put it on, then sat down before the mirror and brushed her hair.
Leah never considered herself pretty. She was too tall and gawky, to her thinking. She had always admired petite girls, small ones who had to look up at men.
I donât look up at many
. Then she smiled and said aloud, âExcept for Jeff. I hope he keeps on growing. Itâs nice for a man to be tall like that.â She ran the tortoise comb through her hair, which fell in honey-colored waves almost down to her waist. Finally she braided it and put it in a coil on the back of her head.
When she heard a horse and buggy pulling up on the road, she reached into a drawer and drew out her only piece of jewelry. Carefully she removed the gold locket and held it for a moment. She opened it and smiled at the image of Jeff peering straight at her, unsmiling.
He has such a nice smile
, she thought.
I donât know why heâs scowling like heâs got to pick cotton
. She snapped the chain to fasten it behind her neck, then walked to the door.
Jeff was just mounting the steps. âOh! Well, youâre all ready. Thatâs a shock!â
Leah saw that he was wearing his dress uniform with two rows of small buttons down the front. It was ash gray, and he had a campaign hat pulleddown over his eyes. Heâd gotten that trick, she knew, from Stonewall Jackson.
âIâm never late,â she said. âIâm ready if you are. Let me say good night to Uncle Silas.â
Soon the two were on their way, and Jeff said, âI wish we had a fancy buggy, but this wagonâs all I could commandeer. And these mules may be fit for plowing, but theyâre not very stylish.â
âAs long as they get us there, Jeff, thatâs all right. Tell me what youâve been doing.â She sat jolting along on the rough road and listening as he rambled on about what had been happening in the camp.
Then she said, âI donât know any of these people, the Driscolls. I wish Uncle Silas could have gone with us.â
âWell, weâre even. They donât know us either.â Jeff grinned. He had pulled his cap off, and his black hair was slightly curly from having just been washed.
A thought came to her. âJeff, I hope you never grow whiskers.â
âWhiskers!
What made you think of a thing like that?â
âOh, I donât know. Uncle Silas looks nice with his. Old men with white beards sort of look like Santa Claus, but I think most beards are just foolish. Donât raise any whiskers, please.â
He laughed at her. âWonât promise that. Stonewallâs got whiskers, and so has General Lee. Thatâs good enough for me!â
The two of them continued to enjoy each otherâs company, and at last they arrived at a very large two-story house set back off the road. Eight huge pillars in front formed a portico, and the windowson the first floor blazed with light. They could hear the sound of musicâfiddles and what sounded like a banjo.
âGuess theyâve already started,â Jeff said.
He pulled up the mules in front of the house, and a servant came to say, âTake these mules, suh?â
âYes, thanks.â Jeff looked at the fancy carriages and thoroughbred horses that were tied to a rail farther down, and he grinned at the man. âI guess these would do better to plow than to come to a place like this.â
âFine-looking animals, Captain.â The man grinned back, his teeth white in his black face. âIâll take good care of âem for you.â
âThat was a quick promotion,â Jeff murmured. âCaptain in one moment. Well, letâs get inside.â
They mounted the steps and were met at the door by a tall, distinguished-looking man. He had a full beard, brown and well tended, and he smiled, saying, âWe havenât met. Iâm John Driscoll, and this is my wife, Edith.â
âYou must know my Uncle Silas,â Leah