“She said she was a boy and went around in trousers. I suppose it should’ve been apparent to us all. Now that I know the truth, it’s obvious; but I never saw no girl wearing trousers before. So I believed it, you see. We all did. But she is a girl. Do you understand?”
Reed Haney looked at Sam with his eyebrows raised, blinking rapidly. Again he studied me closely.
“You knew about this?” Reed inquired of Sam.
“He didn’t know,” I said, crying anew. “He didn’t know until just a short time ago. And I swore him to secrecy. I begged him not to tell anyone else.”
“Well, this is surely a revelation!” Mr. Haney exclaimed.
“I’m sorry for what I’ve done,” I said. “Very sorry. But Sam is not to blame in any of it. I alone should be held responsible.”
“I know what you must be thinking. I’m sure I had similar thoughts when I discovered what she did. It’s just she had no ill intentions. The only thing she is really guilty of was not thinking things through before she made such a reckless decision.”
“This will take some getting used to,” Mr. Haney said. “I know your mother well. I cannot imagine she would approve of this.”
“She doesn’t know,” I admitted. “Neither does my father. No one did. I kept it a secret. And when Sam found out, well, he kept it a secret too, although he was very much opposed to it.”
“How long?” Mr. Haney asked, looking from Sam to me.
“Couple of months,” Sam answered.
“Is this what your quarrel was over?” Mr. Haney wondered, a new understanding dawning on him when he realized why Sam and I had a falling out.
I nodded my head yes. “Sam was very cross with me for lying to him. And I deserved it! I know I did. Out of honor he wouldn’t share the same tent with me, until he realized it was arousing suspicion. And now he tries to convince me to go home almost daily.”
“Rightfully so. I can see you have feelings for one another, and it isn’t suitable for you to be alone like you been.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
“From here on out, you must share your tent with me, Sam,” Mr. Haney advised. He was addressing us as a strict father might. “The two of you must avoid any impropriety. You are responsible for seeing to it her reputation remains intact,” he told Sam sternly.
“Yes, sir,” Sam said again.
“I hardly think that is a consideration at the moment,” I said. “Not only will everyone know what I’ve done, but I may well go to the gallows for killing Jack,” I pointed out. “I would say my reputation is very much nonexistent.”
Chapter 26
THE SOIL WAS COLD AND MOIST beneath my fingers as I tossed it into the shallow hole Mr. Haney dug. He snuck back to camp, found a shovel, and returned with it in record time. Sam and I took Old Whiskers by the feet and arms and dragged him to the trees beyond the pasture. Now Jack lay in his grave, and I was helping fill the hole in with dirt.
Sam, Mr. Haney, and I labored the better part of the night to get rid of his body. None of us spoke, and in the strange silence, we were united in purpose, although I cannot say what the others were thinking. My desire was to rid myself finally and completely of the hated man. I knew burying him wouldn’t accomplish this objective, but it would go a way toward it. At least the physical evidence of his demise would be covered up forever. It would take much more to erase him from my memory.
When we put his body into the grave, and I swathed his face with his jacket, I could have sworn his dead eyes were looking at me just before I covered them. I got the eerie feeling they could see me; they were taunting me. I threw his pistol in with him, after which we worked to cover him up. Sam gathered several armfuls of decaying leaves and sprinkled them over the spot so it wouldn’t be too obvious the ground was recently disturbed.
The three of us finished up and trudged back to camp mentally and physically exhausted. We were cautious as we returned, deciding it best if we each entered the camp perimeter separate and at intervals. If we were all seen together it might arouse suspicion. Then too, if one of us was caught, we wouldn’t all be caught.
“I’ll go to his tent and see nothing’s left behind,” Sam said. “He shares a tent with Vern, but if I’m careful, Vern will sleep through it. Once I’ve got his personal effects I’ll dispose of them.”
“Just leave them,” I argued. “It’s not worth the risk.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Sam insisted. “Besides, it’ll definitely arouse suspicion if he’s left all of his things behind. They’ll know something’s happened to him, and he didn’t just leave on his own.”
“But if you should get caught…”
“It will be all right,” Sam assured me before he left me, giving my hand a squeeze. “Just do what we decided and there’ll be no trouble.”
Sam waited a few minutes after Reed Haney went to his tent and then drifted in and out of shadow as he navigated through camp to Jack’s tent. I waited in the darkness, my ears straining to hear any movement or disturbance, waiting with dread to hear the sound of an alarm set off. Every muscle in my body was tense as I remained there waiting, until I’d waited some time and hadn’t detected any sort of trouble. Sam must have not been caught.
I returned alone to the tent I shared with Sam, wishing desperately he was with me and I knew all was well. The last thing I wished for was to be alone. I was anxious for Sam, knowing he was going to Jack and Vern’s tent, and I didn’t have a certain knowledge of his well-being. I was terrified they would discover what happened to Jack Monroe and drag me off to prison for murder. I was equally frightened by the thought of his body moldering and decaying beneath the ground where we left him, picturing a web of fine black veins stretching across his translucent white skin and the dirt we’d used to cover him filling his mouth up. I wanted nothing more than to comfort and be comforted.
Sam promised me everything would be all right. I clung to that thought, assuring myself Sam wouldn’t lie to me. I just needed to believe, to have faith.
At roll call the following morning, they called out names as they always did. When they came to Jack Monroe’s name they repeated it several times with no answer. My knees trembled and I felt a wave of nausea come over me. I kept my eyes forward and my face blank, hoping no one was looking at me, scrutinizing me to see if I reacted to his absence. I supposed the guilt I was feeling was punishment in and of itself. If I didn’t get caught, I would have to live with what I’d done for the remainder of my days.
Later we spotted the superiors in conversation with Vern Stapleton. Vern was shrugging and scratching his head. From his expression I could tell he was clueless. He didn’t know anything. I thought it was a good thing. He obviously was unaware Sam visited his tent last night. When they finished with him, he came over to talk with us.
“What was that about?” Sam asked Vern.
“They was wanting to know about Jack,” he answered.
“What about him?” Sam wondered.
“Well, he’s gone. Didn’t show up for roll call, seems he’s took off.”
“You don’t say…Perhaps he’s drunk somewhere sleeping it off,” Sam suggested.
“Don’t know. He said he had business to see to last night. Never come back. And oddly his things was gone this morning. He must’ve come and collected ’em last night ’fore he left.”
“What kind of business?”
“He never said. Just said ‘business.’ How am I to know?”
“Seems very strange,” Sam said.
“They’ll string him up for sure, if they catch up to him,” Vern said. “They was giving him a second chance anyhow, letting him join up instead of serve time. Now he’s gone and deserted. Well, there won’t be no getting out of that one.”
This piqued my interest. Jack was a criminal? “What did he do?”
“Huh?” Vern asked.
“What did Jack do that he was in prison? Before he was forced to join up.”
“Said he got into it
with a whore up in Livingston and cut her up good, carved her face so nobody else would have her. Course he’s full of stories. Who knows if it’s true,” Vern said with a shrug.
If what Vern was saying was true, I was horrified by it. I thought of Jack trying to force himself upon that poor woman at the farm, of him throwing me in the river and leaving me to drown, and then last night with his knife, and I didn’t doubt it. As sorry as I felt about last night, I now felt very much vindicated for what I had done. The world was better off without Jack Monroe, that was a certainty. I had rid society of a man who abused and mishandled the weak. Perhaps God would pardon me after all.
“You think he deserted?” Sam pointedly asked Vern.
“Don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past him,” Vern answered. “What do you care?”
“Well, I don’t miss him any,” I said, before Sam could respond. “Better off without him!”
Sam looked somewhat surprised by my admission. I suppose he was thinking I should say as little as possible about my feelings for Jack, seeing as how we were trying to keep the knowledge I killed him from getting out. We must be above suspicion. Lying low would be the smart thing to do. But I didn’t care. I didn’t enjoy killing a man. No, I didn’t enjoy it, but I was beginning to believe I was justified. And when you believe you’re justified, it becomes difficult to feel sorry.
“You never did like him, did you, Frank?” Vern asked.
“No, sir, I did not,” I answered honestly.
When Vern was gone, I whispered to Sam, “What did you do with it?”
He needed no explanation as to what I was referring to. He knew I was asking what he’d done with Jack’s things. “Wasn’t much. Burned what I could in the fire, buried the rest,” he said.
“That’s all there is to getting rid of a man’s existence?”
Sam shook his head. “Well, that man’s existence anyway,” he said vehemently.
Indeed, no one seemed to take note or care much he was gone. There was an ease about things, a calm which reigned in his absence. He was the instigator, the one who put nasty thoughts in people’s heads, and encouraged contention among the ranks. There was something about his nature that had a negative effect on those around him. This was only further confirmed when it was discovered he’d filled out a false muster roll in order to get extra pay and extra rations. Everyone knew then what a low down dirty dog he really was. If there was any doubt before, there was none now. In the mind of everyone who knew him, he was a deserter.
Chapter 27
A WEEK AFTER THE BATTLE, we were put in charge of sweeping the river. This was a task I did not care for. From the river we pulled swords and firearms aplenty. It was the dead bodies that were hard to see. Sixty bloated corpses, all Confederate, came from the water. We gave them a proper burial. It was the right thing to do. I couldn’t help but think one of them might’ve been me if I hadn’t been so lucky.
Rappahannock Station was a raging success for us. It was difficult to describe the emotional thrill it left us with. One hundred and three officers were captured, as well as one thousand, three hundred enlisted men. Everyone in camp carried a trophy or two which they kept with them as a reminder of our triumph. Francis Morse had six Confederate officers surrender to him. He took every one of their swords and very pompously wore them all on his belt to show them off. He clanked about in a showy fashion for everyone to see, proud of his conquests and hoping he might be the envy of the lot of us.
In order to press our advantage, and before the winter became too much of a burden, we packed up our gear and headed out in pursuit of Lee and his armies. Our scouts reported seeing them, and told us we might find them near Mine Run on the other side of the river. Accordingly, we marched for two days in search.
This was no small task. Again we marched through wilderness treacherously dense with undergrowth and thick brush. It was terrible cold, and we all bundled up to keep the chill at bay. Our miserable conditions grew worse when the rain set in.
We navigated through the forest, doing our best to stay together as a whole. Sam did what he could to help me through it. I noted Reed Haney also seemed to stay close by. I felt some guilt over it. I thought I’d become the one thing I didn’t wish to be. I was a burden to these men. Night was dark and heavy upon us when Upton finally ordered us to a stop.
“We’ll stop for the night,” Upton informed us. “No fires. We don’t want the enemy to know what we’re up to.”
It was a miserable night for no fires. We could not cook our food, or warm ourselves. We ate hardtack and nothing more. Sam gathered a pile of leaves for me to lie on and I huddled beneath my blanket, trying to stay warm. It was no use. The cold penetrated every part of me. My hands and feet throbbed. I could not get comfortable, and I most certainly could not sleep.
When it grew light out, we moved on. Finally we drew near to the edge of the dense, thick trees, the end of our journey, and what we were met with was a sight which made us tremble in our boots. It wasn’t the cold but fear that was responsible for it. We faced an utterly overwhelming prospect. The river ran wide before us, and held up on the other side was the enemy, dug in safe and sound.
On the opposite bank of the river, the Rebs had cut young trees, stripped them of branches and leaves, and hacked the ends to sharp points, before they anchored them into the soil at dangerous angles. They looked like the quills of a startled porcupine menacingly standing on end. Beyond the banks of the river, the landscape climbed upward to form tall ridges, where the Confederate forces set up their batteries. Their cannons all pointed down upon us, hot metal ready to shower down and obliterate us all.
I could hear the collective intake of sharp breathes as we took in the ominous sight. They’d planned their fortifications well. It seemed as though we didn’t have a prayer in heaven for going up against them. Sam looked at me then dropped his eyes and shook his head. He seemed angry and I couldn’t figure out why.
“What?” I asked.
“We’re in a tight spot this time,” he complained.
“No worse than Rappahannock Station.”
“Much worse, Frank. Much worse. Fortune don’t generally smile twice on fools who tempt fate over and over again,” he replied, rubbing his fingers across his lips in an agitated manner before they came to rest at his temple. His expression was far off, haggard and worried. “How am I going to get you through it?”
“I will be fine, Sam. Stop worrying over me.”
“How can I not?” he asked, his face skeptical.
I remained silent. I didn’t know what to say to him. Whether I liked it or not, he would be troubled. There was no use talking about it. It would do no good. I figured if we must go to our slaughter at least we would do it together.
“I’ve been told skirmishing has already begun elsewhere,” Upton informed us. “Now we wait for the order to move. The 121st will have the honor of being first line. Fix bayonets and prepare for a frontal assault,” he ordered. Then he smiled rakishly as he told us his next bit of news.
“I’ve told General Torbert we will be there to welcome his men once they make it to the enemy’s pits. And he has assured me it will be his men, not mine, that reach them first. We each were so sure of our own men’s abilities we put a little wager upon it. Now you know me well, men. I do not like to lose a wager. See to it Torbert is sufficiently chastened, won’t you?”
We waited most of the day, on edge, ready to be called in. I could see there was a lot of speculation among the uppers, as they consulted and passed spy glasses back and forth among one another. All of us regulars watched, jogging in place and rubbing our hands together to try to keep the cold at bay as we waited to hear what our fate would be. Eventually Meade himself, the general of generals, rode up.
“If he is smart he will give it up,” Sam told me.
After much debate and conversing with others, Meade seemed agitated and left with a sullen look on his face. We all lingered still, wondering what our fortunes held. We
got word Meade was still undecided. He wanted to wait to make any judgment on the matter until tomorrow, because he felt Sunday was not a good day for making decisions.
Perhaps it was divine intervention that saved us. Meade reconsidered his position and sent word he wouldn’t wait until tomorrow after all. He decided it was too much of a risk, and we were ordered to withdraw. The men sent up a cheer the likes of which you’ve never heard.
“Thank the good Lord he’s got a brain in that head of his,” Sam said. “If he had attacked, he would have been without an army and you would have been without me.”
“How do you know you wouldn’t have been without me?” I asked defiantly.
“Because I’d have died before I’d let anything happen to you,” he said.
It was now growing dark again, and the thought of having to endure another long cold night out in the open was a grim one. We headed out, taking the road instead of going back through the woods again. After regrouping, Upton asked Sam and I and several others to help with the wounded. We hadn’t seen any fighting ourselves but there were some who did engage. We were put under the charge of Dr. Holt to do as he asked, serving as litter bearers for the men who needed medical attention.
“There is a house up a-ways,” the doctor admonished. “We shall endeavor to find aid there.”
The 121st followed after as we marched up the road to a home with a large property and many outbuildings behind it. We left the road and headed up to the house, while the others sought shelter in the slave quarters out back. Dr. Holt, who was from our regiment, and another doctor I didn’t know, by the name of Dr. Bland, eyed one another as if they were undecided as to who should have the duty of knocking at the door. Finally Dr. Holt gave in and pounded his fist against the wood panel.
Shortly a group of three girls between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five answered. The oldest seemed to be representing the lot. She wore an unpleasant expression and seemed quite bold in her dislike for us. She threw the door open without ceremony and glared at us.
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