I do solemnly swear, in presence of Almighty God, that I will faithfully support, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States and the Union of the States thereunder, and that I will, in like manner, abide by and faithfully support all Laws and Proclamations which have been made during the existing Rebellion with reference to the Emancipation of Slaves—So help me God.
One man threw a crumpled piece of paper at the Secretary （although it landed short）。 Another stood up screaming of traitors and scallywags before departing. Yet by then people were queuing, the women first, many of them holding their children, followed by their husbands. They went one by one, speaking clearly as the Secretary recorded their names and handed them a slip of paper to document their vow. Afterward they lingered outside. The sky was gray and dim and the fire was still fresh in their minds; the words they’d uttered moments before felt empty, part of the odd daze of everything. What did it matter if they said them? Were they not already under Union rule? It was just some words. Scribbles on parchment. Nothing. Nothing at all. And when they departed, even the memory itself began to fade away.
*
The first to see her, to share the story, was Mildred, who visited her that same afternoon, having attended the meeting at the church with her sons. Isabelle had never seen her so flustered—so red in the face she looked like she’d fought the fire herself. Thankfully, Mildred’s home, which lay beyond the lumberyard, had never been in the line of danger. She’d done nothing more than sit on her veranda, anxious for it all to end.
Isabelle assured her anxious friend that she was perfectly fine.
“But your land is not,” Mildred said. “And it could’ve been far worse. To have you out here all alone.”
They were sitting at the dining-room table. The windows were closed to keep out the ash-strewn air and shuttered to conceal the destruction outside. She estimated the fire had consumed a good twenty acres. It had taken a straight line from George’s crops and had scorched down the road, just as she’d imagined. All the trees along Stage Road （including her own） had been burnt naked, many of them having fallen altogether, nor had the conflagration spared the grand homes that flanked the road.
Neither of the women drank the tea in front of them. They seemed to have lost even the wherewithal to comfort each other, an ability that had never before eluded them.
“I’m healthy, Mildred. My house is intact. And you did the right thing by staying home. God forbid you rode out here and got caught in that wretched fire.”
Mildred’s eyes did not leave the saucer before her when she spoke.
“George will be back,” she said. “I have no doubt of that.”
Isabelle nodded vacantly. “Yes.”
“I wish there was more I could do. I feel like a terrible friend.”
“You’re always looking to help but sometimes there’s nothing to be done. Not here, at least. Perhaps in town. Bring me back another story. A bit of gossip. That will be sufficient.”
“The boys are helping out in the square. I plan to help myself, however I can.”
“Do that,” Isabelle said. “They need individuals like you. People who know how to manage things.”
“I’ll come back more often. We’ll clear those fields together, return them to life. Whatever needs to be done will be done. You won’t be left alone out here.”
Isabelle couldn’t muster the energy to protest. The morning in her friend’s company was the only respite she’d had from her own thoughts since George and Caleb’s departure, and there was nothing more she might want than for her to return, whether she brought another story or not.
Mildred stood and put on her gloves, while Isabelle remained seated.
“Might you do me a small favor?” Isabelle asked. “I would be so grateful if you could send a telegram to my brother. Telling him I’m okay. That he might perhaps come visit.” The younger sister in her recoiled at the weakness of needing Silas, but it didn’t diminish her desire to see him.
“I’m not sure you understand,” Mildred told her. “The post office is an ash heap.”
“Right. Of course.” Isabelle thought for a moment. “Then do me this much. See if Clementine and her daughter fared all right? That they are well.”
Her friend evinced an air of suspicion about whatever this connection to Clementine might mean, but Isabelle knew she would not be denied the request in the present circumstances.
“As you wish,” Mildred said.