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from Springfield, Illinois, to Washington, DC, on the way to his inauguration in 1861 he made stops in several cities, including one in Columbus, Ohio’s state capital. Daniel, then a student at Ohio Wesleyan in Delaware, had made the trek down to see him. Long lines of people stood in the statehouse’s grand rotunda waiting to meet the future president. The instant their hands touched, Daniel had been doubly glad Lincoln had been made president. Like his father, Daniel took his first impression of a man from his handshake. The firm, strong grip of Lincoln’s hand confirmed all the good things he had heard about the president-elect. No one better could have led the country through the war. And no one better would have led it down the road of peace.
    He brought Scioto to a halt.
I don’t understand, Lord. What will happen to the country now?
It took Daniel a moment or two to quell the feelings of grief and anger that welled up before he nudged his horse forward.
    He looked around him as he rode, and the beauty of his home state surrounded him like one of his mother’s quilts. He felt some of his grief and weariness recede. Elm, ash, oak, and maple trees rose like giants on either side of the road. And mixed in with them all, particularly close to the creek, were buckeye trees.
    Daniel had carried a buckeye nut in his pocket throughout the war. Some folk thought carrying one was good luck or could ward off whatever ailed the bearer, but he had never held to such silly notions. To him the small brown nut with its large round white splotch was a reminder of home. He pulled it out now and looked at it. In the fall, when the nuts fell from the trees, it had been all-out war as he and his brothers pelted each other with them. But they had always been careful never to bring one near the livestock or the dinner table. While they might be good food for squirrels, the nuts were poisonous to most animals and to people.
    Jonah had taken a buckeye with him, also. He had carved his initials in it.
    Daniel had laughed at him. “Afraid someone will take it?” He’d chuckled as he watched his brother carving at it with his pocketknife.
    Jonah had soberly glanced up at him before returning to his work. “If something bad happens, they’ll know it’s me.”
    Grimly, Daniel put his buckeye back in his pocket and looked around some more. The spring sunlight danced down through freshly bloomed leaves, and bright rays of light hit new grass as it poked up through last year’s fallen leaves. Squirrels darted and played, running partway up a trunk and, seeing him, dove back into the underbrush. And far back from the road, where the trees grew thicker, Daniel caught sight of a buck with a full rack of white antlers. Even the dust Scioto’s hooves were kicking up was wonderfully familiar—plain brown dirt. No more red Virginia clay, which refused to wash out of his clothes.
    At length Mill Creek Church came into view. He stopped out in front and gazed at the little brick building for a moment before dismounting. He tied Scioto to the graveyard fence, and as he looked out over the rows of gravestones, he stared in surprise. Kneeling over his mother’s grave was the same young woman he had bumped into in Ostrander. He quietly came up behind her and saw she was arranging flowers on the mound.
    “There you are, Mrs. Kirby,” she said, leaning back. “Pretty as a picture.”
    He wasn’t sure which surprised him more, her presence or her accent. Who was she, and why on earth was this young Southern woman placing flowers on his mother’s grave? He was about to ask when she spoke again, still unaware of his presence.
    “We still haven’t heard anything from your son, ma’am. Mary’s so worried. She wrote him almost a month ago.” She rose and brushed the dirt from the skirt of her dress. “God willing, Daniel’s all right. I’ll keep him in my prayers.”
    Daniel couldn’t help but smile at her kindhearted gesture and spoke without