Chapter 2
"All aboard!" The engineer cried from the front of the train, somewhat unnecessarily, for most of the passengers had been on the train for about thirty minutes. Men sat, staring out the window, or talking to each other furiously, their lighted cigars sending puffs of smoke into the air. Women rustled through their full handbags for food or beverages. Scarlett stared out the window moodily, green eyes flickering across the crowd of people gathered outside to see of their loved ones.
A tall man passed outside to the train, hat pulled in front of his face, and her heart beat wildly. Abruptly, she sat bolt upright to see the man as he entered the train.
Rhett! She thought immediately, Rhett!
But then the man turned around so Scarlett could see his bushy black beard and blue eyes, and she subsided, frowning- partly at the man, partly at herself.
"Don't be a fool, Scarlett," she told herself harshly, "he's left for Charleston, and he's not going to come back chasing after you." She looked up into the gaze of the black bearded man, still staring at her, a look of wonder on his face. Catching her eye, he looked away immediately, almost blushing. Blinking in astonishment, Scarlett suddenly smiled, flattered to know that she still presented quite a sight to men,despite what Rhett did or said.
"Aunt Scarlett?" Beau looked at her anxiously.
She shook her thoughts from their far-off places. "Yes, darling?" She leaned toward him anxiously.
"Can you tell us about Tara?"
"Tara?" She smiled, surprised but pleased. "What can I tell you about Tara?"
Unbidden, an image came into her mind, of Tara as it had been the evening before the barbecue. The red sun set slowly above the rolling, soft hills of white cotton that swayed back and forth in the breeze. At her feet was the land which had been freshly ploughed that morning, the pink, moist ground hiding the seeds that would be harvested in the fall by ready hands. Off the side of the porch, a swing undulated faintly in the breeze, the last man-made objects\ before the darkness of the pine forests. Slowly, faintly at first, a sound reached her drowsy ears. "Quitt'n Time! Quitt'n Time!" Soon, the darkies would come marching from the fields, their warm brown boots leaving footprints in the red, red earth below. The bloody earth, to which Scarlett was connected as the cotton was, earth which spawned not only their harvest, but also generations of-
"Slave-drivers!"
Scarlett jumped and looked around her. Wade leaned on the window, snoring, and Beau was stretched across two seats with his eyes closed. Ella stared at her sleepily and then closed her eyes. She had been talking, she realized, for God knew how long. The snide voice of the man intruded on her peaceful thoughts, droning on and on.
"Bloody bastards have control of the whole legislature. I tell you, Tom, an honest man can't work anymore since they kicked Bullock out. Stinkin' hypocrites-"
Tom, a hairy little wretch of a man, sat nodding morosely while his companion sniveled on, running his fingers through his black here. Noting Scarlett's gaze, he stopped and his face spread into an ugly sneer.
"Why, hello there, lil' lady."
Scarlett whipped back around and the two men hooted with nasally laughter. She gritted her teeth.
Carpetbaggers on the train! The red luggage bags that gave them their name were stacked next to their seats. But what on earth were they doing here?
Ever since the inauguration in March, a steady trickle of Carpetbaggers had been migrating to less democratic, more profitable parts of the United States, up north. It was apparent that these two had held on in Georgia until October, and now were bitterly moving in search of more work and more innocent Democrats to prey on. But why were they going to Jonesboro? If Scarlett had her way, she'd send them back on the first train available, more than 500 miles from Tara and the rest of the plantations.
"Honestly, who do they think they are?" he muttered behind her," the Federal Government was too easy on them, if you ask me. If I'd a'been old Abe Lincoln, I'd of taxed the while lot of them to death. Don't deserve to be called Americans. I tell you, Tom, we wasted all those good Union lives for nothin'. Should'a let them leave and taken over when their Southern ideals failed."
He was speaking loud enough to have aroused most of the passengers. A hot green light shone in Scarlett's eyes, and she determinedly looked around the train. Several old ladies were murmuring together angrily, but only in the eyes of the bearded man did Scarlett's gaze find anger greater than her own. He was looking at the man, thick eyebrows furrowed dangerously over his blue eyes, beard quivering. Scarlett frowned. Why, she wondered, did that gaze seem so familiar?
"Unless you'd like to die where you're standing," he muttered, voice gravelly, "I'd take back those words right this minute." A thick accent overlaid his words, but Scarlett thought she could hear a hint of higher education in his tone.
"Oh ho ho ho!" laughed Tom's companion, "I'd just like to see you lay one finger on us! We're United States citizens, damn it! Protected under the law!"
The man said nothing, just stood up and walked over to the two men. Scarlett watched him with interest. Tom slunk away from his gaze, the first one looked up at him with open loathing, loathing because he knew defeat was near.
"C'mon Tom," he grumbled, looking down at the ground. "Let's go somewhere these crazy coots can't bother us."
Tom obediently slunk off under the stranger's glare, carrying the tell-tale bags. Scarlett laughed softly at the glare on the little man's face. Hearing the sound, the stranger turned to her with a wide grin on his face. Scarlett froze. There was something familiar about that boyish grin, something that called to mind the clean Georgia air, the stench of horses, the easily stirred temper of a farmer. She had only seen that grin on two men before, one who, at this moment, was near Tara, and the other on a man who- but no, she shook her head, that was impossible. It couldn't be.
But as the stranger walked back to his seat with his characteristic limp, her suspicions transformed into certainty.
My God! It was Tony Fontaine!
The second the train screeched to a halt in Jonesboro, Tony ran off and disappeared among the crowd of people. Scarlett grabbed her bags and children and followed, curiosity nearly overcoming her, hoping he hadn't left the station already.
But, to her relief, he was standing outside at the entrance to a dingy alleyway; he must have known she'd recognized him. After all, for the latter half of the trip, she'd done nothing but stare at him shamelessly.
Tony was so thin, Scarlett thought, drinking him in with her eyes. Even thinner, perhaps, than after the war had ended. He seemed to be aging harshly; broad streaks of gray shone in his black hair and wrinkles had begun to show themselves. Why, he looked almost like Archie! Only with both eyes intact, Scarlett thought with relief.
When he saw her, his face relaxed into the boyish grin, taking ten years off his face.
"Morning, Scarlett," He called out to her, "I see you look the same as ever."
"Oh, Ton-" she paused, not wanting to use his real name without knowing the circumstances of his return. "How've you been?"
"I'm alive," he said shortly, then bent down to intersect the children.
"Hello Wade," he said gravely, shaking his hand. "Beau. And- who's this young lady?"
Ella grinned and hid behind her mother's skirt shyly.
"My! Scarlett, I never heard you'd had another child! In all my correspondence in Texas, they never mentioned it. Too taken with your three husbands, I suppose."
Scarlett blushed, but then wondered what correspondence he could have been getting. Alex surely wasn't writing- was he? Scarlett hadn't even thought he had known where his brother was.
"I'm mighty sorry about Frank," he went on, "And Melanie and Gerald. And Bonnie. My condolences have been long overdue, Scarlett, but better late than never, I suppose."
"It's quite all right, Tony." she said primly, "But, why on earth did you come back? Are you sure its safe?"
"Safe or not," he muttered, looking at the ground, "I owe it to my brother. Not many letters have reached me in Texas- but the ones I got told me plain and simple how much he wanted to be married, and how hard it was for him to work on the plantation. And besides, Reconstruction's over now, so I figured it was now or never."
Scarlett smiled. "Well, Alex will be more than happy to have you back," she accepted, "and I suppose, now that Bullock's gone, you'll be all right."
Tony guffawed. "You women, always worrying. It's a bit too late to consider the prudence of my decision, Scarlett, seeing as I'm already here. Don't worry your pretty little head about these things." He looked around, anxiously. "Well, I'd best be going. Give me a kiss; Rhett won't mind."
She obediently turned her face up, and he laughed after the quick peck.
"Last kiss when I leave and first when I get back. I am a lucky man, I suppose."
"You Fontaines are always lucky," she retorted, smiling at him, "You got away, didn't you?"
Scarlett always regarded it as tragic irony that, at that moment, the two Yankees from the train came barging down the sidewalk, hooting. It was obvious they had seen the kiss. They stumbled along, laughing, toward their direction. Tony's face, Scarlett noted nervously, seemed like a thundercloud, about to burst into storm.
"Tony Fontaine, eh?" said the first one, smiling, obviously drunk at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, "I've heard that name before, somewhere. What say you, Tom?"
Tom laughed, hiccuping.
"Now you, Mister Tony," the man poked him in the chest, greasy fingernails burrowing into Tony's clean shirt, "you apologize for intimidatin' us on the train, or I'll just walk myself over to the law 'nforcement office 'cross the street and spill your name."
"I'd like to-" Tony's face turned to an ugly blotch of purple, and he grabbed the small man by his shirt and shook him back and forth, " You listen here, bastard! I've got a knife in my pocket and I-"
Scarlett could just imagine Tony stabbing the man in the chest, then and there, in the broad street and getting carried off by the Yankee officers. And then poor Alex-
"Tony!" She screamed, "Tony! Stop! Now!"
The man's face was turning purple from the pressure on his throat.
"Tony! Think! Alex!"
Tony looked at her with the eyes of a madman, and for one second, Scarlett feared for her own safety. Ella started crying loudly, and Wade was cowering against the wall. The crowd of people in front of them just passed on, like sheep. In the distance, Scarlett could see a Yankee officer coming towards them.
"Tony, please!"
Slowly, inch by inch, Tony released the man and swore at the top of his lungs. "Cowards! Get the hell out of here unless you want me to shred you to bits!"
The man stumbled, half crawled off, and Tom ran behind him. Slowly, a look of pure hatred spread across the Carpetbagger's face, and Scarlett knew it wouldn't be the last they would see of him. Knew it with a certainty that sat like a rock in her belly, making her gasp with fear.
Tony turned to her, breathing heavily, and she patted his back awkwardly, wanting nothing more to do with him.
"Go home, Tony," she whispered, tears in her eyes, "Go on now."
He gave her one last nod, turned, and dissolved in the crowd on the sidewalk. Scarlett was left alone, with three wailing children, a heavy luggage bag, and an even heavier sinking in her heart.
Why, she wondered, did the Yankees have to spoil everything? Even her reunion with an old childhood friend had been marred by their dirty stink.
"Scarlett!" came a call from clear across the crowd, "Scarlett!"
She cast her gaze anxiously around the square, holding Ella by the hand. Will Benteen was waving at her, whip in hand, horses whinnying.
"Where were you?" he asked, after he had woven through the people to her,"I've been waitin' here for quite a while."
Vacantly, she settled her bags in the back and sat up front. Mercifully, Will was silent until they were out of the town, simply urging the horses with his calm, placid expression.
Good Old, Will, Scarlett thought. He always knew when there was something wrong with her. Will and Rhett, the only two men who had ever understood her.
She came out with it on her own in the countryside.
"Tony Fontaine's back." She stared curiously at him, wondering how he'd take it. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, herself.
"Really?" was all he said, but his mouth twisted down and Scarlett could tell he was worried.
Worried, Scarlett knew, for what this might mean for his family, and of course, Tara. Suppose the Yankees found out? What would they do? Her heart constricted nervously at the thought of the two ugly men on the train.
Will turned to her, and Scarlett could see him putting away unpleasant worries of Tony Fontaine for now, about to mention matters much closer to Scarlett's heart.
She jumped up so suddenly that she almost tumbled out of the buggy, and her hoops rose up at a dangerous angle. She fell back with a little shriek. The horses neighed violently and reared up, screaming protest and almost breaking away from the cart altogether. As the world spun around her, Scarlett heard a scream, a scream that was abruptly lost as the wagon swung off the road, tilted dangerously to one side.
"Mother! Mother!" Wade screamed, and Beau clutched the wood of the seat with a pale face.
"Will!" Scarlett yelled, as he frantically whipped the horses. They continued to rise in the air, and he pulled the reigns back with such force that the horse whinnied in pain, and was quiet. Scarlett knew she was in for it then. Will hated whipping the horses, hated whipping them as much as he would have hated whipping his own children.
At the end of it, he went to the front of the cart, without looking at her, and stiffly stroked the hurt horse's head. Deliberately, he came back, and put his hat upon his head. Scarlett cringed away from him; the disappointment in his eyes was more than she could bear.
"What on earth were you thinking, Scarlett?" He didn't yell the admonition; Will was never angry, but he was exasperated with her.
"You could have killed all of us right now!"He made a strangled sound and shook his head, evidently too overcome to say any more. Scarlett looked away at the countryside, blinking furiously. Even Will was tired of her and her idiotic rashness. Like a small child, she started to sniff, unable to stop the tears that leaked from her eyes and blotched her face.
Oh, what a mess she was!
But, as always, anger came to overcome sadness. Soon, she was glaring at Will's back as he managed the horses with extra care. She continued to scowl as he stopped in the middle of the deserted road and turned to her, folding his arms with the air of one preparing for a long talk.
"What's wrong, honey? Why are you carrying on like this?" he asked, so softly that tears started leaking again.
"I'm not...carrying on," she said indignantly. "it's just-just the dust. In my eye." It was probably the worst lie she had ever told and Will didn't believe a word of it, just sat there and ignored it like a gentleman.
"Is it Rhett? Or Miss Melly passing?"
There was a long, maddening silence.
"Rhett!" she cried suddenly. "It's Rhett! Oh, Will, he's left me and gone to Charleston and- and he says he doesn't-he doesn't want me back and he doesn't give a damn about me! And, oh, Will, I came here to think about what to do, but I haven't the faintest idea and he's...he's so cruel to just leave me like a-" By now, she was screaming her thoughts to the countryside, but she didn't care. Even their cows had stopped their grazing to stare at her, but God damn it! She didn't care!
"Scarlett!" Will cried, grabbing her shaking arms. "Stop! Stop! I understand!" He put her arm around her shoulders and, slowly, her violent sobbing ceased and her head cleared. When she opened her eyes again, the world seemed brighter, and it seemed as if some of the load had been lifted off her shoulders. Unknown to her, the hard shell around her heart had started to crack, crack with the abrupt rush of pure feeling she had felt over the last two days, and the former, innocent Scarlett, bottled up inside her, was starting to peek through the cracks. She never got very far, though, when the new Scarlett bottled her up again with the abrupt rush of jealously or anger, but she was there, and starting to make herself known.
Will, seeing her apparent return back to rationality, smiled and started the buggy again, They spoke no more about Rhett or her problems, and Scarlett was glad of it. She had not even been fully coherent when she had told him the story, a few minutes ago, but Will had sensed the essence, and understood. The understanding alone was, for her, enough.
"Suellen and I have five children now, Scarlett." He shook his head. "Five children! Who would have thought? With all the work around Tara, I can barely keep their names straight." Will held his fingers out.
"Mary Kate, Susan, Gerald, Will Jr., and Victoria. Whew."
Scarlett smiled at him, and Will grinned back.
"Will," she said suddenly, "You really are like a brother to me, you know that?"
Will shook his head ruefully as he drove up the driveway.
"Scarlett," he said, "if all sisters are as much as a handful as you, I'm sure glad I never had any." Scarlett started to glare at him, but changed her mind and smiled instead.
If Will was a comfort to Scarlett, Suellen went out of her way to make her sister's life as miserable as possible.
As soon as Will pulled the buggy in, there she was at the front door, hoops swinging and ears perked up. Her complexion had turned sour and twisted over time, and her red hair, primmed up to make her look rich, only heightened the effect.
Poor Suellen, Scarlett thought maliciously. All that jealousy was bound to show itself somewhere. Ellen had always told her so.
By this logic, Scarlett's face would have soon turned as green as the money she coveted, but she didn't think of that.
To be fair, however, Suellen did not deserve much sympathy. She kept making wry little comments until Scarlett was ready to box her around the ears.
"What, Mr. Butler not here?" she asked, feigning surprise, "not with his darling wife?"
Scarlett's face turned crimson, but she managed to choke out that he had gone to Charleston, on business.
"Oh, I see." Suellen winked at her, and Scarlett scowled even more. She had just made her way up the stairs when Suellen called to her from down below.
"You never know, Sister. Now perhaps you'll find out how it feels when a pretty girl steals your husband away."
Scarlett began to fly down the stairs, but Suellen ran away, screeching in delight.
Oh, that-that witch, Scarlett thought, slamming shut the door to her room. She hoped Will strangled her someday. She could just kill someone, or, or throw something at the wall! Yes, that's how angry she was right now.
She looked around, but there wasn't even a decent piece of Suellen's crockery to smash. Gritting her teeth, she let out a scream so loud the ghosts could hear it.
There, she thought, angry but satisfied. That would let everyone in the county know that Scarlett O'Hara was back, and God help any woman or man who came in her way!
