A Place Called Winston

"More space? You would like, what?" Cole asked. "Build me a new house, darling," Libby answered. "A new house! That's near impossible right now. Where am I going to get all the money to do that? Extra work is scarce and there's a war going on. You have heard about Bull Run, haven't you?" "Why, of course, I have. I've already talked to my father and he promised to loan us some of the money. I figure that we could go up the hill, just beyond the cabin near that old oak tree, and lay a foundation. Then, later, frame in the structure according to the plans I have in mind. We can continue to live in the cabin until the new house is finished, however long it may take. How does that sound, darling?" "Sounds like you already decided. That's crazy!" Libby batted her eyes at him while quickly adjusting her dress to show a little cleavage. "Well, give me some time," he said. "You know I'm always open to your suggestions." A week later, and Cole was all in it, hook, line, and sinker. He promised he would build his bride the house she wanted, but there was something far greater pressing on his mind. He prayed that he was making the right decision and would find the right time to talk to Libby about it. His very life was going to depend on it this time. In the meantime, Cole put his personal agenda on hold, never mentioning it to Libby or anyone, even his closest buddy, Nate. Instead, he jumped wholeheartedly into the construction plans of the new house. In Winston County, signs of an early fall began to appear while a gentle breeze moved through the trees that surrounded Cole and Libby's new house that September morning. Libby wiped away a bead of sweat from her forehead while she stopped to pull her hair back and clip it. Since Ramona, one of the Jefferson sisters, now helped take care of Alex, Libby was on the front portico attempting to whitewash all four columns. The actual painting wasn't all that difficult for her while she whisked away with a large horse hair brush. The hardest part was mixing the whitewash in the tool shed and then having to carry the bucket up the steps and onto the front portico. While Cole was away, this was her way of keeping busy while attending to things she could do to help out. One less thing for Cole to have to do was always her main focus nowadays. For a while now, it was just her, Alex, and Ramona together every day except on the days she would go check on her father. Cole was gone. Her Mama was gone. Marcie was gone, and most recently, Nate had suddenly disappeared. Libby was determined that she wasn't to let all this get her down, so she countered it by staying as busy as she possibly could. She knew Cole would be so proud of her when he returned to see everything she was doing while the actual construction was still on hold. The framework of the house was almost complete at the time Cole had to leave, and all construction had come to a halt. Door and window casings were cut and framed, but no glass was available at present to put in the windows. Floor joists were installed, but no flooring. Rafters in place, but no roof. It would take a lot more money and labor to finish up, but at least, the major construction was already this far along. So each day, weather permitting, Libby would look for little projects she could do herself in and around her skeleton of a house. A sudden scream, along with a baby's loud crying, sent a jolt through Libby as she jumped from the ladder and ran toward the open door of the little cabin. Just stay calm she told herself, while she stopped at the doorway to look in to see a terrified Ramona and a toddler screaming his lungs out. They were huddled together on the floor in front of the fireplace. Libby ran in and threw herself down while she pulled Alex from Ramona's arms and into her own. At the same moment, she realized the cause for alarm. Looking down, she saw the burns across Alex's upper body, arms, and both of his little hands. He appeared to have been scalded by the contents of the black pot that was presently extended outward from the fire. "What happened, Mona?" "I had just stirred the soup and left to get the poker to push the pot back over the flames when I was distracted by a fly that kept buzzing around my head," Ramona answered. "When I turned around, the baby had taken both hands and pulled on the pot enough to have the hot soup spill out on him. I'm so sorry. What can I do?" "Get me some fresh linen towels and wet them in cold water while I try to get his clothes off." Libby laid Alex on the floor away from the hearth while she carefully began to remove his clothes. At first glance, his hands seemed to be the worse, but the splatter of hot liquid on his tender skin had to be equally as painful. "It's going to be all right, little man. Mama is here to take care of you," Libby said while his crying eventually turned to whimpering as she began to apply the cool, wet cloth to his hands and body. Judging from everything that had happened, she thought this situation could have been extremely worse. She thanked God for this blessing. Fortunately, Libby happened to have an aloe vera plant blooming on her window sill. It would provide a helpful remedy to use for burns that her sweet mama had taught her about many years ago. It was well into the afternoon until Libby would finish everything she could do for her son while she placed him on his bed to sleep. Ramona took over the watch care while she continued to apply aloe vera to sooth Alex's little body at various intervals. Libby returned to finish her painting by late afternoon. Miles away, located south of Jonesboro, a lone Confederate soldier lay near death in a private home. His condition remained highly critical during the past two weeks following the departure of Hardee's Company from Lovejoy Station. Not fit for transport, he was taken into the home of Carolina Stevenson and her husband, Matthew, at their insistence to provide watch care over him. The soldier had been brought into the little country church, which was presently being used as a field hospital where Carolina was serving as a volunteer nurse. At first sight, she felt so much compassion for the man that she convinced her husband to move him into their modest home to continue care for him. After the first day, it seemed doubtful that he would make it through the night, but that was nearly two weeks ago. Matthew and Carolina felt it was a miracle that he was still alive. The doctor had done all he could for this particular young man, including the amputation of the left leg below the knee without chloroform; removal of shrapnel fragments from the chest and belly; and most critically, a gaping wound to the left eye socket where the eyeball had been blown out. It had been a nasty wound, and the doctor couldn't tell if there were any small fragments still embedded in the socket. Now, Carolina observed his breathing was becoming more labored while she feared pneumonia was setting into the lungs. Both she and her husband took turns around the clock while they cared for the man who appeared to be around the same age as their dead son. For several days, they referred to their patient as Private Johnny Reb while they didn't know his name. At Libby Prison, following a brief check-in, with only the clothes on their back, the Alabama five were searched and separated. Devereaux was placed into one room, Callahan in another, while Chappy, Nate, and Cole were ushered into what Cole could only describe as a "dungeon from hell." The three of them moved together across the crowded floor until they found a place to sit against the cold brick wall. Each of them began to look around the large room that they now shared with approximately 85 other pitiful-looking inmates. "Laughter is most certainly the one thing that's missing here."