A Thousand Shall Fall

Home > Literature > A Thousand Shall Fall > Page 8
A Thousand Shall Fall Page 8

by Andrea Boeshaar


  “You’re well informed, Miss Bell.” The colonel sounded impressed. “That’s quite accurate, and we’ll be concentrating our efforts on winning the Shenandoah Valley.”

  “That’s been tried before, sir, back in ’62 when General Jackson defended the Valley. The Union had no luck then.”

  “This time it will be different.”

  He sounded determined, but Carrie wondered. And whether good news or bad, she couldn’t say. Often when Union forces invaded towns they brought with them law and order and curtailed guerrilla activity. But there were other times when Confederate citizens under Federal authority suffered greatly—like when General Milroy invaded Winchester.

  She pulled her thoughts together. “Will you show mercy to the citizens in the Valley?”

  “By ‘mercy,’ what do you mean?”

  “Will you respect us instead of harassing and threatening us? There’s a woman in Woodstock who was brutalized by several Yankees.”

  “Are you certain they were Union soldiers? Or were they bushwhackers and deserters in Union uniforms?”

  Carrie couldn’t say for sure.

  “Such raids and terrorism have been an enormous problem for residents in Shenandoah Valley, particularly in the lower portion. I have an aunt in Winchester, and the things she’s reported to me make my blood boil.”

  Carrie blinked. “You have an aunt in Winchester?”

  He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his face alarmingly close. “I actually consider myself to be a Virginian. My parents died when I was twelve and I went to live with my aunt. So, in fact, Winchester is my home.”

  “Then you’re from the Valley too.”

  “Yes, from the Daughter of the Stars, as the Indians called it.”

  “That’s right.” Carrie felt an immediate kinship with the colonel. “So you’ll be fair-minded to its citizens?”

  “I will. You have my word.”

  Again, Carrie detected the man’s sincerity. She smiled. “I knew there was a reason I liked you so much when I sewed up your arm.”

  “I’m flattered, Miss Bell.”

  She dropped her gaze, embarrassed about her unintended declaration. Goodness! What was she thinking, saying such a thing out loud? “Forgive me for sounding so forward, Colonel. I’m awfully tired and my mind isn’t as sharp as it should be.”

  “Understandably so. No need for apologies.”

  She lifted her gaze. Without a doubt, Colonel Collier was the kindest man she’d ever met. “The Army of the Shenandoah outnumbers General Early’s army by at least ten thousand—that is if Anderson’s troops are really on their way to assist. But the Rebs are fierce and tenacious, and willing to die to preserve their way of life.”

  “I appreciate the warning, Miss Bell. I will take it to heart.” He straightened. “However, I think we should pause here for the night. We’ll continue this interview tomorrow.”

  “What?” Carrie jumped to her feet. She had hoped to be on her way tonight.

  “By your own admission you’re exhausted and you’re obviously still hurting from the fall you took a couple of days ago.” The colonel stood also. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your weakened state. It could reflect badly on me as an officer in the United States Army, and my report may not be taken seriously in Washington.”

  Washington? “Who will read this interview?”

  “All reports go to Washington and are reviewed by the Office of the Chief of Staff.”

  “I didn’t realize that I was in so much trouble.”

  “You’re not, assuming you continue to cooperate.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “However, depriving a detainee of sleep goes against my principles of interrogation.”

  What a poor time for his noble character to show its face. “Please, Colonel, won’t you reconsider? I have to find my sister.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  The tent flap opened and Major Johnston reentered.

  The colonel looked his way. “Major, I’ve decided we’ll continue this interview tomorrow.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  “No, please, Colonel.” Carrie had no intentions of spending another night in a Yankee camp, although the men she’d had contact with were all polite … so far. “Finish questioning me so I can be on my way.”

  “You need a good night’s rest, Miss Bell. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

  “But that peddler has probably reached Culpeper by now.” A yawn threatened and she couldn’t fight it off. To her chagrin, she’d just proved his point.

  Despite the dwindling lantern light, his wry grin shone through his beard. He gave her a small but gallant bow. “Until tomorrow, Miss Bell.”

  “What do you think?” Peyton glanced at Vern. They stood outside the tented field hospital and watched Tommy lead Miss Bell to a grassy spot where she could sleep a safe distance from his bivouacking regiment. Just as in the last two nights, she’d given her word that she wouldn’t run away, and, in turn, he agreed not to shackle her ankles. Besides, he didn’t think even Tommy could scrounge up shackles small enough to hold her.

  “I think that, not only is Miss Bell spirited, she’s astute and well-informed.” Vern tucked his log book beneath one arm. “What’s more, I believe she is as independent minded as she claims—at least as far as anyone can be. I haven’t sensed any animosity from her, and she answered your questions.”

  “After a bit of sass, yes, she did.” Peyton glanced at Vern and grinned. For some odd reason he found her pluckiness amusing, not aggravating.

  “She seems desperate to find her sister,” Vern remarked.

  “Agreed. Her return home seems to depend on it.”

  “So are you going to let her go in the morning?”

  Peyton drew in a breath and released it audibly. He’d volleyed the question in his mind for hours and came up with the same conclusion time and again. “I can’t, in all good conscience, let her go, Vern. She’ll get herself killed—or worse.”

  “I’m in agreement, but you can’t hold her against her will. You’ll either have to charge her with a crime and let her have her day in court, which means sending her on a harrowing journey to either Harpers Ferry or Washington, or you’ve got to allow her to be on her way.”

  “I’m aware of my options.” Peyton kneaded his whiskered jaw with his thumb and forefinger. “Unless …”

  “Unless what?”

  He stared at Vern. “Unless I send her to Aunt Ruth in Winchester.”

  Vern fell silent.

  “She’s no threat to others,” Peyton said. “I’m convinced of it. She was kind to my troops and me last year at the Wayfarers Inn, and very cooperative. She’s intelligent and determined, and my aunt will admire Miss Bell’s tenacity.” He grinned. “The alternative is incomprehensible. If I turn her loose, I’m certain she’ll fall into the wrong hands, and I hate the thought of her returning to that innkeeper. I found him to be a calculating, quick-tempered lout. I’m afraid he’s sorely used Miss Bell and her sisters.”

  “I’m inclined to agree—from what I remember of the man.”

  “Yes, well, Carrie Ann Bell has potential.” Peyton also guessed she managed to stay innocent. He could tell by her mannerisms when they were alone in the tent minutes ago. “All she needs is an opportunity.”

  “And you’re in a position to give it.”

  “I am.” Peyton further considered his idea. “Aunt Ruth would be in her glory, having a protégé living under her roof. Likewise, Miss Bell would learn proper etiquette from my aunt, which she’s obviously not getting at her place of employment. And, staying with my aunt, she’d meet interesting people. She can search for her runaway sister just as well from Winchester—probably better with my aunt’s help.”

  “It’s a solid plan, but will Miss Bell go along with it? She doesn’t strike me as one to accept charity.”

  “I agree. But, you heard her—unless she has her runaway sister with her
, Miss Bell can’t return to Woodstock. She has nowhere to go.”

  “Another good point.” Vern turned and rapped Peyton between the shoulder blades. “My friend, I think you’ve solved the problem of what to do with Miss Carrie Ann Bell.”

  HEADQUARTERS MIDDLE

  MILITARY DIVISION,

  Cedar Creek, Va., August 16, 1864

  GENERAL [Torbert]: In compliance with instructions of the Lieutenant-General commanding [Grant], you will make the necessary arrangements and give the necessary orders for the destruction of the wheat and hay south of a line from Millwood to Winchester and Petticoat Gap. You will seize all mules, horses, and cattle that may be useful to our army. Loyal citizens can bring in their claims against the Government for this necessary destruction. No houses will be burned and officers in charge of this delicate but necessary duty must inform the people that the object is to make this Valley untenable for the raiding parties of the rebel army.

  Very respectfully,

  P. H. SHERIDAN

  Major-General Commanding

  CHAPTER 8

  August 19, 1864

  Carrie listened as Colonel Collier relayed the orders, written three days ago and handed down through the ranks, to his officers who would then pass on the instructions to men in their commands.

  “I will not abide plundering or intentional harming of citizens,” the colonel added. “Is that understood?”

  His subordinates muttered the affirmative, but Carrie wondered if they meant it. She’d read tales of horror after Yankees descended on unsuspecting farms. Then again, she’d read the same about guerrillas who terrorized loyalists in the Valley as well as Confederate citizens. What’s more, Colonel Collier had given his word last night that he’d treat residents of the Shenandoah Valley with respect and show them mercy. The man seemed trustworthy, so she figured he’d deliver harsh punishment to those men who defied his command.

  With hands clasped behind his back, the colonel gave a nod. “You are dismissed, men.”

  His soldiers filed off, talking and murmuring as they went.

  Colonel Collier turned to Carrie. “I’d like to speak with you. Come this way.” He waved her into the officer’s tent.

  When she’d awakened this morning she was amazed to see the tents that had been erected for the upper command. This one, Tommy said, was referred to as the “officer’s wall” and could sleep eight to ten men comfortably beneath its billowy mass. It looked similar to the field hospital.

  “I trust you slept well, Miss Bell.” The colonel walked to where a table stood in the center of the tent.

  “I guess I did. I don’t recall anything once I placed my head on the horse blanket Tommy lent me.”

  “Well, don’t worry. Your snoring didn’t disturb my men.”

  “My … what?” She set her hands on her waist. “I do not snore.”

  The colonel chuckled, a deep rich sound that made Carrie smile in spite of herself.

  “Pardon my jest.” His brown eyes twinkled.

  So he had a sense of humor. Carrie always appreciated a good wit. “I suppose I can overlook it this time.”

  The man had revived his appearance and wore a clean, white shirt this morning. Carrie wondered if he had located that concealed swimming hole at the edge of the pond, the one she’d availed herself of. Perhaps he’d also indulged in a bath.

  “I gather you want to finish interrogating me.” She folded her arms.

  “There’s no need, Miss Bell.” He stood with one hand on the table and the other on his hip. “I believe your story.”

  Relief like the cool, spring-fed water in the pond washed over her. “Thank you, sir.”

  “However—”

  She groaned inwardly. She should have known there’d be some conditions to her release. “I already took the oath, pledging my allegiance to the United States.”

  “You did?” The colonel’s brows drew together. “When?”

  “Some time ago. A Yankee, not sure of his rank, barged into the Wayfarers Inn with his rowdy troops and held my sisters and me at gunpoint, threatening to do us bodily harm unless we took the oath. I didn’t feel it was wise to call his bluff, so we took it. We promised not to poison their dinners or shoot them while they ate or drank or slept at the Wayfarers Inn.” Carrie rolled one shoulder. “I’d never kill another human being unless it was self-defense. I’d rather give aid than kill.” She remembered what Papa said one time. “I’m what’s known as a humanitarian.”

  The colonel’s features relaxed and he smiled. “I believe that too, Miss Bell.”

  “So”—hope soared inside of her—“I am free to go?”

  He drew in a breath, his wide chest expanding. “Yes, but I have an offer to present to you first.”

  She’d already taken several steps toward the opened flap of the tent. Halting, she turned. “An offer?”

  He smoothed the paper covering the tabletop. “Come and look at this.”

  She strode forward and peered at the map he’d unrolled.

  “We’re here.” He pointed to a place north of Front Royal. “Generals Crook and Wright and their men reached Winchester, but were pushed back. For now, General Sheridan has ordered us to continue probing the enemy. I shall spare you specifics.” He moved his finger to the left. “The goal is to have our pickets stationed from Winchester to White Post and then push the enemy south, ultimately out of the Valley. Meanwhile, over here …” The colonel moved his finger downward and to the right. “General Grant is battling Lee’s troops for Petersburg. There are skirmishes going on all around the area.” He straightened. “You can see why it would be quite unsafe to venture off on your own, attired as you are, and without any gear.”

  “But—”

  “I know you want to find your sister, and I may be able to help.” He leaned over the map and tapped on a point. “As I told you last night, I have an aunt in Winchester. You’d be doing me a favor if you went to stay with her, as Aunt Ruth is getting up in years.”

  “So I’d become her housekeeper?”

  “No. Tabitha runs the house. I was thinking more along the lines of a … companion. The benefit for you is that my aunt has a large home and you’d have your own room, complete with a soft bed.”

  A soft bed? Carrie never had that luxury before. She’d always shared the loft and a bed with Margaret. Then, once Sarah Jane got older, all three of them shared the bed. After the farm burned down, she and her sisters slept on the wooden floor, as Mr. Veyschmidt only rented a small, corner room to them with a single bed upon which Mama slept.

  “Additionally, my aunt has the means to help you find your sister,” the colonel said, “without you having to wander the countryside, hoping to catch up with that peddler who may or may not have really gone to Culpeper. In fact”—he tapped the map again—“I think it’s likely he headed down the Valley Pike. My aunt has written to me of how most stores in town closed so residents must travel a long distance to purchase many basic necessities. It’s safe to assume a peddler would be aware of the fact and know that he could make some money in Winchester, as many there use Federal currency.”

  Carrie surveyed the map, running her forefinger along the route. “I hate to admit it, but your logic makes perfect sense. That no-account will likely charge folks one hundred dollars for a bag of flour.”

  “Would that be Confederate money?” The colonel arched a brow.

  She nodded and grinned at his quip. “But I read somewhere that even General Early uses Federal currency to send his telegrams and purchase foodstuffs.”

  “He’s an intelligent man.” The colonel wore a hint of a grin. “Confederate currency is worth almost nothing.”

  Standing beside him now, Carrie caught his fresh but musky scent, an improvement over yesterday to be sure! She stood as tall as his whiskered chin, and my, but he was a handsome man. Straight nose, square jawline … What would happen if she reached up and touched his beard? Was it as soft as it appeared?

  She quickly too
k a step back, horrified by her wayward thoughts.

  The colonel didn’t seem to notice. “My aunt is a loyalist, Miss Bell, and she possesses all her faculties. She’ll have ideas of how best to locate your sister. Perhaps you can write an article or ad for some local newspapers. That’s your area of expertise, is it not?”

  “Yes, but—” Carrie would enjoy an opportunity to write for a real newspaper. “It’s just that … well, I already have a job at the Wayfarers Inn.”

  “You told me that your mother wouldn’t take you back unless your sister was in tow, Miss Bell, and I believed you.”

  “That’s true …” And she was sure that Mama had meant every word of it!

  “Then wouldn’t you agree that my offer provides you with both room and board and an occupation for which I will pay you?”

  “Pay me?”

  He gave a nod. “Seven dollars a month.”

  She inhaled quickly. No one she knew earned a whole seven dollars a month. But was there a catch? She narrowed her gaze. “Is that seven dollars Confederate money?”

  He chuckled. “No, U.S. currency.”

  That changed everything. She could send money to her family. Maybe they could collect enough to pay off Mr. Veyschmidt and leave the Wayfarers Inn. Of course, working for a Union officer would be considered treason, but so was the oath she’d been forced to take. Was the money worth the risk of never being able to return to Woodstock?

  “So what’s your answer, Miss Bell?”

  “May I get a message to my sister Margaret and tell her I’m alive? Mama is illiterate, but Margaret can read. I’ll let her know I’ve found paying employment and perhaps my mother won’t be so angry with me.”

  The colonel paused briefly to consider it while rolling up the map. “Yes. I’ll take the message and deliver it personally to the Wayfarers Inn if we get as far up the Valley as Woodstock in the next day or so. Should we not be successful, I’ll send a telegram from the nearest town.”

  “Thank you.” Selfish as it was, Carrie hoped he wouldn’t get himself killed before delivering or dispatching her note. But in reality, she didn’t want the colonel to meet the same fate as those poor souls near Front Royal a few days ago. The memory of their maimed, twisted, and bloody bodies haunted her. “Do you think you’ll really get that far south without General Early’s men stopping you?”

 

‹ Prev