Dolls & Magic

     The old man with the feathery hair and sagging trousers led the small, wide eyed child across the desolate street. There, on the corner, stood the old Chambersburg hotel, an enormous two storied, red brick, circa 1776, that stood facing the west for over two hundred years; but most of the small town was like this. They stopped, facing the sleeping building.

     "When I was your age, my Grandfather stopped me here and told me a story about this place, the old hotel."

     "Is it still a hotel?"

     "Yes, and it almost always has been. See, it sits here at the crossroads; and long ago, before even the trains, people would stop here and stay.

     Well, long ago, when my Great Grandfather was just as big as you are now, your Great Great Granddad!, he heard a story about the sisters who used to own the place, the Shade sisters." He led the child to a bench alongside the wraparound porch.

     "What were the sisters like, Grandpap?"

     "Well, Elizabeth, she was old, not as old as me, but a spinster all the same."

     "A spider?"

     "No, a spinster is a lady who never gets married." The old man chuckled and shook his head.

     "Oh, like Mummy?"

     "No. Not really. See, Sam, times have changed since then, especially for ladies. Ladies were expected to behave differently back then."

     "Like how?"

     "Well, like with old Elizabeth Shade: she should have got married, shouldn't have run this old hotel, here, and believe me, it was old even back then, should have been kinder to her baby sister, Sadie, and never should she have housed a Rebel cavalry, but she knew this."

     "What's cavary?"

     "Horses, soldiers on horseback. See those old posts around the front there?"

     "Yes."

     "That's where they'd tie their horses."

     "Oh."

     "Well, there was a Civil War going on then, and men were dying to keep this country free. The Rebs, those were the bad guys, had just invaded from the South, led by Robert E. Lee; and it was a hot summer's day, just like today.

     So the Shade sisters' parents had died from fever when Sadie was just a baby. They, being the soul survivors, inherited the place, and Elizabeth decided to run the place as well as raise her little sister on her own.

     Elizabeth was a sharp boned woman with a bent back and white hair. People said her hair was always like that, and she always dressed in black, since her parents died. See, back then, ladies were expected to wear black for seven years to show respect for the dead."

     "Why do dead people like black, Grandpap?"

     "Now, just wait awhile, and maybe I'll get to that. Anyways, Elizabeth was very strict with the young Sadie, who was growing up quite beautifully."

     "Was she pretty, Grandpap?"

     "Yes, very, but as your Grandma will tell you, beauty is often a curse, as was the case with the little Miss Sadie.

     See, when the Rebs came into town, they took this hotel, here, as their headquarters. They took our railroad too. Oh, and they gave old Elizabeth a hell of a time."

     "What they do?"

     "Well, they cleaned out the cupboards first. They were hungry. Guests were robbed and turned out. They drank all of the brandy, coffee, and milk, had old Lizzy flying around the kitchen, muttering condemnations beneath her breath, baking rolls and frying eggs."

     "What's condemashun?"

     "That's a curse. She cursed them, and many a towns' folk believed her to have some skill in witchery. See, her Grandmother had come here from the Black Forest of Germany, where witches ran rampant, and many believed that she had inherited the dark knowledge from her.

     But, anyways, back to the story... See, Sadie, on the other hand, was secretly loving the invasion. She was used to Elizabeth barking out orders to her, keeping her in line, and she was always quiet, respectful, and obedient. What she wasn't ready for was the ragged, rough, and ready Rebels who stormed into her routine.

     They'd put their boots up on the table, and she saw that they were worn through to the bottom. The ladies owned a sewing machine, that was a luxury at the time, and she sat at the window mending pants and coats till the sun went down.

     The men went through all the paper products in the house, writing letters home to North Carolina and Georgia. They'd sit and write, gorging themselves on apples and cherries, and talk to Sadie as she sat at the old treadle, that still sits up there today, by the window, there. See?"

     The old man pointed, squinting his soft eyes. The child nodded, unwrapping a small satchel of Cherrybombs.

     "Well, there was one Reb in particular, who never wrote letters home, some said that he was deaf, dumb, and mute, others argued his brilliance, for he was a shark at cards. They called him Black Jack; he wore a black General's hat, a black silk shirt, and black trousers. It was said that old Black Jack had killed two hundred Union men, our men. He was both honored and feared, and folks seemed to stay clear of him, for he had a fire in his eyes and two stolen pistols at his sides.

     But it seemed that Black Jack must have developed some affections towards our little Sadie of sixteen, because he'd leave the card table to sit with her in that western room, alone.

     There was a curtain that used to separate the rooms back then, instead of a door. They've removed the added door and replaced it with a heavy velvet drape, just like the one that hung back then. Black Jack would close the dark drape behind him as he entered, and some said that you could hear them talking and laughing. Others said that Sadie would often leave the window, and then you could hear the shuffling of cards.

     He'd be seen rambling up the steps to her room, with a glint in his eye, and a tray filled with flowers from the garden and a pitcher of lemonade with two glasses.

     Sometimes they had the gall to pull the shade down, and this is what infuriated Elizabeth the most. Her little sister, in the hands of a murderous enemy.

     Some say that she cursed him, and it came back to catch her too, The South Wind. It doesn't really matter at any rate, because old Lizzy was wily, and she had her revenge.

     It started one morning as he was on his way up the stairs with the tray. A coughing fit caught hold of him and tripped up his gator skinned boots, sending the tray and its contents sailing, scattered roses, broken glass. He was cut, broke his arm, and was covered in the cold sour lemonade. But, he recovered, and continued his visits with the sweet Miss.

     The Rebs had now occupied the house for several weeks, and Miss Elizabeth was growing livid with secret rage, for she was  feisty and strong for the wraith that she was. She had also noticed that they were likely to burn the places that fell short of provisions. They had already burned the old boardinghouse and Miller's Pharmacy. They were loathsome, vile, looting, arsonists to her sharp little eyes, and she would not loose any blood over them, or her home; she had already vowed this to herself upon their first arrival, but now things were getting worse. They had long ago looted the place, scribbled maps and messages on her clean white walls, but at the rate that they were eating, she was liable to starve over the winter. But, they were stupid after all, for they hadn't found Miss Elizabeth's old .22 underneath the floorboards, beneath her bed.

     Black Jack was always respectful towards Miss Elizabeth, saw his reflection in the glint of her black eyes, but he never answered her or anyone else. This was known and acknowledged, except for the rumors of murmurs and poetry begot behind the dark curtain of room number nine.

     One dark night, Black Jack, too boldly, crept up the stairs, quietly, carefully, his arm in a sling made from a bullet eaten Union flag, but as he drew the curtain, he wasn't greeted by the sweet Sadie, but rather the snout of Elizabeth's rifle and a bullet to the chest.

     Just as she fired the shot, like a blessing from above, the night was twice, simultaneously, accosted with gunshot and the sounds of men approaching swiftly on horseback. She flew to the window to see the Rebel riders bearing lanterns and shouting to the startled men who ran out from her house to meet them.

     "Come on boys, down the road aways, to Gettysburg, should have been there yesterday. Come on, hurry up! Don't take what you can't carry!"

     She smiled like a dog as she watched them hull out into the night, but they didn't take her troubles with them.

     Sadie became despondent, sad, but Elizabeth attributed this to the war and the constant sound of canons and the smell of death.

     Nobody mentioned the missing cavalry man. They had taken his horse with them. Nobody noticed, or nobody cared.

     But Sadie cared, and she became sick with a fearsome cough. Elizabeth nursed her, stayed at her side always, and it is said that the night Sadie Shade died, she took three hearts with her, for Elizabeth closed the hotel and stayed alone in the house until her dying day, and I Leave my heart in your keep was found written on the wall of room number nine. It's still there.

     But, the name, Shade Sisters, has always stayed, for since then, many guests have claimed to see old Black Jack on the front porch or in the garden. Ghostly cards are shuffled, ice tinkles in invisible glasses, roses, broken glass, have been found on the stairs, laughter, coughs, are heard from behind the curtain of a room that forever smells of flowers. A sewing machine can be heard and a girl seen at the window if the shade is not drawn.

     Come on now, it's getting dark. Your Mother will be worried."

     The old man led the child back across the road.

                                                                                  5/26/01