The town of Middletown was our salvation. Fresh bread and meat were provided for us there. We acquired much needed supplies, spent the night, and then headed out the next morning. Sam was somehow able to find me a pair of boots. They were too large for my feet but better than having none at all.
He brought them to me with a casual, “Try these on,” as he held them out to me.
I narrowed my gaze. “Where did you get them?”
“Does it matter? I traded for them in town,” he said.
“I don’t need them,” I told him. “I can take care of myself.” After my weak moment on the mountain, I didn’t want to owe Sam any more than I already did. I knew he probably thought I was pathetic and needy.
“You do need them. You are hardly able to walk on those bloody hooves of yours. You wanna continue going around barefoot like that?”
“I can get boots on my own, Sam,” I told him rather stand-offishly.
“Well, now you don’t have to,” he said in annoyance. “Take ’em or leave ’em. I have no use for them.” He sat them down before me and walked away. There was nothing to do but try them on. No point in throwing away a perfectly good pair of boots.
When Sam saw me wearing them over dinner he wore such a look of satisfaction I considered tugging them off and tossing them in the fire. I was already beholden to him far more than I would have liked. The fact he was keeping my secret caused no end of torment for me. As wicked a thing as it was to think, I would have liked to have had something over him to balance our association.
Over the next several days we passed from one town to another. From Middletown to Hamburg; to Boonsborough, then Hagerstown, and on to Williamsport; and then on to Funkstown, Maryland, we marched. Every day we were told to be on the ready, the Rebels had been spotted, and there was skirmishing. I didn’t take much stock in it. I sometimes thought the constant threat they held over our heads was merely to keep us on our toes. It began to feel like the story of the boy who cried wolf. And yet I was driven by the promise that if we should catch up with them, perhaps the war would be over and I wouldn’t have to suffer any longer.
Upon the shores of the Potomac River, the very river we had traversed across so many times, we discovered we were too late. The Rebs had beat us and crossed over.
“Lost them by only two hours,” Darby confided. “I chanced to hear the uppers talking on it, and they said as much.”
I looked over the vast waters, seeing nothing but wilderness, and like everyone else present, felt my heart sink. Lee was gone, and the advantage we had went with him. The speed at which we pursued Lee’s army, at the cost of our physical health and great mental strain, were all for nothing. I sat down upon the bank and allowed the weight to slide from my shoulders. I breathed deeply, looked upon the striking landscape before me, the vibrant purples and reds of the setting sun melting together in reflections upon the water, the forested scene beyond in deep shades of green, and I felt some peace for a short moment.
Chapter 10
OUR COMPANY WAS TO CAMP near New Baltimore, Virginia until further notice. It was a pleasant looking place, with numerous trees and fertile green hills, a quaint country scene dotted with modest cottages. And like a sore thumb our white tents were peculiarly out of place. The locals didn’t care much for us. Most were Confederate sympathizers. To be among the enemy was a sore thing for us, especially after the death and destruction we witnessed at the hands of those who represented them. The men railed bitterly against the locals and all Southerners in general because we couldn’t help but think on Salem Church and Gettysburg too. We had grown to become a jaded and hardened lot.
The most vocal about his hatred was Old Whiskers—Jack Monroe. He blustered and carried on to anyone who might give an ear.
“They deserve no mercy!” he railed. “What they count as theirs would go to support the very army we fight against. Whatever would benefit them, let it benefit us instead.”
“I heard what them savages done on their way up north. They helped themselves to whatever they took a liking to,” Vern Stapleton chimed in. “Women not excluded.” He let his meaning sink in with a strange smile upon his lips. It was as if he enjoyed thinking on the implications. There were all sorts of rumors of pillaging and rape going around. Whatever the Rebs took a liking to, they helped themselves to it. Where these wild claims originated from was not clear to me. Who knew if there was any validity to any of it? Certainly some of it was probably accurate, but how much? There was no way of knowing for sure what was rumor and what was real.
The truth was, we were all in such a state we would have believed anything. I was horrified by what they were saying. Sam spoke up.
“Anyone that would harm a woman is the worst sort of coward. Nothing better than an animal,” he said.
“Well, I say we take what we might as a reckoning to them, for what they took from us,” Vern said.
“We get close to no pay, an’ they nearly starve us, while these people sit in their homes, in comfort and without a care,” Darby complained.
Looting grew to grand magnitudes. Nothing was safe at our hands. I still maintained I should take only what I must to survive. I didn’t see the harm in taking food, although I vowed to myself I’d stop there. But not all shared the same sentiment. The commanding offers insisted we respect private property while encouraging us to take all we liked at the same time. They spoke in riddles which left them void of responsibility for the troubling things happening at the hands of our soldiers.
As upsetting as much of it was, I was not exempt from witnessing things that bothered me. When it was possible, I chose to look the other way—until I was put right in the middle of it and there was no choice but to take a stand.
“Me and some of the boys are going to get us some dinner,” Darby told me after drills one morning.
I thought Darby was a decent fellow. I saw no harm in it. I agreed to go before I knew what company he was keeping. It was Darby and Felix, with Old Whiskers tagging along. I felt apprehension at seeing he would go too. He had a way of looking at me that made me feel as if I were a goose at Christmas dinner. I could vaguely picture him with a napkin tucked into his collar, pointy teeth meant for tearing flesh bared as he smiled, and a knife in one hand with a fork in the other, ready to devour me up and spit out my bones. I think he derived great pleasure from seeing me squirm. I always tried to look him in the eyes and never back down, because I did not like for him to think I was feeling cowed by him.
“Him too?” I murmured to Darby when I caught sight of Old Whiskers standing by waiting for us. Darby didn’t answer, just gave me a shrug. For a moment I thought I should back out, but I didn’t like the notion of conceding to Jack Monroe, letting him know he scared me. So against my better judgment I went with them.
I thought perhaps I should go and ask Sam to come along too. But I knew he was sleeping. He was up late and I knew how tired he must be, because I had felt the same after being up the whole night on other occasions. Besides, I could take care of myself. I didn’t always need him to back me up. He was another I didn’t wish to show any weakness to.
So we struck out upon the road, walking at a lazy pace. I stuck with Felix mostly, while Darby and Old Whiskers talked among themselves. After a time we came upon a small stand of apple trees. I took out my sack and began to pick a few to take with me. From our spot on the sloping hill, just below, we could see a small farm which consisted of a white house with black shutters and a modest barn, the pastures penned in with split rail fencing and a small garden just out back. It reminded me of home, although this home was more refined than my own. Darby and Old Whiskers decided to go on to the house to see what they might find, while Felix and I stayed to pick.
I took a bite of an unblemished apple, crisp and ripe to perfection. When a thing is rare, even if it is as commonplace as an apple, it seems so infinitely beautiful, so pleasant to behold.
“Good,” I said to Felix with a nod. He too picked some of the full
grown fruit, stuffing them in his haversack until it was full. I reasoned we were not taking enough to hurt the owner too sorely. My conscience always pricked when I dwelt too long upon what I was really doing. For whether I was hurting the owner or not, I was taking something that did not belong to me.
“I have a notion to cook them over the fire. Haven’t had stewed apples since forever ago,” Felix said.
Just as we finished helping ourselves to the apples we heard a gunshot ring harsh and clear from the direction of the house. I nearly jumped right out of my boots from the surprise of it. Felix and I looked at one another with dread. I am sure we were thinking the same thing. What sort of trouble have they gotten themselves into? We readied our rifles and took off down the hill to investigate. When we reached the yard, Darby was there before the barn, a dead pig at his feet.
“What have you done?” I asked.
“Bacon, ham…good meat,” he said. “It will make a fine dinner.”
“And how do you intend on getting it back?” I yelled.
“We can each carry a portion.”
“You know nothing of slaughtering pigs,” I complained. “By the time we get it back, the meat will be spoiled. What a waste.”
“It should still be good,” he said, sheepishly.
“He is telling you the truth, Darby.” Felix agreed. He was put out. I could only guess that, like me, the scare of hearing the gunshot put him into a bad mood. “Have you never killed a pig before, you fool?”
Darby shrugged and acted as if he didn’t care.
“Matters not to me,” he said. “At least it will not be useful to any of that Southern trash.” He turned back toward the barn and motioned with a nod of his head. “There is a cow we can take back with us at any rate.”
We followed him into the barn where it was dark and smelled of hay and manure. In the gloom we heard the quiet whimper of a child.
“What is it?” Felix asked. I followed the noise until I found three little ones hiding in one of the empty stalls, cowering there together in fear and misery. They looked like little mice cornered by a cat. The gunshot must have frightened them just as much as it did Felix and me.
The oldest of the three was no more than ten, and she drew her arms over the others as if she might shield them, brave girl. She did her best to keep the others quiet, but they continued to moan pathetically. How could you not feel sorry for the poor little mites?
“It’s all right,” I said softly, not wishing to frighten them further. “We don’t aim on hurting you.”
“Mother!” one of them wailed.
“Well?” Felix wondered.
“Three little ones,” I said. “The noise of Darby’s rifle must have frightened them.” I spoke to the oldest. “Where is your mother?”
She looked at me as if she weren’t sure if she should speak to me.
“She told us to hide,” she said quietly.
I turned back to Darby and saw him tying a rope around the cow’s throat with the intent to lead it from the stall.
“Darby, we cannot take that cow.” He seemed confused by what I said. He didn’t let go of the rope or act like he would leave the cow.
“And why not?” he huffed.
“They will have nothing left,” I told him.
“They’ll make do,” he said.
I became insistent. “Leave the cow, Darby. It will be winter soon. They must have it to survive.”
Darby paused in tying the rope to meet my eyes. I gave him a look like I meant it. This made him angry.
“You’d have pity on them, when they don’t have no pity on us,” he blustered, taking the rope from the cow’s throat. “Fine soldier you are!”
I ignored his anger. It didn’t matter to me if he was mad, just so long as I got my way. At that point, I realized Old Whiskers was nowhere to be seen. Right away I got a sinking feeling. If he was not with us, then where was he and what mischief was he up to?
“Where’s Jack?” I asked.
Darby shrugged. “I ain’t no mammie to him. He’s around somewhere.”
I took off at a run toward the house. I burst through the door, not waiting for the others to follow. There in the parlor was Old Whiskers with the woman of the house. She was a pretty girl, I think not many years older than myself. And that skunk was upon her, touching her with his dirty hands, kissing her with his foul smelling mouth as she struggled beneath him.
The two became still when I entered. She looked at me with tear filled eyes, too terrified, I suppose, to make a sound, and I felt the rage surge through my body.
“Get off of her!” I hollered.
Jack did not move away from her; she remained pinned beneath him. He smiled at me, a slow crafty smile.
“You can have your turn with her when I’m done,” he said with a wink. “Make a man out of you yet.”
I pulled my rifle up to my shoulder and aimed it very carefully at his head.
“By God, if you don’t get out of this house now, I will shoot you dead, Jack Monroe!” I yelled through gritted teeth.
He paused for a moment, trying to determine if I was true in my intent. I did not blink an eye and I did not breathe as I held my rifle steady. He got up begrudgingly from the settee, giving me the most hateful look I’d ever seen. The woman moved too, quickly pulling her skirts down. She shot up and away from us to the far corner of the room, whimpering with her arms crossed tight against her chest. She was no threat to me. He was. I didn’t take my eyes from him for a second. I kept my bead on him as I followed his movement toward the door. He picked up his haversack, heavy with loot, and slung it over his shoulder. The contents of his sack clanked as he did this. I realized he must have taken far more than food.
“Put the silver back,” I ordered.
Again he looked at me as if he might kill me. I’m sure he was working out how he could get to me and disarm me before I could get a shot off. He reached his hand into the sack, pulled the spoons and forks and knives from it, and flung them across the room. They clanged loudly and then came to rest in varied positions all over the hard wood flooring. It was about this time I noted Felix and Darby standing in the doorway, watching the whole thing, neither of them willing to help in the matter. Felix looked to be in shock, and Darby was evaluating the situation up to see what role he should play in it.
When Old Whiskers emptied the silverware from his sack, he stooped to pick up his rifle as it leaned against the wall.
“Leave it,” I said. “I’ll see to it you get it back later.”
He turned on me, and with a voice filled with ill intent, he hissed, “You gone too far!” As he stormed out he mumbled, “Just you watch your back, sonny boy. No telling what may happen in the chaos of battle.”
Old Whiskers was plenty mad, this I could see. But I figured his blusterings were nothing more than empty threats. I had crossed him twice now. And really what could he do when we were surrounded by so many men? My strength was in numbers. I would make certain I was never in his company alone. If I were to judge him, I would judge him to be a coward, not having the fortitude to do anything outright, preying upon the weak. He shoved past Felix and Darby at the door.
I looked over at the woman, still and silent. I was ashamed for us all. What must she think of us?
“I’m sorry,” I said. I took the apples from my haversack one by one and left them in a pile upon a chair. Without saying another word, I bent and picked up Old Whiskers’ rifle. At that moment, through the parlor window sailed a rock, raining glass over the room as it broke through the thin visage of pane. The woman completely lost her composure, falling to a heap and screaming hysterically. I was perhaps as terrified as she, but I managed to keep my wits. Instinct took over, and I squatted to the ground, drawing my rifle up in a quick jerk, trying to make sense of what was happening and looking for a target. Then the window to my left burst into shattered fragments, as another rock was thrown at it. Likewise, I could hear the windows upstairs breaking and the dull thud of
the rocks as they rolled across the floor above me.
Old Whiskers was out upon the lawn ranting and railing, stooping to pick up a rock and then making a mark of another window before letting it loose. I suppose he didn’t want to go quietly. There must be some retribution for his humiliation.
I handed Darby the rifle and said, “Give it to him when we get back to camp.”
Darby seemed reluctant to have stewardship over it, but he took it from me. We filed out into the yard and saw Old Whiskers was finished with his task and already walking briskly toward the road. I turned around and saw the pleasant little farmhouse with all of its windows busted out and felt relieved something worse hadn’t happened. On our way back to camp, I hung behind and kept my distance, making sure I kept Jack in my sights the entire way. He seemed to want no company for he stayed ahead and acted as if we weren’t even there.
Chapter 11
WE RETURNED TO CAMP late afternoon. Perhaps we looked as wretched as we all felt, unwilling to meet eyes, with hangdog expressions upon our faces. Sam spotted us, and without waiting, came right up to me, giving Felix and Darby a suspicious glance as he did.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“He doesn’t need to report all his doings to you,” Felix said. I was certain Felix was being so standoffish because he didn’t want Sam to know what transpired while we were away.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam replied coolly.
Felix shrugged as if he didn’t care, although it was obvious he was unhappy with Sam, and then he turned toward his tent and walked away. Darby, with Old Whiskers’ rifle still in hand, dropped his gaze in a most self-incriminating manner and headed off in another direction. I slowed my pace and came to a stop so Felix and Darby would put some distance between us and leave me to some privacy with Sam.
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