“Yankees?” said Gerald vaguely. “But the Yankees have already been here.”
“Mother of God!” cried Scarlett, her eyes meeting Melanie’s frightened eyes.
For a swift instant there went through her memory again the horrors of her last night in Atlanta, the ruined homes that dotted the countryside, all the stories of rape and torture and murder.
She saw again the Yankee soldier standing in the hall with Ellen’s sewing box in his hand.
She thought:
“I shall die. I shall die right here.
I thought we were through with all that.
I shall die.
I can’t stand any more.”
Then her eyes fell on the horse saddled and hitched and waiting for Pork to ride him to the Tarleton place on an errand.
Her horse!
Her only horse!
The Yankees would take him and the cow and the calf.
And the sow and her litter-Oh, how many tiring hours it had taken to catch that sow and her agile young!
And they’d take the rooster and the setting hens and the ducks the Fontaines had given her.
And the apples and the yams in the pantry bins.
And the flour and rice and dried peas.
And the money in the Yankee soldier’s wallet.
They’d take everything and leave them to starve.
“They shan’t have them!” she cried aloud and they all turned startled faces to her, fearful her mind had cracked under the tidings.
“I won’t go hungry!
They shan’t have them!”
“What is it, Scarlett?
What is it?”
“The horse!
The cow!
The pigs!
They shan’t have them!
I won’t let them have them!”
She turned swiftly to the four negroes who huddled in the doorway, their black faces a peculiarly ashen shade.
“The swamp,” she said rapidly.
“Whut swamp?”
“The river swamp, you fools!
Take the pigs to the swamp.
All of you.
Quickly.
Pork, you and Prissy crawl under the house and get the pigs out.
Suellen, you and Carreen fill the baskets with as much food as you can carry and get to the woods.
Mammy, put the silver in the well again.
And Pork!
Pork, listen to me, don’t stand there like that!
Take Pa with you.
Don’t ask me where!
Anywhere!
Go with Pork, Pa.
That’s a sweet pa.”
Even in her frenzy she thought what the sight of bluecoats might do to Gerald’s wavering mind.
She stopped and wrung her hands and the frightened sobbing of little Wade who was clutching Melanie’s skirt added to her panic. “What shall I do, Scarlett?” Melanie’s voice was calm amid the wailing and tears and scurrying feet.
Though her face was paper white and her whole body trembled, the very quietness of her voice steadied Scarlett, revealing to her that they all looked to her for commands, for guidance.
“The cow and the calf,” she said quickly.