The Other Side of Life

by Andy Kutler

  “As you wish, Colonel,” said Thatch, between clenched teeth.

  CHAPTER 14

  Nathan Gaylord stared out of his office window, spying a sergeant who was out on the parade ground taking advantage of the remaining daylight as he put his squad through a series of close order drills. Gaylord imagined the tens of thousands of volunteer soldiers likely engaged in the same exercises at this very moment, four thousand miles to the east.

  The thought seemed insane to him.

  How in the hell did we get to this point?

  The sergeant, a bear of a man named Jacobs, barked out commands and even from a distance Gaylord could see the spittle fly from the man’s mouth.

  The resonance of Jacobs’ baritone voice reminded Gaylord of his first taste of combat. He was just a boy, a drummer with the Maryland militia, sent out to Bladensburg in the summer of 1814 to delay a British column marching toward Washington. The poorly-led Americans were routed that day, the Redcoats storming past them like stampeding cattle. It was a sergeant just like Jacobs who saved Gaylord’s life that harrowing afternoon, the two melting into a dense thicket nearby once the skirmish had been clearly decided. They watched, helplessly, as the enemy put their bayonets to the wounded and other captured men, two of young Nathan’s cousins included, the British unwilling to slow their advance or burden themselves with prisoners.

  Nathan Gaylord, barely a teenager, tearful and ashamed that he had lost both his drum and control of his bowels that day, had vowed never to run from a fight ever again.

  Sergeant Jacobs placed a hand on one of the men’s shoulders, offering quiet words this time, then showed the lad how to properly parry a saber thrust. Jacobs was a good man. A Vermonter, Gaylord recalled.

  Damn it all.

  He had done it again, putting the name of a state against a man. As if that was an immediate harbinger of loyalty and virtue. Gaylord knew better, aware that such frivolous associations made him little different than the likes of Winston Thatch and others so eager to discredit anyone with any kind of tie to the South.

  Gaylord had sent Hildebrand to fetch him the supper that he had missed hours ago. He had no appetite though, still sickened by the loss of Lieutenant Garrity. Gaylord had liked the tall Virginian immensely. He admired Garrity, understanding the pressures the young man faced and appreciating Garrity’s extraordinary dedication in remaining at his post as long as he had. Garrity was a man of convictions. Without a doubt, he would have fought for the South yet Gaylord hardly saw him as an enemy. Nor his lovely and sublime wife, who had become as close to a daughter as he and Constance would ever have. She deserved so much more than this.

  He looked again at the paper in his hands. It was orders for Thatch, recalling him to Fort Pierce in two days. The man’s wishes had come true. He would surely be whisked away now to Washington where Lincoln was forming his great army. A line command, to be sure.

  Gaylord grimaced, knowing what Washington’s plans were for old colonels like himself. Relics were for museums, and there would be no line command for him.

  There was the sound of heavy boots in the outer office and he turned to send Hildebrand and his mess scraps away. Instead it was Ethan Royston, who entered and drew himself to attention.

  Gaylord sighed involuntarily. Royston’s uniform was rumpled, as if he had slept in it. His hair was tussled and there was a thick stubble covering most of his face. Though Gaylord could smell the whiskey on the man, Royston at least seemed to have his wits about him.

  “What’s on your mind, Captain?”

  “Sir, permission to take a detail out on a training exercise.”

  Gaylord eyed the young man closely. Royston seemed alert, but the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. He would get a pass on his appearance today.

  “Just a detail?”

  “Perhaps a platoon or two.”

  “A training exercise.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Gaylord stood. “Do you take me for a fool, Captain?”

  Ethan’s eyes widened. “On the contrary, Sir, I—”

  “Close the door, Captain.”

  Ethan did so, returning to the desk.

  “Son, I didn’t order you to stand down to impress Major Thatch. I’m trying to protect you.”

  Ethan bristled. “I don’t need protection, Sir, and certainly not from him.”

  “I agree. I’m talking about protecting you from yourself. I expect you will be receiving orders soon for the East. General Cardin is familiar with your record here and you should expect a plum assignment. A company, if not a squadron of your own.”

  “But Cal—”

  “Cal Garrity is dead. Thatch is right about that. I’m sorry son, but there is no point in skirting around it. A fine officer, and an even better man, but he’s gone. I don’t know what is out there, why the Apaches are this far east or what their numbers are. We’ve also had reports, as you know, of Mexican irregulars crossing the border. It would be the height of recklessness for me to send a detachment out when I’m under direct orders to avoid any engagements and I could not reinforce you if necessary. This nation may be at war any day now. We have to move on from Mr. Garrity.”

  Gaylord softened his voice. “What are you afraid of, son?”

  Ethan was taken aback. “Sir?”

  The post commander leaned over his desk with his fists pressed to the smooth walnut. “We are on the cusp of war, a fact you seem oblivious to at the moment. I know you are grieving for Lieutenant Garrity, but perhaps there is something more. Perhaps your command seems somewhat more daunting without Lieutenant Garrity at your side.”

  He could see the swirl of emotions crossing Royston’s face.

  Gaylord sat down again, holding up a palm. “Before you say something you will surely regret, know that I would not have given you this command unless I had complete faith in your abilities and judgment. You have proven me correct so far.”

  “Correct about what?” The woman’s voice was forceful and both men turned in surprise, unaware that Emily Garrity had entered the office. Thatch followed directly behind her.

  Gaylord stood. “Mrs. Garrity, my apologies if our voices carried. What can I do for you?”

  “Colonel, I have requested that Major Thatch organize a party to recover the remains of my husband. He has refused.”

  Ethan bit his lower lip in angst. “I had to return to the camp, Emily. We didn’t have the supplies to give chase and Sergeant Travers said—”

  “I don’t give a damn what that…man…said.” Emily was visibly angry now, her voice rising. “I appreciate your predicament the other day, Ethan. You had to return. But Cal will be given a Christian burial. I also want his wedding band, and his father’s watch that he always carried.”

  Gaylord was silent, but he did not avert his eyes from her gaze.

  “Please, Colonel. They are all I will have left.”

  Sergeant Hildebrand entered the now-crowded office, carrying a plate with a ham sandwich on it. “I’m sorry, Sir, I—”

  “Sergeant, find Captain Rudman. Have him report here at once.”

  “Colonel,” said Thatch, stepping forward, “I explained to Mrs. Garrity the constraints we are under.”

  Emily turned to Thatch. “Yes, I know these are difficult times, Major. And I know you have orders not to leave the camp. Did the general who issued that order understand that an officer and a senior non-commissioned officer had been murdered?”

  “No, ma’am, but—”

  “Was the general who issued that order aware that part of this command had been attacked by hostile Indians?”

  “No, ma’am—”

  Emily turned to Gaylord. “Then I would ask the colonel to exercise some discretion here, and reconsider those orders in light of the questions I have just asked. Will you do that?” She held Gaylord’s eyes with her own.

  “Colonel,” Thatch said, “I can escort Mrs. Garrity back to her quarters. She is understandably upset.”

 
Her eyes were still red and swollen, the grief carved into her face. But Gaylord could see much more in her. The resolve, and the anger. Her eyes pierced him even more, and it was in that moment he could see her anguish, and feel her devastation.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Thatch looked relieved and pleased with himself. “If you will come with me, Mrs. Garrity—”

  “Major, I wasn’t talking to you.”

  For the first time, Emily’s expression changed, her wrath giving way to surprise. There were more footsteps outside the office, and Harris Rudman entered, his uniform as pristine as ever.

  Gaylord addressed him. “Captain, you will muster your company at once. Ammunition and provisions for four days. Find the remains of Lieutenant Garrity and Sergeant Bruer. Return any of Lieutenant Garrity’s personal effects to Mrs. Garrity. Royston, the man who found them—”

  “Travers, Sir. But—”

  Gaylord turned back to Rudman. “Take Sergeant Travers with you, he can show you the location. Investigate the area, but do not pursue any hostiles unless they directly engage you. I understand Trooper Terrell is out there looking for the Apaches. No matter what he finds, I repeat, do not pursue. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied Rudman, saluting. He turned smartly, placed a gentle hand on Emily’s forearm, and then hastily exited the office.

  Ethan stepped forward. “Sir, I beg you, allow my company—”

  Gaylord cut him off. “Leave it to Rudman. I cannot have half this command crisscrossing the territory hell bent on revenge. We do have our orders not to engage. But Mr. Garrity and Sergeant Bruer were dragoons, damn it, and deserve better. So we will grant the lady her eminently reasonable request.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Emily said softly. “I cannot express what this means to me.”

  “It is my privilege, madam. Captain Royston, please escort Mrs. Garrity back to her quarters.”

  The two started to leave, and then Emily stopped, circled Gaylord’s desk and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

  Gaylord blushed. “Oh please, Mrs. Garrity. Do you wish for Mrs. Gaylord to hear of this? There will be scandal.”

  She managed a small smile and followed Ethan from the room, leaving him alone with his adjutant.

  Thatch waited until the door closed. “Sir, you saw the General Order. You can’t—”

  “Yes, I can, Major,” said Gaylord sharply. “And I did. Listen to me very carefully. Our orders were not to engage. I am following those orders and will make them doubly clear to Rudman. But I will not deny a widow her request for her husband’s remains. It is the least we can do for Garrity, Bruer, and their families. If you wish to report this to your patrons at Fort Pierce or in Washington, then do as you must. It will make no difference. Worst they can do is force me to retire, which I will tell you is beginning to have a ring to it. But so long as I am in command here, I will command. Is that clear?”

  Thatch didn’t respond. He mashed his teeth, saluted, and left the command post. Gaylord watched him go, and for the first time in days, a smile crossed his lips.

  ***

  Ethan stood nearby as the detail loaded the last trunk into the wagon. Emily was taking only her clothes, a few keepsakes and Cal’s remaining personal items. The furniture and other household goods would be left behind. Her long journey would take her to Fort Pierce where she would await further transportation to Texas and then further east.

  Rudman had returned a day ago, frustrated and disheartened, offering anguished apologies to Emily for failing to find any trace of either man. He at least had the tact not to say to Emily what Ethan knew to be true. The animals had likely made quick work of the dead men.

  Emily was crestfallen but gracious, even in her grieving, assuring Rudman that she knew he had made every effort humanly possible. But then Ethan caught the glare she had leveled at Travers, covered in trail dust and milling in the back of Gaylord’s office.

  He had expected her to be less than forgiving of the sergeant, who from her point of view had left her husband and another man to their fate, unwilling to risk his own life. But her glowering suggested there was more. He had never seen that look on Emily’s face before. It was venomous.

  Rudman had confided in Ethan that Terrell had picked up a trail heading directly south. Bound by Gaylord’s orders, Rudman could not pursue. Thatch, if not Gaylord, would have surely brought him up on charges.

  With nothing left for her in New Mexico, an emotionally distraught Emily Garrity asked Gaylord for immediate transport back east.

  And now, just a day later, Emily stepped out of their family quarters for the last time, her belongings packed, fully prepared now to return to her native home. The corporal leading the escort detail ordered his men to form up in a column in front of the wagon as Emily approached the officers who had gathered to see her off.

  She stepped forward and gave the bearded Harris Rudman a kiss on the cheek. “Captain, you are handsome, dashing, a fine officer, and a true gentleman. Should you change your mind about things, I shall see to it that the Army of Virginia reserves a position for you in her command.”

  Reynolds beamed. “A finer compliment an officer could not receive.” He turned serious. “My most profound regrets, Mrs. Garrity, that I was unable—”

  “Silence, Captain. I am eternally grateful for your efforts and you will apologize for nothing. Please do take care and my very best to Cassie.”

  He smiled in appreciation, tipping his hat as he stepped back.

  “Thomas, Tyler,” she said to the two lieutenants, her eyes becoming moist. “I pray you stay safe. My husband had the utmost affection and respect for each of you.”

  Neither man could offer any words as she gave them each a final embrace and kiss. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “As if I did not embarrass myself enough with the Gaylords.”

  Emily turned to him, almost reluctantly.

  “Captain Ethan Royston.”

  “Cal’s gone. You’re leaving. I feel like I’ve lost both of you.”

  “You haven’t lost me, Ethan. You are my family, and Cal’s too.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Most likely the Shenandoah Valley, west of Richmond. Mother will be moving to our summer home there soon. Unless she decides to stay with my aunt in Wilmington. My father will surely press for that for her safety. He will likely go to the house in Richmond. I may stay with him there if Mother is in North Carolina.”

  “Emily, not Richmond. Please. When the fighting starts, the Army is going to drive south from Washington. Richmond will be their first priority to break the rebellion. I wouldn’t want to see you caught in the middle of that.”

  “I don’t think they’ll push through Virginia that easily, Ethan.”

  “It will be difficult I’m sure,” he allowed. “But that army won’t be held back forever.”

  “They will be fighting on foreign soil, Ethan. My father fought in Mexico and says that an invading Federal Army will be bled dry before it can cross the Rappahannock.”

  He sighed. Foreign soil.

  “That’s a fairy tale, spun by those who think honor and high-minded words can somehow prevail over a sword and cannon.”

  “And how has that worked out here? Because our swords and cannon haven’t seemed to prevail over the Indians yet.”

  Ethan shook his head, unable to suppress the smile despite the moment. “Did Cal ever win an argument with you?”

  “Not one.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  She pressed her hand against his cheek. “Cal loved you like a brother. There is no one he admired more. He envied you.”

  “Envied me?” Ethan scoffed. He tapped the insignia on his shoulder. “These bars you mean?”

  “Your enthusiasm, Ethan. Your strength, and your conviction. You believe in your mission and your country, and you care a great deal for those serving under you. He admired that so much.”

  She stepped closer, lowering her voice to almost
a whisper. “Should there be war, I pray you never set foot in Virginia until this is over. But our paths will cross again someday, I am certain of it. I know Cal was your best friend. By rule, that makes you my best friend as well.”

  She smiled a sad smile, tears in her eyes. “And I’m too young to lose both my husband and my best friend. Promise you will come find me after the war.”

  “Promise,” he said, giving her a warm embrace. He helped her climb onto the wagon bench next to the teamster. She wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders and gave the driver a firm nod. The driver released the brake, gently snapping the reins as the wagon slowly pulled away from the camp.

  CHAPTER 15

  Cal Garrity limped across the long hallway. He was following a gruff, stocky Mexican wearing an ill-fitting suit that did little to conceal a heavily muscled physique. The man’s dark hair was cut close to his scalp, a patch of gray visible near each temple. He was clean-shaven, accentuating the scar that ran along his right jawline.

  He was several years older than Cal, and as strapping a man as Cal was, the Mexican outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. The unarmed man seemed to be his only guard here, but Cal dismissed any fantasies of escape the moment he saw him. The brawn and menacing scowl that seemed to be permanently etched onto the Mexican’s face was enough to ward off such thoughts; Cal’s injured leg sealed his thinking.

  He had been brought to the lavish estate earlier that morning. The adobe hacienda was the largest home he had set foot in since he left the east, its sprawl reminding Cal of the plantation homes that dotted the Virginia Piedmont where he was raised. The furnishings were ornate and their boots echoed loudly on the polished tile floor. As he was led into a brightly-lit den, he caught sight of the magnificent ceremonial sword perched above the fireplace. Just below it rested a row of medals displayed atop a mantle carved from a slab of mahogany. A massive oil portrait dominated the room, a high official from the past, royalty perhaps, stepping off a small boat, welcomed by local residents and officials.