The Discovered

by Tracy Winegar

She opened wide the door, and we all filed in to the spacious front room. Olcott took the seat offered him, while the rest of us stood at attention.

  “Could I offer you some tea, Lieutenant-Colonel?”

  “That would surely be most welcome,” Olcott said.

  The pretty little negro girl who opened the door to us was sent off to prepare the tea. And Mrs. Marie Sturbridge sat primly at the edge of her tufted chair, her hands folded upon her lap, with her full attention upon the Lieutenant-Colonel. Olcott’s face was most pleasant as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his leg, making himself comfortable. He was confident in the presence of the woman. After watching him at work, I presumed he must have experienced only success in his pursuit of the fairer gender.

  “How may I help you, sir?” the Southern woman asked, her face appearing guileless, with her eyes wide and inquiring.

  “You perhaps are aware, Madame, of a most dangerous character who is said to ride in the vicinity, a Captain John Singleton Mosby?”

  Her face didn’t change one bit. She maintained her calm composure, betraying nothing. I admired her for that. She was just as good as Olcott, cool and collected.

  “I have heard of Captain Mosby, sir. Although I have no personal knowledge of him wandering these parts,” she replied.

  “Now, I don’t wish to alarm you, dear lady, but we have it on good authority this charlatan is indeed somewhere close by, stirring up trouble where he may.”

  There was a slight sound, the rustle of skirts as then entered the breathtakingly beautiful daughter carrying a tray of teacups and such. Her skin was like fresh milk, her hair a deep and rich auburn red. She glided into the room as though her feet did not touch the ground, a vision of loveliness even I could appreciate, and certainly envied. Mr. Haney and I exchanged a glance. A most fine-looking woman such as she was not a thing Olcott could pass up easily. It begged his attention. You could almost see the cogs of his brain spinning furiously, as you might imagine the innards of a clock that has been wound too tightly.

  As she entered, Olcott jumped from his chair as if his hind end were pressed to hot coals, and gave his assistance in carrying her tray to a small side table next to Mrs. Sturbridge.

  “Let me help you with that, Miss,” he practically begged.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said sweetly.

  “Catharine, this is Lieutenant-Colonel Olcott,” Mrs. Sturbridge said as she poured tea into the china cups. “Lieutenant-Colonel, this is my eldest daughter, Miss Catharine Sturbridge.”

  Olcott bent low and kissed the back of her hand. “Miss Sturbridge, a pleasure,” he said.

  The young Miss Sturbridge responded with adequate modesty, lowering her eyes with just the slightest of smiles, although it was obvious to me she was sure of her effect upon him. These things are difficult to conceal from other women I suppose, because they know the games females play, but easy enough to deceive a man when he does not want to see the cunning devices a woman is capable of employing.

  Her voice was soft and low as she said, “It would be good to meet you too, Lieutenant-Colonel, if you were not wearing that uniform. Blue does not become you.” He seemed shocked for a moment and then burst out laughing.

  “Well, I say…I believe I like a woman who speaks her mind.”

  “Unless she has a horsey face or an unsightly figure,” I whispered to Mr. Haney. “Then she should abstain from speaking all together.” He suppressed a laugh.

  “Hold your tongue, Frank,” he shushed. “Before you get us both into trouble.”

  Olcott waited for the young lady to sit before he resumed his own seat.

  “I was just speaking to your mother, Miss Sturbridge, on matters of local security. We have it on good authority that a fugitive seeks sanctuary in these parts, a fugitive who poses a threat to the military and private citizens alike.”

  Catharine Sturbridge cocked her head to the side. “And who is this dangerous character you speak of?” she asked with just the slightest hint of sarcasm.

  “I speak of Captain John Mosby and his infamous band of Rebels,” he informed her.

  “Captain Mosby? Here?” She laughed. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I don’t want to frighten you,” Olcott continued. “Lord knows what such a man may be capable of. And you ladies alone without the protection of a man—”

  “Why should we have fear of him, sir? His aim is not upon molesting Southerners,” she pointed out. “He hunts Yank trash such as yourself.” It was fascinating to watch her work, throwing him away with insulting comments, and then reeling him back in with her shameless flirting, a master of her skill.

  Olcott shifted uneasily. “You may perhaps think that. But I believe him capable of anything. He is a notorious robber and murderer, Miss Sturbridge, which is what brings me to your doorstep, I am sorry to say. I am here to reassure you we will do all in our power to make sure no harm comes to you from this impertinent fellow. I am at your disposal, here to defend and protect.”

  “How very generous of you, Lieutenant-Colonel. But really, very unnecessary. We have been here alone for quite some time, with no serious threat to our safety,” Marie Sturbridge said.

  “Why doesn’t he ask about her father?” I whispered to Mr. Haney.

  “Think nothing of it,” Olcott replied. “I count it my duty and will act accordingly. My men and I will set up camp out back, in the orchard there, and do our best to keep the rascal from afflicting you in any way.”

  Mother looked to daughter with raised eyebrows and then back to Olcott. “Perhaps you would join us for dinner?” Mrs. Sturbridge offered.

  “I would be most pleased to partake of your hospitality,” the Lieutenant-Colonel consented.

  Chapter 15

  THE PEACH TREES WERE BARE of fruit, it now being autumn. But the leaves were still upon their limbs, not yet having fallen. They’d just began to turn orange—rows and rows of green trees, speckled with vivid orange patches.

  We pitched our tents in the empty spaces, making fast work of it. We set up our fires for cooking and made ourselves comfortable for the evening. Some of the men played at a game of cards or smoked their pipes, whatever they preferred to pass the time. Sam was full of questions, having been left in the lane when Mr. Haney and I went with Olcott and were privy to the conversation within.

  “What in thunder are we doing here?” he asked.

  “The Lieutenant-Colonel has set his sights upon a prize. A very lovely girl named Catharine Sturbridge,” I told him.

  “What?” he said incredulously.

  “Yes. She batted her eyes and insulted him sorely, and he ate it up,” I replied. “Imagine the stupidity of it!”

  “What was said?”

  “Olcott said he wished to protect them from Mosby’s molestations.”

  “Protect them? Their men are the ones riding with him,” Sam groaned.

  “You needn’t remind me. He didn’t even question them about the father or the brothers. It all makes me very irritated indeed,” I complained. “May I ask you something, Sam?”

  “Certainly,” he said.

  “Why is it that boys are so easily swayed by a pretty face?” I asked.

  “It is the nature of man.” He shrugged. “It is what we eat, sleep, and breathe for. Our very existence in this world is to find a woman who will have us. I suppose some are more prone to be ruled by this weakness than others.”

  “Well, I see these women, endowed with the gifts of beauty and grace, betraying themselves for their own purposes, and it makes me feel scornful of them,” I disclosed. “I wonder at what sort of lady would behave so unspeakably for the attentions of a man. They make objects of themselves, worth no more than a piece of furniture or candlesticks, or…or ear bobbles. They sell their souls for a mess of pottage. They make women look weak and shallow and unworthy of being taken seriously. And I wonder too how any man could look upon them with any degree of respect.”

  Sam smiled. “It is not with respect they look
upon them. It is something more base than you could understand, I’m sure. Mostly they have no affection for them—after all lust is not love.”

  “If that is so, then why is it these women are the sorts who seem to draw a man’s eye and get all of the attention?”

  “Because until a man is ready to settle down, he wants the milk for free, and so, why buy the whole blessed cow? When a man goes to marry, those don’t tend to be the women he chooses for a wife. Not the smart men anyway. The smart ones know better.”

  “So you’re not taken in by a beautiful woman?”

  Sam cleared his throat, probably feeling put on the spot by my question.

  “I do not care for women who play games, toy with a man’s affections. A fast trick don’t suit me. But it don’t mean I can’t appreciate their looks,” he said frankly.

  “I see,” I said, feeling dispirited.

  “But God created beauty in many varied forms. What one considers run of the mill may be a sight to behold through someone else’s eyes. It’s all comparative.”

  “What a kind way of making the run of the mill feel less unexceptional,” I told him with a sad smile.

  “There is nothing unexceptional about you, Miss Stark. If that was your understanding of my speech you were mistaken.”

  “As always, Sam, you remain the boy who rescued my bonnet.”

  Lieutenant-Colonel Olcott walked past, headed for the main house for his supper, straightening his coat and tugging at his cuffs as he went.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, there he goes,” I grumbled.

  “Poor fellow,” Sam said.

  “Poor in what way? He must suspect what those women are.”

  “And yet, he cannot help himself.”

  “I’m sure he could if he wanted to,” I argued.

  The Carroll brothers came by, whistling a tune. They carried a large burlap sack between them. When they spotted us, they stopped.

  “Found a right good treat,” one said. The other took a generous handful of goober peas from the sack, handed it to Sam, and then did the same for me.

  I always forgot which was which so I said, “Thank you, brother Carroll.”

  They went on, distributing more to the others. I saw them give some to Jack Monroe, and I couldn’t help but scowl. Sam was right when he said Jack always seemed to have more than everyone else. I wondered how he managed it.

  “You know, I think you were right about Old Whiskers. He never seems to run out of rations. Do you think he steals from the other men? Or perhaps he uses blackmail to get extras?”

  Sam cracked a shell and tossed the oddly shaped nuts into his mouth. “I have kept my eye on him. But I can’t seem to figure it out. Whatever he’s up to it is shady. You can be sure of it,” Sam said.

  Sam and I spent the rest of the evening cracking shells and tossing them away as we ate. Gradually the night came on and we crawled into our tent. It was the blackest part of night, while we were in the deepest of sleep, when a blast rang out clear and shrill. And then a barrage of others followed. I started, disoriented and frightened. In the darkness, Sam sprang from his bedroll and made for the tent door.

  I got up and went to follow him. Horses whined, tramping through the trees and tents, pistols discharged, in a chaotic scene. When we reached the door of our tent we saw men on horseback forcing their way through tent doors and firing upon the occupants inside. The scene was one of frenzied confusion with Olcott in nothing but his short underwear, a pistol in each hand, swearing and firing randomly upon the intruders as they came. The men were running to and fro in the confusion, in various stages of dress, groggy from sleep, many without a weapon. They were sitting ducks for the attackers who were firing upon them.

  “Get back!” Sam yelled. He backed up through the tent door, jerking me in with him. Sam scrambled for the tent pole, ripped it out of its place, and let the canvas tent fall in on us. Still clutching the tent pole in his hand, he tackled me to the ground, the back of my head bumping abrasively into the packed earth. Then I felt the heavy weight of his body as he lay on top of me in an effort to protect me. I was utterly taken aback. Everything was moving too quickly for my brain to even process it all.

  “Sam, what are you doing?” I loudly protested.

  He put his finger to my mouth. “Ssh!”

  Outside the crisis raged on. Men were yelling, guns were being fired, and the beat of horse hooves was all around. I lay perfectly still under Sam’s weight, secure in the knowledge he would defend me if it should come to that. We were in a cocoon, safe and apart from the commotion outside. I was aware of it all, but it seemed somehow separate from us. My heart beat wildly, yet I was unsure if it was from fear or from having Sam so close to me.

  While the turmoil of the raid seemed to go on forever, in reality it lasted only ten to fifteen minutes. The sounds of horses receding, and our men scrambling to take chase, let us know the danger was over, but we remained where we were on the dirt floor of our collapsed tent for a time, motionless and silent, neither of us able to move. Strange how aware I was of everything happening, yet still unable to understand any of it. My brain was empty of all thought, of all reasoning.

  “Are you all right?” Sam finally whispered. It took me a moment to determine whether I really was or not.

  “Yes,” I finally replied.

  “You’re shaking,” he said. I was not conscious of it until he pointed it out to me. Indeed my limbs were trembling uncontrollably. I couldn’t tell if it was the shock or the fear that caused it.

  “I’m all right,” I insisted, angry at myself for being so fragile.

  Sam got up and then gave me his hand and helped me to my feet. We felt our way around the tent until we found the opening and stumbled out. Everyone was running around in a general state of confusion and shock. Olcott, still in his underwear with his pistols slack at his sides now, was wandering about camp with a muddled look on his face, stunned by the turn of events. After taking stock of the situation, we discovered the sentry who was assigned to keep watch at the road had attempted to stop the Raiders. He asked for identification and was shot in the face for his trouble, as the raiders moved past him and descended upon us. Mosby managed to make halfwits of us yet again.

  Chapter 16

  HUMILIATED AND IN A SAD, sorry state, we went back to camp in New Baltimore. Olcott attempted to make it look as if what happened was of little consequence. It only made the men angrier than ever. It is a difficult thing to have someone you so admire do something of such weak character. Everyone involved simply wished to forget it. I think we were all of a like mind when Colonel Upton returned from Washington—relieved and pleased.

  The doldrums of camp life wore on us all, as did Mosby’s persistent raids to harass and cause turmoil. A year was gone now. A year since we’d left our homes in New York. There seemed to be no end to the war in sight. What would it take to end it? To see home and family once again?

  Sam seemed intent on me going home. He pestered me regularly with suggestions of it. Really there was nothing keeping me. My whole purpose in enlisting was to aid him in any way I might. If he didn’t want me there, I should seriously question why I remained. There was no reason for me to act this part any longer. Why hang around, seeking the affections of a man who didn’t want me? Was I some pariah that I should continually thrust myself, unwanted, upon Sam? It seemed downright ridiculous that I couldn’t take a hint and move on. With each passing day, the idea of leaving became more appealing.

  One day Sam and Boss Tanner and I were given horses and told to go investigate the claim of a farmer who resided a day’s ride away and was said to have information regarding Mosby’s Raiders. We accordingly packed our provisions for several days and headed out southeast of camp toward the residence in question. There were many such claims and none amounted to anything. Mosby remained at large.

  With all of the horses we stole there were plenty to go around. We selected our mounts and headed out. Luck was with us when at midda
y we found an inn along the way where we stopped and ate some fine food, fresh and hot. We were counting ourselves pretty fortunate to have gotten the assignment after such a meal.

  When we arrived at the farm in late evening, it looked much like what I should think the witch’s cottage from Hansel and Gretel might appear, only without the candy. It was a sweet little house surrounded by trees turned red, yellow, and orange, picket fencing, and finials decorating the porch railings and posts giving it a charm most appealing. A woman who appeared to be in her forties or fifties met us out front, although it was difficult to tell for certain how old she really was because she’d seen hard times. That much was evident, with her worn out face and gray hair falling dirty and limp from the bun she tried to secure it in. She greeted us on the porch with a wary sort of smile.

  I noted right away she was not expecting us. She seemed flighty and agitated when she saw us, as though she hadn’t seen another human being in quite some time and was taken aback by our arrival. Indeed she appeared not to know what to do with our company. The three of us exchanged skeptical and fleeting looks; a sense of something not being right with her hit us all from the start. What made us carry on I couldn’t say. I think it was the thought of being rude or inhospitable toward her which perhaps led us onward.

  “We were told you have a complaint and may have information about a John S. Mosby,” Boss Tanner said to the woman from his mount.

  She looked quite mad to me. Her smile seemed suspiciously wicked as she nodded slowly. “I have?” she said with a laugh. “Yes, yes. That’s right.”

  We dismounted and tethered the horses to the posts of the porch, standing awkwardly in the yard and waiting for her to invite us in. She acted as though she didn’t know how to proceed, trying to straighten her hair and looking about for some cue from us. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling. It wasn’t so much that she was a woman who had lost her wits, it was more a combination of that fact and also being in enemy territory and not knowing who could be trusted and who would wait until your back was turned so they might put a ball in it. Seeing as how she was behaving so erratically, the latter seemed the most likely.