Silas nodded. “I understand. I think you’ve been very wise, Morgan. I know it’s been hard, because I know all too well how people think you’re a coward if you don’t join. But I determined I was going to wait until after my daughter was born before I left her and my wife. It was the right thing for me to do, and I’m sure you’ve done the right thing for you, too.”
The men parted on good terms, and Morgan went on to the coffee shop. It was a gathering place for the men of the town, some of whom came first thing in the morning and stayed until dinnertime. All the newspapers were sold there, and the men gathered and talked and discussed the latest news for hours at a time. Morgan joined three men sitting at a table, all acquaintances of his: young Asa Cooke, whose father was a railroad engineer; Bert Patrick, who owned the largest general store in town; and Will Green, who was Morgan’s favorite saddler.
Bert said as Morgan sat down, “Hello, Morgan, good to see you again. It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been in town, hasn’t it?”
“Three weeks, in fact. Guess the war’s put a hitch in river deliveries, because I haven’t seen Dirk Jameson or his boys for the last week.” Jameson had a sturdy twelve-foot boat, and for years he had delivered the newspapers and other supplies to Henry DeForge and Morgan.
“They all joined up, even Old Jameson himself,” Asa said eagerly. He was a bright boy with red hair, freckles, and a toothy smile. “I’m joining up, Morgan, this very day!”
“You’re too young,” Morgan said shortly. “You need to stay at home and take care of your pretty mama and your sisters, Asa.” Morgan knew the family. Asa was the only son, and he had five sisters.
“Nope, my papa told me I could join up when I was seventeen, and today is my seventeenth birthday. My mama and my sisters are all real proud of me, Morgan. They want me to fight for the Glorious Cause. I’m glad I’m seventeen now. I was getting worried I might miss the whole thing!”
“You’re not going to have to worry about that, boy,” Will Green said. He was an older man, in his fifties, and he was one man who was in complete agreement with Morgan about the war. He had no illusions of glory, and he knew that the South was going to be fighting against almost impossible odds in the long run. He and Morgan had agreed that it was likely to be a long run, indeed. “You’re going to have plenty of time, and chances, to get your fool self killed.”
“Pshaw,” Asa said disdainfully. “I gotta hurry up and get my five Yanks, Mr. Green, before they all scoot back to Washington for good, like they did at Bull Run.”
Bert Patrick said, “The news hasn’t been that good since then, has it? Morgan, you know about Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, don’t you?”
“No, the last paper I got was around February 12th.”
Bert shook his head. “Fort Henry in Tennessee was captured by federal gunboats. And then a new young whippersnapper they got, name of Ulysses S. Grant, of all the outlandish things, took Fort Donelson. Word is that he demanded, and got, an unconditional surrender. Made those Tennessee boys look pretty bad, except for a hotshot cavalryman we got out there in the West, General Nathan Bedford Forrest. He refused to surrender, and somehow he snuck out of Fort Donelson right under Grant’s nose. Him and about two hundred of his men. But that’s two pieces of real bad news right there. We lost control of the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers”—he snapped his fingers—“right there, just like that. Not to mention fourteen thousand fighting men at Fort Donelson.”
“Only good news I’ve heard tell lately is that President Davis has recalled General Lee to Richmond,” Will Green said soberly. “I know he’s an experienced engineer, and he’s needed to shore up the coastal defenses in the Carolinas and Georgia, but he’s a Virginia man. We need him here.”
Morgan knew that Mrs. Lee hadn’t seen her husband for over a year now. She had written him in February, telling him that she was going to go to the White House, one of George Custis’s holdings on the Pamunkey River that he had given to his son Rooney in his will. Morgan hadn’t been needed to move her this time, as Rooney had managed to get a leave to pick her up from the Hot Springs, where she had wintered, and take her to his plantation. The White House was just west of Richmond, and Morgan thought that he would be able to take the carriage and bring her to Richmond if the general wanted him to. “When is he due back?” Morgan asked eagerly.
“Any day now,” Will answered. “And a good day it’ll be, I’ll say. Joe Johnston is a good man, but in my opinion, His Excellency would do well to look to Robert E. Lee to command this army.”
The table agreed, for Lee was a famous man in Virginia, a favorite son. Even Asa said, “I hope he comes today. I’d sure like to know I was going to be one of Robert E. Lee’s boys. That would just be the icing on the cake.”
Privately, Morgan thought, I have to agree with the boy there. When I join, I’d like to know that General Lee is my general. Maybe it’s time….
As Morgan had foreseen, it took Jolie and Ketura two hours to pick out fabrics, decide on the dress patterns, try on hats, and for Mrs. Selden to get their measurements. “I’m so glad Mr. Tremayne brought you into town, Jolie. Every time he orders something for you, sight unseen, I just shudder, thinking it can’t possibly fit you. You’re not a little girl like you were when you were with Mr. DeForge. You’re turning into a young woman now. And a very pretty one, too.”
“Thank you,” Jolie said. “But Mr. Tremayne thinks I’m still twelve years old, I guess. I wonder that he’s not still ordering me pantalettes.”
Mrs. Selden laughed. “No, I think I would put a stop to that.” Sally Selden had been making Jolie’s clothes ever since Jolie was born. When Jolie turned two, Henry DeForge brought her in, and once a year, every year, after that. Naturally Morgan had had to confide in Mrs. Selden when he took Jolie after Mr. DeForge died, and he kept ordering clothes from her.
Morgan had still not made it public knowledge that he had taken guardianship of Jolie, but Fredericksburg was, after all, a small town. Mrs. Selden had always kept her friends and neighbors updated about the exotic octoroon child that Morgan Tremayne had taken in. Morgan hadn’t even found a way to tell his own family about Jolie. And he had never mentioned her to Leona Bledsoe.
And so it was rather a cruel trick of fate that Gibbs Bledsoe was walking down Main Street and was right in front of Mrs. Selden’s shop when Jolie and Ketura came out, arm in arm. Gallantly he stopped and lifted his hat and let them pass, thinking, What a lovely girl she is, and her maid’s a pretty sight, too.
Then he heard Jolie say, “Oh dear, Ketura, we’ve been here for two hours! Hurry, hurry! I hope Mr. Tremayne isn’t getting impatient with us.”
Bledsoe’s mind clicked! And he knew who she was. Taking two long strides, he caught up with them and fell into step beside Jolie. She looked up at him with surprise. “Well, well, well,” he drawled. “So this is the big secret that Morgan’s been keeping from my sister. Pardon my rudeness, Miss Jolie DeForge. My name is Gibbs Bledsoe, and my sister’s name is Leona Rose Bledsoe. Do you know that name, by any chance?”
“Yes, sir,” she said stiffly, looking straight ahead. But Gibbs saw that she clutched Ketura even closer with nervousness.
It amused him. “You are one fine, handsome young woman, Jolie. My sister’s not going to be happy to hear that. I think she had more of a picture of a little black girl in her mind.”
“I am part black, sir. But I don’t think you should be talking to me like this. It’s not very respectful,” Jolie managed to say. She hurried hers and Ketura’s step, but Gibbs easily kept up.
“Morgan should know better than to let a pretty girl like you wander around with just your maid to accompany you. Here, take my arm. I’ll escort you, and you, girl, you can walk behind like a proper maid does.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Jolie said desperately, trying to pull away from him.
But he insistently took her hand and tucked it around his arm. “No, I want to. We should get to know each other, Jo
lie. In fact, maybe I should come out to Rapidan Run and visit you sometime. Maybe you could accompany me to the town hall for the next dance.”
“No, sir. Mr. Tremayne would never permit that.”
“He wouldn’t? Stodgy old Morgan. Keeps you hidden and won’t let you loose.”
“No! It’s not like that!” she said desperately. She tried again to pull away from him. “Please, Mr. Bledsoe, let me go. Mr. Tremayne is right over there in the coffee shop. Ketura and I can cross the street by ourselves.”
“Nonsense,” he said then pulled her out into the busy street, dodging carts and buggies and riders.
Jolie looked back to make sure that Ketura was following them, which she was, a dogged look on her face.
They got onto the plank boardwalk, and Morgan came storming out of the coffeeshop. “Gibbs, stop hauling on her like she’s a side of beef! What are you doing anyway? You shouldn’t impose yourself on young ladies you haven’t met. Mind your manners, boy.”
Gibbs Bledsoe had a fiery temper and growled, “Don’t you ever call me ‘boy’ again. And it’s your fault that I haven’t met Jolie, Morgan. You know very well you should have told me, and particularly Leona, about her a long time ago.”
“Maybe I should have, but I’m not going to stand out here on the street and argue with you. In spite of what you think, or whatever vicious gossip you’ve heard, Jolie and Ketura are ladies who deserve respect, and I intend to make sure they get it.”
Gibbs glared at him. “Maybe you’d better make sure you’re really the gentleman here, Morgan. At least I acknowledged that I know Jolie.” With that parting shot, he turned on his heel and hurried off.
Morgan turned to the two girls. “I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. “I’m so sorry, Jolie.”
She answered spiritedly, “You have nothing to apologize to me for, Mr. Tremayne. I just want to forget this whole thing. And please, sir, don’t ever tell me you’re sorry for anything ever again. It’s just not right.”
Morgan gave in. “All right, Jolie. For now at least. So, are you ladies ready to go back home?”
“Yes, please,” Jolie said, brightening. “But we have some—things we need to pick up at Mrs. Selden’s.”
“What things? She didn’t have any ready-to-wears, did she?”
“No. At least not dresses,” Jolie said, taking Ketura’s arm again as they walked down the street to the wheelwright’s. “It’s—um—hatboxes. Six hatboxes.”
“Six?” Morgan repeated.
Jolie said, “Remember, you said we could get two hats. Each. And of course we couldn’t forget Evetta.”
“Ah yes, it’s all coming back to me now. I do recall getting ambushed just as I was leaving, and something about lots of hats,” Morgan teased her. “Six hatboxes, you say. Guess Calliope can handle that.”
When they were on their way out of town, they passed the town square.
About twenty young men and boys were there, drilling in new gray uniforms. At least they would march two steps then hoist their rifles to their shoulders and pretend to shoot. “Got one Billy Yank!” one of them cried. “Got four more to go for my quota!” The men laughed, and one of them shouted, “How ’bout we all decide to get ten? No graybelly is any match for a Virginia fighting man!”
Morgan sighed deeply as they passed.
Jolie looked up at him curiously. “Mr. Tremayne?”
“Hm?”
“You’re going to join the army, aren’t you.” Though it was in the form of a question, the tone of it was not. And she sounded sad.
“Not today, Jolie. That’s all I can tell you. Not today.”
The next day Morgan came back to town and called on Leona. She was having tea with her father and mother in the parlor, and Leona cordially asked him to join them.
Morgan had been unsure of her reception. He knew that Gibbs had surely told the family about meeting Jolie.
But as soon as Leona had served him tea, Benjamin Bledsoe started in. “Morgan, Gibbs told me about meeting your girl yesterday. We’ve heard about her, of course. I was wondering if you were ever going to own up to it,” he said disdainfully.
“It?” Morgan repeated sharply. “Sir, Jolie is not an ‘it.’ She’s a young woman, a well-brought-up, respectable young woman, I might add. It is true I haven’t discussed her with you, or with anyone else for that matter. I had no idea that everyone was so interested in my private affairs.”
“Perhaps you may truly be that naive, Morgan. But surely you see that you should have told Leona about her a long time ago.”
“Maybe,” Morgan said doubtfully. “Then again, as I said, this is a private matter. In fact, it’s a private family matter. I am Jolie DeForge’s legal guardian, and in my view that makes me her family. I, for one, wouldn’t be interested in knowing all of your family business, Mr. Bledsoe. I wouldn’t think I had the right.”
Benjamin Bledsoe took the mild rebuke with surprising equanimity. “Maybe you’re right, Morgan. Adopting a child is a very personal thing. How old is the girl?”
“She’s sixteen.”
“She is part black, isn’t she?”
“She’s an octoroon.”
Leona Rose had been listening carefully with a neutral expression. But now she said, “You sound very high and noble, Morgan, but most people aren’t. They talk, and the fact is that you have a young girl—a very pretty young girl, Gibbs tells me—living with you. Looking at it objectively, it’s pretty scandalous.”
Stung, Morgan retorted, “That is nowhere near an objective view, Leona. It’s a malicious and skewed version of a situation that is perfectly innocent. This, in fact, is exactly why I don’t talk about Jolie very much. I don’t want to hear it.” He had never spoken so sharply to Leona, and she looked thoroughly taken aback.
Gibbs came in and looked around. “You all look as solemn as a bunch of owls. Hi, Morgan. I’m still angry with you, in case you didn’t notice.”
Morgan said, “Gibbs, I’m sorry we had that altercation, but let me ask you this. Suppose a man had taken the liberties with your sister that you did with Jolie. What would you think of that?”
Gibbs Bledsoe had a hot temper, but really he was a fair-minded young man. He shook his head ruefully and answered, “I’d do exactly what you did. I’m too touchy.” He winked at Leona. “Like my sister.”
“Let’s put it all behind us then,” Morgan said with relief.
But Leona Rose Bledsoe was far from relieved and far from amused. She rose to her feet and snapped her fan shut angrily. “Men! The things you get away with! Well, you’re not going to just pat me on the head and brush me off, Morgan. You’re so worried about your responsibilities to that little black girl, and you never seem to think about your responsibilities to me!” Majestically she sailed out of the room.
Nervously her mother followed her.
Morgan, Gibbs, and even Benjamin Bledsoe looked guiltily at each other.
Gibbs gave a low whistle. “You fell into it this time, Morgan. Glad I’m not in your shoes.”
“You could help me out here, Gibbs,” Morgan said helplessly. “Can’t you go talk to her, tell her not to be mad at me?”
“Not me, brother. I’m no coward, but I’m not squaring off against my sister.”
Benjamin Bledsoe cleared his throat. “Er, Morgan, Leona is a little upset just now. Usually it’s best to leave her alone until she gets in a better—I mean, until she feels better. Maybe you’d better go and come back tomorrow. Or even the next day.”
“Right,” Gibbs said forcefully. “You better stick your head in first, Morgan, to make sure you’re not still in the bull’s-eye.”
“Maybe I’ll come back on Monday,” he said uncertainly.
“Maybe that’s best,” Mr. Bledsoe said with relief.
Morgan went toward the door then turned around when Benjamin Bledsoe said, “Morgan?”
“Sir?”
“I called you a coward once. I’m sorry for that. Any man that’s determined
to hold his own with my daughter is no coward.”
“No, sir,” Morgan heartily agreed and hurried away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Throughout the Civil War, the major problem of the South was that the North could quickly forge an arsenal of weapons. The industrial power that had been built up in the Northern states was immense. Unlike the wealthy elite of the South, who were only interested in growing cotton, businessmen in the North were interested in capital investment, in utilization of natural resources, of machines and equipment and factories. Quickly the North was able to turn their industrialized cities into factories that could turn out the implements of war. Ironclad ships, muskets, cannons, and ammunition all came like a flood once the North geared up. The South had nothing to compare with this. Many of their weapons were those captured from the North, of necessity.
The North outnumbered the South tremendously. The North was thickly populated, whereas the South had many fewer citizens and many blacks, who were not permitted to fight. This was starting to become a factor, but at the beginning, on both sides of the Mason–Dixon Line, young men, and older men as well, rushed to join the respective armies of the Union and the Confederacy.
But it was not a matter of armament or soldiers that made the difference in the two foes, at least not until the end. The real problem the North faced was finding generals who had the courage, the nerve, and the quality of bold leadership of all great military men. Though the rhetoric of the South was high and overblown, the fact remained that many Southern generals and colonels were exactly that kind of man. It was not so in the Union Army. Throughout the history of the Civil War, generals such as Pope, Burnside, McDowell, Hooker, and others knew how to build armies but lacked the killer instinct of sending these armies into the fierce cauldron of bloody battle.
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