The Day After Gettysburg

by Robert Conroy

  “Toby, did you by any chance see Union soldiers trying to get through to the Rebel army?”

  “Not really, but I really wasn’t in any position to find out very much. Come to think of it, though, I did see one patrol spot a Rebel group about the same size and skedaddle back where they come from.”

  Hadrian stood. “Get yourself some food and find a place to lie down. If you need a blanket, ask for a man named Charles. He’ll find you something to keep you warm.”

  As Toby walked away, Hadrian strolled casually over to where the white woman was teaching a bunch of Negroes how to read. She was down to about twenty now and was disappointed. Well, she was doing her best and learning to read wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. It had taken him a long time to figure out that all those squiggles and marks actually meant something. Sometimes students would get discouraged and stay away for a couple of days and then come back. When that happened the white woman welcomed them warmly. She seemed to understand that sometimes a body just needed to step back, take a deep breath and pick up the pieces. He had the feeling that she had done something like that in her life.

  As usual, Cassandra Baird was working alongside her servant, Mariah. Cassandra was a lovely woman in her own right, just too damn skinny for Hadrian to seriously consider. That is, if any black man could seriously consider involving himself with a white woman. Now Mariah was a different story. Yes, she had a lot of white blood running through her, but she was still a black and a woman who was both handsome and robust. They’d pleasured each other a couple of times and had enjoyed it immensely. Too bad her teaching duties kept her so occupied. It was very difficult to find the time and place to be with her in private.

  Mariah saw him walking up to the group and smiled knowingly. He returned the smile and winked. He gestured that he wanted to talk to Cassandra. Mariah took over the class and Cassandra walked up to him.

  “Hadrian, I keep forgetting how large you are. I believe you would scare a grizzly bear.”

  Hadrian laughed. He had only recently found out what a grizzly bear was. He had read it in a book about strange and wonderful animals. He’d been stunned to find out about elephants and whales and lions and tigers. There was so much to learn. He was happy he knew how to read.

  “Miss Cassandra, I’ve been hearing some disturbing news about the Rebels. People are telling me that they are waking up, and that is no good. We are going to plan on moving closer to the Union Army, where it might just be a little bit safer.”

  “I think that would be wise. Let me know when you plan on going and Mariah and I will come with you.”

  Hadrian shook his head. “I don’t think so. We will set up camp some new place and I’ll send one of my boys to tell you where we’re at.

  “I have something else to ask you. Apparently, you have been seeing a Union cavalry officer.”

  Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Is nothing private in this world?”

  “Nothing much, Miss Cassandra. I’m asking because you might want to tell him what we’ve been observing and see if he thinks it’s important.”

  “I will ask Steven, I mean Major Thorne, what he thinks and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Good enough, Miss Cassie.”

  Later that evening, Cassandra and Steven were again sitting on the swing. This time one of her damn cats had snuggled between them and was purring loudly. Cassandra wasn’t certain whether she’d adopted the stray or the stray had adopted her. No matter, it was firmly ensconced as a ten-pound chaperone.

  “Steven, do you think Hadrian’s right?”

  “Yes. We’ve picked up many indications that they are up to something. They are aggressively using their cavalry to screen their movements. I’m afraid our days of peace and quiet may soon be over. And yes, I would suggest that Hadrian and any others he knows move closer to Washington City. I can’t guarantee their safety, but logic says they’ll be better off closer to the city’s defenses.

  “Oh God,” she sighed. “This talk of the war returning is so depressing. Of course, we all knew it couldn’t last. Lee or Meade would have to do something and the bleeding would start all over again. Why can’t we all just live in peace?”

  “That’s what McClellan and others like him want to do. But that would also mean an independent Confederacy and sending people like Hadrian back to bondage.”

  “That cannot be permitted to happen,” she said sternly and Thorne almost laughed. “Therefore, we must fight and damn the consequences. But enough of this depressing talk. Tonight, you will go back to your army and tomorrow I’m sure you will tell your generals just what Hadrian has discovered. In the meantime, I wish this evening to end on a happier note.”

  “What do you propose?” he asked with a smile. He hoped he knew what she was going to suggest.

  She pulled him to his feet and took him by the hand. “Yes. You’re absolutely right. There is so much more to inventory in that darn storeroom. It’s amazing how people let things go, isn’t it?”

  The large brick warehouse on Baltimore’s waterfront was burning brightly. Richard Dean and his companions whooped and hollered. The supplies it contained, intended for the Union Army, were now being reduced to ashes. Lincoln and his damned blue-coated dragoons would have to shop elsewhere for their goods.

  Something in the building exploded, sending embers high into the night. It was almost like Fourth of July fireworks, only better. Finally, Dean felt like he was doing something for the Cause. Some of the embers floated over the shipping packed tightly in the harbor and crewmen began scurrying about their decks to make sure their ships didn’t catch fire. Other embers landed on buildings and a couple of fires started. For an instant, Richard hoped they didn’t belong to southern sympathizers, but then realized he didn’t care.

  The stated reason for the rioting was the hated Draft Act. It would require men who opposed the Union to be forcibly enlisted into the Union Army. Nor was it universally applied. Rich men could hire poor men to be their substitutes. The irony that this was essentially what Richard had done in paying someone else to take his place was not lost on him. Still, he and the man he’d paid had volunteered. But the draft, that was tantamount to enslaving white men and that infuriated many in Baltimore and other large cities. The worst riots had taken place in New York, with rioters killed or wounded and a number of Negroes lynched. Negroes would have been lynched this night too, but they’d been very prudent and had stayed out of sight.

  “They’re coming,” someone yelled. Either Union soldiers or the Baltimore police would soon arrive to break up the crowd, so that the fire crews could try to contain the raging blaze. Putting it out would be an impossibility. The warehouse was too far gone. It would have to burn itself out.

  As he thought that, the rear wall of the warehouse collapsed and a thunderhead of embers soared upward. Once again, ashes and embers were swirled about by the wind.

  This first wave of responders consisted of a few dozen Baltimore police. Some of them hallooed the pro-secession mob that now numbered several hundred men and a handful of women. The pro-Lincoln members of the police quickly disappeared while the others took off their uniform tunics and joined the mob.

  Back when the southern states first seceded, it was presumed that Maryland would join the Confederacy. Maryland was one of the four Border States along with Delaware, Kentucky, and Missouri. These were states in which a large portion of the population supported the South.

  There had been bloody and deadly riots when the newly elected Abraham Lincoln been forced to slink his way through Baltimore on his way to Washington. Despite the fact that Union General Ben Butler now had large numbers of soldiers in the area, equally large numbers of secessionists announced themselves openly and vocally.

  The Maryland legislature had not been permitted to meet or vote on secession. Richard had been told that Governor Thomas Hicks had supported what southern sympathizers thought was a series of illegal acts ensuring that Maryland stayed loyal to the Union.


  Richard noticed another group approaching, a large one. As it emerged from the smoke he saw that it was a battalion-sized detachment of army regulars, soldiers that had fought in the streets before. Slowly but steadily, they marched forward with bayonets pointed directly at the mob, which began to back away. Rocks and bricks arced toward the troops and a few of them went down. That infuriated the bluecoats. Richard quickly realized that the situation was getting out of control with the danger increasing every minute. He could not afford to be taken prisoner—it was all too likely that he’d be recognized.

  Someone grabbed his arm. “Richard. Come with me.”

  It was a young woman who scarcely reached his shoulder. She was dark-haired, plump, and very concerned. “Richard, I said come with me.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Does it matter? My name is Mary, and Mr. Booth sent me to watch over you. He was afraid you’d get yourself into a terrible mess and he was right. He also said you were a fool, and he was right about that as well.”

  Well, I can’t say she’s wrong, he thought. Not completely, anyway. “Slow down. Those troops will think you’re running”

  “Who the devil cares? Everybody’s running,” she snapped. “And besides, we don’t have time for a conversation. Bend over,” she ordered and he complied. A second later, something wet and cold had been dumped on his head. “It’s a red coloring that only looks like blood. Lean over and grab your empty head and let me lead you away. Everyone will think you’ve been wounded.”

  He did as he was told. He grabbed his skull and groaned loudly as Mary guided him away from the fray. They’d just turned down a side street when a volley of rifle fire stunned them. They paused and looked back. Dozens of the people he’d just been among lay on the street in bloody piles. Some were moving but very many lay still as their lives flowed into the gutter. Damn, he thought, that could have been me.

  “What did you say?” he said. Mary was continuing to guide and steer him. Now the remnants of the mob were running for their lives. The soldiers advanced slowly and in formation. There was still a danger of getting caught.

  “Mary, whoever you are, I see no further purpose in pretending that I’m hurt. I suggest we simply run like the devil and I hope you have someplace to take me.”

  She did. Instead of taking him back to his quarters, they went to yet another warehouse. She informed him that they would wait out the night, and in the morning she would see if the police or provost marshal’s people were at his old place. Richard couldn’t help himself. He went to a window and looked out. The glow that had been the warehouse was larger and brighter now. It was clear that adjacent buildings were burning as well. He laughed. It had been a good night.

  “Richard, you will sleep on this pile of whatever it is, while I will sleep over there. You will not make a move towards me. If you do, I will hurt you badly, and I don’t care what Mr. Booth will think.”

  She lifted up her skirt to show him a bit of leg and a large knife strapped to it.

  “You are quite safe, Mary. But do you have a last name?”

  “My last name is Nardelli and I am a refugee from what will someday be Italy. Now go to sleep.”

  Thorne got his own confirmation that the Rebels were on the move when he took the regiment out on patrol. Thanks to additional men, the Sixth Indiana now numbered just over two hundred. Along with additional horses, they presented an imposing sight as they rode towards the distant Confederate lines.

  Thorne knew better. Two hundred men wasn’t even a drop in the bucket. If he ran into a sizeable enemy force his duty was to run and report the contact. “Nobody likes cowards but they often live longer,” Captain Archie Willis had said, and nobody had disagreed.

  Scouts were out in advance of the column, and several pairs of flankers were on station. The rolling hills and the lush foliage that covered them could hide a force that could overwhelm them.

  “Halt,” he ordered. One of the scouts was galloping towards him, frantically waving his arm.

  “Rebels to our front, sir, in about brigade strength,” he gasped, wide-eyed with what he’d seen. “They’re coming slowly, but they are coming.”

  Thorne rode on in grim silence to the top of a hill, where he could see about two miles to his front. “Rebels, all right,” he muttered. A long line of horsemen was coming down the road. Behind the horsemen he thought he could see infantry. A quick look through his telescope confirmed it.

  “And a lot more than we can handle,” Willis said.

  “Concur. Let’s get out of here.”

  The regiment wheeled and cantered quickly towards the Union lines. They had only gone a few hundred yards when Rebel yells came from their left and several hundred enemy cavalry burst from the woods, yelling and screaming.

  “Here they come,” cried Willis.

  Their canter became a gallop, but the Rebels gained on them all the same. It was clear to Thorne that they would be caught before they could reach friendly lines. “Into the woods and dismount,” he ordered. “And hold your fire.”

  The Sixth did as ordered, leaving their horses in the thickets and finding spots for themselves behind trees. They waited for the charging Confederates to get within range. Discipline and training held. When the Confederates were within two hundred yards, Thorne ordered his men to fire.

  The Spencers barked once, then once more, and then repeatedly. The Confederate horsemen were staggered as if by an invisible blow. Men and horses went down in piles. The Rebels wavered and pulled back. Some raised their pistols and carbines and fired at their unseen enemies in the woods as they continued to withdraw.

  “I think we pissed them off,” said Willis.

  “Inclined to agree, Archie. We’d best mount up again and ride like hell before they get hold of their big brothers and come back.”

  Willis pulled at his sleeve. “Steve . . . Major . . . just when the hell did you get shot?”

  Thorne looked down to see the blood staining his uniform trousers. The wound started hurting at the same moment, as if it had to be noticed first. He instinctively laid his hand against it, drawing away a palm full of blood.

  He looked up in surprise. Willis shook his head. “Come along now, Major.”

  ★ CHAPTER 8 ★

  Thorne was barely conscious when he got back to the regiment. He was eased from the saddle and laid down on his cot. A medic came and quickly confirmed the obvious—he had been shot in the left thigh. He was given some laudanum and while he was asleep, Willis sent a messenger to Colonel Baird. An ambulance arrived at Thorne’s tent the next morning and transported him back to the Bairds’ home.

  He did not awake until dusk of the next day. The first person he saw was Rachel Baird, who was looking down on him in a motherly manner.

  “Mrs. Baird,” he managed to whisper. “I am surprised to see you.”

  “You are in one of several spare bedrooms we have in this large mausoleum. Do you recall getting shot?”

  “No,” he answered truthfully. The sight of blood running down his leg had come as a complete shock.

  “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you are here with us and we have the colonel’s personal doctor taking care of you. He will give you a little more morphine, but not too much. It might become a habit. He said that the bullet went through your thigh and out, leaving a clean hole. There should be no infection, and he swore that he used clean instruments to probe the hole. If he hadn’t, one of us would have killed him. The bullet wedged itself into your saddle and we’ve kept it in case you want it as a souvenir.”

  “I’ll have to think about that.”

  “You will stay here and rest and eat until you’ve gained enough strength to return to duty. I’ve been told that a diet heavy on beef will help replace lost blood. You will be eating a lot of steak, I’m afraid.”

  “May I ask where Cassie is?”

  “She’s waiting downstairs. We’ve been taking turns watching over you. It’s just as well I was here and not
her, because you might notice that we had to cut your uniform away and be embarrassed.”

  “I see,” said Steve.

  “Yes. You’re wearing one of my husband’s nightshirts, one of his longer ones. And no, Cassie did not take part in the cutting off of your uniform. Mariah and I took part in those festivities. You are fairly muscular but you could still stand to put on a little more weight.”

  Steve grinned weakly. “A few more meals like those you serve and I’ll have to start losing, not gaining.”

  The bedroom door opened and a tearful Cassie barged in and threw herself across his chest. “Careful,” Rachel said. “Stay off his left leg.” With that piece of sage advice, she departed and closed the door—but not tightly.

  “Don’t scare me like that,” Cassie told him. “Do you have any idea what you looked like when they brought you here, all torn and bloody and pale? Of course not, but you looked awful. I thought you were going to die.”

  “Only the good die young, Cassie. God’s not ready for me.”

  “Don’t joke,” she said and kissed him hungrily. He returned the favor with just as much passion, even more.

  “Cassie,” he said when they finally broke apart and he lay back, exhausted. “Are you at all concerned about your reputation?”

  “At the moment, no. Why?”

  “Because all I’m wearing is your father’s nightshirt and I’m a good deal taller than he is.”

  She grinned wickedly. “Then I should duck in beside you,” which she promptly did and cuddled along the length of his body. “You may be undressed but it would take you an hour to get me in the same situation. Presuming, that is, that your wounded leg would permit it. As we speak, your uniform is being cleaned and mended, so don’t worry about anybody’s loss of their precious virtue. My father is visiting some politicians, and both my mother and Mariah are well aware that I am here, and doubtless have some idea what we’re doing.”

  “And they don’t object?”