Annie, Between the States

by L. M. Elliott

  One major even had his wife traveling with him. She had arrived in men’s clothes. She came down to dinner in one of Annie’s two dinner dresses, a plain skirt of green apple silk, the bodice and sleeves made of puffed white muslin, accented with strips of black velvet to match the waistband. Annie consoled herself that it did nothing for the Yankee woman’s sallow coloring.

  “You don’t suppose they’d poison the food?” the major’s wife had whispered to her husband as Miriam carved and served the roasted hens Aunt May had prepared.

  Annie had been preoccupied with worry about whether any of their precious chickens had survived this invasion. Somehow Isaac and Bob, their field head man, had managed to hide most of the horses and hogs in thickets at the far corner of the farm. But their sheep and cows were still in easy view. Would they end up slaughtered tonight to feed all those men? At least they hadn’t yet planted the fields. All those tents and feet would have mashed everything dead. But would the soldiers steal their seed corn and wheat?

  The question about poisoning stopped Annie’s thoughts. How dare this woman suspect them of something so underhanded? The nerve of these people! She fumed. Arresting a thirteen-year-old boy; taking over their house, their barns; stealing their food; wearing her clothes; insisting they eat dinner together. But she had to behave. Jamie was still being held somewhere. Miriam and Annie both knew it was up to them to plead his case.

  They said next to nothing during dinner. The officers mostly ignored them, only occasionally asking questions about the weather and what crops thrived in the region. Miriam’s answers were short and painfully polite. She even managed to smile graciously when Aunt May brought out a cake for dessert. Annie knew that cake had taken every granule of the Christmas sugar Laurence had brought.

  As the Union staff stood to leave the table, Colonel Geary remained seated and waved off his companions. “I wish to speak to Mrs. Sinclair and her daughter. Now, madam,” he started with Miriam, “where is your husband?”

  “My husband is dead ten years now,” she answered quietly.

  “Really? I saw men’s clothing upstairs.”

  Annie held her breath angrily. So not only had that woman put on one of Annie’s best dresses without asking, they’d been snooping around all their bedrooms.

  “Those would belong to my son, Laurence. If you wish proof of my lost husband, I can take you to our family cemetery tomorrow morning, sir. There you’ll find my husband and three of my boys, all buried within the same month. Of course, you’ll need to be directing your soldiers to move their things so you can see their graves. I note that some of them blasphemed and used the headstones as supports for their guns and saddlebags.”

  Annie was proud of her mother’s grit.

  “I see.” The colonel nervously pulled on his whiskery sideburns, but he made no apologies.

  “Where is the son?”

  “He rides with General Stuart’s cavalry. He is a lieutenant with the 1st Virginia.”

  The colonel leaned forward. “When did you see him last?”

  “Christmas Day.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I do not know. Safe, I hope,” Miriam answered.

  “No letters? No word of where they are?”

  “No, sir.”

  The colonel nodded. “Are you a truthful woman?”

  Miriam’s face hardened. “Indeed, sir, on my soul I am.”

  Annie couldn’t help herself. “My mother never lies, ever. Even when it would make her life easier.”

  “Ah. And do you, miss?”

  Annie hesitated just long enough for the colonel to straighten up with interest.

  “I hope not to, sir” was her meager answer.

  “And would you lie to protect someone you love?”

  This was turning into a game of words, a dangerous one. Even knowing that, Annie could not curb herself into caution. “I might because I know what it means to be loyal, sir. Do you?”

  “Annie.” Miriam spoke sharply. “I’ve raised you to be polite, child, no matter what is said to you.”

  “Or by what kind of ruffian?” the colonel asked her.

  Miriam didn’t answer.

  He laughed and crossed his arms. “I’ve heard you people are violently secessionist in your thinking. It will be the ruin of you, madam. Now, miss.” He turned his attention back to Annie. “Have you heard from your brother, or a suitor, perhaps?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Come now, a fiery, handsome girl such as you. Perhaps a Confederate officer let slip some important plans to impress you, press his suit? I hear this Stuart is quite the ladies’ man and that his staff follows his lead.”

  Annie could feel herself begin to blush and took a deep breath to suppress the flush of pink that always gave her away. As she did, she instinctively touched her skirt. She often tucked Stuart’s poem inside a pocket to read when she was in private. This night, she was extremely grateful she had. Instinct told her that the poem might be used against her and the people of Hickory Heights.

  Miriam interrupted before Annie could answer. “My daughter has many admirers, Colonel. But she is young and thus far unattached. In fact”—Miriam pulled out a letter of her own—“she received a truly moving thank-you note from a Massachusetts lady whose son we helped at the Manassas battlefield. If a boy is wounded, it doesn’t matter to me, sir, whether he is from the North or South. I will help him.” She handed him the letter.

  Annie looked at her mother with admiration. Oh, she was clever.

  Miriam waited until the colonel finished reading. “Now, about my boy, Colonel, my son Jamie. He’s only a child. If he did something wrong, he didn’t know the consequences of it. Fault me, a doting mother, for not teaching him better, Colonel. I lost three sons. My boys are precious to me.”

  Annie felt the sting of being excluded, but said nothing.

  “I hear he is addlebrained?”

  Miriam didn’t move, simply glanced at Annie and then back to the colonel.

  “I told them about the accident, Mother,” Annie jumped in.

  The colonel watched Miriam’s reaction, like a cat tracking a bird, Annie thought. Miriam cast her eyes down to her plate, and Annie saw her set her jaw. “I don’t like to talk about it, Colonel. I feel responsible for his behavior.”

  Silence dropped over them as the colonel thought. He reread the letter.

  Suddenly, he stood up. His voice had softened: “I have already sent him to Alexandria, Mrs. Sinclair, along with two men we arrested. To our prison there. I have to make an example of him. I have orders to collect all the firearms in this county. We cannot be fighting the citizens as well. Children can’t be pointing guns at us from trees. I’m sorry. I do have my orders.”

  Miriam looked up at him, her face pinched with worry. “He’s just a boy, Colonel,” she said urgently.

  The colonel shuffled his feet and looked away from Miriam. “I can’t imagine he’ll be kept long, madam. I’ll send a message that he’s to be treated well and released quickly, given his youth.” Then he fled the room.

  Miriam sat staring at the tablecloth for a long time. Then she stood up. “Let us go upstairs, darling. I do not think I could be civil to these people a moment longer. I will plead Jamie’s case with this Yankee again tomorrow morning.” Her voice quavered and she hooked her arm around Annie’s. Miriam leaned heavily on Annie as they went. “My fault,” Miriam whispered. “Thaddeus would be so disappointed in me.”

  Annie listened and wondered. She didn’t remember much about her father, just a large laugh, huge feet, and occasionally being tossed high in the air and barely caught on the way down. Miriam often sounded slightly afraid of him, or at least terrified of disappointing him. Annie helped her mother to lie down on her bed. The two of them were sharing Annie’s room that night. Union officers had taken Miriam’s, Jamie’s, and Laurence’s rooms.

  She propped several feather pillows behind Miriam’s head and shoulders. “There was nothing to be done, Mot
her. But I think the colonel will be true to his word.” Still, Annie did feel horrible about it. “I…I’m sorry, Mother, that I didn’t get Jamie down faster. He’s just so…so…headstrong sometimes.”

  At that, Miriam smiled. “Yes, child, it runs in the family.” She patted Annie’s face. “Look at you, taking care of me. You’ll be a fine mother someday, darling. You are already a lady.”

  Annie smiled back. Those were sweet words to hear.

  Checking the water pitcher, Annie found it empty. There’d been no time for regular chores that night, clearly. “Mother, I’m going to go down and draw us some water. I’ll be back.”

  “I’d best come with you, Annie.” Miriam raised herself. “There are so many strangers about.”

  Annie gently pushed her back in the bed. She liked the idea of Miriam depending on her for once, as she always did with Laurence. “I’ll go to the kitchen and get Aunt May or Rachel to go with me. It’ll be fine. Rest, Mother.” Annie slipped out the door before Miriam could insist.

  In the kitchen, Annie found more soldiers, asking for eggs, milk, and bread. One was very sweetly thanking Aunt May for feeding him. “Our Millie always fixed me warm milk before bed,” he was telling her. “I sure miss her.” Looking at his soft face, Annie reckoned him to be only slightly older than Jamie.

  Annie took Rachel’s hand as they walked through the gloom to the well. It was only a hundred yards from the house, and the moonlight was bright, but the surrounding campfires made Annie nervous. She could hear a fiddle playing up the hill, and the sound of rough voices arguing about a card game. Light shone out from the windows. The major’s wife was playing their piano, using Miriam’s sheet music for Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home.” Several officers surrounded her as they listened.

  “The world seems turned in on itself, Rachel,” Annie said.

  “Sam told me that this would happen,” Rachel answered. “Told me to be careful when it did.”

  “Sam knew that our troops would withdraw?”

  Rachel hesitated a moment. “Annie, he doesn’t know anything except what he can see with his own eyes. Mr. Laurence and his friends are brave, for sure, but look at your fields.” She nodded in their direction. “Look at those campfires. There’ll be more and more of them coming. More and more.”

  Holding the bucket of clear water between them, the two girls had walked back into a pool of light from the house’s back door. There was pity on Rachel’s face. Annie didn’t like anyone feeling sorry for her. And why should Rachel feel pity? Annie was about to tell Rachel not to look at her like that when a man stepped out of the shadows. It was the sergeant who had arrested Jamie. The girls stopped abruptly, sloshing water on their skirts.

  “Sergeant,” Annie said shakily. “You startled us.”

  “Yes,” he answered coldly. He moved forward, into the light, and Annie saw that he was staring at Rachel. “Yes,” he said again. “Evenin’, girl.”

  Rachel nodded. The bucket handle began to tremble, and Annie realized that Rachel wasn’t just startled; she was afraid.

  Annie looked back to the sergeant. He was holding a small paper sack.

  “I have peppermints, girl. Ever taste one?” He held the bag toward Rachel.

  Rachel shook her head.

  “Take one.” He stepped closer.

  Rachel looked to Annie.

  “You don’t need to ask your mistress.”

  Rachel found her voice. “No, thank you, sir,” she answered. “I don’t care for any.”

  The sergeant frowned. “Fancy words.” He looked at Rachel and a nasty smile grew on his face, a smirk like the one he’d had for Gabriel. “Fancy looks, too.” He squinted.

  Annie felt sick to her stomach. She wasn’t sure why. “Excuse us, Sergeant. We need to take this water inside.”

  The sergeant stepped directly into their path. “Not so fast.” His eyes were still on Rachel. “Some of us are pulling out tomorrow, heading down to take and repair the railroad. Want to come?”

  Rachel frowned. “No, sir,” she said emphatically.

  He stepped so close to Rachel that she leaned backward to keep his face from touching her hair. “I’d look after you. Got money. Can buy you lots of fancy dresses and petticoats with Union pay.”

  “Now see here, Sergeant,” Annie began, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

  It was Gabriel. Gabriel, again, praise God. “Let me take that water for you, Miss Annie. Rachel, Aunt May was calling for you. Best hurry in now.”

  Annie grabbed Rachel’s hand once again and pulled her inside, Gabriel behind them. Almost as quickly as he appeared, Gabriel slipped back into the night.

  The next morning, the troops left, heading for Middleburg and points south. Annie went to the stable to thank Gabriel for all he’d done to protect them. He wasn’t there. She checked the corncrib, the granary, the paddocks, the smokehouse, the potato cellar, the dairy, the icehouse, even the hen-house. Gabriel was gone. So was Rachel’s older brother, Jacob, Hickory Heights’ farmhand. When Isaac checked their cottages, he came back to say that their clothes were missing, too. All Annie could suppose was that they had followed the Union army.

  The recognition sliced her cold to the bone. Could Thomas Walker, that Massachusetts officer, be right? Could Gabriel and Jacob have been that unhappy they’d cut themselves off from their family and disappear? Gabriel had never seemed that discontented at Hickory Heights. He’d always appeared so at peace, so affectionate with the horses. Gabriel and Jacob had been well fed and clothed, taught to read just as Rachel had been, although they’d never loved it as she did.

  Certainly the life of a contraband—as that odious sergeant called runaway servants who followed Union troops—didn’t sound like a step up in life—cooking, polishing shoes, and mucking up after horses for Yankees. Seemed as if they were simply exchanging one servitude for another. Poor Gabriel. Poor Jacob. They’d been seduced with false promises, sure, thought Annie, just like that sergeant had tried to trick Rachel with peppermints and petticoats into coming with him.

  But then Annie thought again. Perhaps she hadn’t seen things clearly herself. She thought back to Rachel and her book, the reverential way in which she held it; her hesitancy in taking it from Annie. No, kindness obviously wasn’t enough, after all. The only thing that was enough was freedom. Freedom for each individual to follow his own path. How could she have been so blind?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  March 15, 1862

  Hickory Heights

  “What are we going to do, Missus Miriam?” Isaac asked. He’d just given her the sum of their losses: ten sheep, fifteen calves, half their store of the horses’ feed corn, and most of the chickens. The soldiers had made a fine game of chasing the birds before cooking them for dinner. The only ones left were the rooster and a few hens, belonging to the servants, that he’d put in a burlap sack and hung down the well, where the darkness kept them quiet.

  A lot of their tack was gone, too, harnesses and bridles. Out of pure spite, someone had taken a knife to the leather seats of their Sunday carriage. But the Yankees had left the milk cows and the seed for planting alone. According to Isaac, one of their officers had stopped them from stealing those.

  Miriam reached over and patted his hand. “It’s all right, Isaac. The Lord will provide. You were clever enough to save those hogs and horses. That will make all the difference.”

  “Angel?” Annie asked, worried. Riding in with the sergeant dogging her, Annie hadn’t been able to hide her mare.

  Isaac nodded. “Don’t fret, Miss Annie. I took good care of her. I hid her down to the creek. She’s in her stall now, enjoying her dinner.” He glanced over at Miriam. “Missus, I can handle the horses and cows until Mr. Laurence come home. But I don’t think I can help Bob plow those fields. My back done broke down now.”

  Miriam nodded. Without Gabriel and Jacob, planting would be hard. Isaac had retired from field labor long ago. Mostly he just helped around the house, bringin
g in firewood, following Aunt May’s orders. “I appreciate all you’ve done, Isaac. I’ll look to hiring a hand somehow. Although Lord knows where I’ll find anyone or the money to pay him. Perhaps Jamie can help. It might be good for him to…” Miriam’s voice trailed off.

  Annie knew what she was thinking. Would Jamie even be home by planting next month? They had no idea where he was. Was he frightened? Most importantly, was he holding his tongue and for once not bragging about what he’d meant to do with that gun?

  “Jamie will be all right, Mother.” Annie sat down next to Miriam on the settee and put her arm around her waist. She tried to joke. “No one is going to want to keep Jamie for long. Once he starts in on them with his wild ideas and that mouth of his, they’ll probably order the best horse-drawn carriage in Alexandria to bring him home lickety-split.”

  Miriam shook her head. “Don’t use slang, Annie. Besides, child, it’s no laughing matter. It’s your baby brother they have.”

  Annie thought and then tried again. “We’re lucky, Mother, truly, that they didn’t shoot him right then and there. He was aiming at the road and bragging on shooting the first Yankee who came into view. That sergeant heard every word of it, I think. He was a cold man. If it hadn’t been for Gabriel—” Annie stopped. She couldn’t help feeling stung and saddened by Gabriel and Jacob’s running off. She’d miss Gabriel, so would Angel, that was for sure. She hoped he’d be safe. Lord knows what the Yankees might try to convince him to do.

  For a moment, Annie thought of Thomas Walker. Despite his rudeness, he seemed a gentleman. Would Walker have allowed all this stealing around their farm? Did that colonel know what his soldiers were up to during the night, feasting on their hens? He had seemed ashamed of arresting Jamie, though, after talking with Miriam. There was some decency there. “You know, Mother, I think we can trust that colonel to send his message about treating Jamie well and releasing him soon. Surely.”