by Michael Ross
“Greetings later,” he said. “There’s a force of Confederates making for Madison right now. I’ve just outrun them.”
✳ ✳ ✳
Will was exhausted, and Shadow stumbled occasionally. They were riding twenty-one hours a day. There was no time to make camp, barely time to eat and catch an hour or two of sleep. In the July heat and humidity it would have been hard to sleep, except that he was just so completely tired. Each morning he woke with new mosquito bites. Each day filled with skirmishing, bridge burning, dodging bullets, and patrolling. He rode over eighty miles in four days, fighting and tense all the way.
“Where are we headed?” Will asked Duke.
“Where Morgan leads. I don’t know what he’ll decide. Some say he’ll attack Indianapolis. Others that we’re headed back to Kentucky through Ohio. He hasn’t shared his mind with me. Only God and Morgan know,” Duke said. “But that’s good enough for me.”
Towards afternoon, Colonel Johnson came with orders to send a battalion toward Madison, not to attack but to discourage Federals from following Morgan’s forces. Will’s company was detached to go with the group. He and Shadow rested two hours, then the battalion rode out. They approached the town from the northwest. Will and two privates rode in front, cautiously feeling for pickets or any other sign of Federals. The town seemed peaceful as they crossed Crooked Creek and moved into town on Jefferson St. Will saw several townspeople and a few Negroes. They began running at the sight of the gray uniforms. A bell tolled at a church, and the command passed down the line to be ready.
They encountered no regular Federal troops, but as they turned down the road paralleling the river to the east, they saw a small force of militia in front of the depot, deployed behind barrels, boxes, and wagons. Johnson gave the order to spread out, sending one company to the north, another to the south, planning to converge on the depot from three sides, flanking the militia. Will moved south toward the river, then turned back north.
Johnson sent an envoy under flag of truce to ask the militia to stand down, since they were badly outnumbered. That offer being refused, he positioned a Parrot rifle where it could easily hit the depot. Shots rang out from the militia and the Parrot opened fire, hurling ten-pound shells. Will saw rather than heard the signal to charge, and ordered his men forward. He approached the depot at a controlled canter. To his surprise, the faces that looked out at him were mostly black, and there wasn’t a blue uniform to be seen except at the center, where a tall fellow with a limp seemed to be directing the defense, wearing a Union coat, but not a full uniform. He registered all this in a second, and then just saw targets—men pointing guns at him, so he fired his pistols automatically, turning from one target to the next. Bullets whizzed around him, but the shots went wild—these were clearly green troops. As he reached the barrel barricade, he felt Shadow gather himself and leaned forward for the jump. Two or three blacks scattered as the big Friesian flew through the air toward them, but the blue-coated figure stood firm. As Will landed, the stock of a musket swung toward him, and he ducked even lower, so it hit him a glancing blow. He lost his seat and fell out of the saddle. His shoulder crunched against the hard ground, but he sprang up and lowered his head, running into the blue coat and knocking him over on his side. Will drew a pistol. The man on the ground twisted, knocked the pistol wide, and was about to land a fist in Will’s face when they both stopped. Will was looking into the face of his father.
✳ ✳ ✳
The fight was quickly over. Johnson’s troops burned the railroad depot and water tower. The militia were taken prisoner and the wounded tended.
Will sat next to his father, shaken by what had almost happened.
“What happened, Pa? How did we get here? I went to the farm, and no one was there.”
“Some secesh from town came out one night and burned it. I had just come home and was too ill to fight. Your ma was barely getting by, so we decided to come up to Albinia’s. She has a farm east of here. She got burned out too, had to move out of Kentucky. She’s even had trouble here in Indiana. We just don’t want to lose our home again.”
“You won’t. I’ll speak to Colonel Johnson. We don’t have much use for prisoners, so it’s likely you’ll all be paroled in exchange for a promise not to fight. Even the blacks—some officers would kill them, but Johnson’s not that kind. I … I’m sorry, Pa. I never wanted it to get to this point. I … I could have killed you.”
“Or I you. We both know on a battlefield it becomes just what color uniform and survival.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“I don’t know, Will,” Robert said honestly. “I know that you’re my son and I still love you. Nothing’s going to change that. I also know it may take some time to heal, both for us, and for the country. I can see that you haven’t let hate take over, and I’m glad.”
“No, but it’s been hard losing so many friends.”
“A lot of good men have died in this crazy war. Seems like there has to be another way.”
“There is, Pa. Let it start with us.” Will extended a hand. Robert shook it, and then drew him into a bear hug.
Will got permission to take a few hours leave and go see his family. He got his father a horse and recovered Shadow. They rode up to the farm, Robert giving the password to the gate guard. Will admired the fortifications, hearing the stories about the Golden Circle. It angered him that men would prey on his sister. She introduced him to Luther, Peter, Mary, Ned, and Ruth. Luther looked at him coolly, being polite for Albinia’s sake, Will thought. The gray uniform did not endear him to any of the Negroes. He wondered at the relationship between Peter, Mary, and his sister, but this was not the time to ask. Peter and Mary seemed … close. But wasn’t there an understanding between Albinia and Peter?
Sara rushed to Will and hugged him, crying. Lydia looked wide-eyed at her big brother, not sure what to make of him, then ran to him and hopped onto his lap. For Will, it was as if the world had suddenly righted itself, yet here he was about to leave all that was sane and dear to him again.
“Where will you go, Will?” Albinia asked.
“No choice. I go with my regiment.” He noticed a disapproving gaze from Mary and most of the company.
Peter spoke, “You don’t have to, Will. You could surrender. You could change sides. You’re in the North—we could hide you, you’d never be caught.”
“And how will I then sleep at night? I swore an oath to the Confederate States and to Morgan. You’re a minister, you should know. ‘When thou vowest a vow unto God, defer not to pay it; for he hath no pleasure in fools: pay that which thou hast vowed.’”
Seeing his mind made up, they turned to other topics. After a meal and a few hours, Will rejoined his troop and they rode north to Vernon. His heart was torn between leaving his family behind and his loyalty to his oath. He shook it off—he couldn’t put his hand to the plow and look back.
✳ ✳ ✳
Luther wasn’t sure what made him more nervous, seeing Albinia’s brother in a Confederate uniform or seeing Ruth again. They were initially shy of each other, unsure what the passage of time and events meant for their relationship. Finally, Luther couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Ruth, will you come for a walk with me?”
“All right, Luther. Just let me tell my daddy.”
She returned quickly and said, “It’s all right—but if we’re gone more than an hour he’s gonna come after us with a shotgun” she said, smiling mischievously.
They walked out east of the farm compound. Luther went round and round in his mind about how to say what he wanted.
“Ruth, I know you didn’t want me to go. And I know that you aren’t happy about my killing Jameson. My ma ain’t going to be happy, either. I’m sorry about Sam, but I had nuthin’ to do with that. Fact is, once those were over, my mind and heart cleared—but not as much as I might have thought. I killed Jameson in battle, not just revenge, but it still troubles me in spite of all he did. I don�
��t know what to feel.”
Ruth listened but made little response.
Luther rushed on nervously. “You said you would wait for me. I came here lookin’ for you. No other reason.” He turned and took her hands. “Please. I still love you. Will you marry me?”
Ruth looked down as if thinking, then broke out in a wide smile. “Yes, Luther, I will marry you. I will be with you forever.”
Luther kissed her and then yelled, “Whooeee! I’m the happiest man on earth!”
Ruth laughed and hugged him, laying her head on his shoulder. They walked back to the farm, hand in hand.
✳ ✳ ✳
July 1863
Will heard that there was a large Federal force chasing them, led by Hobson, his old boss at the general store. After a night’s rest, they rode all the next day and the following night. Some of his men were so tired they slept in the saddle, still moving forward. They moved into Ohio, reaching a point about thirty miles from Cincinnati. Morgan no longer seemed to care what his troops did as they moved east. Will watched as some of his fellows looted and stole food, horses, silver, and anything else they fancied. He limited his own foraging to obtaining a ham from a meat packing plant.
He was bone weary, but the Raiders kept moving. Will was continually thankful for his Kentucky-bred Shadow. Many of the men had to change mounts four or even five times a day to keep up. Finally, they reached a point near Buffington Island, where the Ohio bordered Virginia, on July 18.
Will was riding near the front of the column. It was about eight o’clock at night, and the darkness surrounded them like thick ebony velvet. They had to be near the river, and Will knew the plan was to cross it.
“Column, halt!”
“Private Lappin, Private Lane! Go forward carefully, see what’s ahead. Don’t engage anyone. If you find pickets or resistance, get back here quickly,” Will ordered.
“Yes, sir!”
The two privates went off in the night, walking their horses. Will waited impatiently. If they could only get across the river, the thick forests and hills he’d heard about might provide them a chance to rest. He thought he heard gunfire, and the two privates returned at a gallop.
“There’s Federals! They’ve got the ford at the river, got earthworks dug in. We didn’t stick around to ask them to supper, but I saw at least one field piece poking over the edge.”
“Good work! Lane, go report it to Duke and Morgan, wait for orders.”
Private Lane left and returned again in an hour.
“Sir! General Morgan commands that we are to make camp here tonight and attack in the morning.”
“All right, men! Dismount, make camp, but don’t get too comfortable. We’re going to have company early, I think.” Will saw to setting guards out, tended Shadow, and then gratefully sank onto his bedroll, not bothering with a tent.
Dawn came, and he got his men up and moving. Duke came to lead the attack. He conferred with Will and the other officers, where Will learned that two full brigades would advance. They set up a Parrot gun on a slight rise, but more for effect than anything—they only had three cartridges left for it. When all was ready, they moved forward cautiously, expecting any moment that the earthworks would spit bullets and death. All was strangely quiet. Will was tense—why were the Federals not attacking? Was it some sort of trick? They were within fifty yards now. Will saw Duke motion, and sent his troop to the south side, flanking the earthworks. Still no resistance. Then they were beyond them and could see the river. There was no one there. The Federals had vanished. Will was bewildered. If they had known, they could have gotten across safely in the night.
Will began to make preparations to cross. Duke said they were taking all the wagons and wounded—no one was to be left behind. By about noon, they were ready. The first horses were starting to enter the river when it happened.
Artillery shells came screaming in among them, and cavalry from the northwest. The attack caught them off guard. They had supposed they had at least a day’s march between them and the Federals chasing them. Will’s company turned and met the charge in their rear. Chaos was everywhere. Men and animals were screaming, the air was full of bullets. Two Federals charged at Will, and he jerked Shadow hard to the left, causing them to run into one another. Will drew his pistol and fired, hitting a horse. The men with the Parrot gun were captured. Then more artillery shells, this time from the river. Two Federal gunboats arrived, steaming up the river and shelling them with impunity.
Will dodged, swerved, and fired. His pistols were empty, and no time to load. He fired the Enfield carbine at an approaching Federal.
“Form a line, men! Form a line!” yelled Will. It was no use. Terrified horses plunged about in the midst of the melee. Wagons and supplies rolled over the edge, down the sloping ravine to the river. Federal infantry arrived on the southwest, pushing them toward the river.
“Retreat! Sound retreat!” yelled Duke. Through personal courage, he managed to restore a semblance of order, and the cavalry formed a column of fours, moving north along the river to escape the gunboats.
“Cover for me!” yelled Will at a private. Within a minute, he reloaded his pistols and the Enfield.
Many of their fellows were left behind, but Will took up his old position in the rear, guarding the retreat.
The Federals pressed from behind, but Will and four or five others made them pay if they got too close. They were moving at a quick trot. Will knew from maps that there were other fords to the north. If they could gain that, they might still escape.
The road bent west, away from the river. On the eastern side was a steep ravine, with bluffs on the east rising again before plunging to the riverbank. Suddenly a new force appeared, Federal cavalry from the northwest, charging, firing, and swinging sabers. Caught between the force behind and the new attackers, there was nowhere to go but into the ravine. Shadow stumbled down the steep side, losing his balance. Will was thrown, his head hitting the ground hard. Blackness descended, and he knew no more.
✳ ✳ ✳
When Will woke, he was lying at the bottom of the ravine. He tried to sit up, thinking the fight was still going on, but saw that Duke and others were standing around, with Federals guarding them. It was over. Seeing him move, a medical orderly came over to look at him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I wish I had a different head. Don’t think anything is broken, though.”
“Can you march?”
“I can manage,” replied Will. His head felt like his horse had stepped on it. The pain throbbed, but he managed to stand. He joined a line of gray uniforms, and the guards, ever cautious, moved them out of the ravine by a sloping path to the north. Someone had carefully taken all his weapons. He briefly wondered what happened to the Whitfield. When his head protested, he stuck to worrying about just putting one foot in front of another. If he stumbled, a bayonet prodded him. He felt exhausted from weeks in the saddle. His head wound throbbed. He had no urge to fight.
They huddled in a group in a field about five hundred yards from the river. Here the bank sloped gently, but there were vigilant guards to prevent any escape. The Federals allowed no fires.
“What you s’pose they’ll do with us?” said one.
“I don’t know,” said Will. “All I know is that I failed. If I’d kept watch on the Federals, scouted in the night, known when they withdrew, maybe none of us would be sitting here.”
Will slept fitfully. All sorts of images haunted his dreams. The first Federal he killed. Archie dying at Shiloh. He dreamed Morgan was shot. Albinia came in his dream, scolding him for following Morgan. Toby looked at him as though betrayed when he had to leave him at the river.
When he woke, he heard among the men that officers and private soldiers were to be separated. News of the Confederate defeat at Gettysburg reached them. It was thought that with so many Confederate prisoners, officers would be less likely to be set free, if indeed any were set free at all. Will determined then to
hide his rank, stripping his uniform of insignia and assuming the role of a private. He asked the others not to give him away.
“All right you Johnny Rebs! You gonna get some Northern hospitality. Form ranks of twos, and march!”
Will’s head felt slightly improved. He marched with the line down onto a small steamboat. Since they thought him a private, he remained on deck. He watched as two or three managed to jump overboard in the night and escape. He felt that if he tried, he would just drown. He lay on a blanket on the deck, looking up at the stars. He wondered if Morgan had escaped. He wondered about Tom Logwood and Ben Drake. They were not in his group. He wondered if his fellow soldiers blamed him for their predicament. The boat was crowded, barely room to lie down. So far the Federals were courteous, accommodating, supplying little niceties like his blanket. It was stifling hot, but a breeze stirred over the water. What would happen to them?
BEHIND BARS
July 1863
For three days, the steamer wound its way down the Ohio, taking Will and the rest of Morgan’s command to an uncertain future in Cincinnati. Will’s head grew worse, and he felt as though he had a fever.
“You Yanks got a doctor on board this tub?” he asked.
“Reb, no use getting healthy where you’re going. But I’ll ask,” said the guard. He returned an hour later with balding bespectacled man in a dark suit coat, who examined Will.
“Anything unusual in how you feel?”
Will thought he must be an idiot. “Of course it’s unusual. I got thrown off a horse. My head hit the ground, maybe a rock. It hurts something fierce most of the time. One minute I wish they’d shot me. The next minute I feel like we’ll still win the war. Can you at least stop the pain?”
The doctor rummaged about and then said, “I’ll have someone bring you a willow bark tea. I have no laudanum to give you; it’s for soldiers at the front. I’m afraid you’ll just have to cope with the pain. Of course, if you try to escape, one of the soldiers here may grant your wish to be shot.”
When the tea came, Will drank it gratefully, and then tried to sleep. Twice a day someone came by with a bucket of alleged soup and hard tack. Will swayed and struggled to get down to the privy in the stern, and then back. He passed in and out of consciousness.