The Mockingbird's Ballad

This was his fifth visit to the big house at Caladonia over the last twelve days. He'd kept count. Because of several childhood dislocations, several educational institutions, a mixed heritage - Connecticut Yankee, New Yorker, and young Georgia gentleman, Joseph Wheeler had not had much exposure in the realm of romance. His Connecticut aunts who raised him from six to sixteen were warm and good to him but they were certainly not demonstrative. Their kind spirits molded much of his mannered and reserved character. Their kindness and friendship had shown him women were people but still different. He liked them from afar. At West Point, the 5' 4", 110 pound cadet had not cut an impressive figure at the few mixed socials he had attended. His basic shyness had been a foundation to his means of interaction with people and his experiences had not made for adventures into Venus's domain. He knew from his own body what sexuality felt like. The early examples of farm animals, conversations overheard at boarding school, slave talk on his father's plantation, and bull sessions in his dark quarters at the Point had informed him about men and women sexually. In truth he had not been that attracted to any female. Yet, there were a few who had inspired his imagination. But there it was, Cupid had found the heart of the young cavalry chieftain. Five visits to lady in less than two weeks attested to that reality.

Working from before dawn to just past sunset on every job was required of a good commander of nearly 3,000 worn out, unruly soldiers and all the accompanying equipment and stock of an army cavalry command. Drills, instruction, inspections, medical attention, supplies and getting his troops and their 4,100 mounts, mules and horses taken care of had been a fourteen hour-a-day hands-on job. The job was not complete, but he'd accomplished much. He'd had found his second wind, cleaned himself up and his uniform was as neat and squared away as it had been at the Point.

Mrs. Daniella Ellen Jones Sherrod was a twenty-two year old widow. She'd buried her husband, Benjamin Sherrod, three years ago - he was 24, she 19 - and her month old daughter, Ella shortly after that. Her little boy, three-year-old, Richard Jones Sherrod, ruled the manor.

"Miss Daniella and General Joe were really a matched team," Major Stevenson had thought when he saw them together for the first time walking in Caladonia's garden a week ago. Watching them a few seconds, he noticed that they talked easily to one another, she doing most of the talking. They smiled a lot and were amazingly similar in stature and coloration. She was 5' 3" tall, he 5' 5". She weighed maybe 90 pounds. Both had fair complexions with dark hair. She had a few freckles and an easy smile which complimented her dark blue eyes. Her hair was a rich brown and his was prematurely thin and nearly black.