April 25, 1850

Dear Diary,

How can I describe to you the utter depths of my misery? All the joy of life has left us as the search continues for dear Uncle Louis. All of his effects remain carefully stored in his rooms, but alas, we have no word of his whereabouts since these many days past. What an event it had been, Father and Uncle Louis participating in loud and raucous debate, one that echoed through the house and even up the staircase. I had seen the horses ride up the dusty lane but thought nothing of it when another left shortly after. There was always a commotion when menfolk are about, and plenty had been around for days, except for Captain Garrett.

To listen more closely, I decided to peek out my door and found my mother swaying at the top of the stairs, looking as pale as a beaten sheet. “Mother, why are you standing here?” I said. “Come, dearest, you should not be here in the draft.” I looked down to see her gowns stained red, and blood also dotted the carpeted floor. Her bleeding had come, and no one was to be found! I screamed to see the blood, so much blood. And in a flash, Hooney came upstairs to see what was amiss. She said something in a language I did not understand and ordered me to help her get Mother back to her bedchamber. I caught Muncie peering up the stairs, concerned for me, I’m sure, but I waved him back. Since he was a “man” now, my Father said, “He has no place on the top floor, and I’ll whip the hide off him if he comes back.” I believed him.

As much as we tried to coax her, Mother would not speak to us but only stared off into space, like someone who was locked in a dream. I cried, “Mother, Mother, what is wrong?” I patted her hands, rubbing them furiously, but she didn’t see me. “Now, look,” Hooney said to me in a stern voice, “You go down them stairs and tell Stokes to send for the doctor. He should never have left the other day—and then go tell your Father—or better still, your Uncle Louis—that Mrs. Cottonwood is in a bad way. Send one of them girls up here too—I need some clean clothes and water. Now, go on! Get going, Miss!” I did what I was told and scurried down the stairs like a madwoman. Unable to find Uncle Louis in the parlor or the Blue Room, I sprinted to my Father’s study and told him the urgent news. He set down his whiskey glass and rushed passed me, looking like a ghost, his face drawn with concern and confusion. How I felt for him in that moment! I could not find Stokes, and I noticed that Early, my father’s constant companion and slave, was also missing. But I did find Muncie, who nodded and left right away to request the doctor’s presence. Dear Muncie!