A Lasting Impression

tall black hat, Bartholomew Holbrook eyed him, much as his own father might have, if he were still alive. “I know better than to try to dissuade you once you’ve set your mind to something, son.” Holbrook’s sigh held reservation. “Justice may be on your side, but justice always comes with a price. And you’re all your mother has now. Remember that. Whatever price you pay, she’ll be forced to pay as well. And mark my words—it will hurt her more.” He leveled his stare. “As it will a certain young woman who shall remain unnamed.”
    Sutton let his mentor’s counsel settle inside him, aware of what the venerable attorney was asking—in that indirect manner of his. Bartholomew Holbrook was renowned not only for four decades of practicing law in Nashville but also for his ability to ferret out information.
    Yet Sutton had learned a thing or two from the older gentleman in their years together—like how to evade such an attempt. He wasn’t ready to discuss this particular topic with anyone. Because he hadn’t fully decided the issue within himself.
    He’d hoped the few days spent with Cara Netta LeVert and her family in New York last month would have helped make his decision clearer. Easier. But it hadn’t.
    Cara Netta was a fine young woman. Intelligent, thoughtful, pretty. They’d known each other for years and got along well. She possessed a dowry that had every unmarried Southern male vying for her hand. Everyone said he and Cara Netta would make a perfect pair. Frankly, he had a hard time seeing how anyone could say he would make a good match with any woman these days. He had precious little to offer a wife in terms of financial security. The war had seen to that.
    And he’d be hanged before he allowed a woman to provide for him.
    Cara Netta knew about his circumstances—as though it were a secret—which spoke even more highly of her character. Over recent months, they’d developed an understanding between them, one of a more romantic nature, and she’d told him, more than once, that his financial standing didn’t matter to her. But it did to him. Though he had yet to formally propose, he knew she was waiting, expecting it, as were her mother and sister.
    Yet the timing hadn’t been right. And still wasn’t. Not until he knew for certain that this new government wasn’t going to take his land and rob him of his birthright. Once that was all set to rights, he would be ready to move forward with the marriage. At least that’s what he told himself.
    And for the most part, he believed it.
    He stared at the land that had been in his family for three generations. Laurel Bend, as his grandparents had named it. Land that would be stripped of his family name if the Federal Army had their way. In his mind’s eye, he saw where the barn and stables had once stood, and the smokehouse behind which his grandfather had taught him how to shoot.
    His gaze traveled purposefully back toward the charred remains of his childhood home, and another image returned—of his father lying facedown in the dirt only yards away from where he stood now. His blood ran hot. Resolve hardened within him like steel. “Have you learned the name of the man chairing the Federal Army’s review board, sir?”
    “Not yet. But he’s a high-ranking Federal officer. All the evidence has been turned over to him.” A moment passed before Holbrook continued. “One of the men on the board informed me privately—which is, of course, how I’m informing you right now. . . .”
    Seeing the question in the older man’s eyes, Sutton nodded his agreement.
    “He told me they were most impressed with the written defense you made on your father’s behalf. He said it was the most thorough and well-authored account they’d received to date. Which is saying a great deal.”
    “I still wish they would allow me to testify in person.”
    Holbrook sat straighter in the saddle, the leather creaking as he moved. “There are too many of these cases, and that would take far more time than they’re willing to allow. Besides, testifying personally makes far too much sense, which means the government would naturally oppose the idea.”
    Sutton responded with a semblance of a smile, but inside his gut churned. His father had been a peaceable man. The most gentle, loving man he’d ever known. His life shouldn’t have ended the way it had. And while Sutton knew, on one level, that it wasn’t his own fault, on another, he was certain it