quantrill’s men here? Yes or no. It’s not like I could do anything to harm them even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”
“Some of them made it this far, but not Beatrice’s beau. The Yanks shot him in the arm and he’s holed up near the border. She wanted to go to him, but her mother won’t let her. No one knows how bad it is. He could lose the arm.” Amy shuddered and returned the brush to the water. “Can you imagine? Beatrice says she will still marry him.”
“Commendable,” Janet said. “I’m not sure what I would do if it happened to Finn.”
“Diamond doesn’t get a choice if Jesse loses a limb. She’s already married to him.” Amy’s voice was saccharine sweet with an undercurrent of anger.
“Here comes the lemonade,” Diamond said with some relief. “I’m parched.”
The women sat on a stone bench under the dogwood tree and sipped their drinks. There was no more grisly talk about the war. Instead, they discussed the weather and the difficulty of buying new fabric since much of it was made up north. Diamond’s attention drifted as they dug into the intricacies of hoop skirts and the shape of sleeves. Even in the twenty-first century, she didn’t follow fashion. She dressed for comfort unless she was on camera, and then she left the details to her stylist.
A bee, drunk on nectar, buzzed her head before alighting on a branch of the tree. At the edge of the yard, a bunny crept into view, saw them and froze, still as a ceramic yard ornament. A breeze caressed her neck and ruffled the curls Sarah had ironed into her hair. Her eyelids drooped, and she drank some lemonade, the sweet-tart taste pushing away her lethargy.
“Is Jack one of them?” she heard Janet ask in an abrupt tone.
“One of what?”
“Quantrill’s men.”
“How should I know?” Amy scowled. “I really need to get back to my painting before I lose the light.”
“Thanks
