Despite his obvious sorrow, Loreta wanted more confirmation that he was truly hers. “You are still in love with her?”
“Yes, I’m still hoping to marry her as soon as we are in contact again. As soon as the doctors pronounce me safe to travel, I will find her.”
“Have you heard that New Orleans has fallen to the Union?”
“I know.” Tom took a deep breath. “I would rescue her from the heavy jowls of General Butler himself if need be.”
“I think you’ve done enough fighting for the present. You deserve to have all the rest you need.”
“I don’t plan on leaving the army unless it is necessary for my health, and even then it would be with great reluctance.” He began coughing. Loreta held the tureen under his chin but he waved it away. “I am determined to get married, even if it costs me my commission. Each day that goes by that I don’t see her, the hole in my heart grows deeper.”
Loreta’s voice was so choked with emotion she could hardly utter her next words. “What if you could see your lady right now?”
The color seemed to immediately return to Tom’s cheeks. “I would give everything I own. Indeed, I would steal the stars from the heavens if I could see Loreta again.”
Just hearing her name from Tom’s lips filled Loreta with a strange combination of glee and anguish. She got to her feet, bidding him goodbye before he could see the turmoil his words had caused. She hurried back to her room hoping he was too drained to notice how abrupt her departure had been.
Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring the floor in front of her and she stumbled the rest of the way to her bed. Although they were tears of joy, the doctor thought that Harry was in great pain and forbade him to leave the room for at least a day.
Loreta tried her best to soothe her aching heart, telling herself that it would not be long before their union and she would never have to feel that degree of angst again.
After she awoke the next morning, she penned a letter to Tom from Loreta, stating that she had arrived in Memphis and would see him as soon as possible. She asked Dr. Hay to deliver the letter right then. She gave Tom a few minutes to process what she had written before entering his room again.
Upon spying her at the door, he spoke with renewed energy, “Ah, Harry, look here.” He waved the note. “She has come, my friend, she will be here soon.”
Loreta entered. Her face was red and her hands were shaking, but Tom did not seem to notice. She was convinced that his love was wholehearted, but that did not mean he might not forsake her when she told him the truth of her identity. She had spent time enough among men to know what their true opinion of a woman’s place was, and it certainly was not on the battlefield.
She had been resolved to tell him, but now that the time was upon her, she scarcely knew how to begin. She pulled a chair next to his cot, speaking low for fear that others might hear. “Captain, before your sweetheart returns to you, I have something to tell you.”
Tom gave her a startled look, evidently fearing whatever it was she had to say would burst his bubble of excitement.
Loreta removed his letter from her coat pocket. “I believe this belongs to you.”
He turned the paper over with obvious confusion. “I sent this in care of my beloved. However did you get it in your possession?” He gave her a weary look, probably wondering if he’d lost another girl to the likes of Harry Buford.
“Captain, you said last night that each day you don’t lay eyes on Loreta, the wound in your heart gets more severe.”
“Yes,” he replied with a touch of impatience.
“Well, I’m here to say it’s at least one day less than you think.”
He continued to stare blankly, obviously not comprehending Loreta’s meaning.
She reached over and took the tintype of herself out of his bedside drawer. “Take a good look at that and tell me if you haven’t seen someone that looks like her in recent days.”
He touched the picture tenderly, still not understanding.
Loreta’s heart was nearly ready to burst. “Do you not think the picture holds a bit of likeness to your friend Harry Buford?”
Finally his face was filled with understanding. He looked deep into her eyes before sinking back to his pillow, gasping for breath.
“Tom?” Loreta begged. “Are you okay?”
He held up a finger, still trying to get air, and then rose up again. “Can it really be possible?”
“Yes.” Loreta grabbed his hand. “It is me, your Loreta, in the flesh and blood. It was I who fought by you at Shiloh, whose heart broke when she saw you fall. I am here now and I won’t ever leave you again.”
His silence was so prolonged that Loreta feared that she had lost him by confessing. “Do you despise me now that you know my secret?”
“No,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I love you more for what you have done for our country.”
Tears again filled Loreta’s eyes.
He put his hand under her chin, turning it upward so she could meet his eyes. “Is it really possible that you have been so far from me, yet so near as well?”
“Yes, my love,” she checked to make sure that no doctors were near. “I love you, Tom.”
“We will marry straightaway then,” he whispered. He was breathing heavily again, and, despite her elation at his reaction, she reminded herself that her beloved was still sick. She did not want her revelation to cause any more toll on his health than was strictly necessary. “Please get some rest.” She held his hand to her lips and kissed it. “We can talk more in a few hours.”
“Yes, my love,” he whispered before succumbing to slumber.
Loreta breathed a deep sigh of relief as she went back to her chamber. It had all felt like a dream: she had a new fiancé in whom she had confided her secret and who loved her more rather than less for it.
Doctor Hay was in the room when she returned. She held up her hand before he could again admonish her for getting out of bed. “It is fine, Doctor. I am much on the mend. In fact, I think I’m ready to be released.”
The doctor shook his head. “No, lieutenant, I think you could use a few more days. Are you so inclined to get back onto the battlefield you would put your health in danger?”
Loreta hid a smile. “I don’t think my beloved would approve of me going back to the battlefield so soon. Or ever again, for that matter.”
He gave her a searching look. “The Confederate army has instituted dire consequences for deserters.”
“Don’t worry, Doctor. I’m not talking about deserting, necessarily.” She changed the subject. “How do you like Captain De Caulp?”
“I think he is a fine gentleman. Why do you ask?”
“I was with him at the Battle of Shiloh, where he behaved like the hero he is.”
“Ah,” Dr Hay replied. “I knew you were acquainted, but didn’t know you had fought together. That explains your close relationship.”
Loreta smiled again to herself, thinking that it didn’t quite explain it, but the doctor’s answer was satisfactory. “Do you think he will be well enough to be released presently?” She held her breath, knowing that Dr. Hay would probably not consent, but he surprised her by agreeing.
Dr. Hay flipped through some paperwork. “He had a hard time recovering at first, especially with the onset of his illness, but, providing nothing occurs to threaten his health as of late, I think he should be ready in a few days.” He eyed her carefully before consenting, “If it pleases you, I can write your discharge papers now.”
“Oh, yes, that would indeed please me greatly. Thank you, Doctor.”
“Good luck, soldier.”
Chapter 43
Belle
July 1862
Belle, still too anxious to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, was sitting out on the balcony of the cottage when she heard hoofbeats of what seemed like dozens of horses. She got to her feet to watch the soldiers in bluecoats approach. The officer in front raised his sword and the squad
halted. The chirping of birds and the panting of the horses were the only sounds as the men stared up at Belle. A carriage was brought from the back of the hotel to the front of the cottage, but still no one said anything. She sighed, guessing that the carriage was probably meant for her.
“Miss Belle,” Mauma Eliza called from below. “de Provo’ is here and dere’s two older men wid him.”
Belle’s knees were weak. The hammering of her heart caused her to feel off balance and she grasped the railing as she made her way downstairs.
She immediately identified the men standing in the front room as Front Royal’s provost marshal, Major Maginnis, and Major Francis Sherman. The man on the other side of Maginnis turned. Belle’s gasp was audible as she saw the other man was the one with the black eyes. He pulled a letter from his coat pocket and flipped it open, holding it just in front of Belle’s face so she could read it:
Direct Cridge to come immediately to Washington and bring with him Belle Boyd in close custody, committing her on arrival to the Old Capitol Prison. Furnish him such aid as may need to get her safely here.
It was signed by C.P. Wolcott, the Union’s assistant secretary of war.
Belle met the man’s black eyes. “I suppose you are Mr. Cridge?”
“Yes.” He tucked the letter back into his pocket. “I work with the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”
“Never heard of them,” Belle swished past him to sit down on the couch, hoping her heartbeat wasn’t audible to the rest of the room.
“But we’ve heard of you,” Cridge said, seating himself opposite of her. “Allan Pinkerton has got quite the file on you already. And he’s informed Mr. Stanton, the secretary of war, of your… actions,” he paused and raised a sleek eyebrow, “Surely you’ve heard of Mr. Stanton?”
Belle nodded.
“He has advised us to imprison you.”
“On what charges?”
Cridge stood. “It was I who sent Smitley to incriminate you. Now if you will excuse me, I must gather some more evidence.”
Belle rose as well, realizing that there were papers that could be construed as traitorous in her room. “Sir, please permit me to make sure the upstairs is in suitable condition for a gentleman.” She spat out the last word so Cridge would not mistake that she thought him the furthest thing from. Cridge did not reply and Belle rose, hurrying to her room. She could hear the detective’s heavy shoes pounding up the stairs. He entered the room right after Belle, pushing past her to search through her drawers, tossing out undergarments and petticoats, before heading over to her desk. Belle was relieved to notice that it was empty of most of her dispatches—Mauma Eliza must have gotten rid of them while they were talking downstairs. After briefly examining the pistol given to her by a Union soldier—the one she was planning on presenting to Stonewall Jackson—he pocketed it along with other various papers.
Satisfied, Cridge turned to Belle. “You must be ready within the hour for the journey to Capital Prison.”
Mauma Eliza made a low noise from the hallway and held a handkerchief up to her face.
Belle adopted a pleading tone. “Can my maid accompany me?”
“You mean your slave? No.”
Mauma Eliza’s cries grew louder and she enveloped Belle in her enormous bosom.
“Within the hour,” Cridge restated as he left the room.
“I’ll be alright, Mauma.” Belle freed herself from her embrace. “Come, help me pack.”
They hurriedly threw the garments Cridge had strewn around the room into Belle’s trunk and then headed back down the stairs, Mauma Eliza openly weeping the entire time. Belle said a tearful goodbye to her before Cridge motioned for the soldiers waiting outside to load Belle’s trunk onto the awaiting carriage. Soldiers and Front Royal citizens crowded the courtyard and the walkway. Some of their faces appeared sympathetic while others looked downright hostile. “Serves you right,” Belle heard Mr. White—the same self-proclaimed Confederate who’d refused to deliver her message to Stonewall Jackson during the Battle of Front Royal—say. Although she felt like breaking down into tears, Belle steeled her heart, not willing to betray any scrap of emotion to her hypocrite neighbors and the enemy soldiers. She took her place inside the carriage while Cridge installed himself in the driver’s seat. Belle heard the crack of the whip and they began to rattle away. Belle moved the curtain back, hoping for one more glance of Mauma Eliza, but the cavalry had surrounded the carriage on both sides. There must be at least 50 of them! Belle marveled. Was she that much of a threat?
Maybe they were so numerous because the local Confederate cavalry were at this moment planning to rescue her. Their fearless leader, Turner Ashby, had been killed in June and perhaps they were hoping to exact revenge by attacking Belle’s escorts. The thought briefly cheered Belle and prevented her from completely breaking down. Her sorrow eventually turned to anger as she recalled that Cridge never replied to her inquiry as to what she was being arrested for. Wasn’t this the Union that was so anxious to fight for the rights of slaves, and yet here they were, imprisoning her without the due process of a hearing or trial?
The conveyance halted. In her past exploits, she had grown quite familiar with the terrain surrounding Front Royal and recognized that they were atop a high hill on the way to Winchester. She saw a familiar tree, but the limbs Belle had once appreciated for their sturdiness seemed to be reaching out to her. A tree suitable for hanging traitors, Belle thought before she pulled the curtain shut.
The carriage and its cavalry escorts arrived at General Julius White’s headquarters outside of Winchester just before dark. Cridge escorted Belle into General White’s tent. The general bowed deeply as Cridge left.
“What do you intend to do with me?” Belle demanded.
“Tomorrow you will travel to the commanding officer in Martinsburg, and he will know more of your fate. You will be able to rest here tonight.”
“I have acquaintances in Winchester. Surely you will permit me to stay with them?”
“Oh no, Miss Belle,” White replied, not unkindly. “I cannot consent to that.”
“I’ve never slept alone in a tent, and here I would be at the mercy of your men. How can I endure such a punishment in the hands of my enemies?”
“Rest assured your ladyship will be in perfect comfort and security.”
Belle wrinkled her nose, trying to think of another reason she could not stay, but gave up.
General White then led her to a dinner table decorated with fine silver and china. Too fine for an army. Belle examined a porcelain plate depicting Daniel Boone as she recalled stories of Yankees looting goods from Rebel homes. She did not have much of an appetite and picked at her food in silence.
After the plates had been cleared, General White summoned for a servant to show Belle to her tent. She hadn’t had much sleep for days, and now that the axe had fallen and her fate had been somewhat decided, Belle was able to fall into a deep sleep.
She was awoken in the night by what sounded like musket shots. A bugle resonated in the distance, soon accompanied by drum beats. Belle lit a candle and opened the flap to the tent. The camp was in chaos as officers, half asleep and tugging at their suspenders, mounted horses and rode to their posts. The Confederate army is here to rescue me!
Belle was gleeful as she took in the scene. A man rushing by shouted at her to put out her candle. “We don’t want to signal the rebels!”
Belle ducked back into her tent, and briefly considered not putting out the light, but eventually consented. She did not want to make it worse for herself if the rebels were not actually coming.
And indeed, they didn’t. In the light of morning, General White informed Belle that a cow had wandered away from its farm. A soldier, not being able to discern the shape, commanded it to halt and then fired when it didn’t obey. Other sentries had followed suit, hence the multiple gunshots Belle had heard. When they discovered the sentries’ mistake, the other soldiers had all retired to their tents. The offending s
oldier had been assigned to carry a heavy log around camp all the next day.
“And what of the cow?” Belle asked.
“The cow was returned to his farm, unscathed,” the general replied.
After breakfast, Belle was again commanded to return to the carriage and Cridge took his place at the helm. When they arrived in Martinsburg in mid-day, Belle asked the commanding officer there if she could visit home. The officer seemed to be considering, but Cridge replied, “Impossible.” He turned to the officer. “This girl is a known spy and will only cause more trouble if left alone to her own devices.”
“But this is my hometown,” Belle protested. “My family is here.”
Cridge sneered. “I know. I will be paying a visit to your mother’s house myself, to see if you have any more evidence hidden away.” He turned back to the officer in command. “See to it that she has a tent. The train pulls out at two in the morning.”
Not long after Cridge departed, another carriage pulled up and a woman in full mourning dress got out. Despite the heavy black veil disguising the figure’s face, Belle recognized her walk. “Mother!” she cried, forgetting herself and where she was.
“My dear child,” Mother replied after a long, heartfelt embrace. “What is to become of her?” she asked the commanding officer.
“She will lodge here in a tent for a few hours before the train leaves for the Old Capitol Prison in Washington City.”
“Won’t you please allow her to come home for a little while?” Mother begged.
The officer hesitated. “I cannot allow for that. I suppose I can send guards to a hotel and you may stay with her there.”
“Oh, thank you, kind sir,” Belle replied.
Chapter 44
Loreta
July 1862
Loreta rented a room in the Gayoso Hotel, the same hotel that she and Tom had dinner at so long ago, so she could make preparations for their marriage. Both of them wanted a small, quiet affair, especially considering the circumstances. Not to mention Loreta’s recent arrests, which she held back from telling Tom for the time being. They did inform Dr. Hay of the circumstances in order that he could be a witness. The doctor was not as surprised as one might have predicted, confessing that he knew something was “off” about Loreta.
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