Nearly half an hour passed while Jim stood in one corner of the lobby. The last of the arrivals had passed through the doors, and the first lively strains of a reel drifted through to the lobby. He had to assume that Alan and his sister, Violet, had come earlier. As the call for the first dance was heard, he glanced back to see the doorman step inside and pull the doors closed behind him. Taking the invitation from his coat pocket, Jim made his way across the carpeted lobby.
The tall, stern-faced doorman turned when he heard the door open behind him. Immediately flashing his welcoming smile, he quickly extinguished it upon encountering the homespun attire of the strapping young man standing before him, invitation in hand. “May I help you, sir?” he offered in skeptical coolness.
Jim favored him with a wide, friendly smile. “No, thanks. I don’t need any help. I’m just going to the dance.” He handed the invitation over and prepared to step around the doorman.
“Sir, this is the annual Summer Cotillion, invited guests only.” Without looking at it, he held Jim’s invitation as if it were a piece of dried manure. The young man was clearly out of his element.
His friendly smile still firmly in place, Jim said, “That’s a fact. That’s why I just handed you my invitation.”
The doorman was about to protest when a voice behind him intervened. “Well, by damn, I didn’t think you’d come,” Alan Cranston called out as he hurried to greet his friend. “Charles, this man is my guest.”
Genuinely astonished, Charles turned to face Alan. “Why, of course, Mr. Cranston.” He stepped aside while the two young men shook hands, and Alan, grinning from ear to ear, pounded Jim on the shoulder. By the expression on his face, it was apparent that Charles still found the situation offensive to his nostrils.
Brushing past the exasperated doorman, Alan took Jim by the arm and led him away toward a table across the room. “Come on, Jim, and I’ll introduce you to my friends.”
Alan led him to a large round table close by the dance floor, where a young lady sat with three couples. All eyes at the table, as well as most in the entire ballroom, were upon Jim as he crossed the floor. He was already beginning to have misgivings about his decision to attend this highly sophisticated social function. It had seemed like a splendid lark when Alan had first suggested it. Now he looked about him, unable to find one solitary soul who wasn’t dressed in formal attire.
Jim looked around the table at the amused smiles that greeted him as Alan introduced him to his friends. “This is Jim Culver,” Alan announced, beaming his pleasure. “This is the fellow I was telling you about. He literally rescued me from perishing in the deep woods on the Rapidan.”
Jim nodded to each one as they were introduced. Smiling warmly, he responded to Alan’s praise. “I just happened along at the right time. I doubt that Alan would have perished.”
“I’m not so sure,” Alan protested. He turned to explain to his friends. “My horse stepped in a muskrat hole and broke his leg. He went down so quickly that I couldn’t get my boot out of the stirrup.” He paused to make sure everyone understood the gravity of the situation. “Well, I ended up with my left leg firmly pinned beneath about twelve hundred pounds of horse, and I couldn’t persuade the hard-headed nag to get off of me.” He grinned as he turned toward Jim. “Then along came Jim from out of nowhere and rescued me.”
The four young ladies at the table all applauded, making Jim feel extremely foolish. But in spite of his embarrassment, he tried to smile politely as Alan directed him to a seat next to his sister, Violet. Alan went on to tell his friends that he had come to know Jim over the course of the summer, when he had occasion to inspect some farmland that his father was negotiating with the bank to buy. Jim had not only given him some excellent advice on the value of the land in question, but he had turned out to be a first-rate woodsman. “I think Jim is more at home in the forest than many of the animals that live there,” he said.
The party at the table seemed friendly enough to Jim at first, asking him many questions about himself and his home near the banks of the Rapidan. As he answered each question, looking into the amused faces that studied him, it began to dawn upon him that Alan might have invited him as a curiosity to entertain his friends. It could be that he was wrong, but the more inane the questions became, the more convinced he was that he was a pawn to Alan’s intention to display his backwoods acquaintance. While the idea irritated him, he decided to ignore the open rudeness Alan’s friends displayed and make an effort to enjoy the dance. After all, he decided, it was his birthday, and he had been determined to enjoy himself.
When a lull finally came in the conversation, he turned his chair to watch the dancers as they whirled around the floor. Two of the couples at the table got to their feet to join in the next dance as another reel was called. “Why don’t you give it a try, Jim?” Alan suggested. “Violet is fairly accomplished. She could show you the steps.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jim caught the stern frown Violet aimed at her brother. If looks had steel points, Jim allowed that Alan would have been pierced through the brain with that one. “Well, that would be mighty generous of Violet,” he said, glancing at the now-passive face of Alan’s sister, “but I guess I’ll just watch.” The look of relief on the young lady’s face was hard to disguise. She was soon radiant again, when a young lieutenant, properly dashing in his dress uniform, invited her to dance. Jim had to admit they made a handsome couple as they swirled to the strains of a waltz. The lieutenant returned to “borrow” Violet several more times during the evening until the band called a short intermission, whereupon the two disappeared through the doors to the veranda.
His mind now made up that he had made a giant mistake in coming to the affair, Jim decided it best to take his leave during the intermission. He figured his entertainment value was about exhausted, anyway. The others at the table were already diverting the conversation inward, to the exclusion of the bumpkin. Might as well finish the punch and this dinky little piece of cake, though.
Alan seemed genuinely disappointed when Jim told him he was going, but he made no real effort to dissuade him. Saying a quick but polite good-bye to the others seated at the table, Jim nodded once more to Alan, then took his leave. Feeling relieved to be done with his only venture into the world of Fredericksburg high society, he made his way to the entrance, grinning at the dour face of the tall, skinny old man still standing by the door.
The cool night air felt like a tonic to his lungs, and he filled them, breathing in deeply to flush out the scent of perfume. He walked around to the side of the hotel where he had left his horse. The patient Morgan stallion raised his head and whinnied softly when he saw his master approach. Still absorbing the refreshing chill of the evening, Jim stood at the rail and scratched the horse’s forelock while he reflected back on the hours just spent in the company of Alan Cranston and his fancy friends. “Time would have been better spent in the woods coon hunting, Toby,” he told his horse as strains of a lively tune from inside the ballroom faintly floated on the chilly air, announcing the end of the intermission. As if suddenly feeling trapped, he reached up, undid his tie, and pulled it off.
With a sigh of relief, he prepared to step up into the saddle, when he thought he heard something in the darkness. He paused to listen. Then he was sure of it. He had heard something. It was a girl’s voice, and it had come from the rear corner of the building. Thinking nothing of it, he stepped up on Toby and backed the obedient animal away from the rail. He was just about to give the horse a nudge with his heels when another sound stopped him, and he strained to listen. It was the girl’s voice again, but this time there was a definite tone of alarm in it. He turned Toby toward the rear of the hotel, slowly walking the animal toward the sounds in the darkness.
“No. I mean it, sir,” Jim heard the girl say as he silently approached the figures he could now make out in the deep shadows. “I think we’d better go back to the dance now.”
Her escort grabbed her arm, holding
her against the side of the building. “I think we’d better stay out here a while longer,” he stated confidently. “You know you want the same thing I do. You’ve been swishing that little tail of yours in front of my nose all evening.” Before she could protest again, he pushed his body against her, forcing her up against the side of the hotel. She fought to keep his mouth from finding hers, but he was much too powerful for her frail attempts.
Close enough now to clearly see the couple, Jim recognized the tall lieutenant who had monopolized Violet’s evening and realized that the lady in distress was Alan’s sister. He could also clearly see that she was earnest in her protests and was desperately trying to escape the young soldier’s mauling. So intent upon his desire to have his way with the young girl, the lieutenant was unaware of the man on the horse directly behind him.
Jim took but a moment more to assess the situation before taking action. Unhurriedly, but with no loss of urgency, he untied the long rawhide whip he carried on his saddle. Remaining in the saddle, he let the coils fall loosely to the ground, relaxing the muscles in his arm so that he could feel the weight of the knotted end as it danced along the hard-baked dirt. Then, in one swift motion, he cocked his arm and cracked the whip smartly. The sound of the rawhide ripping the chill night air was as loud as a rifle shot, so loud that it caused Toby to flinch. The crack of the whip was followed almost instantaneously by a cry of pain from the young officer as the rawhide knot burned a hole in the seat of his pants.
Whirling about in response to the pain in his rear, in a confused state of anger and surprise, the lieutenant reached for his revolver, only to realize he wasn’t wearing it. Still confused for a moment and thinking that he had been shot, he was desperately trying to understand what had happened. When he was able to realize that the dark figure on the horse was holding a whip and not a gun, rage overcame the panic of moments before. Forgetting the terrified young girl still huddled against the wall, he started to charge toward the man on horseback. He had taken no more than a step when Jim stopped him cold, laying a welt across the officer’s neck that knocked him off his feet.
Jim pulled lightly on the reins, causing Toby to sidestep around to a position behind the lieutenant, who was now on his hands and knees. “Go on back inside now, Violet,” Jim directed, his voice calm and deliberate. Frightened and tearful, she did as she was told, almost stumbling in her haste to reach the safety of the lighted terrace. Jim returned his attention to the man at his horse’s feet.
“You rebel swine,” the soldier spat, enraged by his humiliation. “I’ll kill you for this. You’re a dead man!” He started to get up on his feet.
Jim didn’t speak, preferring to let his whip talk for him. It being his opinion that the brash young officer was in need of a good whipping for his assault on Alan’s sister, Jim proceeded to administer the punishment. He snapped his whip around the officer’s ankles and jerked him off his feet again. Then he methodically tattooed the unfortunate soldier’s back and buttocks with a series of stinging stripes that would take some time in healing. Satisfied that the lady’s honor had been avenged, he left the lieutenant cowering in a fetal position and pointed Toby toward home.
* * *
Stephen Culver looked up from the harness he was mending when he heard the dogs barking. He immediately turned his gaze toward the river and the shallow ford near the corner of the north pasture. Well, here they come, he thought and laid the harness aside. He counted four mounted soldiers led by two officers and a civilian, and they were heading straight for the house. “Pa! John!” he called out. “Soldiers coming!” He got up and walked to the edge of the yard. In a few minutes, his father and brother emerged from the barn and walked over to join him.
“They didn’t waste no time, did they?” John said, shielding his eyes against the morning sun with his hand.
“I didn’t expect they would,” his father answered. He had expected the sheriff early that morning, so he had sent Jim off before sunup to lay up in the woods for a while until things cooled off. He was mildly surprised to see the detachment of soldiers, although he might have known it was a possibility. Jim had recounted the entire incident when he came in the night before. Raymond knew there would most likely be some ramifications as a result. But he figured at most Sheriff Thompkins would ride out to hear Jim’s side, and that would be the end of it. He also figured that if Jim wasn’t here, Barney Thompkins wouldn’t put himself to the trouble of trying to find him.
“Ol’ Barney’s got himself quite an escort,” Stephen commented. The two brothers and their pa stood waiting by the fence for the party to get within hailing distance.
“Well, Barney,” Raymond Culver called out as the detachment pulled up to the fence, “things must be pretty dangerous in these parts if you need that much protection to come visit.”
“Morning, Raymond,” Sheriff Thompkins replied. He had known Raymond Culver since a long time before the war. It was obvious that he didn’t enjoy his business with his old acquaintance on this morning. “We come to see Jim. He got into a little scrape with the lieutenant here last night.”
“It was a little more than a scrape, Mr. Culver,” one of the officers interrupted. He wore a captain’s bars. “Your son made an attempt on the life of an officer in the United States Army.” He glanced briefly at the lieutenant beside him. “I’m not going to stand for any bleeding-heart rebels attacking my men.”
Thompkins waited patiently for the captain to finish before calmly continuing. “Well, that’s one side of it, Raymond. Is Jim about? I’d like to hear his side of it.”
“If Jim had’a tried to kill that soldier, I reckon he’d be dead,” Stephen blurted.
“Hush up, son.” Raymond quickly silenced him. Turning his gaze on the lieutenant, he asked, “Is this fellow the one you say Jim attacked?”
The lieutenant flushed scarlet, although not to the point where the dark red welt on his neck was disguised. “Yeah,” Thompkins replied. “This here’s Lieutenant Ebersole.”
“Well, he don’t look to be in too bad a shape to me,” Raymond said. Directing his comments solely to Thompkins, he went on. “Barney, what are you bringing all these soldiers out here for? Is Fredericksburg under martial law again? Jim told me exactly what happened last night. Your fancy lieutenant here tried to force himself on a young lady, and Jim just gave him a little whipping for it. It was lucky for her that Jim come along when he did.”
“That’s a damn lie!” Lieutenant Ebersole blurted. “The lady and I were taking a rest from the dance, and your son attacked me without warning.”
Again, Thompkins waited for the lieutenant’s outburst to end before continuing. “That’s one side of it, Raymond. I’d like to hear from Jim now.”
“Jim ain’t here. He cut out this morning. Don’t know where he was heading. Besides, I just told you what happened, just like he told me, and you’ve known Jim long enough to know he don’t lie.”
Thompkins frowned his disappointment. Plainly, he was hoping to settle the issue between the two parties right then and there and let that be the end of it. That might have been possible if Jim was there. Now he feared the lieutenant was going to demand that something be done about it. One glance at the faces of the two officers confirmed his suspicions, but he made an attempt to defuse the situation. “I don’t reckon there’s much to do about it since Jim ain’t here.” This he directed toward the captain. “Raymond’s right; there don’t seem to be much harm done, just a little fuss between two young fellows. Probably best to just forget about it.”
“Like hell it is,” the captain fired back. “We’re not going to pass this off as some schoolyard fight between two little boys. If you think I went to all the trouble to ride out here just to say ‘boys will be boys,’ you’re sadly mistaken. One of my officers was attacked. If I let this go unpunished, it’ll send a message to every other hot-headed rebel around here.”
“Why, you pompous son of a . . .”
That was as far as John got
before his father silenced him with a firm hand on his arm, holding him back. At the same time, Raymond Culver shot a warning glance at his other son. When he was satisfied that John and Stephen would contain their anger, he again calmly addressed Sheriff Thompkins. “Barney, I understand that these soldiers are upset over what happened last night. But I think it’s pretty plain that it didn’t have nothing to do with the Union army being unwelcome in our country. What it boils down to is your young lieutenant there not knowing how to treat a lady, and him and Jim got into a tussle over it. Looks like to me, it’s his word against Jim’s. What did the young lady say about it?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Thompkins confessed. “Her momma put her on the early train to Richmond this morning.”
“Well, that don’t help matters much, does it?” He looked up at the captain. “Jim’s gone, too. I don’t know when he’ll be back. I don’t see that there’s anything we can do about it. Might as well let it go.”
“That’s about the way I see it,” Sheriff Thompkins concurred, looking over at the captain for his reaction.
The look in Captain Thomas Boyd’s eyes told Raymond Culver that the officer was embroiled in the middle of a mission he wished he had not embarked upon. In fact, Boyd was beginning to suspect that maybe Culver’s version of the incident might actually come closer to the truth. Trent Ebersole was known to be quite the rakehell around town. It would not surprise Boyd to learn that the lieutenant had forced his affections upon a young lady. The most expeditious thing to do would be to call it a closed incident. Culver was right. Ebersole wasn’t really injured beyond his pride. On the other hand, the captain was reluctant to ignore the lieutenant’s charges for fear it might give his men the impression that their captain did not back them in disputes with the civilian population. He didn’t like it, but he felt he had no choice. “I’m afraid this isn’t the end of it, Sheriff.” He looked back at Raymond Culver. “We’ll be back, Mr. Culver. If you’re smart, you’ll tell your son to report to either my headquarters or to Sheriff Thompkins. I promise you he’ll get a fair hearing, but he’ll have to answer for his actions.”
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