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Abigail's Pursuit

By Jodie Wolfe

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1
Shippensburg, Pennsylvania
June 1, 1864

Dead. Dead. Dead. With each shovelful of dirt Abigail Stewart flung into the hole, the word reverberated in her soul. How could this be happening again? A tear slid down her cheek as silent sobs echoed through her frame. If only there'd been enough money to bury Pa in a pine box. She pinched her eyes closed as a shuddering breath escaped. She couldn't even afford to give her father a proper burial. Would God ever forgive her?

Wiping the moisture with the back of her hand, she returned to the business of filling Pa’s burial site. He would understand she'd done the best she could, wouldn't he?

Her arms quivered and tears flowed again with each shovelful she flung. What were You thinking, Lord?

The Almighty didn’t answer. He hadn’t stopped Pa from dying either. Or any of the rest of Abi’s family.

She sniffed, tamping the dirt flat with the back of her shovel. Didn’t seem right to just leave. She sucked in a breath as she snatched the worn hat from her head. Her shoulders quaked. “Lord, I don’t know why You’ve seen fit to take Pa from me. He was a good man.” Abi scrubbed the tears from her face, lifting her chin a notch. “Help me to preserve the legacy he and Granddaddy passed down to me.” Her gaze settled on the far field. Bright green corn leaves poked through the sun-hardened soil, the young plants blowing in the hot breeze. “While Pa has his reunion up there with the f-family… c-could You send some rain? We were counting on this crop. If only Pa had waited…” She raised her head to the clear blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. “I guess that’s it, Lord.” She swallowed despite the lump in her throat. “Amen.”

With a sigh, Abi turned away from the grave and plodded to the barn, dragging the shovel behind her. The tink of the metal blade against a rock sent a chill up her spine. She propped the shovel against the barn door and snagged the wooden bucket and an old rag just inside the interior. Abi tucked the bit of cloth into the waistband of her brother’s trousers. The bucket banged against her leg with each step as she traipsed to the back of the house her grandfather had built when he came to the area many years ago.

The pump handle creaked as she worked it up and down. Cool water splashed into the bucket. She dipped her fingers into the liquid, then touched her fingertips to her sweaty forehead. What she wouldn’t do for a bath, but it would have to wait. Abi headed back to the barn and scooped up the shovel. She fished the rag from her waistband and plunged it into the water. Scrubbing until every speck of dirt was cleaned from the blade, she set it aside to dry and stepped into the barn. Her horse knickered, calming her bruised spirit.

She crossed to the first stall where Dusty snorted and tossed her head. Abi wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck and held on as if it were the only thing to keep her upright. “What am I going to do without him?” she whispered.

Dusty nuzzled her side.

“Sorry, girl. No treats today.”

The horse didn’t move. Maybe they had a way of sensing things, the way dogs did.

Abi sniffled. “Guess I best get to it. Avoiding won’t make the task any easier.” She patted the mare’s head and turned back to the pail of water.

The water splashed as she hitched the bucket to rest on her hip. Trudging through the field, she took special care not to step on the newly growing corn. Her steps faltered as she got about halfway up the hill. Abi slowed, reluctant to get closer to the rock jutting from the dry soil. Crimson soaked one side. Her stomach churned. Abi gulped and closed her eyes as she poured half of the water on the rock, refusing to watch as Pa’s blood likely soaked into the ground along with the water.

Pouring a little more water, she opened her right eye partway and peeked at the area. Taking a deep breath, she opened both eyes and swirled the rag around in the water. She knelt and scrubbed the rock. Dipping the cloth again and again in the bucket and scrubbing the rock with every ounce of her being. Her fingers and shoulders began to ache. The hard dirt and little pebbles poked her knees. Tears ran down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Still, she persisted.

“What’re you doing?” A masculine voice broke through her mindless scrubbing.

She gasped, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peered up at him. Her limbs trembled as she stood.

He touched her elbow, steadying her.

Dark hair tumbled across his forehead. He looked familiar but she couldn’t place him. The blue coat from his Union uniform was slung over one shoulder. The brass buttons glimmered in the sunlight.

Abi shifted the bucket. “What can I do for you?”

The stranger stared at her for a minute. Almost as if she should know who he was.

She racked her brain trying to come up with a name.

“Is your pa here?” He adjusted a black hat, revealing striking blue eyes.
They reminded her of the summer sky. Except they had a hidden depth to them. Almost haunting.

“Miss?”

She blinked away the moisture lacing her eyes. Abi sniffed. “Pa… he’s um… not here.”

The young man glanced around. “I could wait for him.” He studied her as he ran a hand along his trimmed dark beard.

Her throat tightened. For a moment, the man’s profile reminded her of her fallen brother, Adam. Abi’s gut clenched. What would it have been like if Adam had made it home from the war? At least then she’d have someone to support her in her grief. Her chin quivered, and she fell to the ground in a heap. She couldn’t halt her sobs if she tried.
~*~
Daniel Thompson hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to excuse himself and quietly slip away or to somehow console the beautiful woman. While he felt like he knew Miss Stewart, she wouldn’t take too kindly to his being overly familiar with her. Especially when they’d never met in person. Besides, she may not be ready to hear who he really was.

Her weeping tugged him to take a step closer. Daniel dug in his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, pressing it into her hand.

Miss Stewart sniffed and grasped the slip of material, dabbing her nose and cheeks. Her big hazel eyes blinked a few times, studying him.

He wished he had the right to reach out and console her as she worked to get emotions under control.

She took several choppy breaths.

If only he could provide support and sympathy, but he hadn’t earned the right to do so. Hopefully one day.

“I-I’m sorry.” She turned her head away from him and blew her nose. When she shifted toward him again, her eyes were dry. “What were you wanting with… my… uh, pa?”

He studied her for a moment. Why was she having difficulty talking about her father? Daniel cleared his throat. “It’s better if I speak with him in person, miss.”

She gulped once. Twice. A third time before she finally answered. “He isn’t here.”

Daniel swept his hat from his head and ran his hands through his hair. This wasn’t the way he intended to make her acquaintance. “When can I expect him? If you let me know when’s he’s available, I’ll be sure to return.” He shoved his hat on his furrowed brow. Maybe it was best if he took his leave and returned when she had calmed.

Her chin twitched and a tear ran down her cheek. “I’m afraid he won’t ever be available again.”

“What?” She didn’t mean… He glanced at the rock she’d been scrubbing with the cloth. A splash of deep crimson shone from a spot a few inches to the left. He could be mistaken, but it appeared to be blood. Was that why she’d been trying to clean the rock? His hand shook at the sight. Gripping his fingers tight to halt the tremors, Daniel forced himself to glance away. It brought too many reminders. Ones he didn’t want to dwell on. It was his turn to avert his gaze and swallow a few times.

Get a grip, man.

“Sir?”

Sweat beaded above his upper lip as his heart thudded a loud drum in his ears.

“Mister?”

Daniel worked to get his pulse even. Before he could respond to her question, she took off at a run. Her honey-colored braid bouncing near her waist with each step she took. He struggled with not staring at her slim hips, clearly noticeable in the pair of men’s trousers she wore. His ma had taught him to respect a woman.

He took a deep breath of the warm spring air. Another breath had his pulse slowing. Daniel shifted a few feet away, careful not to tramp on the rows of corn poking from the dry ground. He’d made it to the end of the field before she headed his way, moving slower this time, and carrying a tall glass of water.
“Here.” She handed it to him.

Her fingers brushed his, and a spark shot up his arm. When was the last time he’d had another human touch him? Daniel couldn’t recall.

He nodded his thanks, not trusting his voice. Bringing the glass to his lips, Daniel took a long drink. Wiping the moisture from his mouth with the back of his hand, he nodded to her. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Her brow furrowed.

Daniel took another gulp of the water, forcing his memories of the war back into the deep recesses of his brain. He drained the glass and handed it back to her. “I appreciate it.”

She hugged it against her chest and stared at him for a minute. “You never did say why you were wanting to see my p-pa.” Her lower lip quavered. She blinked quickly, but no more tears came.

He scanned her face. “I take it he, uh… That is…” Had he mistaken the situation in the field?

A long sigh escaped her lips. “He’s dead.” Her words were wooden, like the split fence separating two fields.

His chest tightened. How could he deliver his news with what she’d just shared? “When did it happen?” He took a step closer to somehow provide her moral support.

“A couple hours ago.” Those hazel eyes filled with moisture again. “I just finished burying him and I was trying to clean up… that is… I’m guessing Pa somehow slipped and hit his head on the rock in the upper field. The horse must’ve spooked at something.” She motioned to the area where he’d found her a few minutes ago.

“Are you the one who discovered him?” His heart broke for her. She shouldn’t have to be shouldering this alone.

She gave a brief nod. “I guess I’m the last one in the family now. It’s all on me to keep the farm surviving.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds. Now was definitely not the time to deliver his news. Daniel patted his chest and the envelope inside the inner pocket of his jacket crinkled. Miss Stewart wouldn’t be ready to read the missive either.

She straightened her shoulders and swiped at her tears. “With Pa not here, or coming back, I guess you’ll have to tell me whatever it is you came all the way here to share with him, Mr.… I’m sorry, I never did catch your name.”

He’d do anything to keep her from experiencing more anguish today, but sharing his name would likely provide her with more trouble. “It’s uh, Mr. Thompson.”

Her chin came up, and her eyes flashed. “What’s your first name, Mr. Thomspon?”

He licked his lips before answering her. “It’s uh, Daniel Thompson.”

Color flared in her cheeks as she poked her finger in his chest. “You! How dare you show your face around here? You’re the reason my brother died. You have no business being on my property. Get off and never return. Or next time you’ll be seeing the business end of my shotgun.” 

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