Read Online A Quilt for Christmas by Sandra Dallas - Free Book Online

thought. He couldn’t be. Will had said he would come back. She needed him. They all needed him. He had promised he would be safe. Besides, she had received no official notification. Will’s name had not been listed among the dead in the newspaper. “No, of course not. This is meant for someone else,” she said.
    She was not aware that Davy rose and put his hand on her shoulder, that Luzena moved beside her and took her hand. She looked up, glancing at each of them, even Baby Nance, and said, “It’s a mistake. With all the men dying in battle, it happens all the time. Will is too good a man to lose. We need him.” She paused. “Yes, it is a mistake.”
    â€œNo, Mama,” Davy said softly, the letter in his hand. “It’s Papa. It says so right here. I’ll read it.”
    Dear Mrs. Spooner
    I trust by now—
    Will skipped the rest of the sentence.
    His death came on the day of December 21 in the second Battle of Saltville in Virginia, and by his sacrifice and God’s grace, we won the fight. He died a hero’s death, in the discharge of his duty. Just before he passed on, he asked to tell you he was happy to sacrifice his life for a noble cause.
    It was the same sentiment contained in Missouri Ann’s letter telling her of Hugh’s death, Eliza thought, and she had not believed it about Hugh then, nor Will now. Will didn’t want to die. He wanted to come home. He’d never said such a thing. Someone else had died, and they’d thought it was Will. That was it.
    Your name was on his lips as he breathed his last.
    I had the honor of serving as Billy’s superior officer and knew him right well.
    Not if you call him “Billy,” Eliza thought.
    There never was a better soldier or one who held his family more dear. Once, he told me after a battle where the air was so heavy with smoke you could barely see that he wished he was in a Kansas snowstorm, riding in his new sleigh.
    Eliza gasped. Still, she couldn’t accept the death. After all, there were other men from Kansas, other men who had sleighs.
    The enclosed letter was discovered on your husband’s person, and I believe he intended it be sent to you in case of his death. I have found that soldiers often write such letters before battle. I did not take the liberty of reading the letter, for I believe it may be intended for your eyes only.
    Eliza reached for the letter on the table and turned it over, recognizing Will’s handwriting. And then she knew. There had been no mistake. Will was dead. She started to cry and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes to stop the tears, but they kept flowing.
    â€œWhy didn’t the army tell you? Why wasn’t it in the paper?” Davy asked, slapping his hand against the table, but Eliza could only shake her head.
    Madam, you have the condolences of the President of the United States and the citizens of this country as well as myself. You have our thanks for your husband’s part in this cause of liberty. Please know his death was not in vain.
    I remain your servant
    Randal S. Browne
    They sat there stunned for a moment, even Baby Nance, who seemed to understand that something bad had happened. She crawled into her mother’s lap, as Missouri Ann reached over and took Eliza’s free hand. “I’m sorry. It ain’t right. That man’s said it true. Will Spooner was too good to die.”
    Eliza didn’t hear her. Will was dead. She let the tears run down her face as she repeated it over and over to herself as if to accept the truth of it. She’d known from the day he joined the army that Will could be killed, but in her heart, she hadn’t believed it possible.
    â€œI wonder how many letters that man’s had to write,” Missouri Ann said, and Eliza realized that death wasn’t hers alone. How many times had Randal S. Browne penned those same words to other widows? Will’s death