© 1989

Special thanks…

To Marian Smith Collins and Bob Collins for their help with the Calhoun setting and the law…

To Gunnery Sgt. Richard E. Martelli, United States Marine Corps, for sharing his invaluable knowledge of Marine history…

And to Carol Gatts, midwife and beekeeper, for keeping old traditions alive and for letting us glimpse them…

To my favorite authors,

Tom & Sharon Curtis

who by their writing

have taught, entertained and inspired.

With deepest admiration.

1917

The train pulled into Whitney, Georgia, on a leaden afternoon in November. Clouds churned and the first droplets of rain pelted like thick batter onto the black leather roof of a waiting carriage. Both of its windows were covered with black. As the train clanged to a stop, one shade was stealthily lifted aside and a single eyeball peered through the slit.

"She’s here," a woman’s voice hissed. "Go!"

The carriage door opened and a man stepped out. He, like the carriage, was garbed in black-suit, shoes and flat-brimmed hat worn level with the earth. He glanced neither right nor left but strode purposefully to the train steps as a young woman emerged with a baby in her arms.

"Hello, Papa," she said uncertainly, offering a wavering smile.

"Bring your bastard and come with me." He turned her roughly by an elbow and marched her back to the carriage without looking at her or the infant.

The curtained door was thrown open the instant they reached it. The young woman lurched back protectively, drawing the baby against her shoulder. Her soft hazel eyes met the hard green ones above her, framed by a black bonnet and mourning dress.