Chapter 13
THIS WAS SOMETHING COLONEL UPTON could not take sitting down. That it was his personal aide waylaid by Mosby’s men only added insult to injury. It gave him the motivation to go after Mosby after all. Our directives changed. He wanted Mosby hunted down and brought to justice.
“We’ll smoke them out!” he vowed. He organized several groups into search parties of three hundred men and sent us in pursuit of Mosby and his guerillas, each group sent in a different direction.
Our company headed out under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Egbert Olcott. Now, he knew what he was doing, I cannot deny it. But he was also a reckless sort, who liked the drink and loved the ladies. In my opinion, it was difficult to feel loyalty for a man who behaved like a school boy. But he was my superior and therefore, I did as he said.
“Olcott has a negro in his services that says he can tell him where Mosby’s home is,” Sam told me.
“What good would it do to know where his home is?” I said. “He certainly won’t be there.”
“I don’t think that is the Lieutenant-Colonel’s intent. I think he means to harass, not capture.”
Reed Haney good spiritedly said, “Gives us an excuse to stretch our legs, anyway.”
“Notice it ain’t Upton himself leading us. No he must stay and attend to things more important,” Darby grumbled.
Several hours later we came upon Salem, Virginia. It wasn’t much to speak of, a hole in the wall sort of place. There were no more than six hundred or so townsfolk who called it home. Olcott ordered us to surround the place in a picket line, while some of the others swept the town looking for Mosby.
“You have permission to take all the forage you can carry,” Olcott said. “I don’t want none of you grumbling for want of rations. But remember, we are gentleman of New York. I’ll have no pillaging. Take only what you may eat or what may be useful to us.” He smiled rakishly.
“Any horseflesh you may find is yours for the taking, boys. And if you find yourselves any male old enough to fight, you are to arrest him on the spot! If he should attempt to run, you have permission to shoot him. You catch yourself one of those Raiders I don’t want them as prisoners. Take care of them then and there. Shoot them down. Understand?”
Three hundred shouts of “Yes, sir!” in unison ascended up to him.
“Don’t go getting any ideas, mind you, about the womenfolk,” he continued. “They are not to be abused in any way. Lest you think me not serious in the matter, I will personally take care of any man that should attempt to molest innocent women and children in any way. Understand?”
Again three hundred replied, “Yes, sir!”
Vern snickered at this comment and whispered, “If they are asking for it, is it still considered molestation?”
I gave him a look of contempt.
“Ah, come on, Frank. Ain’t you never met a woman that was askin’ for it? Once when I was visiting Albany, there was this gal, real pretty, and she had some big ones.” And Vern used his hands to indicate he was talking about the size of her bosom. “Battin’ her eyelashes and makin’ advances to me—”
“Vern, shut it!” Sam growled. I noted his ears were bright red but wasn’t sure if it was because he was mad or embarrassed.
“I was just saying—”
“I said shut it! There isn’t any cause for crude talk like that,” he insisted. I knew this was for my benefit. Vern was known to say worse about women in my presence, but that was before Sam knew I was a woman. The idea of someone speaking so crassly in front of me never offended his senses before now. I didn’t want to hear what Vern would say, but I also didn’t want anyone to become suspicious as to why Sam was being so sensitive about it. I chose to ignore the whole thing and walked away from both of them.
I remained in the picket line while a good portion of the group fell upon the town in a riotous clamor. They kicked in front doors, tore back curtains, ransacked barns and chicken coops, while the women and children screamed and cried and carried on. I was glad to stay behind. Harassing civilians was not my idea of fun. I didn’t want to be involved in any of that business. Once they were gone, Olcott then addressed the men who held up the picket line.
“Should anyone attempt to run through this line, shoot ’em dead!” he said. Then he joined the others as they turned the town upside down looking for Mosby and any of his men, searching each building thoroughly and taking what they liked as they went. “Take what’s useful” was very loosely interpreted by the men. Yet, Olcott didn’t seem to notice.
Not a single Confederate soldier was found among them. They did, however, arrest all of the men of the town. Not a one was left, not even the preacher. They rounded them all up like livestock under guard and forced them to come along with us as prisoners. The women stood in the doorways weeping and moaning piteously as we left with their men.
Some of our boys rode out upon horses they’d confiscated, while others marched with prisoners in tow. Olcott rallied our detachment and ordered us on.
We left Salem, Virginia with prisoners, horses, and plenty of booty, burning the suspected house of Mosby as we went. We spent the night without our tents, sleeping upon the ground. The night was warm enough, and I was comfortable in my coat with no need for a blanket. While I slept, others in the detachment took turns keeping watch over the prisoners.
A clear cool morning came, leaving us damp with dew, and we began our march again. On the road in the distance some ways along we spotted a great sprawling estate. The master of the home was brutally interrogated, but insisted he knew no information to aid us in finding Mosby.
“I don’t know anything!” he squealed. “I swear it! I swear it!” Finally Olcott gave up on him.
“Round up the horseflesh,” Olcott commanded. We confiscated the man’s horses, and now a great many of the men rode instead of walked. We made it nearly forty miles from Salem when Olcott let the prisoners go, directing them to go ahead and walk on back home.
“It will certainly put them out some,” Felix observed.
“At least they get to go back home. How is that a punishment?” Darby asked.
We returned to our regiment with much food and provisions, as well as horses. Now the Negro who was giving them information told Upton that Mosby often hid in Middleburg. We pulled out and hastily headed for Middleburg, hoping we would catch him there. It was nearly two in the morning when we arrived just outside of the town. Again no tents, as we slept for an hour or so and then were ordered to prepare to take the town.
There was no resistance. The town’s people made no attempt at defending themselves against us. They all put flags of truce on their doors to show they didn’t have any intention of fighting against us.
“They don’t wish for us to make any mistake about how they feel,” Sam observed. On each door hung the bottom end of their under garments meant to represent the white flag.
I chuckled. “They are all showing us their rear ends!”
“Yes, indeed.”
Captain John Mosby was nowhere to be found. But we collected a bounty of food from the town too. We came back to camp laden with poultry, produce, fresh milk in our canteens, and canned goods. The town’s people stood by with tight lips and angry eyes as we took every last bit of food we could find. Let them show us the seats of their britches! They would suffer all winter long for it.
The following evening, after drills and a most generous supper, Sam pulled his chess board out.
“Would you be up to a game?” he asked me.
I nodded. “I suppose.” He set the pieces up with the board between the two of us, then sat down opposite me and made himself comfortable.
“You may go first,” he offered. Our two heads were bent nearly touching over the center of the checkered board as we observed the pieces and plotted our strategies.
I moved one of my pawns forward with slow deliberation, trailing it along the squares casually, no particular plan in mind. It was his turn now. With a look of
concentration, he moved one of his pieces then caught my gaze and gave me a small smile. My mind was not clear. I was having a difficult time concentrating on the game. It dragged on in a leisurely fashion, as we lazily move our pieces about the board, in my mind the game secondary to the banter between the two of us as our hands brushed one another’s now and then. At one point I went to move my piece and he put his hand over mine to stop me.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked me with a raised eyebrow. His hand continued to linger over mine.
“It can’t hurt,” I said, meeting his eyes demurely. I reluctantly pulled my hand from his and finished my move.
“I’ve captured your queen,” he said, snatching it up.
“Yes, you have,” I assented.
“And now I have your king,” he informed me, taking his piece and knocking mine over. He looked at me with a playful grin on his lips. “Checkmate.”
“Then it seems you have won,” I said with a casual shrug.
“And you don’t seem to care one bit.”
“Not such a bad way for a queen to go, is it? In defense of her king?” I inquired with a cocked eyebrow. I was flirting with him, something I was fully and painfully aware of. What made me do a thing so brazen, I couldn’t say. I was nothing but a desperate and shameless muttonhead, and I knew it. Heaven help me, I knew it. And he must have known it too. How could he not? What sort of person was I to behave in such a way?
He seemed taken aback, blinking a few times with his brow furrowed. Perhaps it was because he never saw this side of me. Or he was appalled by my brazen disregard for decorum. I couldn’t say for sure. I just got that feeling that maybe I had gone too far. Maybe I had crossed a line. I began to second guess myself, wondering why I would have done such a fool thing.
“No, I suppose not,” he conceded.
“Shall I make some coffee?” I asked, working to draw attention away from my earlier moment of weakness.
“That would be nice,” he agreed. “Or perhaps I should make it for you?”
“To the victor goes the spoils,” I teased. And I got up to get the coffee pot and water to boil. A short while later I brought him his cup of coffee.
“You will always be better at chess than I,” I told him. “I see no point in pretending I may someday surpass your skills.”
“You shouldn’t give up so easily,” he said.
“Caleb used to play at checkers with me, and never was content with me as a partner, because I was no competition for him either. He wished for a real opponent and he got only me.”
“Knowing Caleb as I did, I am sure he was not too sore over it,” Sam said.
“I think it vexed him something awful that he must endure me for a sister.” I laughed. “I relied heavily upon him.”
“That so?”
“Yes. I’m surprised you don’t remember it. Me always hanging around and plaguing the two of you,” I reminded him.
“I don’t recall,” he said. “It seems so long ago now.”
“Well, I never expected you to. I have always been utterly forgettable,” I admitted taking a sip of my coffee.
“I don’t suppose I paid much attention to you then,” he confessed. “But it doesn’t mean you are forgettable.” He grinned broadly as a thought came to him.
“Although I do remember when you were just a little weed,” he said, holding his hand up to show how short I had been. “And you lost your bonnet in the water.” He took a sip of his coffee before he went on. “You were sitting on the bank, great big tears rolling down your face. Oh, and a terrible pout. When I came upon you, you couldn’t even speak to me. You looked so forlorn, so lost…such a serious little thing.”
“You knew it was me?”
“You were my best friend’s little sister,” he pointed out.
“But you called me little girl. That day, you didn’t call me by my name,” I said.
“I knew you were his little sister. I never said I remembered your name.”
“Yes, well, I remembered yours. Sam. You swam out and brought my bonnet back to me. And I was very grateful to you for it,” I acknowledged. “My mother would have tanned my hide good if I’d lost my bonnet.”
“Glad to have saved you from a tanning.” He grew sober. “How is your mother anyway?”
I could feel the smile fade from my lips. “She was not well when I left. But father said in his letter to me that she is slowly growing better.”
“She must miss you very much,” he said.
I shook my head. “I don’t think she recognizes I’ve even left. With Caleb gone…well, she was not the same.”
“I’m sorry for it. She was always a kind and generous woman to me. And your father too.”
“Yes, Father…” I cleared my throat, trying to keep from being emotional. “Father is one of the best of men. I feel remorse over how I left him. At least I spared him the truth.”
“Why? Because he thinks you are a nurse?”
“Yes.”
“He would not like it if he knew what you were really up to,” Sam said.
“I know it well,” I agreed. “I would rather die than have him find out I’ve lied to him as I have. I never should have done that to him.”
“Maybe it’s time you went home,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” I replied.
“You were raised to be a gentle lady. This life must be a burden to you,” he observed.
“Don’t try to flatter me, Sam. I was not born a gentle lady. I was born a farmer’s daughter. You and I both know there’s a difference. I don’t possess the soft white hands of a woman who has never known manual labor. My hands are coarse and rough from hard work. How’s that any different from what I’m doing now?” He chose to ignore this. He was set to make a point, and I was interfering with it.
“The things you’ve seen…It is something I wish you hadn’t. I wish I could’ve kept you from all of that ugliness.”
“I have borne it well, haven’t I?” I said, defensively.
“Admirably. I was in no way implying you haven’t done your share. I didn’t mean to insult you. I only meant to say you deserve better. You deserve a good life, the life of a respectable woman.”
I gave a short, cynical laugh. “Huh, I think I’m beyond respectable at this point, don’t you? Take a hard look, Sam. I’m scarcely what you could call proper.”
“I’ve made you angry. I didn’t mean to. You must understand I’m only trying to think of what’s best.”
“For whom?”
I didn’t know what to say. He was trying to get rid of me. He wanted me to go home and be out of his hair. I felt the bitter pangs of rejection at the thought of it. A moment ago I’d thought there was something between us, something in his eyes, something in our touch, something…
I threw the rest of my coffee out and got up, doing my best to hide my disappointment at his wish for me to go home.
“I am tired. I think I might turn in,” I said in a neutral voice. It was my way of saying the subject was closed. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
“Thank you for the coffee,” he said, lifting his cup in my direction to salute me.
“It was nothing,” I said, and then I turned away and left him there.
Chapter 14
COLONEL UPTON WAS NOW IN WASHINGTON. He took ill and was sent there to recuperate in a proper hospital. In his stead we were led by Olcott. Now I have told you what a rascal he was. I suppose it would be a difficult thing to be as dashing as he, with his fine mustache and dark looks, and not be somewhat imprudent. In Upton’s absence, Olcott, while strict with the men and diligent in executing his duties, indulged in questionable behaviors elsewhere.
We continued to scour the countryside looking for Mosby, but with no luck. We all believed the townsfolk we interrogated not only harbored him, but possibly rode with him as well. What better disguise? Shopkeeper by day, guerrilla by night. It would explain how they so easily disappeared and evaded capture. Who
would think to look in plain sight?
On one of our excursions looking for the devil, we came upon a fine plantation, grand in every way. The property was vast, with fields that were once planted in cotton, and orchards upon several acres just beyond the main house. The slave quarters were like a small village a stone’s throw away, although it looked fairly abandoned now. An informant led us to this place in the late afternoon, telling us the master of this fine home rode with Mosby’s Raiders, as did the man’s sons.
Olcott ordered a group of the men to wait back on the lane leading up to the main house and took only a handful of us with him in his investigation. Mr. Haney and I were among those who accompanied him. We mounted the steps and knocked on the door intent upon questioning the occupants. A servant girl drew the door open, her brown eyes filled with fear when she discovered it was a swarm of Yankee soldiers upon the veranda. She abruptly shut the great door when she saw us, and we could hear her feet running on the floorboards as she went to fetch the mistress. Shortly the door opened again. This time a white woman greeted us.
“May I help you?” she asked. Her voice was soft and her accent charming. She was middle aged but handsome nonetheless with vivid blue eyes and a perfectly pale complexion. She wore fine clothing, and her posture was straight and dignified. She didn’t seem at all frightened or put off by our presence.
Olcott’s attention was immediately piqued, as was the case when any female was in his company. He put on his most pleasant smile. Where before he was ready to give somebody the what for, he was now his most charming self.
“I don’t know that you can,” he said. “But perhaps. Perhaps. By chance are you Mrs. Marie Sturbridge?”
“I am she,” the woman confirmed.
“I am Lieutenant-Colonel Egbert Olcott. Might we talk further inside?”
“It is only me and my daughters here, sir. Do I have your word you all will behave like gentlemen?”
“You certainly do, Madame,” Olcott solemnly assured her.
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