The Widow of Rose Hill (The Women of Rose Hill Book 2) Read online

  THE WIDOW OF ROSE HILL BY MICHELLE SHOCKLEE

  Published by Smitten Historical Romance

  an imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas

  2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC 27614

  ISBN: 978-1-946016-40-9

  Copyright © 2018 by Michelle Shocklee

  Cover design by Elaina Lee

  Interior design by Karthick Srinivasan

  Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at: ShopLPC.com

  For more information on this book and the author visit:

  http://www.michelleshocklee.com/

  All rights reserved. Noncommercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “The Widow of Rose Hill by Michelle Shocklee published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”

  Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.TM Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.TM.

  Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas (LPCBooks.com): Robin Patchen, Pegg Thomas, Brian Cross, Judah Raine, and Lucie Winborne

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Shocklee, Michelle

  The Widow of Rose Hill / Michelle Shocklee 1st ed.

  Printed in the United States of America

  PRAISE FOR THE WIDOW OF ROSE HILL

  Michelle Shocklee not only writes about history, she puts the reader right in the middle of it. With characters so real they feel as if they are going to step off the page, this novel is one you won’t be able to put down. From the first page until the last, the reader will be drawn in to a story that keeps the pages turning. If you love history, especially the Civil War period, do not miss this novel!

  ~Kathleen Y’Barbo

  Best-selling author of The Inconvenient Marriage of Charlotte Beck

  The Widow of Rose Hill illuminates the turmoil of a nation in the aftermath of war and creates a portrait of healing, restoration and hope.

  ~Allison Pittman

  Author of Loving Luther

  Praise for The Planter’s Daughter

  Shocklee’s novel carried me to a past time, a unique culture, and held me captive. Its realistic setting, believable characters, and gripping storyline—told honestly yet never wallowing in ugliness—came together into a beautiful tale about following one’s conscience regardless of the cost. Kudos to Michelle on a lovely, heart-stirring debut.

  ~Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Award-winning author of My Heart Remembers

  Dedication

  For my sons, Taylor and Austin My joy. My pride. My heart.

  The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer.

  Psalm 18:2

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A Gift for You

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Williamson County, Texas

  June 1865

  “I declare, Carolina, I believe we will positively melt before the day is finished with us.”

  Seated on the swing on the wide front porch that graced the big house of Rose Hill plantation, Natalie Langford Ellis cooled her face with her favorite lace fan until the muscles in her arm cramped. Not even the uppermost branches of the great oaks near the house stirred in the sultry afternoon air. Nary a cloud floated in the clear blue sky to offer a brief respite.

  “Yes’m.” Carolina mopped her ebony skin with a damp cloth. From her place in a worn wicker chair near the rail, the young servant leaned forward to catch the whisper of a breeze that might venture past. “Summer jest gettin’ started, but we’s already feeling the misery. Don’t ’spect it’ll get better ’til after harvest.”

  With the toe of one slipper, Natalie lazily propelled the swing back and forth, the groan from rusty chains blending with the song of dozens of cicadas high in the tree branches. Childish laughter drew her attention to the sun-scorched lawn just down from the house where two small boys—one white and one black—played with a reddish-brown dog, the three of them rolling and chasing and generally doing what little boys and dogs do best.

  Natalie smiled despite the uncomfortable trail of sweat trickling down her back. She loved to watch Samuel play, all innocence and goodness, free of the heavy burdens his mother carried. “I believe my son will require two tubs of water to wash the filth from him tonight.”

  Carolina chuckled. “Master Samuel shore don’t take pleasure in bath time. Says if Isaac don’t have to bathe, why should he?”

  “Moses bathes his son in the creek, only he calls it swimming, so Isaac is none the wiser.” Natalie glanced toward the vast cotton fields west of the house. “Speaking of Moses, he should be here by now.”

  Dozens of slaves dotted the rolling green landscape, busy at their tasks in spite of the warm afternoon. Reflected sunshine glinted here and there as workers used hoes to attack ever-present weeds. Harvest was still many weeks away, so it was vital the unwanted plants remain under control lest they choke out the cash crop. Assuming, that was, she could market the cotton this season.

  Scanning the horizon and not finding Moses, she frowned. “I would like to know what he thinks about the beetles the workers discovered in the cornfield yesterday.”

  �
��Ain’t right you has to worry your pretty head about such things, Miz Natalie. You need a man to run this plantation.” Carolina punctuated her statement with a nod.

  Familiar ire tugged Natalie’s brow. The sixteen-year-old was much too outspoken. George would roll over in his grave if he knew she let the slave speak to her in such a forward manner. Her husband had never treated their Negroes as anything other than property. But George wasn’t there. He had decided the Confederate cause was more important than staying home with his wife and son, and he had paid the ultimate price.

  “Even if I agreed with you,” Natalie said, “which I don’t, the only men who aren’t away fighting that dreadful war are either too young or too old.”

  Wisely, Carolina didn’t comment further.

  A thin line of dust near the edge of the cotton fields caught Natalie’s eye a few minutes later. Squinting, she made out Moses’ large form lumbering up the trail to the house. With the spring rains long gone, every road and footpath on the property was caked with powdery dirt that filled the air and clung to shoes and clothes.

  “Finally, here comes Moses now.” She stood, noting a larger cloud of dust on the horizon some distance behind him. Perhaps the slaves were plowing a fallow field, although it seemed an odd time for such an activity. “Fetch a cup of water, Carolina. I’m certain he’ll be thirsty.”

  While the servant disappeared into the house, Natalie walked to the corner of the wide covered porch. Gratitude for the big slave welled up within her breast, though she could never let anyone know the extent of it. Rose Hill had been without an overseer for most of the war. She’d feared a revolt, or at the very least, an exodus of slaves once they realized no one would stop them from leaving. A few did escape, taking their chances with the patrols. They disappeared into the night, no doubt headed for Mexico. Moses had taken charge of the remaining workers then, seeing to it they planted, tended, and harvested the crops as though nothing had changed. She knew it was their respect for the big man and not a sense of loyalty toward her that kept them on the plantation.

  “Miz Natalie.” He panted as he reached the bottom of the steps. Rivers of sweat rolled down his face from beneath a floppy hat and soaked his homespun shirt. “I got news.” He bent over and placed his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

  Alarm washed over her. “I hope you’re not here to tell me those horrid beetles are destroying the corn.” How would she feed the slaves all winter if they lost the corn? “We haven’t the seed to replant if we lose the crop.”

  Moses straightened, his leathery brow tugged in a deep frown. “No, ma’am. That ain’t the news I has. The corn be fine. Look yonder.” He pointed to the large cloud of dust hanging in the still air. It was closer than it had been minutes before. “So’diers is comin’. Bluecoats, all.”

  Natalie gasped. “Bluecoats? Here?”

  “Yes’m. They’s comin’ real slow like they been travelin’ for a time, but they’s comin’.”

  Indeed, the shapes of many horses and riders emerged through the dust, making their way slowly up the long poplar-lined road.

  Carolina arrived on the porch and handed a tin cup of water to Moses, who downed the liquid in one swallow. She looked at the approaching swirl of dust. “Who that comin’?”

  “Soldiers. Yankee soldiers.” Natalie’s heart twisted with dread. The war couldn’t be going well if Yankees were in Texas. With no access to newspapers the last few years due to a statewide shortage of paper, word of mouth was the only way to keep up with the battles. It had been several months since she’d received any significant word on the war.

  Natalie spoke with a trembling voice. “Moses, get the rifle. Carolina, run inside and close the windows. Then go upstairs and hide my jewelry. Hurry!”

  Wide-eyed, the slaves ran to do her bidding while Natalie watched the riders approach, her stomach knotting with fear. Why were Yankees in Texas? The answer didn’t bode well.

  Moses returned to her side as the forms of sixty or more horsemen in blue Union coats became clear. The line of soldiers rode through the open whitewashed gate and entered the yard.

  “I’s put the gun next to the door inside,” Moses said, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the strangers. “I’s prayin’ we don’t gots to use it.”

  Natalie nodded. What could one gun do to protect them from these armed men? She had heard stories about homes across the South being pillaged and burned by vengeful Yankees. Was that what they were here to do? Burn her home and leave her destitute?

  The sound of a barking dog stilled her racing thoughts.

  Samuel!

  “Where is my son? Moses, where are the boys?” Horses and men blocked her view of the lawn where the children had been playing.

  “They be yonder, Miz Natalie.” He pointed to the far edge of the grass where Samuel and Isaac knelt beneath the branches of an ancient black walnut tree, clinging to the big dog to keep it from charging toward the soldiers.

  Though he was safe for the moment, she desperately wanted to call him, to tell him to run and hide in the barn. She remained mute lest she draw attention to the boys. Shadows from thick branches overhead made it difficult to see them, but the incessant barking of that mangy dog surely wouldn’t go unnoticed by the soldiers.

  As the men dismounted, a young Negro soldier separated himself from the group and approached the bottom of the steps. Natalie held her shock in check. She’d heard rumors both armies had begun to allow black men to join their ranks, but to see one in uniform was nothing less than startling.

  “Ma’am. Sir.” He gave a polite nod to include Moses. “The colonel requests permission to speak with the man in charge of this plantation.”

  Fear kept Natalie silent. To admit she was in charge would reveal her vulnerability. If only her father-in-law were still alive, no matter how unpleasant and cruel he’d become in those last years.

  “You may state your business and move on,” she said, her chin rising, though she felt little of the bravado she hoped she displayed. “We haven’t many provisions and no money to speak of. You will waste your time searching for either.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a tall man with a thick dark beard approach. While she’d never seen a Yankee officer before, he looked like she might have imagined. Broad shoulders filled out the dusty blue coat that reached nearly to his knees, giving way to equally dusty high black boots. A long saber hung from his belt, the handle tied with gold cord, while the emblem of two crossed miniature sabers on his hat reflected the afternoon sunshine. His very stride exuded power and confidence, and his dark eyes, when they met hers, sent a chill coursing through her.

  “Ma’am.” The deep timbre of his voice held no warmth. “I am Colonel Levi Maish, commander of this company. Let me assure you we have no need for your provisions or your money. There is, however, a matter of great importance which I must insist on discussing with the man in charge of this plantation. We will not leave until I have spoken to him.”

  For a brief moment, Natalie thought to tell the bearded man a lie. That her husband was simply away for the day, but upon his return, she would gladly relay any information the colonel wished to impart. But what if the Yankee chose to wait for the nonexistent husband?

  In the end, his words and forceful tone left little choice but to reveal herself as the owner of Rose Hill. All she could do was pray he would treat her and the slaves with compassion. Squaring her shoulders, she met his gaze without wavering.

  “As I said, sir. You may state your business, and then you may remove yourselves from my property.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Admiration stole over Levi at the blond beauty’s defiant attitude. He kept his expression stony, but he couldn’t help but be impressed that she’d stood up to an entire company of Union soldiers. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. She looked far too young to be the mistress of a large cotton plantation, with her long curls flowing down her back and tied simply with a ribbon. But he knew the war had
forced many women into roles they never would have assumed otherwise.

  He asked, “Your name?”

  “Mrs. Natalie Langford Ellis, mistress of Rose Hill plantation.” Her blue eyes sparked with pride.

  “Mrs. Ellis.” He gave a slight nod before turning to Corporal Banks. Without a word, that man offered Levi a folded piece of paper, having played out similar scenarios multiple times over the past week as they’d traveled north from the port city of Galveston, stopping at farms and plantations along the way. After studying the map and reading the notation regarding this particular location, Levi returned his attention to the woman. “My records indicate this plantation is owned by Luther Ellis. You are his wife?”

  “I was married to his son George.”

  “Was?”

  A long moment passed before she responded. “My husband was killed in the war. As for my father-in-law, Luther succumbed shortly after news of George’s death reached us. So you see, Colonel, Rose Hill is my property. I haven’t the time to stand on the porch, wasting away the day. You may state your business before you ride back in the direction you came from.”

  If his mission hadn’t been so serious, he might have chuckled at her feisty attitude. Instead, he inclined his head. “Very well, Mrs. Ellis. If I might have a word with you privately, I am to make you aware of a proclamation from the Executive of the United States to all Texas slave owners.” Corporal Banks handed him a second folded sheet of paper.

  A frown creased her smooth brow. “A proclamation?”

  “I believe you will understand once I read it to you. In the meantime, my men need to water their horses.”

  She glanced to the big Negro beside her. Levi hadn’t acknowledged the man before, simply because a slave was not the person in charge. But now he noticed how the man stood near her, legs braced, powerful arms stiff at his side as though ready to slay anyone who dared come near his mistress. When he gave a slight nod, Mrs. Ellis faced Levi again.

  “Please join me in the parlor, Colonel. Your men may take their horses to the creek, just past the quarter.”