For the Love of Country

Chapter I

         That June was unbearably hot. The Spanish moss drooped even lower on the live oak branches than usual and the cotton turned their white heads toward God, pleading for rain. Even the Tombigbee that ran half a mile behind the big house was wasting away to a shallow stream in some places. In the slave quarters, where the stench of unwashed bodies and sweat was unbearable, the gardens of the 150 occupants were withering. The water the slaves carried from the river did little to encourage the vegetables to grow. Life in Cotton Gin Port, Mississippi had always undoubtedly been warm, but old timers were converging on sidewalks and exclaiming that they had not seen weather like this since 1811. The old gentlemen of long ago laid blame on the impending war with England and uprisings of the local natives, stating the young men had stirred up the weather with their hot air and oaths, and the aged were again stating the same. But now the year was 1860 and the enemies were just to the north.

         The denizens of Monroe county were acutely aware of the impending rift that had sank upon their country. Their land was one of cotton fields and dark black soil, where masters were elevated to the status of kings and slaves were regarded as property. On the outskirts of Cotton Gin Port, where the Tombigbee lazily wound it's way through the land, and old Indian trails frequently led home drunk young men in the dead of night, was where master and slave reigned supreme. These people were an arrogant lot. They were pioneers and frontiersmen in the early part of the century when Cotton Gin Port had been nameless and little else but a fort on the Tombigbee. But after the Treaty of Chickasaw Council-House in 1816 and the erection of a cotton gin on a high bluff for Chickasaw cotton cultivation, Cotton Gin Port was born. For a long time after the formation of the town, a restless class of drifters, adventurers and thrill seekers clustered about the small trading post town. But the weak and unfortunate were winnowed out and by the 1830s the plantation class began to arise and the remnants of that time still remained. The town had reached it's peak twelve years ago when the town boasted five hundred people and over twenty stores, and since then had began to decline. Yes, these people had withstood early frontier days when Indians lurked in shadows and the dark forests, and numerous riff raff and troublemakers abounded. But they had survived, and now safe and secure in their wealth and status, they felt threatened by Northern politicians and their promises of equal rights and freedom. Just as the old inhabitants of the county were gathering and complaining about the weather, men, young and old alike, met in each other's smoking parlors and porches and cried for action to be taken against the tyrannous North. Rarely did a woman speak her mind about the impending chaos, and if there was an opinion voiced, it was usually pushed down by raucous laughter.

         For the two girls stitching needlepoint quietly on the porch of their ancestral home, the conversation of war held little interest beyond a far off thought that a beau or brother may be foolish enough to join the local militia company. Every now and then the younger of the two, Kate, looked impatiently at the small Negro girl who swished a palmetto fan sporadically, doing little to dispel the smothering air.

         "Is something bothering you, dear?" Julia, who had seen the narrowing of her cousin's eyes toward the small child, ask quietly, laying a small hand on Kate's sleeve, as if to dissipate the impending anger. Kate laid the needlepoint in her lap and glared at the black girl. "If you can't do any better than that Athena, just go somewhere else, you're nearly blowing mine and Miss Julia's hair out of place when you do decide to fan us," she icily stated and picked up her needlepoint. The little slave backed away slowly from Kate, unsure if she would incur anymore wrath from her young mistress.

         "Oh," Julia breathed, startled at the harsh tone Kate had used. Usually she was so pleasant and patient to the slaves. "It's your ankle isn't it darling?" Julia ventured looking down at the foot that rested atop a green hassock. "Is it bothering you?"

         "No," Kate lied and threw her needlepoint to the bench across from her, thoroughly discouraged now.

         Julia smiled mischievously and tapped Kate on the arm. "I told you it wasn't a good idea sneaking out and traipsing through the woods like an Indian to Dark Pines."

         "Well if you hadn't got caught on that branch and woke up the whole damn-"

         "Kate, remember you're a lady," Julia reminded her younger cousin gently.

         "I sure didn't feel like a lady when I fell over that log and my pantalets were out in plain view. And now," she groaned pointing to her swollen ankle. "the doctor says I can't dance on it for two weeks," Kate scowled. Julia resumed her stitching and left Kate to brood over the misery she had created.

         Julia Eve Denton and Katherine Caroline McAllister, though first cousins, were as different as the seasons. Julia had come to live at Camellia plantation, so named for the camellia trees that stood as sentinels at each corner of the house, when she was barely five. Her mother, Kate's paternal aunt, had died in childbirth, and the family welcomed Julia and her father, Maxwell, to an extended stay when Kate was four. A week after they had arrived, the small, irritable Mr. Denton climbed atop her father's prized stallion and vanished in the dead of night. Julia still held onto the romantic thought that one day he would return, only taken a wrong turn and wound up lost in the Mississippi wilderness for the past twelve years. Kate knew otherwise, having been informed by her father and gossiping slaves that Mr. Maxwell Denton had caught gold fever and died in the California mines in 1850, stabbed over a woman of ill repute.

         Kate could not recall life on the plantation without her small, easily persuaded confidant, Julia. She had always been petite, like her father, barely reaching over five feet, and was often mistaken as a girl of eleven, not a woman of seventeen. Julia's slender face abounded with freckles despite the effort of the girls' mammy, Lucy, who slathered her face with buttermilk everyday and never let her leave the house without a parasol and enormous leghorn hat. Rarely did Julia have her personal servant, Nini, fix her hair in anything but a small, contrite bun that sat delicately on the back of her head. Her dark brown eyebrows were perfectly shaped, and Kate often told her how she envied her never needing to pluck them to perfection (which well bred ladies never did anyway). But her dark eyes enumerated warmth and kindness, and never gave her away, as Kate's often did. They shone like the sun's rays and were never cloudy with emotion. Julia's nose was too long and narrow, painted with freckles, and though small and tiny like the rest of her features, was the largest thing on her face. Her body was boyish at best; she had no bust and no need to wear a corset though she did, and Julia often padded her chest to give the impression that she had in fact hit puberty. She would one day make some local boy an exceptional wife, bred and raised to the nth degree of gentility and always aware of what a well bred lady should and should not do. She was not a beautiful girl, as she so often praised Kate, but there was a compassionate and serene aura that settled around her and Julia undoubtedly had the most friends in Cotton Gin Port and the surrounding towns of Lawrence and Quincy.

         Kate cared little for female companionship beyond her closest friend, Mae Ruby Driggs, whom had the reputation of being a fast piece. Kate had realized long ago she preferred male company to that of her sex, and viewed men as somewhat more reliable and stable than gossiping women and girls. Men were not the competition, women were. Julia, and the female slaves of the plantation held no threat, but she could vaguely remember disliking and distrusting her mother when she was young. At the tender age of five her mother occupied almost all of her father's free time and she pulled any hijinx or antics to win his attention and affection. She loved her mother dearly, her father held the largest piece of her heart, and she longed for his company more than anyone else. At times she still vied for his attention and personal touch; Julia, whom he viewed as a poor sweet orphan gained more of his time than Kate. Though she had cared for many a beaux before she would always love her dear, misunderstood father the best. And despite the fact that she gave her heart freely at times, her father, who never offered her more than a 'hello pussycat' in the morning, and small distracted kiss on the cheek at night, would always be the man she loved dearest.

         But she loved her cousin. Julia, who would listen patiently to her many problems and offer advice only when teary eyes were turned upon her, who would laugh and giggle until the early morning in Kate's over sized bed until they both fell asleep, was her pet. Julia had never let Kate down, as so many other relatives had done. She always rushed to her defense at the slightest unfairness, or some cases the appropriate justice taken, and protect her from harsh words or her father's bellowing oaths and punishments. Kate would have gladly returned the favor, but there was never a mean word spoken about Julia, or a nasty look shot in her direction. The girl who had came to stay for a short visit when Kate was four wound up being closer than a sister, and more loved than one. Kate knew as did everyone else that she was something special, a gentle soul who had to be shielded away from rain and reality. Though Kate would have harmed anyone who hurt her dear cousin, she never offered more to her than a hug or gentle affectionate pat. Kate knew Julia had more emotional stability and reasoning than she herself possessed, and chose to keep the affection to her self, appearing in the end the strong one.

         Dear, sweet, patient Julia who would quietly darn and stitch for hours, who never left the house without gloves and a chipper smile, and who was always kind and courteous, tried to instill the same qualities in Kate. And though Kate was a proper young lady in many areas, in most she was not.

         Compared to her cousin Kate was a different matter entirely. After her mother died from a fall when she was eight, Lucy was given the sole responsibility of bringing up Mist' Mathias only daughter. Kate rebelled as best she could and gave Lucy many a "mizrey in de back,". As a child she wanted to be like her older brothers and dress in pants, ride her pony astride and climb trees, but after breaking her wrist at eleven she outgrew her tomboy stage, and moved onto more demure activities. Somehow Lucy and Rose Gates Female College in neighboring Chickasaw county, did manage to cultivate Kate into a proper young southern belle, on the outside. Kate was known to throw temper tantrums, curse, hurl objects and slam doors, but as soon as the ire vanished she would curl up to the injured parties and swear she was sorry. Most of the time she was well behaved but was often reprimanded by her father and Lucy for speaking her mind too much.

         "A man wants his sweetheart to be as empty headed as a rotten stump," her father often told her.

         "Well what does he do when he marries her and realizes she's smarter than him?"

         "It's too late then," her father sighed.

         None of Kate's beaux cared to hear her thoughts or opinions, except one, and he usually made her so frustrated that in the end she would look him in the eye and declare, "I wish you'd go to hell in a hand basket,". Nearly all the young men paid little attention to anything but a young woman's looks, and Kate was no different. Where Julia was plain, Kate carried an air of sophistication and elegance. She could be charming and vivacious one moment and the next openly cut a beau who looked at another girl; rarely did she forgive someone without making them beg. But, all the men agreed, it was worth the begging to have Kate McAllister smile at them. Though Kate was not beautiful, she was the prettiest in Cotton Gin Port, and fulsome in her dancing abilities, which made her popular at barbeques and balls. Her blonde hair usually flowed freely about her shoulders, pinned up haphazardly in some places with pearl seed combs. And when she did wear her hair up, like a proper young lady should, she let her ears show, because they're very pretty ears, she reasoned, and by doing so offended many of the dowagers of northeastern Monroe county.

         Her blue eyes were a dead give-away to her emotions and her father frequently compared them to "a troubled sea that is ready to unleash God's fury". Her nose bothered her the most and she often compared it to, "a slaves nose,", large and unflattering. It was in reality perfectly symmetrical and complimented her face, but she complained it was too large and too rounded. Her round face had never lost the baby fat from youth and she always appeared younger than the actual age she was. She had dimples in her plump cheeks and perfect white teeth, and soft lips, or so the boys said who claimed to have kissed her, and when she smiled she was the picture of mischief restrained. Mathias' only daughter looked solely like him and Kate possessed no physical features of her dead mother except the same full bust, narrow waist, and dainty hands and feet that first attracted Mathias McAllister to Caroline Poe. She did inherit her mother's powder keg temper and everyone knew to steer clear of the girl when her eyes narrowed to slits and she set her jaw in a firm line. Kate could be vengeful and down right mean in her remarks, which always brought a stifled giggle from Julia, but she could also be kind and considerate when the mood struck. And for the most part life at Camellia was very peaceful if Kate was appeased and had her way, which for the most part, she did.

         Kate and Julia sat in silence, one diligently working on her needlepoint and the other brooding about her sore ankle and luck.

         "Do you hear that Jules?" Kate ask leaning up from the rocking chair and peering down the twisting drive, always eager for the latest visitor and their gossip.

         "No," she answered laying her project on the table between them. Julia rose from the chair, walked to the edge of the porch and peered through the Spanish moss. She turned toward Kate and replied, "Someone's coming up the drive."

         "In a buggy or horse?" Kate remotely countered.

         "A horse, a gray one I think."

         "Well, I'm sure it's a local idiot wanting Lucius or Josiah. Sit back down Julia, you look ridiculous standing on your tip toes, and I'm sure you're giving that rider a perfect view of your hoops and drawers," Kate hissed and tugged on Julia's skirt. Julia blushed from her neck to her hair line as she hurriedly sat down.

         "Do you really think he saw anything?" she wailed, clearly embarrassed at the thought of someone seeing the many layers of cloth hid under her skirt.

         "Oh, I don't know," she replied meanly, and seeing the wounded look on her cousin's face, softened her tone and replied, "No Jules, I'm sure he didn't see anything."

         At the sound of crunching gravel a Negro yard boy came running from the side of the house and stood like a statue awaiting the reins of the visitors horse. Neither of the girls could make out the rider and Julia peered around the tall white column blocking her view. She turned back to Kate with a smug grin spreading over her face.

         "You won't ever be-"

         "I bet I will," Kate groaned and adjusted her hair and smoothed the bodice of her dress to appear presentable. As soon as she heard the voice behind the column and trees thank the pickninny, her heart beat so hard she thought surely everyone could hear it's rhythm and see the pulsation under her dress. I am going to be mean and nasty to him, she told herself, as she watched him come to the steps. And I'm not going to giggle and act like a simple minded fool either, I'll show him.

         His Panama hat came off in a sweeping bow as he ascended the porch and a smile that started at the corners of his mouth was now wide and jeering at her, she was sure. He was dressed in very expensive blue broadcloth from the looks of it, which brought out his blue eyes and made his teeth look brilliantly white. He nodded to Julia in acknowledgement and sat down on the bench across Kate.

         "What is that ridiculous thing on your face?" Kate blurted out. He ran his fingers over his mustache and replied, "Don't you like it?"

         "It looks like a rat died on your face, a man has no business growing a mustache, he should either have a full beard or goatee," Kate replied and reached for the discarded needlepoint, he handed the stitching to her and despite the rude remark smiled.

         "It's all the rage in Europe," he answered.

         "How was your trip to Europe, Ethan?" Julia inquired. She was very fond of her neighbor and even though Kate tried to appear indifferent and aloof around him, Julia was aware of her true sentiments.

         "Fine, fine," he responded and lit a thin cheroot he pulled from his overcoat. "I met some very interesting ladies over there," Ethan looked at Kate as he made the statement hoping to bait her.

         "Oh, I'm sure you did, in what bawdy houses?" she venomously retorted. Julia let out an audible gasp and blushed once more. Even though all ladies knew of such things, and that some men of low moral standing frequented them, proper ladies never spoke of such things, even to each other.

         "Would it make any difference to you?" he countered.

         "Certainly not," Kate sniffed and went back to her needlepoint, but dissatisfied at her last remark ventured on to say, "Is there a purpose to your visit Mr. Embry?"

         "I had heard that you injured yourself," he smiled sweetly and glanced down at the smallest trace of a black slipper resting on the hassock by his feet.

         "Yes," Julia spoke up very quickly. "It was a most unfortunate accident."

         "You should be careful Kate," he said, mock concern in his voice, "I thought you were quite aware that the woods around my father's plantation are full of logs laying about."

         "I have no idea what you're talking about," Kate bristled and put her head down quickly to hide her flamed cheeks. Ethan chuckled softly to himself as Kate frantically began stitching small, lopsided yellow flowers on the cloth.

         "Perhaps I should go in," Julia suggested rising. Kate grabbed Julia's thin arm and pulled her back into the wicker chair forcefully. "No, cousin, stay," Kate affectionately said, arranging her face in pleasant lines, and then turning much colder, "I want you to see what a dog Ethan Embry can be."

         Julia, who was now to the point of tears at seeing such a personal exchange between two people, wanted nothing more than to be away from the scene of such barbed and baited words. Ethan had always been cordial and kind toward her, and she had never seen him act anything but to anyone else. Though she had lived with Kate for years, she never grew accustomed to the eruptions of anger and when given the choice steered clear of any argument or heated conversation. Ethan, who had clearly saw the distress on the small timid face, gave her an encouraging smile.

         "It's all right Julia, you can go in. I am never anything but the picture of a well meaning and well bred man around Kate and any other lady for that matter, I promise you," Ethan drawled slowly, dangling his watch chain between his fingers idly. Kate was sure there was a hint of sarcasm in his last words. Julia looked to her cousin for permission.

         "Oh go," she conceded and waved her away with a flick of the wrist. Julia left her chair so quickly that her hoops shook violently and swayed enough to revel the slightest glimpse of white pantalets. When Julia was nearly to the door, Kate called over her shoulder, "Well if the well bred Mr. Embry didn't see your drawers when you were on tiptoe he saw them now." Kate saw approvingly her cousin's cheeks redden before she found refuge in the house.

         "Now Kate that wasn't very nice," Ethan reprimanded and shook his head in mock disapproval. "Is that any way for a lady to behave?"

         "I never said I was a lady, and I'll thank you to not imply such blasphemous remarks," Kate looked him in the eye. "Do you want something Ethan?"

         "Well, as you know," he spoke smoothly and discarded his cigar in the spittoon that rested next to him. "I arrived home yesterday from my journey over seas, and naturally you were the first person I wanted to see," Ethan finished and gave her his best smile.

         "Stop smiling," Kate spoke sharply. "You look like the devil."

         "I have been called worse. As a matter of fact, much worse by you I believe. You don't believe I wanted to see you, my dear Kate?"

         "What makes you think I wished to see you. I don't care if I ever lay eyes on you again, and if you were as well bred as you say you are, you should have the sense to realize I hate you!" Kate snapped. She was shaking with anger and emotion and fought hard to control the tears that had started in the corners of her eyes. "Why didn't you visit Eva? I assumed she was your sweetheart after the way you two carried on at the Wilcox's last Christmas."

         Ethan rose from his seat and walked over where Kate sat with her arms folded and her face in a grim scowl. He patted her arm gently and then knelt down beside her, so he might look her in the eye and better read the emotion swimming in them.

         "Don't touch me you cad," she voiced icily and jerked her arm away from him. "Now I'll have to burn this dress, and daddy brought it home from Massachusetts just last week."

         "Oh come now Kate, you don't really hate me do you?" he inquired, peering into her blue eyes. She did not answer, only turned her head away defiantly. "That's what I thought," he replied and sat the Panama hat atop his dark brown hair. He walked down the steps to his horse and swung onto the thoroughbred with ease. The small yard Negro handed the reigns to him. "You're right about Eva, Kate," he called to her. Kate peered around the column, awaiting his next words anxiously. "She was a better sweetheart than you ever were, and I believe I'll see her now," and with that spoken he turned his horse. Kate, who gave no thought to the swollen ankle, raised from the chair and yelled to him as he trotted down the long avenue of magnolia and oak, "Why don't you go to hell in a hand basket Ethan Embry!" and after noticing the searing pain that was spreading up her leg called, "Julia! Come help me!" as she sank down into the chair and let the tears spill.

Chapter II

         Ethan Embry was the eldest, and most beloved son of Willis and Virginia Embry, the McAllister's closest neighbors to the west. Dark Pines boasted four hundred acres and over 130 slaves, but could never match Camellia's cotton yield or quality in the fall. Willis Embry was an arrogant and cruel man, passing the same arrogance onto his sons, and not a favorite of the planters that lived on the dirt road. They endured his cutting remarks about their crops and rude gestures he bestowed upon their daughters as best they could, and after their patience wore to thin tatters, refrained from calling him to a duel because they cared about Miss Virginia too much to leave her a widow. Though the resident planters cared little for Willis, most found his sons to be approving matches for their daughters, and gave minor thought that once married to Willis Embry's children, their daughter's would be subject to his cheek pinching and bottom tweaking.

         Ethan was a young man of twenty, still young and impressionable to the outside world, who used his mocking and arrogant manner to cover the feelings of insecurity and doubt that were buried inside. He was a smart man, who could often be found in Dark Pines library, re-reading literature about the Revolutionary War, and War of 1812, hoping that his knowledge of warfare would prove useful when called to the impending war. He had dreams of being a West Pointer, but a fractured leg ended those dreams at seventeen. He was an exceptional horseman and often told Kate that when the war began he would be in only the best and finest cavalry Mississippi offered. She would repeatedly ask if such a fine regiment would take a rider who had broken so many bones from frequent falls.

         Ethan's gray eyes were unreadable, and his face could be just as bland, if he so wished. There was a small gap in his front teeth, and as soon as he began growing facial hair, grew a beard to cover the imperfection. He was a man of tall stature, and towered over many of the people he came in contact with. His dark hair was clipped close and neat; he cared little for popular hairstyles, but the rest of his being was entirely won over by the latest fashions and styles that came from Paris and London. Kate regularly told him he cared more about clothes than she did. He knew proper etiquette better than she, and often pointed out her unladylike behavior (which was in poor taste and bad etiquette). In fact, he knew Kate better than she knew herself, and used this to his advantage. Ethan knew what subjects she excelled in (English and Latin), which ones bored her (politics and war), and how to make her fly off the handle with the slightest provocation.

         He often bragged he could trace the Embry genealogy back to fifteenth century England, and recounted with heroic details how every one of his ancestors fought in every war America had encountered. Kate cared little for his ancestors or their heroism and usually nodded absentmindedly whenever he broached the subject. Her interest in the McAllister lineage became spiked when one afternoon as he sat by her feet once again tracing his ancestors, he saw she was unenthused and told her the only reason she did not care was because she came from Irish peasants and nothing ever good came from Ireland.

         "Look at the famine," he pointed out. "They can't even feed their own people. It's a good thing my ancestors took over the country. Now the English, they know how to do things and do them right, unlike those micks," he drawled slowly, and awaited an out burst. He did not wait long, she quickly rose from her chair and yelled down to him, "I'll thank you very much to keep a civil tongue in your head when you're on this mick's property you, you damn limey!" and with that said she turned very curtly and walked into her home where she slammed the door with such force, it knocked her mother's portrait off the wall. Kate was sure she had heard her grandfather and father call all the Scots and English they knew 'limeys', including the Embry's, though she never knew why. She went straight into her father's study and seating herself with a thud on the gilt settee demanded to know her own genealogy.

         Mathias was taken aback when he saw the fervor in her eyes, the same emotion he had witnessed in her dear mother's and not wanting to have her anger directed at him, obliged and retold the stories he had heard as a child. The McAllister's were prosperous farmers from County Cork and at one time had over one hundred acres and tenants. They claimed to have been descended from Irish royalty and alleged their ancestors had known Saint Patrick. When King George I ascended the throne and sent Anglican priests into Ireland, their troubles began. Catholics could not bear arms, educate their children, unless they converted to Anglicanism and when the last of the Penal Laws, enacted in 1727 barred Catholics from voting, the McAllister's had had enough. After many of their family's ancestral land had been confiscated and relatives killed because they would not convert, they slipped away in the night and came to America, the land of religious freedom, in 1728. They too had fought in every American war, probably along side the Embry's, he remarked, and his parent's settled in Cotton Gin Port in the 1820s, only to leave, when he had a family of his own, for the delta region. Mathias was unaware he was telling his daughter false genealogy. Yes, the McAllister's had left Ireland in the dead of night and had proved their heroism in every war, but Mathias and his children were not McAllister's. Kate's grandmother, Anna, who originally hailed form Ohio, had married a man by the last name of Schoner in 1813 and by 1814 was left a widow with a small son. By 1816 she had married Saul McAllister, a prominent professor at the newly built Ohio University, and Mathias was soon given the last name of McAllister never to hear of his biological father who died in the battle of Chippawa.

         From that day on whenever Ethan raised the subject of family, Kate quickly quieted him with her family's equally impressive ancestry. He laughed when she stated her family had been descended from Irish kings and remarked all Irish declare they have nobility in them. Having clearly been put into place he would then give his latest opinion of John Brown or Senator Butler and the meddling of northern politicians and from there the conversation always turned to war. Kate cared little to hear talk of war, but she sopped up every word Ethan had to say, regarding war or any other matter he wished to discuss. Very simply, she was in love with him. Though they had been neighbors and playmates all her life, she had never given him a thought beyond friendship until a year ago.

         She had her pick of Cotton Gin Port and perhaps Aberdeen when it came to beaux. Last spring she had been enjoying herself immensely at the Elton's June barbeque, sitting in an alcove surrounded and admired by men from sixteen to thirty, but, she noticed unhappily Ethan was not among them. Her eyes scanned the floor and when she could not find him there, politely excused herself so she could locate and question him personally about his flamboyant rudeness. After searching the stately pillared two story home, she stumbled upon him in the backyard, hid in the shadows of the gazebo. She had raised her hand in greeting but after hearing a female voice mingled with Ethan's rough baritone, quickly retreated behind a cottonwood tree. From there she watched Eva Black coquettishly smile up at him underneath batting lashes and felt a pang she had never know before, start in the pit of her stomach. When Ethan leaned down to kiss Eva in the semi-darkness, Kate stamped her foot in anger and fled to the house where she remained in an interminable foul mood the rest of the ball. From that day when she felt jealousy for the first time, she wanted Ethan, and set her mind that she would have him.

         When Eva left the next month for a stay in New Orleans, Kate charmed Ethan with her shy smiles and pleasant conversations. She did not care that she was flirting with a man already deep into the rules of courting, and one who was squiring about a girl who had once been a friend. The heart wants what it wants, she had reasoned and beyond that gave the matter little thought. Their courtship was frowned upon by Willis, who knew Mathias openly thought him a brutal slave owner, and by Mathias and who knew Willis openly thought of him as a drunkard. Kate and Ethan's courtship was on the heels of engagement when Eva came home that December. Kate was unaware that their relationship had indeed ended, until searching for Ethan at the Wilcox Christmas party, stumbled upon Eva and him in a lovers embrace in the main hall. Since then she had made up her mind to be entirely hateful, spiteful and mean to him, and for the most part she was.

         Her oldest brother, Josiah, and Ethan's closest friend, often stated that he would "shoot that scoundrel, and in the back too," after the way he broke his sister's heart and disgraced her. Even though Kate still spoke to Ethan, Josiah would not offer any form of recognition to his old playmate. But often after Kate and Ethan's meetings ended and he rode away, leaving Kate to her real feelings after the anger subsided, Julia could hear her softly crying in her locked bedroom.

         Ethan, unaware of Kate's broken heart, rarely thought of other people's feelings and not caring for people's emotions interfering with his own, assumed she would move on with ease. While at Rose Gates in Okolona she tried to smile and flirt with the boys of the town, but often went back to her room left with a void and deep hurt that, no matter what she tried, would not go away. Her moods fluctuated greatly and some days she could be as carefree and pleasant with the boys as she had been the summer before. And then there were other days when even the patient Julia steered clear of her frowns and rants.

         Kate's apparent depression became increasingly worse in February when Ethan left for his tour of Europe. She anticipated letters every Saturday from him, hoping that once away from Eva, he would realize his mistake and beg forgiveness. But no such letters came. Her father, barely noticing the unhappiness in her sporadic letters, sent small trinkets hoping to cheer her.

         "He thinks I'm a child!" she exclaimed to Julia after receiving a coral bracelet. "Daddy thinks he can give me some bauble and I'll be all better. I bet he's never had a broken heart."

         Kate, so quickly to forgot other people's feelings when confronting her own, never thought of the hurt her father endured when her mother died. She could barely recall the many nights his sobs had awoken her, or the long hours he spent at the lone tombstone in the backyard. Time had blurred out the gaunt look her father wore for months after he laid his wife in the ground. Kate was only a child when her mother died, and she did not know what a drunk man looked like or how often her father nursed his pain with whiskey every day. She and Julia were sent away to Mathias' parents two months after Caroline died, when it was obvious Mathias was worsening. They returned home four months later to a pale, thin man who looked nothing like the father and uncle they left behind. He had transformed from the joking, easy going man into a man of few words who hated to be bothered.

         One day in March, when she was feeling especially low, a letter came from her gossip hungry friend Mae Ruby, that pinked her cheeks and brought the first real smile in months. Mae Ruby was Eva Black's closest neighbor and Eva always disclosed the latest contents of Ethan's letters, unaware that it was being directly retold to her greatest enemy. While in Europe Ethan had reached a conclusion that he no longer wanted to be tied to one sweetheart and ended things with Eva. As if being discarded so casually was not bad enough, he had the horrible taste to do so in a letter. Kate smiled each time she thought of Eva's face contorted with tears, and hating to be away from Eva's fresh pain, sent a wave of gloomy letters home.

         Her father finally noticed the melancholy in her teary letters, and dismissing it for homesickness, sent for her and Julia immediately in May, reasoning that if his daughter was unhappy then his niece must have the same sentiments. Julia, in fact, loved Rose Gates, and had found herself a beau, though not greatly attractive and not overly wealthy, and was deeply disappointed when called home at the end of the school year, not to return in the fall. Though she was saddened by her uncle's decision, she loved her cousin more than herself and her beau combined, and went home with the triumphant Kate, thinking of ways to cheer her.

         Once Kate stepped foot on Camellia's black soil her spirits soared. A little too quickly and a little too highly for Lucy. When Kate's happiness grew even higher in the middle of June, Lucy knew she had been duped. Kate could fool her father and everyone else when it mattered, but she could push nothing past the wise old black woman who had raised her since a baby. She had often thought Lucy knew more than she should, and quietly wondered if she could read thoughts.

         "Ah knows efen nobody else do, why ya wanted ter come home so bad," Lucy said to her one morning as she began lacing her corset. Kate had her own personal servant, Nolia, who usually helped her dress and then fix her hair, but Nolia could easily be intimidated into letting Kate wear inappropriate clothing, and the job went back to the thin Lucy.

         "And why's that Lucy?" Kate ask, turning to get a better look at the ageless eyes.

         "Ya come back ter wait on Mist' Ethan, an steal im out from Miss Eva," Lucy stated and pulled her stays tighter, trying to push the air from the girl so she could not respond.

         "I did no such thing!" Kate declared angrily and then toned her voice down. "Anyway he doesn't want Miss Eva anymore, he wrote her that he no longer loved her. Besides I came back because I missed you so much Lucy."

         "Mmhhmm, Ah bet ya sho did. Side chile whut will folks say bout ya goin after someone who already hurt ya so?"

         "They won't say anything," Kate calmly replied. "You just watch."

         "Yes'm Ahs tend ter, an close, ain't very much dat gits pas dis ole gal," Lucy spoke and lifted the dress over Kate's head. "But chile it breaks muh heart ter think of whut folks says bout Miss Caroline and Mist' Mathias only gal, ya knows dey sayin ya ain't mo dan-"

         "All right Lucy, you can go now," Kate interrupted and brushed Lucy's hands away from her hair. She knew people were saying nothing negative about her, Lucy only used that as an excuse to tell her young charge what she thought of her.

         Kate looked restlessly for Ethan's return since the middle of June. She dressed each morning with added care, and made sure to wear dresses of only the most delicate blue that brought out her eyes. Each day she positioned herself ever so prettily on the wicker rocking chair awaiting his arrival. She always had stitching or a book in her hands to appear as if she was going about her normal routine and not lingering for him. But the days drifted by and she had read Wuthering Heights twice and was frequently scolded for sitting so long in the hot sun, and still he did not come.

         When she was in a very irritable mood over her ankle, and dressed in a very ordinary burgundy dress, because all her blue ones were being laundered, then he came. The meeting did not go the way she had rehearsed each night as she lay in bed; her ending often had Ethan on bended knee proposing marriage, not asking if she hated him. She had made up her mind those many days on the porch that she was going to be sweet and charming, but seeing his sardonic face she lapsed into her normal personality.

         Once he had ridden out of sight she fled to her room and sobbed heavily. Humiliation still white hot on her injured pride she hobbled over to her bedroom door and slammed it twice for good measure. By now all her family and slaves had grown immune to her recurrent rages, and when no one rushed to her aide to ask what that dirty varmint had said to upset her so, she limped back to the bed. Kate mustered all the fury left she could and flung herself on the feather mattress and bitterly cried herself to sleep, sure she would forever hate Ethan and all things English.