Encounter at Cold Harbor

by Gilbert L. Morris

  “Have you been to Libby Prison, Colonel?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “It’s a disgrace! They treat the men there worse than we treat pigs back in Louisiana! Men are sleeping on the ground without a single blanket! The place is filled with lice, and the food isn’t fit to feed a hog!”

  Nelson Majors felt definitely ill at ease. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Fremont. But actually that’s out of my department. You will have to see the head of the prison—”

  “I’ve tried to see him, but he won’t let me in!”

  “I expect he’s very busy.”

  Mrs. Fremont’s eyes glinted. “I saw him at a restaurant. He was eating himself into the grave. He’s fat as a pig, and he looks, more or less, like one!”

  “Did you speak to him, Mrs. Fremont?”

  “I walked right up to him and told him what I thought, with everybody in the restaurant listening.” A smile touched her lips briefly. “He wouldn’t see me in his office, so I had to see him wherever I could.”

  Nelson found the scene amusing but did not allow that to show on his face. “What did he say?”

  “He told me to get out of the restaurant. That I was nothing but a Yankee sympathizer. When I refused to go, he asked the manager to take me out. Which he did.”

  Nelson hesitated. This was far outside his sphere, and he was burdened with the responsibility of getting men ready to fight. He knew from rumor that the prisons in the South were bad, and he was aware that those in the North were equally bad. He tried to explain this to the woman, but she stood, feet planted, eyes glinting, simply waiting for him to finish.

  Finally he said, “So you see, Mrs. Fremont, there’s nothing much I can do to help you. Perhaps I could give you a note to give to the commander of the prisons—”

  “And what good would that do?”

  In all fairness, he knew that it would do no good at all. “The problem,” he said, “is that we’re having trouble feeding ourselves, Mrs. Fremont. So, of course, we have little food to spare—or blankets either, for that matter. Perhaps I could help your brother-in-law a little. I believe I could scare up a blanket or two.”

  His offer seemed to ease some of the fury in her eyes. Still, her lips were tightly pressed together. She said, “It’s going to take more than a blanket. He’s very sick, and he’s going to die if he doesn’t get help. He needs to be in a hospital.”

  “I’m sure that’s been considered—”

  “Considered? A man’s dying, and you’re considering whether to put him in the hospital?” Eileen Fremont’s eyes lit up again, and for the next five minutes she told Colonel Majors exactly what she thought of him, of the whole Confederate prison system, of Jefferson Davis, and of everyone else. Finally she said, “I’m sure nothing will come of this, so no thanks to you, Colonel!” She turned and stalked out of the tent.

  As soon as she disappeared, Tom came back in, his eyes wide with astonishment. “That lady sure knows how to say what she means, doesn’t she?”

  At that instant Lieutenant Logan stepped inside, a grin on his face. “I caught the last of that one, Colonel. I think I’d rather face Yankee cannons than a lady like that!”

  “The woman’s unreasonable!” Colonel Majors said. His feelings had been scraped raw by her accusations. “What does she expect me to do? I expect she’s just a Yankee sympathizer.”

  “No, I know a little bit about her,” the lieutenant said. “She’s been waiting around the prison. I was there the other day talking to one of the guards. He told me about her.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Actually, it’s pretty sad. Her husband joined up at Bull Run, and he got killed at Shiloh, so she’s a widow. I guess she and her brother-in-law were pretty close. She’s for the South all right, but she’s one pretty tough lady.”

  “I never could stand a woman with a temper,” Colonel Majors said.

  “Well, sir, you’d better get used to this one because she’ll probably be back.”

  “I hope not! If she does, just tell her that I’m kept pretty busy, will you, Sergeant?”

  “I’ll tell her, Colonel,” Tom said. “But she doesn’t seem to me like the kind of woman that would listen to a lowly sergeant.”

  Nelson Majors looked at his son quickly to see if he was being ridiculed, but he could see nothing on Tom’s smooth face. “Well, I’m sorry for her, but there’s nothing I can do. If she comes back, try to shift her off to somebody else, all right?”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll do all I can.”

  Later, when he was explaining all this to Jeff, Tom said, “I never saw Pa so shook up. He can face a charge with bare bayonets, but that little red-haired lady sure did shake him up.”

  “I’d like to have seen that.” Jeff grinned. “Maybe he’d understand my problems with Leah a little better.”

  “I don’t think Leah ever loses her temper like this woman did. I’ll tell you what—she came in there looking like a bear. A pretty bear, I must admit, but all the same I hope she doesn’t show up again.”

  5

  Wanted: One Mother

  Colonel Majors was busy from morning till late at night attending to the thousand details necessary to put an army in the field. Word had come from General Lee to bring up at once whatever forces were available. The city of Richmond was scoured for ammunition, uniforms, horses. The countryside gave up whatever food was available, and slowly the army began to take shape.

  Nelson Majors, for all his activity, never completely forgot his daughter. Constantly he was wondering what would happen to Esther if he lost his life on the field of battle. He said nothing to his sons about this but spent as much time as possible trying to plan some way to protect the child in case something happened to him.

  One Tuesday morning, when he had time to breathe from his duties, he went for a walk. Out by the edge of the camp there was a small creek that he liked to sit beside and listen to the water gurgle over the stones. It was very quiet as he walked along, watching the schools of minnows flash like silver in the shallow stream. From time to time a frog would cry out and splash into the water. Overhead the trees were green, and it was cool under their shade, even though the temperature in the sun was almost one hundred.

  He sat on a large rock, where he prayed and thought and pondered over what could be done. As he did so, an idea that he’d had almost from the day Esther arrived began to take form in his mind. It seemed difficult to put into operation, but now, taking a deep breath, he stood up and said, “But I’ve got to do something!” He walked quickly back to camp.

  As soon as the colonel entered his tent, Tom stood to his feet. He must have seen something in his father’s face, for he asked, “What is it, Pa?”

  “I’ve been thinking about Esther. We’ll be leaving here, Tom—very soon. You’ll go with me and so will Jeff. I just can’t leave Esther alone with Leah out there.”

  “She hasn’t said anything about going home yet.”

  “I know, but she’s too young to have such responsibility.”

  “I guess she is, although she’s very grown up in many ways.” Tom studied his father, then said, “You’re not going to send them back to Kentucky, are you?”

  “No, I don’t want to do that, but I do have another idea. It may be difficult though.”

  “What is it, Pa?” Tom simply could not call his father “Colonel” every time he addressed him. “Pa” just seemed to slip out from time to time. “I mean Colonel,” he said.

  Nelson grinned at his son. “Hard to get used to, isn’t it? Well, Sergeant, here’s my idea. I think we’re going to have to hire someone as a sort of a mother for Esther.”

  “A mother? How could that be?”

  “Well, maybe not a mother. Let’s say a housekeeper. Esther needs a grown woman around, and Leah can’t be tied to her all the time. She’s got to have some relief.”

  “I think that’s right. That’s a good idea, Pa!”

  “It’s the best I could come
up with. Do you know anybody around here that might do that sort of thing?”

  “Well, no, but then, I just got back from Kentucky. Maybe one of the officers has an older daughter …”

  “Not that I know of.” Colonel Majors sat down and thought hard. He said, “I thought we might advertise.”

  “You mean put it in the paper?”

  “Well, the paper doesn’t come out too regularly now. What I thought is, we’d make a notice and put it up in several places around town—at the post office and the general store—places like that.”

  “That’s a good idea, sir. Why don’t you write it, and I’ll carry them around?”

  “Let’s both write. I’ll make the first draft, and you can make copies. We ought to have at least ten.”

  “You make the first one, and I’ll copy the rest,” Tom said, glad to have something to do. He, too, had been worried about leaving Esther and Leah alone, and he began speaking optimistically as his father wrote the notice. “Why, it won’t be hard. There are lots of women in Richmond. Lots of widows, I’m sorry to say. How much would we pay?”

  “As much as we have to,” his father said. He finished the notice and held it out. “Do you think that will do?”

  Tom read it aloud: “Wanted: One mature lady to keep three-year-old child for officer who will be leaving Richmond temporarily. Apply to Colonel Nelson Majors.”

  “That ought to do it!” Tom said eagerly. “Let me copy these, and I’ll post them all over town.”

  Colonel Majors rose and looked out the tent flap at the activity outside. “This better work, Tom. We’re not going to be here long.”

  Tom pressured Jeff into helping him, and together the two of them made thirty copies of the notice. Dividing them with Jeff, he said, “You take the north part of town, and I’ll take the south part. Be sure you put them up where they’ll be seen.”

  “Sure, Tom, I’ll take care of it.”

  Jeff grabbed the announcements and made off for town. He made sure to get permission from the storekeepers at the busiest stores, and he found they were all willing. Some said they would even urge people to look into the ad. One of them, a clothing store owner, said, “Bound to be plenty of ladies who’ll take care of a girl for an officer in our glorious army.”

  “Well, just send them on to my pa, Colonel Majors,” Jeff said.

  Afterward, he wandered around town, having a little free time, As he turned the corner to go down Elm Street, he came face to face with Leah. “Why— hello, Leah,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I drove the wagon in to see if we could find some supplies.” Her voice was chilly.

  “Be better off to go around to farmhouses,” Jeff said. “The stores here sell out as quick as they get anything.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think about that!”

  “Let me go with you. I’ll drive the wagon, and I bet we can find all that you need.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I’d like to do it. Come on. Where’s the wagon?”

  All afternoon the two drove down country lanes, stopping at farmhouses, and as Jeff had said, food was easier to buy from farmers than from stores.

  It was toward the end of the afternoon when Jeff put into the wagon the last of the fresh corn Leah had managed to buy. He said, “Well, it’s getting late. And I guess I better get back to camp.”

  Leah had softened somewhat during the afternoon, and some hint of the old relationship she had with Jeff seemed to be coming back. “I guess I’d better be getting home too.”

  “I wish I could go with you, but they might post me as a deserter.”

  “Oh, they wouldn’t do that. Not with you being the colonel’s son.”

  “I guess not.” Jeff grinned. “Here, let me help you into the wagon.”

  Leah seemed surprised. She took his hand, however, and as she climbed in, he squeezed it.

  Then he walked around and clambered up to sit beside her. Taking up the lines, he said, “Get up, boys!” He turned to Leah and asked, “So my baby sister’s doing all right?”

  “She’s fine, Jeff. She’s the best little girl that there ever was. I know Ma and Sarah and Morena are missing her like everything. And Pa too. He really dotes on her.”

  The horses’ hooves made a plodding sound and raised the dust as they went along the road toward camp. Far overhead, a flock of red-winged blackbirds made their noisy way to alight in a cornfield. Watching them, Jeff said, “You remember the time we shot a bunch of red-winged blackbirds, and you cooked ’em up, and we ate ’em?”

  Leah smiled. “I remember. It was out at the foot of Little Mountain. Also we stayed out too long, and your pa sent Tom to get us. I think that was one of the few times my pa ever paddled me.”

  “You shoulda got what I got.” Jeff winced. “Pa didn’t look kindly on that.”

  They rode along slowly as the sun sank. A cool breeze sprang up, and Jeff took off his hat and put it on the seat between them. “I wish we were back in Kentucky, and this whole war had never come along.”

  “So do I. But I guess people everywhere in this country are wishing that.”

  “Well, maybe after this next battle it’ll all be over.”

  “I hope so,” Leah said.

  When they reached camp, Jeff got out of Leah’s wagon and handed the lines to her. “You may have some company pretty soon, Leah. I forgot to tell you. Pa’s trying to hire a lady to come out and help you take care of Esther.”

  “Why, I don’t need any help!”

  “I know you can take care of her good, but two of you would be better. If one of you had to go to town, don’t you see? It would be easier than trying to find a neighbor to help out—like today.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  Jeff hesitated. “Were you thinkin’ of going back to Kentucky?”

  Leah glanced quickly at him. “I’m not going until I’m sure Esther has good care.”

  Jeff grinned suddenly. “That’s good.” He stood by the wagon for a few more moments. “I’d hate to see you go back,” he said awkwardly. “I missed you.”

  “You didn’t miss me very much, Jeff! You had Lucy to keep you company!”

  Jeff’s face clouded. The specter of Lucy Driscoll again. “For crying out loud, Leah! Are you never going to forget about that? I just took her to an old minstrel show!”

  “That wasn’t the only time you took her somewhere, was it?” she said sharply.

  Jeff kicked at a clod of dirt and kept his head down. “Well, a fella’s got to do something.”

  “Well, you just go ahead, Jeff, and do something! See if I care!”

  He turned away abruptly, and Leah spoke to the horses, who lunged against their collars. The two parted, Jeff feeling about as bad as he could. He wondered, Why did she have to act like that?

  Nelson Majors looked up. The corporal on guard duty was standing just inside the tent door.

  “There’s a lady here to see you, sir.”

  “Well, show her in, Corporal.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The colonel put down the book he had been reading. He rose out of his chair and said as a woman entered, “Well, good afternoon—” But then the woman lifted her head, and he ended lamely, “Oh, it’s you, Mrs. Fremont!” He braced himself for what he expected was coming. “I trust your brother-in-law is better?”

  “He’s dead, Colonel.”

  Eileen Fremont’s voice was so calm that at first Nelson Majors could not believe he had heard correctly, but then, seeing the pain in the woman’s eyes, he knew that he had. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Mrs. Fremont.”

  “He developed blood poisoning, and there was nothing they could do for him.”

  Again the colonel could only say, “I offer you my sincerest sympathy.”

  Mrs. Fremont was silent for several seconds. Then, looking up at the tall officer, she said, “They told me that you visited him in the hospital, and that you spoke to the doctors to get him
better care.”

  “Well, yes, ma’am, I did do that.”

  “It was kind of you.”

  “I wish I could’ve done more.” The colonel shifted on his feet, not knowing what else to say. “Will you be going back to Louisiana, Mrs. Fremont, after your brother-in-law’s funeral?”

  “The funeral was this morning. I’ve come about another matter, sir.”

  “Another matter? What could that be?”

  “About this notice.” Mrs. Fremont pulled a paper out of her reticule, the small purse carried by most ladies in the South, and held it up. “I’ve come to tell you that I’m taking the position.”

  Nelson Majors had turned down three applicants already—they had been hard-looking women, he thought—and now he was quite prepared to turn down another one. He had seen Eileen Fremont’s temper and was not at all certain that she would be the suitable woman to care for Esther.

  “Well, sit down, Mrs. Fremont, and we can talk about it.”

  The woman took her seat, folded her hands in her lap, and said calmly, “How old is your daughter, Colonel?”

  “Three years old. Her mother died when she was born.”

  “I’m very sorry, Colonel.”

  Almost desperately the colonel searched his mind, trying to figure out some way to put this woman out of his office. Finally he had what he thought was a fine idea. “I would expect that the woman who takes care of my daughter knows something about children—I mean, she should have had some experience.”

  “I had a daughter, Colonel,” Mrs. Fremont said quietly. When the colonel simply looked questioningly at her, she said, “She died when she was just about the age of your daughter. She was two and a half. She died right after my husband fell at Shiloh.”

  “Oh, I see.” It sounded trite to say, “I’m sorry,” over and over again, but Nelson Majors was conscious of a swift streak of pity for this woman. To have lost her husband and her only child so close together was a tragedy indeed. “That was very hard,” he said gently. “But won’t your family be looking for you back in Louisiana?”

  “I have very little family, Colonel. I will be all right here. As a matter of fact, I prefer not to go back.”