The Discovered

by Tracy Winegar

“That’s not possible,” Sam said.

  “Why not?” I complained.

  “Someone would recognize you.”

  “How do you know? Maybe they wouldn’t notice me at all.”

  “Oh, they would notice,” he said. “They take note of anyone in a skirt. It’s not worth the risk.”

  “What fun would it be to go as a boy?” I reasoned. “We couldn’t dance together.”

  “I’m sorry. That is true. But it will still be something to see,” he consoled.

  “If you say so.” I couldn’t help but sound bitter.

  “It isn’t my fault,” he pointed out.

  This only further irritated me. He didn’t need to remind me it was my sorry self who put me into my current predicament. If it hadn’t been for my deception, I might freely go to the ball and be Serena.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I insisted, unwilling to give it up.

  “I’m sure you will,” Sam agreed. “So long as no one sees that pretty face in a dress, I am all for it.”

  He gave me a kiss and then rolled over and fell asleep. I knew he didn’t think I would find a way. I was determined he would be sorely mistaken. I figured I would say nothing else on the matter for several different reasons. First of all, I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, and second of all, I didn’t want to have Sam tell me no. So I went ahead and made my arrangements without him. I told him, as innocently as possible, he should go on ahead of me, and I would meet him there.

  On a chilly February night, I got myself dressed up and headed down to the Fifth Corps headquarters. It was just after nine o’clock when I arrived. The doors were open with bright light spilling out and reflecting from the packed snow on the ground. The music could be heard from within, a rollicking tune suitable for a reel. A row of ambulance wagons was lined up in front, and several officers were assisting ladies, dressed in their finest, as they stepped down from the wagons and floated into the dance hall.

  This was certainly a sore spot for the head surgeon at division headquarters. He insisted it was not at all ethical to use ambulances to transport women to a dance. He was bypassed, and Sedgwick himself gave his permission for it. It was to be a grand, over the top sort of affair, and nothing was off limits for such a worthy cause, not even the ambulance wagons.

  I wandered in and stood at the edge of the crowd, taking the scene in, with my heart skipping nervously in my breast. There were hundreds of men and women crammed into the small space, laughing, drinking champagne, dancing, or in conversation. I scanned the room, looking for Sam’s familiar face. When I didn’t see him right off, I ventured further into the room.

  I was immediately grabbed up by a soldier in parade uniform, who swooped in and spun me out onto the dance floor before I even knew what was happening. I was taken off guard and felt a rush of alarm and confusion. I tried to pull away but he held me fast. He was smiling with a look of determination telling me he was not giving up without a fight.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Dancing.”

  “I know that. I can see that,” I replied. “But I don’t remember you asking, and I don’t recall me agreeing to it.”

  “Oh, now, let me have some fun, won’t you?” he said as though he were a small child, petulant and pleading.

  “I shouldn’t be dancing with you,” I protested.

  “Would you rather I dance by myself? Just think of it as your patriotic duty.”

  I could see he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and so I gave up and finished the set with him. When the next tune started up, he held tight again, as if he might compel me to dance with him the next round, but I put my foot down. I forcefully pulled away from him and put my hand up to stop him when he moved in closer to me and acted as though he wasn’t going to let me go.

  “You had your dance,” I pointed out.

  “It wasn’t a full dance,” he protested.

  “It will have to do,” I insisted. He acted as though he might argue with me further. I didn’t linger to see what he was going to say. I quickly plunged into the crowd and tried to lose myself in it. It took some doing, but I finally discovered Sam near one of the windows, standing with a cup of punch in his hand and looking rather unamused by all of it.

  I managed to sidle up next to him and stood silently observing what he was watching. Eventually he turned to me and gave a polite smile and nod. The fact he didn’t know it was me gave me a great deal of satisfaction. I gave a nod back, then slipped my gloved hand into his idle one. This certainly surprised him, and he hastily drew his fingers away from mine, jerking so violently he spilled the punch on the front of his coat. He fumbled to wipe it away.

  “Pardon me,” he said, his face red. I found it humorous he was asking for the pardon of a strange woman he thought was making a pass at him, as though he were somehow the one at fault.

  “Sam, it’s me,” I whispered.

  He stopped what he was doing and turned to stare at me. After a moment of his scrutinizing, he grudgingly smiled. I’m sure he wasn’t happy I had indeed gotten my way, but what could he do?

  “I should make you leave,” he told me good naturedly. “But if your own husband don’t recognize you, I don’t guess anybody else will either.”

  “I’m glad I have your permission,” I teased, because we both knew I didn’t need his blessing.

  “Where’d you get that get up?”

  I looked down at my black dress and black gloves through the gauzy veil attached to the crepe bonnet I wore. The veil was drawn over my face as it would be if I were in deep mourning. I’d borrowed it from an older woman in town, in exchange for some flour and coffee with the promise it would be returned to her tomorrow. Although she’d fallen on hard times, I assumed due to the war, I could tell she was once someone with money, because the dress was of excellent quality made by a worthy seamstress. It was the sort of garment that would cost a pretty penny to have made. Why tell all of the particulars to Sam? I wasn’t there to bore him to death; I was there to have fun, like everyone else.

  “I have my ways,” I said trying to sound mysterious.

  “Yes, you have,” he agreed with narrowed eyes and a half smile.

  “What does a lady have to do to get a dance partner?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t take much around here,” he said. “If you haven’t noticed, these men are clamoring for any lady’s attentions. I doubt being a widow would deter any of them.”

  “I have noticed. It took some doing to get away from the short fellow over there,” I admitted, calling to his attention the man who grabbed me on my way in.

  “You ought to tell them your dance card is filled up. Mark every line with Sampson Barlow’s name so everyone knows you belong to me.”

  A waltz began, and I stretched my hand out for him to take. He accepted it and navigated us through the crowd and to the dance floor. He clasped my hand and fitted his other to the small of my back, and we began to dance. It was as I always thought it would be—heaven. We glided about the floor as if we were floating. He was excellent at leading, and I was not the least bit hampered by my veil.

  “What an excellent pair we make,” I observed.

  “I thought you said you’d never been to a dance before,” he accused.

  “I haven’t. It didn’t stop me from learning to dance. I have to say it is much more enjoyable to have a male partner though.”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  “Oh, I do.”

  When we finished the dance, another gentleman swooped in and tried to take me away. Sam would not let go of me. He smiled charmingly but was shaking his head no. I felt wanted. There was something inside of me which thrilled at the notion of another man desiring me. I was glad Sam knew how I felt when I saw him getting the attention of other women. I realized, with a hint of remorse, I wanted him to be jealous.

  “I’m afraid she can’t dance with you, sir. She is, after all, a widow. And that would be unseemly,” Sam told him.
/>   “Well, you’ve just had a dance with her,” the man protested.

  “That is true, I suppose, but she did it against her will. I’ve managed to single-handedly ruin her reputation, something I feel truly awful for. I will tell you it’s not the sort of thing you want on your conscience.”

  Without waiting a beat, Sam led me back into another dance, leaving the poor man to look somewhat stunned at the edge of the crowd. Beneath my veil I was laughing. This was a side I had never seen of Sam. He was downright possessive and I loved it.

  “I think I like being so desired,” I told Sam. “I’ve never had men fighting over me. But the veil perhaps gives me an advantage.”

  “You’re lucky you have that on. They might be a little more insistent if they knew what you actually looked like.”

  “How terribly sweet of you.”

  The next set was a reel. I was twirled down the line and back, until I cycled through partners several times and ended up back in Sam’s arms again. Throughout the night I danced with him, watching as he fended off other men who approached for a dance. At one point a superior officer requested my hand. You did not say no to a superior. It was just not done! The repercussions could be severe. I grudgingly took my hand from Sam’s and thought to allow him the dance. I didn’t want any trouble. Now, Sam had no right to refuse him, but he did anyhow. I was not only astonished but a little frightened too.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot allow it,” Sam said with a determinedly grim frown.

  “Excuse me?” Oh, the superior officer was good and mad at Sam’s impertinence. It was apparent he wasn’t used to being told no.

  Sam managed to seem sufficiently chastened. “I’m sorry, sir. I do not mean any disrespect, but I feel it would be unsuitable for my sister to dance with anyone but me. She is after all a widow, and I promised my parents I would look after her and see she is well cared for.”

  For a moment I thought it might come to blows. The tension between the two men was palpable, and I could sense we had become the center of attention. Many of the other men were watching us, waiting for a show. The officer was greatly put out, but how could he argue with Sam’s gallant gesture? After all, who could fault Sam for looking out for his sister’s interests? With veins bulging, eyes narrowed, and jaw set firmly, the officer reluctantly conceded. He bowed to me before he turned and stalked off. I was relieved it hadn’t escalated any further, thinking not only that he and Sam might have gotten into a fight, but also that my true identity could have been revealed because of my stupidity in coming to the dance.

  “I would have felt terrible if you’d gotten into trouble because of me. This may’ve been a very selfish thing for me to do, insisting on coming to this dance. I’m sorry.”

  “It would’ve been worth a court martial to dance with you all night.”

  “I am being serious,” I insisted. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”

  “I think it’s probably far too late for that,” he said with a smile.

  The remainder of the night Sam and I danced together, until it was dinner time. The clock chimed one o’clock in the morning, and the crowd that had grown boisterous and loud with the champagne now ceased dancing. The lot of them filed into the dining area, laughing and fighting good-naturedly over who should sit next to the ladies. Sam led me over to the door.

  “Wait here a moment,” he spoke softly to me. I could feel the energy between us, the playful banter with more behind it. There was a subtle draw connecting the two of us. I felt the need to be touched, to draw closer to him just as he was pulling away. I could sense his reluctance to leave me too. Our parting was prolonged and sweetly drawn out as he disentangled his hand from mine and backed away. I was hoping that the officer Sam slighted wasn’t watching, because it must be completely apparent to everyone in the room we were not sister and brother, we were lovers.

  I lingered idle as he disappeared for a time. He returned with a plate loaded with roasted potatoes and carrots, beef covered in gravy, and two fat dinner rolls. I stood at attention when I saw him approaching, pushing myself away from the wall I was reclined against to welcome him back.

  “What a night,” he said with a mischievous grin when he returned.

  “Yes, some night.”

  “Why don’t we slip off to someplace more private,” he suggested.

  “I’m all for it,” I agreed. He took the plate of food in one hand and my arm in his other and slipped out into the night, leaving the dance behind.

  Chapter 36

  SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, the 121st was called in as support for a raid on Charlottesville. The raid was led by General George Custer’s cavalry, the objective being to burn the bridge which spanned the Rivanna River. This assault was in connection with another raid upon Richmond taking place concurrently.

  “We are just the diversion again,” Vern Stapleton complained.

  “It serves its purpose,” Reed Haney pointed out.

  “What purpose? Put all of us in harm’s way to free a few men from prison,” Darby said.

  “It would be a better thing to die free, than to die slow and terrible, rotting away in one of their prisons,” Sam said.

  “We may do just that,” Darby replied. “I do believe this cursed weather has it out for us.”

  It was true that the weather was terrible. It rained and then snowed, and while we were cold to the bone from the rain and snow, the wind would not let up on us. With no tents for protection, we took to huddling in groups with our faces turned in to the circle and our backs to the storm, like a bunch of cows. We slept in the open, none really able to rest because of the discomfort of it.

  “I heard tell five from our regiment have died in those hellhole prisons in one month’s time,” Felix informed us. “Read it in the Courier.”

  “The name Andersonville strikes fear into the heart of anyone who knows anything about it. Those Rebs treat animals better than they do men,” Sam said contemptuously.

  “Oh, it is bitter cold,” Darby grumbled, blowing into his fists.

  “This is what it means to be out in the field.” Sam chuckled.

  “God willing it is a short excursion,” I added. “I am missing the warmth of our cabin something terrible.”

  There was little to console us. The warmth of our cooking fires was not more than a breath of heat to temporarily warm our hands with. I tried to keep my complaints to myself, because I knew Sam was troubled by my discomfort. Not that he hadn’t been sympathetic before, but now that he knew I was a woman, he took my deprivations very personal.

  Two days into the march, our goal was achieved. Our regiment hung back near a small town called Madison, ready to support Custer and his men if they should have need of us. As it turned out, we again were not involved in any of the fighting. General Custer’s Calvary attacked a camp in Carrsbrook, and a scuffle ensued.

  They set fire to the camp and took what they could get their hands on. In a comical twist, one of the small cannons, heated in the fire our men had set, blew up. Custer and his Calvary mistook it for artillery fire from the enemy. Confusion set in and the Union troops began firing on one another. In the panic and mayhem, General Custer called retreat.

  Luckily there were only a few wounded, but it was an embarrassment to Custer who called retreat when there was no enemy resistance at all. That was the end of our brief foray into Charlottesville. With relief we collectively headed back to winter camp.

  We struggled through the snow, worn out and bitter cold. It took a great deal of effort to lift our feet above the drifts to walk. Our food was frozen, so we ate very little. The wind beat against our faces and stole the breath from our lungs. Men began to fall out along the way, unable to continue. Sam would not let me do the same. He pulled me along. At times our progress was painfully slow, but we didn’t stop.

  Sam said, “We’re that much closer. If you keep going we’ll be in a warm bed with a fire on the hearth in no time.”

  Soon we were safe and sound in
our small village at Hazel River again. The whole outing lasted a matter of four days total, yet it seemed much longer. Due to the cold and exposure to the elements, a great number of us fell ill upon our return.

  Chapter 37

  SOME THINGS ARE TOO PERFECT TO SHARE. Sometimes it is the sharing that makes them commonplace and ordinary. There are moments that grow more marvelous in the secret places of your mind. With each recollection, the details become more meaningful, more significant, until it becomes a treasure which sustains you through the worst of times, the thing that keeps you going with the promise of better times to come.

  That is what that winter was for me.

  When you put your eye to a kaleidoscope and twist, you see the brilliant colors and patterns cycle themselves through, never remaining the same for very long. A flash of beauty lasts for a heartbeat and then is gone, transforming to another scene entirely. You are left to wonder over the metamorphosis and how it is possible it could happen so quickly, so absolutely.

  Our existence upon this Earth is much the same. As a youth, you spend your days longing to be grown up, to have a trade, and a lover, and then children, and a will of your own. You long to be taken seriously, to say important things and do great deeds. You wish to make your mark upon this place. You want to skip over the painful learning moments and move past them to miraculously already possess the knowledge and self-awareness gleaned from such experiences. You have a deep desire, a sincere longing to speed time up, to make it work to your advantage.

  Perhaps we are granted our wish. Because it seems days and weeks and months do indeed accelerate as you become older. The spinning wheel of time picks up velocity until you scarcely know where it has gone, and you seek to slow it, but there is no stopping a downhill descent. Suddenly you are old and used and all in the twist of the kaleidoscope. Then pain becomes desirable, because it means that you are still alive, and the desire to have the innocence of youth once again is a longing that leaves you aching and wanting and hollow inside.

  There is remorse too, for what could have been. I should have been a painter or poet or doctor. I should have married another. I should have been a better husband or wife to the one I did marry. I should have held my babies tighter, for they weren’t babies very long. I never said anything important or did great deeds as I thought I would. It is over and I have nothing to show for it. Give me more time! Slow the clock!