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Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief as Rhett guided the
panicked horse out of the fiery depot. Nothing could be
worse than the inferno they'd just been through. The horse
seemed to agree, moving forward at a steady clip of his own
volition, eager to put as much distance between the fire as
possible. Rhett was silent as he navigated the back
streets of Atlanta, trying to stay away from the chaos
breaking out in the main areas of town.
Hazarding a glance behind her, she saw Wade curled up next
to Prissy, both of whom appeared to be shocked into
silence. Even Melly's baby had ceased to cry out from
Prissy's arms. Scarlett felt a flash of sympathy for
Melly, being bounced around in the back of this disgraceful
excuse for a wagon so soon after giving birth. Mercifully,
it appeared Melly had fainted, her face ashen and her eyes
closed without evidence of pain. She turned away from
them, reassured that everyone she was responsible for had
made it safely thus far.
One hand remained on Rhett's capable arm, gaining
reassurance from the strength she felt there. He appeared
to have a light, steady grip on the reins, but the muscles
she felt through the fabric of his shirt were like steel,
strong and safe, able to protect her from the madness
around them. Half of what they passed on the way to the
road to Jonesboro she would never remember enough of to
recount to anyone later, shell-shocked as she was.
Suddenly, she was jarred from her reverie as three men
closed in on the wagon. Rhett pulled away from her, all
his attention focused on keeping the horse moving forward
and out of the grasp of the men. She reached over and
pulled one of the guns out of his holster, eliciting a wry
grin from him, even as his attention was focused on other
matters. Even a crack of the whip against the horse's back
couldn't keep it moving forward as two of the men grabbed
its bridle, halting any forward motion.
Rhett handed the reins over to Scarlett as he moved
forward, trying to move the men away. No words were
exchanged in the silent power struggle, leaving Scarlett
watching helplessly, doing her best to remain calm, knowing
it would do no good to panic. Rhett's pistol was folded
into the skirts gathered in her lap, close the where her
hands held the reins, trying to pretend she was simply out
for a Sunday drive, the type her father had taken her on
when she was younger.
One of the men was flung away from the wagon's side by
Rhett's brute strength, falling heavily onto the dusty clay
road. Watching him fall, Rhett failed to notice that
another man who had previously been holding the horse's
left cheekpiece had moved away. Scarlett took note, trying
to urge the horse forward, despite the hold on its right
side, resulting in a slight turning of the wagon with no
forward movement. As the wagon was coming to a halt,
Scarlett, frustrated with her failure to make progress,
failed to see the man who had appeared to be giving up come
closer to Rhett, his fist raised above his head.
A sharp crack broke the silent struggle, and Scarlett saw a
brick falling out of the man's hand and glancing off
Rhett's head. In that moment she did panic, crying out
enough to startle the horse forward and out of the
remaining man's grasp even as she lunged forward to grab at
Rhett's arm. With the assistance of the wagon's forward
momentum, she was able to pull him back onto the bench next
to her.
His eyes lolled in his head, focusing briefly on her face
before falling closed. She tried to support his weight
against her side while reining in the panicked horse. By
some miracle, she held him next to her while slowing the
horse to a trot, allowing it to move freely down the road
ahead as she focused on Rhett. His weight was far to great
for her to support on her own for very long.
"Damn him," she thought, "right when I need him the most."
Yet she knew he needed her now, would be another of those
she brought back to Tara seeking asylum from the madness
into which her world had plunged. She kept an arm tight
around his waist for nearly a mile before she slowed the
horse, hoping she'd put enough distance between any
pursuers.
"Rhett? Can you hear me at all?"
A low moan escaped his lips, but no other sign of awareness
was present in his heavy, limp form.
"I'm going to lay you back here with Melly and Prissy, and
let Wade be the little gentleman he is and help me drive
this wagon on home." She spoke loudly enough for all to
hear, as much to reassure herself as to reassure them.
Wade's frightened face lit up at her words, unsure of what
she meant, but happy to have some recognition from his
mother that did not seem instantly negative.
"Prissy, stop hiding back there like a goose and help me
move Mister Rhett back there with Miss Melly. I can't do
everything myself." Between the two of them, Rhett was
placed unceremoniously on the hard wagon bed next to
Melly's unconscious form.
Wade watched with wide eyes as his mother struggled,
obviously worried not only about this man, but about all of
them. When she finished lowering Rhett's form into the
back, she pulled him up onto the bench with her, leaving
Prissy to find space for herself and the baby.
"Would you like to hold the whip, Wade, while Mother
drives?" Scarlett was exhausted. Normally without
patience for the boy that would have been heightened in
such a state, something told her to occupy his mind until
he fell asleep. He eagerly took the buggy whip from her
hand, barely tapping the horse on the back with it when she
nodded to him. In very little time, he fell asleep against
her side, leaving her to contemplate the day's events alone
on the road.
She had no idea what she would do once they were home.
Assuming there was a home, if Rhett's earlier words were to
be believed. At that moment, she had no choice but to
trust that Tara would be there waiting for her, just as her
mother and Mammy's open arms would be. If only they could
make it through this long night, everything would be just
fine once they reached Tara. She had to keep believing, or
the desolation she saw around her would drive her mad.
The heat of day scorched them, melting away any reserves of
energy left. Creeks that would once have been sources of
water along the wagon trace from Rough and Ready to Twelve
Oaks were either muddied from thousands of soldiers
tramping through them or dried up under the nearly
unbearable heat. Scarlett was glad she'd brought a bonnet
to protect her face from the glaring rays. The others in
the wagon weren't so lucky, as Wade tried to find shelter
in his mother's shadow, and Prissy did her best to cover
the baby. There was no helping Melly or Rhett, however,
whose faces Scarlett could see becoming redder as the day
passed.
Never was Scarlett happier than when the heaving horse
turned onto the road near Twelve Oaks. She hesitated,
letting the horse stop and ease its labored breathing. The
tree-lined drive obscured any view of the house. The
desire to stop here in the twilight, leave Melly with her
own kin before continuing to Tara, was strong. She knew
they all needed to be off this damned wagon and find rest
and refreshment somewhere. Twelve Oaks would be as good a
spot as any, and John Wilkes would not refuse them his
assistance.
The horse was reluctant to move forward again, and the
light tap-tap-tap Wade gave it did little to motivate him.
Slowly, they gained momentum and moved down the drive, in
the black shadows of trees, the moon obscured by clouds.
The end of the drive, where Scarlett had expected to see
the massive white form of the house, was dark, and remained
so even after the clouds parted and moonlight illuminated
the spaces between tree branches.
She pulled up the horse and handed the reins over to Wade.
She knew there was no danger of the boy needing to control
the animal, who was content to reach down and eat the large
clumps of weeds growing in the margins of the drive. Her
body ached as she climbed out of the wagon, cautiously
making her way towards the house. Almost unconsciously,
her right hand came to rest on Rhett's pistol, tucked
securely into her skirt.
As she approached what had been the porch, she came face to
face with the devastation wrought by war. The portico,
with its grand columns, stood, but the door and windows
were gone, what whitewash that had not chipped off was
charred with smoke. Stepping through the doorway, she
choked back a sob. Most of the house was gone, collapsed
under some impact or explosion. Rubble littered the
parquet floor, small pieces working its way into her
slippers as she picked her way through it. She was glad
Melly was unconscious and unable to see the devastation
wrought to the house, and happy no one was nearby to see
the tears that pooled in her eyes and threatened to stream
down her cheeks. With her blazing green eyes, she'd never
been able hide the redness of tears, as the contrast only
drew attention to them.
Rubble shifted near what once was the grand staircase. Her
hand flew to the pistol as she looked for a place to hide.
Relief flooded her when an emaciated cow stumbled across
the floor, curious at the return of life to the desolation.
She sighed, knowing there was no help for any of them here
and not wanting to admit that she might find Tara in a very
similar state.
Walking to the doorway with the cow curiously following
behind her, she called out. "Prissy, come in here and help
me tie up this cow. We can take her along with us."
The cow ambled slowly behind the wagon, content at the
companionship of other living things. Wade had been
enchanted by the animal, and Scarlett had reluctantly let
him help tie it to the wagon. His request to sit at the
back and pet it as they moved down the road had been
denied, however, with his mother claiming she needed his
help to drive the wagon. Only this was enough to satisfy
his desire to be helpful and be loved. His young mind was
unable to understand why his mother was suddenly being kind
to him; even Scarlett herself would have been unable to
explain her shifting behavior.
The short miles to Tara passed in silence, as Scarlett
contemplated what she might find there. She had no idea
where they would go if it was in the same state as Twelve
Oaks; there were several other plantations around she knew
would be willing to help them, but the Fontaines or the
Tarletons would not be permanent solutions to their
problem. The night provided no answers, as clouds rolled
over the moon, keeping most of their journey in darkness,
its silence broached only by the creaking of the wagon and
the chirping of insects. The magnolia and cotton blossoms
which filled the air with their perfumes in all the nights
of Scarlett's childhood were not to be found in the air
that night, replaced instead by the smells of dirt and
musty decay.
As they crested the rise before the drive to Tara, Scarlett
peered through the darkness, trying to see the house. The
moon provided no help, as unbroken clouds blocked even
starlight from aiding her. Eager to be home, even if it
was no more, she took the whip from Wade's slumbering hand,
cracking it across the horse's back. It stumbled, nearly
falling to its knees, more exhausted than its passengers.
Steadily, it recovered, moving ahead out of sheer desire to
please, trying to trot on at a good clip. The cow
straggled behind, doing its best to keep pace. A quiet
moan escaped from Melly as they bounced down the drive, the
first sound she'd made since Scarlett had tried to give her
a bit of water that afternoon.
Before the wagon ground to a halt, Scarlett dropped the
reins and leapt over the sideboard. She hit the ground
running, ignoring the bits of stone and dirt tearing at the
soles of her feet. The porch was still there, and there
were faint reflections in windowpanes, though there were no
lights from inside. The dark silence of the house,
formerly so lively, left her standing still at the front
door, almost afraid of what she would find when she
knocked.
Her fears had not prepared her for the empty look in her
father's eyes, looking at her but failing to recognize her.
"Pa? It's me Pa, Katie Scarlett."
"Katie Scarlett? Why, what are you doing out of the house
alone at this hour? Mrs. O'Hara must hear about this."
Before she could respond, Mammy came up behind Gerald,
putting her hand on his arm. Scarlett stood, agape, unsure
of how to react. What could have driven her father to such
a state? As Gerald shuffled down the hall, Mammy stepped
out to meet her, enfolding her in loving arms.
"Chile, I sho is glad you home. We been needin you here
these last days, we sho'ly have." Her eyes, never missing
a thing, looked past Scarlett's shoulder to the wagon,
where Wade still sat on the seat like a statue as Prissy
tried to climb down while holding the baby. "Wat you got
all these folks with you and don't be helping them down an'
up to da house? Where yo manners, I done raised you better
than that."
"Oh." In her joy at returning, Scarlett had forgotten
everything but the people inside the house. She turned to
see the forlorn wagon with its sad occupants and beasts.
"Well, Mammy, I brought Miss Melly back with me, and her
newborn baby. I don't know what Prissy was doing, saying
she knew anything about delivering a baby. I could have
used your help." She bit her lip, hoping the flattery
would spare Mammy's suspicion about Rhett's presence, but
she knew it was to no avail. "And then there's Mister
Butler, who was so kindly helping us evacuate when he was
struck on the head. I felt obligated to take care of him,
after all the help he was in providing a horse and wagon."
"Miss Scarlett, bringing a baby inta this house ain't the
best thing ta be doing right now. Your sisters, they took
sick with the typhoid. Your mother been nursing 'em night
and day, not resting at all for herself. And when other
folks, they come down wit it too, she be helping them just
as much as she help her own girls. People like those no
'count Slattery folks. She done take sick wit it herself.
Miss Scarlett, last night, well, yo ma she done passed on
last night."
For the first time she could remember, there were tears of
sorrow in the old woman's eyes. Scarlett saw them
springing up as she spoke, and her own face paled
accordingly. What was she to do without Mother? How would
everyone be taken care of? This must be why Pa seemed out
of his mind. She sat down on the edge of the porch, coming
down hard onto the brick without noticing. For several
long moments she sat, silent, as Mammy looked down at her,
the sick guests in the wagon forgotten.
"Well, Mammy, we'll just have to go on without her then.
Have arrangements for the funeral been made?"
Mammy shook her head, stunned yet proud that one of the
girls she loved as her own daughter faced adversity so
resiliently. She had always known Scarlett was the
strongest of the O'Hara girls, with a will like iron. This
strength had never before been tested by anything of
consequence, and to see her answer this challenge better
than the petty battles of will she'd had as a child was
heartening.
"Very well, I'll start planning tomorrow, and notifying
what neighbors we have left, if you'll be so kind as to
tell me who that might be. Now, we should see to getting
these guests of mine into the house."
Scarlett rose slowly from the bricks, squaring her
shoulders and moving determinedly ahead. She was not sure
how to face this uncertain future as the de facto head of
the family, but she would make do, and make her mother
proud. There were more important things now than grief.
That would come later, when there was time for such
luxuries.
Red clay, moistened by sudden thunderstorms, adhered to the
battered slippers covering her feet. For once in her life,
Scarlett failed to notice or care about such details. Her
mind was focused on the grave she was walking away from,
entombing her mother next two three brothers she'd never
known. Everyone else had made their way back to the house
while Scarlett lingered, finally taking a few moments to
mourn after two days of doing her best to right the chaos
that had enveloped Tara following her mother's death.
Suellen and Careen were still too sick to get out of bed,
where they remained under Mammy's able care. Scarlett had
them both moved into Suellen's room, giving Careen's to
Wade. Melly and baby Beau were given the extra bedroom,
always reserved for visitors, to recover in without the
risk of exposing either her or the baby to any lingering
chances of typhoid. She'd pondered some time over what to
do with Rhett. Eventually, she'd had Pork put him in her
old room, moving a few things of her own into Ellen's
office. She had helped nurse them all, spending more time
with Rhett as no one else in the house had any ties to him
at all, feeling less concern for his recovery than Melly or
the O'Hara sisters.
Her father had been the most troubling of all. His world
had disappeared with the loss of Ellen, leaving him
confused and disoriented. Several times he had referred to
her by her mother's name, and appeared not to have any
memory of where he was. Typhoid and head injuries she
could help; Gerald's wounds she did not know how to heal.
Time, she hoped, would right things in his mind just as it
would in the world.
Dilcey and Mammy were beginning to light a few candles
around the house, sending points of light out to greet her
as she came up the hill to the house. They'd had some luck
in finding stray vegetables not eaten by the occupying
Yankees, and both Mammy and Dilcey had become handy at
creating meals with what they had. Scarlett was thankful
for this, as she had no aptitude in the kitchen, and
accepted whatever they provided her with.
"Mammy, what have you cooked up for me tonight?" Forced
casualness radiated from her voice as she entered the
dining room. Whatever she was given, she would eat
gratefully. The best of what they could find to eat was
given to the recovering, leaving most of her meals nothing
more than broth.
"Since today such a sad one, I figgered we should do as
best we could. We gots some bits of old ham and some
potatoes."
Scarlett knew that bits of ham and some potatoes meant
barely enough to taste, but it would do. "Fix me up two
plates then, please. I'll have my dinner up with Mister
Rhett. I'm sure he'd like some company." As he regained
consciousness, his presence had been a godsend for her.
While he was still not in any condition to be getting out
of bed, he was a willing ear to her true thoughts and
feelings, just as he'd always been.
Rhett had been granted the luxury of a candle, burning away
the precious resource as he sat reading in bed. He lowered
the tome as Scarlett stepped down into the room, dinner
tray in hand. She gave the book a cursory glance, glad to
know that something she'd found in the study had been
sufficient to entertain him.
"Dinner is served, sir." The humor in her tone, to her
surprise, didn't feel forced. It was easier to have a
lighter outlook with Rhett around.
"Thank you very much, my dear Mrs. Hamilton." He had been
restrained in his mocking of her since arriving at Tara.
In the space of two brief days, Scarlett seemed to be
transformed, and he hardly recognized the responsible,
caring person who entered his room every day.
"I know it's not much. But it's the best we can do, for
now. Hopefully, soon, I can try to talk to Pa, find some
more money..." She trailed off, unsure why she was making
excuses.
"Why don't you give yourself a break from all that for a
few moments and join me for dinner. You look like you've
had a hell of a day."
"Rhett! Don't say such things, Mammy would have you out of
the house in a minute, sick or not, if she heard you talk
like that!"
For the first time in days, laughter broke the melancholy
that had been hanging over all of them. Joyful and deep,
Rhett's laugh shed a ray of light into the morose
household. It was infectious, and Scarlett felt a smile
break across her face, giving way to her own laughter.
As she sat in the high-backed chair next to the bed, her
laughter gave way suddenly to the tears she'd been holding
back. Try as she might, she was unable to stop their flow.
Burying her face in the coverlet at Rhett's side, she let
them come, hoping he would not think her weak for them.
Tenderly his hand came up to stroke her hair, letting her
have the release she needed.
"Scarlett." Never before had she heard such genuine
tenderness in his voice. His hand dropped down to her
shoulder as she lifted her face from the coverlet, ashamed
to meet his eyes. She was supposed to be taking care of
him, not the other way around. "Come here."
Unsure of anything in this topsy-turvy world, she pushed
what Mammy would think out of her mind as she let Rhett
push his dinner tray out of the way and settle her at his
side, one of his arms around her waist.
"Tell me what's going on in that head of yours, my pet."
Sniffling, she searched for an appropriate opening. "I
wanted to come back here because...because it's always been
the place I feel safe. My mother, she always took care of
all of us. Everything was always all right when she was
here. But, oh, but Rhett things aren't all right.
Mother's...Mother's dead, and the security that went with
her is gone." Pausing, she tried to get her sobs under
control.
"Nothing else is right now, either. My sisters are both
weak as children, Melly's still barely able to sit up in
bed, Wade hasn't said a dozen words since we've gotten
here, and then there's Pa. I don't know what's happened to
him, its like the life has gone out of him. He's
so...vacant. There have been times when he's thought I was
Mother. Even you're sick in bed, and before I'd never even
seen you with a hair out of place, let alone ill. And I
just don't know how to make all of this better."
Rhett gave her a moment to come to terms with what she'd
shared, needing the time to take it in himself. He was
startled by the maturity and sincerity of her words, grief
providing involuntary candor. "You seem to be doing a fine
job of handling everything so far Scarlett. Most people
would have been beyond what they could handle that night in
Atlanta, let alone everything you've come back here to
find. Give me another day or so, and I'll be up and around
and can help you in whatever way you want."
Surprised at his words, she pulled away from him, searching
his face for an absent mocking. His eyes were more open
than she'd ever seen them before, and she took a few
moments to study the sentiments there. Not all of them
were clear to her, but genuine concern and compassion were
plain to see. Something deeper, too, beneath these
sentiments that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
Satisfied, she returned the easy embrace he'd held her in.
"Thank you. It means the world to me that you're willing
to stay and help once you've recovered. You know you're
under no obligation to do so." It was her turn to watch
his expression, gage his reaction to the easy out she was
giving him.
"I have no doubt in your ability to pull through all of
this without my assistance. You're a very intelligent and
resourceful woman with a good head on her shoulders. But I
wouldn't dream of abandoning you, not when I can help."
There was no hesitation in his voice, and it was all the
reassurance Scarlett needed.
After a few quiet moments indulging herself in the safety
of his embrace, she reluctantly shifted, moving back to the
bedside chair. "If you're going to be of any help to me,
you're going to have to eat. It's not much, but we've gone
through a lot of trouble for it."
Dim, rosy light was breaking through the windows of Ellen's
office, chasing away the night's shadows. Scarlett groaned
and twisted on the couch, the vertebra in her back cracking
as she tried to turn away from the light. Knowing all the
work to be done, she refused to allow herself the
indulgence of sleep, however. As she became more fully
awake, she realized she was not alone in the office.
"Rhett! God's nightgown! What are you doing down here?"
His very stillness startled her as he regarded her from a
nearby chair, his face shadowed.
"I've spent too damn much time in bed this last week and I
couldn't stay there another minute. There's water on the
stove for coffee or tea, if we have any."
"We don't." She reached for a wrapper to cover herself,
taking a moment to realize she had one dress, and had been
sleeping in it. "I suppose we ought to go try and find
something, though." The idea of breakfast, real breakfast,
that Rhett had hinted at with coffee and tea was almost
enough to set her stomach growling. In the past few
months, she'd gotten so used to being hungry that a full
meal would feel foreign to her now.
"Looking around, it doesn't look like there's much."
"There were a few potatoes left. We can cook them up for
breakfast. Wade will like that, and I know Melly, Suellen
and Careen can stomach those."
"What about you?"
"I don't matter. I make sure most of my food goes to them
anyway. Especially to Wade."
Rhett gave her a peculiar look as he rose from the chair,
the sharp angles of the dawn's light hiding his expression.
This Scarlett was altogether different that the headstrong
child he'd loved in Atlanta. The same spirit was there,
but it was tempered and shaped by a sudden maturity. He'd
known it was possible to grow up virtually overnight-his
youth was a testament to the fact-but he had not pegged
Scarlett for the type to change so easily. This woman was
a pleasant surprise, an incarnation he was more drawn to
than the previous.
"You never cease to surprise me, Scarlett."
The admiration in his voice was subtle, but her weary
senses picked up on it. "I hope that's a compliment. So
thank you. Now let's see about breakfast, so I can put you
to work."
As the hot afternoon sun beat down on Tara, Scarlett paused
in her efforts to salvage more of the garden. Her hands
were dirty and raw, the cuticles stained red with clay.
She could barely make out Rhett's form as he walked the
fence line enclosing the horse and heifer. While she was
thankful for the fresh milk, she really had no idea how to
care for farm animals. The task had been delegated to
Rhett, as he at least knew something about horses. Walking
the fence had provided an opportunity for fresh air and
exercise, something she knew he'd been craving while
confined to the house. And, she reminded herself, it was
something that needed done-it wouldn't do to have the
animals getting loose.
Rhett's figure disappeared into the shadowed tree line, and
she turned towards the house. Careen and Suellen were on
the porch, making a feeble attempt at doing laundry. Wade
played under their observation. She was grateful they were
finally out of bed, but the battle of wills she'd had with
Suellen that morning had been gargantuan, as the younger
O'Hara had felt it her right to remain in bed another week.
Scarlett was having none of it, knowing both her little
sisters were well enough to help around the house. Great
balls of fire, it wasn't like she was asking them to work
in the fields like she and Prissy had been!
Suellen glared at her as Scarlett made her way to the water
bucket. Too tired for another argument, Scarlett ignored
the look and sat down next to Wade. Her son had seemed
suspicious of the faint attentions she'd tried to provide
him in the last two weeks, but was gradually beginning to
trust her. He seemed to enjoy, she noted, the small tasks
she assigned to him, as if he treasured being needed.
"Are you being a good boy, Wade?"
"Yes, Mother." He stopped chasing an ant with a twig and
looked up at her, expectant.
Scarlett smiled and put her cleaner hand on his shoulder.
"How would you like to help Mother for a little while
before dinner?"
Eagerly, he nodded. "Yes, Mother, I would."
"Why don't you come back out here with me, and I'll show
you how to dig for potatoes. Does that sound like fun?"
Her son jumped down from the porch to follow her the field,
glad to be of help. Scarlett had to admit that he'd been a
good child, quiet and obedient. Even now, he was more
willing to help around Tara than her own sister. Digging
in the dirt for potatoes was just the thing to entertain
the child, as he would enjoy doing it even if there was no
edible reward.
Returning from his walk around the makeshift pasture, Rhett
paused to take in the sight before him. Scarlett was bent
over in the garden, smudges of clay marring the maroon of
her dress, thanking Wade for the small potatoes he was
handing over to her. On the porch, one of her sisters-
Careen, he thought-was calling to Wade, urging him to come
clean up for dinner. The boy raced over the uneven terrain
as fast as his little legs could carry him, twice tripping
over the hardened ridges. As they disappeared into the
house, Rhett made his way down to Scarlett, who remained
working intently.
"Scarlett." His warm hand made contact with the small of
her aching back, as she bent down over a hoe.
"Oh, Rhett, you startled me!"
"It looks like you found some good help today."
Puzzlement flickered over face as she tried to reconcile
the battle of wills she'd undergone with the idea of 'good
help.' "Well, Rhett, Wade was mighty helpful here in the
garden, and I don't suppose you've done too badly."
Glad she was able to joke, Rhett smiled as he handed her
the sack he'd been carrying tools in. "This might help
with dinner."
Looking inside, Scarlett's frustration with the day's
events boiled over. "I don't know where you get off!
Bringing me a sack of flowers and weeds! Flowers are
pretty, but I don't have much cause to be setting up
bouquets-"
Rhett cut her off. "They're not for decorating, Scarlett.
Everything in there is quite edible. I can't promise it
will taste good, but it's better than nothing."
"Oh." Her jaw hung slack in surprise and shame at her
outburst. "I'm sorry, Rhett, truly I am. I didn't mean to
snap at you. It's just that everyone else has been so
unwilling, and this just didn't..." She trailed off,
gesturing to the bag's contents.
"I know. Most people wouldn't recognize these as anything
other than weeds and twigs. But as it turns out, some of
the knowledge gained in my less than illustrious past may
prove helpful after all."
For an instant, his gaze met hers and his hand rested
reassuringly on her shoulder. Scarlett felt, if just for
that moment, that everything would be all right. Rhett was
being so good to her, helping her through all this. These
thoughts confused her, and Rhett broke the look, taking the
bag from her hands.
"I'll take this to Mammy and Dilcey, and show them how to
cook some of it up. Won't they be in for a shock when I
show up in the kitchen!"
His tone was light, but Scarlett could tell he was trying
to hide something with it. For the life of her, she
couldn't figure out what. Perplexed at his behavior and
the confusing sentiments it was creating in her, she stared
after him.
Rhett continued to find unusual but edible plants, and even
the occasional fish or rabbit. She has been taking the
latest soup up to a bedridden Melanie when Scarlett paused
to gaze out at the field, where Rhett was helping Careen,
Suellen, and even little Wade to plant cotton. He had been
nothing but helpful to her, providing assistance and a
shoulder to cry on. Not once had he been mean to her since
they arrived back at Tara, and for that Scarlett was
grateful. Somehow, he always knew just what she needed
from him, without her ever asking. Life was almost
bearable thanks to him.
Hooves on the drive broke her reverie. No one she knew had
a horse, and certainly no one who would be calling alone.
Stealthily, she made her way to her-Rhett's, she corrected
herself-bedroom, and found one of his pistols. From the
doorway, she could see a man in tattered blue walking
through the foyer. Moments later, he emerged from Ellen's
office with her jewelry box, his dirty hands pawing through
the remains. Unable to bear the sight, she made her
presence known.
"Put that down right this instant." She was startled at
how steady her voice sounded, even as her knees trembled.
"Well hello there missy. You have this big house all to
yourself?" He kept the jewelry box in his hands as he
mounted the stairs.
"I asked that you please put that down and kindly leave
this property at once."
Ignoring her request, the solider climbed two steps further
before she raised the pistol and fired. The blast and
recoil drew a cry of alarm from Melly, who she turned to
see her standing in the doorway with Charles' sword. Both
looked down to see the man with a spreading pool of blood
beneath him.
"Go back to bed, Melly, I'll take care of this."
Melly's pale face seemed to grow paler, and she disappeared
back into the room, sword softly scraping behind her.
Trembling, Scarlett gripped the banister as she made her
way down the stairs to the man. The back door opened as
she reached the bottom, and Rhett entered, his eyes roving
between the dead man and the pistol in Scarlett's hand.
Walking to her side, one of his hands covered her white-
knuckled hand, feeling its death-grip on the banister ease,
while removing his pistol from the other. When her eyes
finally met his, they were empty.
"I guess now I've done murder."
"This is hardly the typical murder, darling. You did the
right thing."
"Do you really think so?" The tone was flat, but a
childlike quality hid beneath its surface, pleading for his
approval of her actions. Her gaze dropped, once more, to
the blood spreading out over the wood floor.
Rhett tucked the pistol into his trousers and drew her off
the stairs, into his embrace. "I shudder to think at what
would have happened to you, or poor Mrs. Wilkes, if you
hadn't had the presence of mind to find one of my pistols.
That was very smart of you." He drew back slightly,
gauging her. "I'm also pleasantly surprised at what a good
shot you are!"
She straightened in his arms, her courage returning. "Oh,
you are terrible! Rhett, I kill a man and all you can do
is make jokes about my shooting ability!"
"Don't get so out of sorts, Scarlett. I mean it. Under
pressure, most people are terrible shots. I'm impressed
that you were able to shoot him, rather than the wall or
yourself."
The admiration she saw in his eyes was genuine, and she
took comfort in it. "What's done is done, I suppose. We
can't just leave him here on the floor."
Pulling out of the embrace she was surprised to find
herself still in, she looked down at the uniformed man.
"Would it be terribly wrong if we went through his pockets,
before we-we bury him, I suppose?"
"You really are an impressive woman, Scarlett. Perhaps not
in the way your mother or Mammy wanted you to be, but
impressive nevertheless. We certainly should. Then I'll
take care of him while you clean up the mess."
Before touching the body, Scarlett pried the jewelry box
out of his fingers, carefully replacing her mother's
earrings. Rhett watched silently, awestruck by her
residual innocence and her resilience.
News of the war's end was slow in coming to Tara. Melly
had been overjoyed at the news, her pale face gaining some
color at the prospect of Ashley's return. Scarlett stared
at her over their meager meal, wondering why she wasn't as
happy as Melly at the prospect of Ashley's return; she had
to admit to herself she felt nothing but a casual hope he
would come home unharmed. At a loss to explain the
deviance from what she thought she should feel, she pushed
thoughts of him out of her mind entirely. She looked up to
see Rhett, at the other end of the table, eyeing her,
awaiting her response to Melanie's reaction. That was
something else she couldn't think about right now; Rhett
had never looked at her in Atlanta the way he'd taken to
doing lately, and she just couldn't understand it. She had
no spare time in which to ponder such things.
After helping to clear the table and make sure Wade was
settled into bed, Scarlett sought out Rhett. Searching
everywhere through the house, she finally found him on the
porch, hidden by the deep shadows of an evening with no
moon. Without speaking, she sat down next to him on the
cooling brick, close enough to touch him, but consciously
not doing so.
For several moments they both sat in silence. "What's
troubling you, Scarlett?"
"I was wondering whether, now that the war was over,
whether you'd be staying on here. I know you were always
traveling so much during the war, there must be obligations
you have elsewhere."
"Nothing terribly pressing." He turned to face her, trying
to read her face in the dim light. "Do you want me to go,
with the prospect of your very dear Mr. Wilkes returning?"
For the first time since they'd come to Tara, hardness
crept back into his tone with her.
With much effort, she bit back a smart reply. She never
got anywhere doing that, just got both of them madder, she
was able to see now. "No, you're welcome to stay as long
as you'd like. I just didn't want you to feel obligated to
stay here. You don't owe me-don't owe any of us anything.
"And I don't..." She trailed off, taking a deep breath.
"I've always been able to talk to you, Rhett, even if you
do mock me something terrible for it. I don't know how I
feel about Ashley anymore."
"Oh, and what has brought about this sudden change of
sentiment?" There was the mocking she'd been expecting in
his tone, but something else. Curiosity? No, it wasn't
that simple, but it provided the encouragement she needed.
"I don't rightly know. Honestly, I hadn't thought about
him much at all recently. There have been more important
things, like trying to keep everyone from starving, to
spend my time daydreaming. So when Melly brought it up at
dinner, I felt guilty for not thinking of him, and then
realizing I didn't feel much at all when I did again. I
can't see him being much of a help around here, if he
stays. You're much more helpful that he'd ever be, Rhett."
He laughed at her casual flattery, but it was a laugh of
politeness, not his deep laugh of true amusement. "Its
good to know my abilities are so highly esteemed in your
mind, Scarlett." Pausing, he grew serious. "Feelings do
change with time and changes in our worlds. We've all been
through a rather life-altering few years, it wouldn't be
shocking to inexplicably feel different about something or
someone."
"You believe that?"
"I don't believe it, I know it. After being thrown out of
Charleston and heading west, I realized quite a few of the
truths I'd held so sacred in genteel society meant very
little to the great wide world."
Never hearing much of his past, Scarlett kept silent,
hoping he'd continue. After several seconds, she was
surprised to find him silent as well, his gaze fixed on
her.
"You never talk much about your past, Rhett."
"It's not a very pleasant topic, and certainly not one to
be brought up in polite company."
"Oh." She furrowed her brow. "But I thought you once said
I wasn't a lady. Couldn't you tell me about it?"
His deep laughter echoed against the brick of the porch.
"Perhaps I will, one day. But I'm sure you'd rather talk
about you. That subject always seems to interest you."
"No," she shook her head, "not tonight. My mind's too much
of a mess right now to be a very nice subject of
conversation, even with you."
Smiling white teeth flashed in the pale light of the new
moon appearing over the trees. He rolled up one of his
sleeves to the elbow and took her hand. His gentle grasp
traced her index finger over a long, jagged scar on his
forearm. She was startled at how intimate this felt, but
had no desire to pull away, allowing herself to trust in
the strength she could feel just beneath the skin.
"Would you like me to tell you about the mountain lion that
gave me this scar then?"
Her green eyes glinted in the moonlight, and she could see
his face settle into a genuine smile, with no hint of
mocking as she nodded the affirmative. "I'd like nothing
better."
Soldiers returning home from the war found Tara a welcome
respite in their journey. Scarlett was never happier to
have Rhett around than when the men began arriving, hungry
and seeking shelter. She'd been initially distrustful, and
worried about strangers eating her family into oblivion;
no one else in the house had shared her sentiments, and
welcomed the men with open arms and such food as they could
scrape together. Rhett had listened to her complain, never
judging her opinions the way everyone else seemed to do.
Instead, he'd pointed out that she could ask for a bit of
work from the men in return, giving her and the others a
rest of their own from the hard labor of running Tara.
It seemed to her forever that these men passed through her
land, eating what she offered them and doing a few menial
tasks in return. Melly had grown increasingly nervous as
Ashley failed to return, though she rarely gave voice to
her fears, except at prayer time.
Several weeks after they'd seen the last of the soldiers,
Scarlett had returned to work in the fields. Doing what
she could to help Rhett mend the fences, she looked up from
the rail she was holding when a cry went up from the front
of the house. Barely looking at one another, they both
started for the house, with Rhett slightly ahead. She
could see the pistol she'd shot the Yankee with tucked into
the back of his trousers, and she took some measure of
reassurance in that.
Upon reaching the corner of the house, however, they found
their worry unwarranted. Ashley stood embracing Melanie.
He was dirty, the handsome gray of his uniform faded and
stained, and had a mangled growth of beard. Scarlett came
to a halt beside Rhett and stared up at Ashley, trying to
get her breathing under control.
"Heavens, we were so sure something terrible was going on
from the yelling up here! I'm glad to see it was for good
reason this time. It's nice to see you home, Ashley."
"Scarlett, darling, hello." He stepped down to her level
and kissed her offered cheek.
Strangely, the shivers of delight that would have once
coursed through her at such a gesture were absent. Hoping
the chaotic state of her mental processes wasn't evident to
Ashley, she attempted to redirect his attention.
"I'm not sure if you remember, Ashley, but this is Mr.
Rhett Butler. He was at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks the
day the war started. Mr. Butler helped evacuate us from
Atlanta, and has been helping out here at Tara."
A look of confusion passed over Ashley's face as he greeted
Rhett, who was, Scarlett noted wryly, barely able to
suppress an ironic grin. She was overcome with a sudden
panic at what he would say.
"Mr. Wilkes, it's good to meet you again, and see you
safely home. I've heard such wonderful things about you."
Scarlett could have killed him then, but not one else
appeared to notice the anger in her eyes or the mocking in
Rhett's voice.
"Mr. Butler, it's an honor to again make the acquaintance
of a man who has been so helpful to both the Cause and my
family."
Awkwardly, the men shook hands in a tentative truce. Even
Melanie, normally blissfully oblivious to underlying social
tensions, seemed aware of it.
"Ashley, you must come in and say hello to Beau, then clean
up before dinner." Her tone, gentle and insistent, drew
him easily back onto the porch and into Tara. Only a
backwards glance and tip of his head acknowledged the
presence of Scarlett and Rhett.
Both stood frozen for a long moment, Rhett eyeing her
slightly puzzled expression. "Shall we go finish up that
fence before dinner, while Mr. Wilkes is getting his family
sorted out?"
"You're infuriating, Rhett, you know that? Can't you at
least be civil to Ashley?" Without waiting for a response,
she pivoted on her heel and stalked back towards the fence
line they'd been working on. She could hear him following
her, his steady stride crackling dead grass.
"Scarlett." He caught her elbow and spun her to face him.
"I have no intention of being anything except 'civil' to
your dear Mr. Wilkes. It just happens to unnerve me to see
your mental wheels spinning two seconds after you see him
on your doorstep."
Finally meeting his eyes, she saw something flashing in
them that she wished, for the millionth time, that she
understood. He always got that look whenever their
discussions got terribly heated, or...she shook her head
and returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. "Rhett, I
was thinking as soon as I saw him, that's true. But not in
the way you must think. You remember our conversation on
the porch earlier this year?"
He nodded the affirmative as she continued. "Seeing him
again, after not thinking about him, dredged up all those
old confusions. When he kissed me hello, I feel like I
should've felt something, and I didn't. Not anything more
than when Charles kissed me, and I know I didn't...I
mean..."
Rhett cut her flummoxed guilt short with a burst of
laughter. "Never anything but honest, are you Scarlett?
No, don't look so guilty, I admire you for saying it. What
does this lead you to believe about your current feelings,
then?"
Trying to follow the logical path he'd set before her, she
hesitated slightly. "I suppose it means that I feel the
same way about him as I did about Charles. That makes
sense, doesn't it? But before I was so sure I was
desperately in love with him."
"You've been desperately in love with the idea of him for a
long time, haven't you?" He continued as she nodded, not
needing her confirmation. "Both of you have changed in the
last four years. Hell, everyone in the country's been
changed by the last four years. You're not the same woman
at twenty you were at sixteen, and a man who's been through
a war isn't the same as a man who's just returned from the
Grand Tour of Europe."
Pulling back, but not struggling with his hold on her arm,
Scarlett looked up into his face. Even she could see it
was waiting. Without knowing why, she knew her next words
mattered a great deal to both of them, and she was
determined to make them right. The odds of that, given
their past verbal sparring matches, was slim, but she would
try.
"A lot has happened to all of us." Tentatively, seeing a
flicker of approval in his face, she persisted. "I don't
think what I want in the end is much different from what I
wanted at sixteen. I'd like to be happy, have a nice
house, clothes, and good food on the table for my family.
Respect. But now, now I think I have to get there
differently than before."
Both stood in the silence of sunset, the red tones of Tara
reflected in their faces. A hint of a smile played at
Rhett's lips as Scarlett continued to ponder her place in
the world.
"Before, I thought Ashley was the road to what I wanted.
Now, I think he's even less skilled at dealing with all of
this than either of us are."
Her voice was tenuous and nearly a whisper, but the words
hung full in the silence. Scarlett was oblivious to the
deeper revelation of her words, but Rhett's smile broke
true across his face. It flashed fast enough for Scarlett
to see and take comfort in it, but was quickly replaced by
a façade of less intense cheer.
"Let's finish this fence up while you mull that over. It's
quite a realization to come to terms with." His hand on
the small of her back was warm, supportive as he moved her
forwards to the fence line. "Then I'm sure Mammy will have
found something delicious to feed us to mark Mr. Wilkes'
return."
"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett, you know there's nothing
delicious in that kitchen better than anyone, seeing how
you stole it yourself."
Deep laughter pealed across the land, echoing on the
hillsides. "I'm glad to see you're maintaining your sense
of humor in a changing world as well, my darling. Now hand
me than hammer and try to hold the rails still this time."
Scarlett could feel Rhett behind her on the verandah as the
carriage bearing Jonas Wilkerson and that horrible Slattery
girl pulled up. He closed the distance between them,
resting one hand on the small of her back, providing silent
support as he let her handle the matter.
"Emmie and I are looking right forward to coming to live
here at Tara. It's such a shame you haven't paid your
taxes yet," Wilkerson leered up at the two figures on the
porch.
"You'll know no such pleasure, Mr. Wilkerson. Apparently
you've been misinformed. I paid our taxes this winter."
"Not the reassessed taxes. I took the liberty of bringing
you the statement on the balance you've neglected. I
suggest you start packing your things."
"And I suggest that you get off this land. I've still got
time to pay this, and would never give you the satisfaction
of owning a piece of my home."
"You know you don't have the money to pay for it. We can
work out a deal here and now for Tara. Emmie would be just
thrilled."
"I'm sure she would be, she got enough assistance with your
brats from here. Who's taken care of them after killing
mother?"
Emmie shrank back, moving away from Scarlett's fuming form.
Wilkerson turned to glance at her before returning his gaze
to Scarlett. "You'll pay for that remark, Miss O'Hara."
Pivoting on his heel, he returned to the carriage with
Emmie and they made their way down the drive. Scarlett
turned away from them, needing to process this new burden
on their nonexistent finances and hoping for Rhett's
solace. Before she could open her mouth to speak, hooves
pounded past them, throwing up red clods of earth.
"Pa! Pa, stop!"
Horse and rider passed in a dark blur, but his voice
carried back and echoed off the brick. "I'll show you
who's the master of Tara!"
The animal hurtled eagerly down the rough drive after the
carriage. Scarlett found herself unable to turn away from
the inevitable as Gerald pointed it towards the recently
mended fence line. Unused to jumping and far from peak
condition, the horse made a valiant effort but tangled its
front legs on the top rail, flipping both horse and rider
over onto the hard road.
Scarlett let the tax notice slip from her hand and float to
the porch, forgotten, as she raced down the drive towards
the now-broken fence. She could see the horse struggling
to its feet, reins trailing on the ground and three-legged
lame. As she came to a stop beside him, he dropped his
head towards the still form of Gerald O'Hara, looking
almost remorseful for what had happened.
Tears welled in Scarlett's eyes as she dropped to the
ground at Gerald's side. Looking up, she saw Rhett and
Pork making their way down from the house. No one spoke as
they carried Gerald's body back to the house, the horse
hobbling along at the end of the reins trailing from
Scarlett's fingers.
In less than two years, Scarlett had lost both of her
parents and assumed responsibility for the welfare of her
entire family. That knowledge weighed heavily upon her as
she sat in what, in her mind, was still her mother's
office. That afternoon, her father had been placed to rest
in the red earth next to his wife. She had barely been
able to stand next to the grave; unlike her mother's
funeral, she had returned to the house as soon as possible
and cloistered herself in the office.
The sun had long since set, and the house had slowly
quieted, and everyone had left her alone. She'd expected
as much, really. Only one person in the house was brave
enough to risk her temper, and he knew better than to
pressure her. In the time since he'd returned to Tara with
them, he'd been nothing but helpful to her, but had never
pressured her. Rhett knew instinctively what she needed,
and provided support and guidance without exerting any of
the pressure he could've had over her.
Suddenly, she realized she was in need of his help again.
Putting the emotional burden of her father's death aside,
she tried to tease out how to find three hundred dollars to
cover the taxes. That was now a much more pressing
problem. Unsteadily, she rose from the couch and made her
way to the door, intent on seeking Rhett's guidance on
matters of finance. Certainly, she reasoned, he of all
people would know how to get the money.
She halted as faint, vaguely out of key piano music reached
her ears. There was a piano in the study, but no one had
touched it since before the war. Slowly she cracked the
office door and stepped into the hall, where the music was
a bit more distinct. The tune was not something she
recognized, but was certainly beautiful.
Sliding the door of the study open, a single candle on top
of the piano illuminated the room. Somehow, she was not
surprised to find Rhett silhouetted at the piano bench, his
hands easily covering the yellowed keys. Not wanting to
interrupt his playing, she silently slid the door closed
behind her and made her way to the bench. Wordlessly, she
sat down on his right, her gaze focused on his hands.
With a soft flourish, his hands came to rest on the keys,
and Rhett looked at her expectantly. This would be on her
terms, as all their conversations had been of late.
"That was beautiful. I'm sorry the piano is so out of
tune." Her fingers traced over the ivory, the sadness in
her voice disproportionate to that evoked by the music.
"Thank you. It's not so very out of tune, and we have
greater worries right now."
"Yes, I do."
The silence hung, ponderous.
"Rhett, am I such a terrible person, that horrible things
keep happening to me?"
"No, darling, not at all. You've done an amazing job of
getting yourself and your family by in tough times."
"Then how am I going to take care of them this time? You
know I haven't got three hundred dollars!"
"I could help you." His eyes locked onto hers, not letting
her back down. Something burned there, finally visible to
Scarlett. She knew in that moment that he wasn't jesting.
Blushing, she dropped her eyes to her lap.
"You're under no obligations to us. And I don't have
anything to give as collateral for the money, except Tara."
Her eyes shot up. "Would you take the deed to Tara until I
could pay you back? I would, you know I would."
"No, Scarlett."
She froze, unsure of the apparent about-face of sentiment.
Abruptly, he reached over and took her hand.
"Scarlett, I won't take the deed to Tara from you. I'll
pay the taxes, on one condition."
Pausing, she vacillated between cool confidence and
absolute fear of what he would ask of her. "What?" When
it finally escaped her lips, it was a whisper of fear at
what demand he would place on her resources.
"Marry me."
"What?" Shock overtook her as she tried to process his two
simple words.
"Marry me, Scarlett. I'll take care of all your worries.
You've taken on more of a burden than any other individual,
and dealt well with it. You deserve someone taking care of
you. And I can, you and your family. I know in the last
year or so, you've been realizing that there are feelings
between us."
"I...Rhett, I don't know what to say."
"Say yes." His arm encircled her waist, it's warm weight
comforting and supporting her.
She hesitated only a moment, as she realized that for once
she could think of no objections to his proposition. He'd
been exactly what she needed, and she had never met anyone
else she felt as comfortable with. And something more,
something she wasn't quite ready to label. "Yes."
Both his arms were around her and their lips were pressed
together in an instant. She'd never known a kiss could
feel like this, and was glad that she was already seated.
Then, she knew that he would continue to treat her as he
had these past years, with support and respect, and
something even stronger.
"You're sure?" He pulled away, looking down into her
shadowed eyes, seeking reassurance from her for once.
"Yes. I'm sure. I've never been so sure about anything."
In her own mind, she tentatively identified the feeling as
love. Yet after her confusion over Ashley, she was
reluctant to vocalize that sentiment.
For now, both were content in the knowledge that this was
the right decision. After years of turmoil, the pieces of
their lives were finally falling into place. She was
amazed at the instant peace of mind she found at her
answer, tipping her head up to catch Rhett's lips in
another kiss.