Annie, Between the States

by L. M. Elliott

  “Do you think so, Annie?”

  But before she could answer, Aunt May came bustling into the room, mad and loud. “That hussy done took your dress, Miss Annie. Your music box is missing, too, and I can’t find three silver spoons. Those Yankees are like a swarm of locusts, Missus Miriam, no better than beetles. I won’t cook for them again, I tell you. Good thing they took off like the cowards they are or I’d be telling them exactly what they could do with their sorry selves.”

  Annie and Miriam glanced at each other. How could they really trust any Federal at this point? Annie hated the thought of it, but they might have to contact Cousin Eleanor’s husband to intercede for Jamie. She asked Miriam.

  “Eleanor and Francis always thought me an unsuitable wife and an unfit mother, and here is proof.” Miriam sighed. “But that’s a small price to pay for Jamie’s well-being. I’ll write a letter right now.” She stood and swept toward her desk.

  But Miriam’s letter could never be posted. Federal troops remained in the area, completely disrupting everyday life and terrifying the natives. Cannons fired along the western mountains every few days. Smoke rose on the horizon from fires and skirmishes. Annie often heard dogs barking and the sound of hooves thundering by somewhere close. Wagons rattled along the roads, and axes felled trees. Federal cavalry routinely dashed through the streets of Middleburg, Upperville, Paris, and Aldie. To go in and out of town required a pass. At night, picket fires dotted the turnpike. During the day, stragglers often appeared at Hickory Heights’ doorway, demanding food.

  “Here comes another one of those varmints,” Aunt May grumbled one morning while Annie was in the kitchen, scrounging for a midmorning treat herself. Breakfast had been sparse and would be for a while—until the hens had enough chicks raised to lay eggs of their own and the new crop of corn had come in for cornmeal to make bread.

  Shaking her head and muttering to herself, Aunt May filled a tin cup with some of their scant milk. She handed it to Rachel and said, “Don’t let him into the house. They’re all covered with lice.”

  Annie glanced out the window at the figure coming up their lane. Something about the sullen way he moved, the way the hat was yanked down low on his head, the good quality of his clothes made her look harder. “That’s no Union infantry, Aunt May. That’s a gentleman’s coat on him. And see how small he is.”

  Rachel joined Annie at the window. “Look, there goes Missus Miriam.”

  Through the window, Annie saw her mother running down the slope, out their white picket gate and into the lane. “Why’s she doing that?” Annie wondered aloud. Then she realized. It was Jamie.

  She rushed out the house and into the lane. “Jamie!” she cried. “Oh, Jamie!”

  Miriam was holding him tight and trying to rock him back and forth as she had when he was an infant. Jamie did not return her embrace. His arms were down tight by his sides, his hands balled into fists.

  “Jamie?” Annie reached out to touch his shoulder. “I’m so relieved to see you. Are you all right?” She looked him over. He’d been gone only ten days, praise God. He didn’t look gaunt or hurt. But when Jamie turned to face her, his look hit her like a slap.

  “The next time you stand between me and a good aim at a Yankee, I’ll shoot right through you,” he said.

  “James!” gasped Miriam.

  He didn’t even glance at his mother. “I mean it, Annie. Remember. You’ve been warned.” Jamie stalked into the house.

  It wasn’t until late May that the Pennsylvania troops withdrew from Upperville and Fauquier County, marching west toward the mountains to confront General Stonewall Jackson and his die-hard Rebel infantry.

  Where Jackson commanded and fought along the Shenandoah Valley, the Confederates won. In March, his infantry had pushed Union forces back across the Potomac River to reclaim Charlestown and Martinsburg. At the end of May, he retook Front Royal and Winchester. But things were not going well in Central Virginia, where General Johnston led in the Tidewater region. There, gray troops gave up the port of Yorktown at the mouth of the James River on May 4th. Now the Federals were only five miles from Richmond.

  The South had also lost more than ten thousand killed, wounded, and missing men in a place called Shiloh, Tennessee. They’d given up New Orleans and lost control of the Mississippi River. It was a fearful time.

  Jamie had remained tight-lipped in his conversation. All he’d tell them about his arrest was that the Federals had taken him into Alexandria and held him in the old slave pens on the wharfs. Several of the older businessmen of Middleburg and Leesburg had also been arrested and jailed with him. They’d been incarcerated with a smuggler, a man who’d had an ear sliced off during a saloon fight, and a Union deserter. They’d wanted Jamie to take a loyalty oath to the Union.

  “Did you, son?” Miriam asked.

  Jamie wouldn’t answer.

  He had been unusually cooperative, though, in working with Isaac and Bob in planting the fields. They’d gotten in corn, wheat, potatoes, and timothy hay. Not as much as they had in the past, but enough. They’d just have to pray for good, easy weather that summer.

  The physical labor seemed good for Jamie. The sun had tanned his face, hiding some of those freckles and somehow erasing the babyish pout that had been so unattractive. He held himself more erect and looked taller as a result. And although he talked far less than he used to, Jamie was more agreeable to Miriam’s requests for help.

  The one thing he did refuse to do, though, was continue his studies. Miriam did not push him to. Annie did only once.

  “Jamie,” she said as gently as she could, “your education is too important to let it go.”

  “And what good would it do me now?” Jamie asked.

  “Why, all the good in the world, Jamie. Poetry, plays, novels, music, they are the cry of the human spirit trying to understand itself and make sense of our world. Without understanding, without expression, we are merely animals, eating, breathing, dying. We’re the only species God gave the gift of speech and thought. Think of it. We’re the only creatures who can paint, who can write down our thoughts, who can make music.” She paused. “Well, I suppose you’d have to include a mockingbird in that, since he makes up the order of his songs.” She shook her head at getting off track. “Remember your Socrates, Jamie. He said there is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance. Education gives us solace in times like these.”

  “Solace?” Jamie exploded. “I don’t want solace. I want the Yankees out of my homeland. I want revenge for their humiliating me, riding me through the streets of Alexandria for people to shout at. What are you going to do? Lie down and let them run over us, take everything we have, and then read a good book to make yourself feel better? Not me! Ignorance the only evil? Stop being so naïve, Annie. You and your books. There is all sorts of evil in the world, and a lot of it is wearing blue coats and pillaging our country.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  July 30, 1862

  Hickory Heights

  Annie and Miriam sat huddled together, reading two letters that had miraculously made their way through all the upheaval and all the blue and gray troops to Hickory Heights.

  The first was from Laurence. He was safe and full of stories of Stuart and a miraculous ride they’d made around McClellan’s army near Richmond.

  Dearest Mother,

  I was saddened and worried to learn of the recent Union incursion into Fauquier, and hope to hear from you soon that all there are well. Please tell Annie to stay safely indoors when such happens—she will understand and I pray heed my instructions. Tell Jamie that I am counting on him to stand by and shield you sensibly. I am sure that the Union officers will not allow civilians to be harmed or starved. Always appeal to those in charge, Mother. The captured officers I meet seem to be scrupulous men.

  Most importantly, be assured that we are doing everything we can here to relieve the pressure on you at home. I cannot help but believe that we will indeed win this war when I ride with Stua
rt. You may hear of his daring ere this letter reaches you, but I’d like to tell you of it myself, so that you do not worry so much.

  You may have heard that General Johnston was gravely injured in the Battle of Fair Oaks, in the marshes east of Richmond. General Robert E. Lee has replaced him. I do not know the man, but his reputation is one of steadiness and courage. His nephew, Fitz Lee, leads my regiment under Stuart, and a finer horseman and colonel you’d be hard-pressed to find. General Lee asked Stuart and our men to scout out McClellan’s army, to ascertain the condition of the roads and the size of the Union forces facing us. Well, we certainly did that!

  General Stuart chose his best scouts—John Mosby, Redmond Burke, William Farley (a Shakespeare scholar I’d much like to introduce to Annie)—and 1,200 riders, plus a twelve-pound howitzer. Around 2 A.M. on the twelfth of June, we were awakened and given orders to ride, we knew not where. Within ten minutes we were in our saddles, ready to go. We departed, guided only by moonlight. We rode all night and most of the next day. When we finally stopped and camped, no talking and no fires were allowed. We’d cooked three days of rations before we left on our scout, and we ate in silence—surprise being one of our weapons against the nearby Federals. We left before dawn the next day, and by midmorning we reached Hanover Courthouse. (Remember your history, Annie; this is where Patrick Henry first spoke out against the British to begin the Revolution. He once cried: “Give me liberty or give me death.” I know we Confederates believe the same. If only Lincoln could have understood our desire to govern ourselves and respected it and the Constitution’s guarantee of it, all this bloodshed could have been avoided.)

  Here we had our first skirmish. Just beyond the courthouse, in a field of young corn, we spotted bluebirds. “Form fours! Draw sabers! Charge!” Stuart yelled, and we complied, pounding down the road and easily capturing most of the Union pickets and destroying a camp of the 5th United States Cavalry.

  Strangest thing, Mother—there is so much of this in this war—we paused a long time to chat with our prisoners, as the unit was Fitz Lee’s old one, from his days in the Union army. He’d been a junior officer with them, and our prisoners laughed and greeted him quite happily. Fitz asked after all of them—who was the new sergeant, if particular men were still alive and well. The Union men cheered him as we finally rode off, wishing him Godspeed!

  By that point we could see a huge encampment in the far distance, probably where McClellan himself sat. Our presence was no longer secret. Stuart had found McClellan, knew his strength and location, and could return to report all to General Lee. But rather than take that safe course, Stuart decided to press on to confuse the enemy, to return to Richmond by circling around the back side of the entire Union army.

  He took us, Mother, right into the jaws of the enemy, 100,000 strong! I know you will think me insane when I tell you it was one of the most marvelous rides of my life. I was not out of my saddle from Thursday morning until Saturday noon, riding more than 100 miles. We burned two hundred Federal wagons, captured three hundred much-needed horses and mules, felled Union telegraph wires and bridges, attacked a Union troop train, and even managed to sink a large Federal transport.

  All this while being chased by the Union cavalry!

  We were all falling asleep in our saddles by the time we reached the final barrier to safety, the Chickahominy River, all swollen and raging from rains, rising like a wall to prevent our escape. The Federals were close behind us. There was no way to swim the river. We tried felling trees along its banks, but they did not extend to the other side. We were trapped against the river like a fox surrounded by hounds.

  Our only chance was to quick build a footbridge to cross. Oh, Mother, if you could have seen how such tired men sprang to action. We found a skiff on the bank and floated it to the middle of the river and moored it with ropes. Then we stripped boards from an abandoned warehouse, placing the ends of the planks on the embankment and stretching them to the skiff, using it like a pontoon. We did the same from the skiff to the opposite shore. We crossed unsteadily, walking along the planks, carrying our saddles, sabers, guns, and bags in one hand and the reins of our horses in the other, steadying our poor steeds as they struggled to swim the currents. My horse, Merlin, was magnificent!

  We could hear the enemy galloping along the road toward us as Fitz Lee was the very last to cross. As we set fire to our bridge, thousands of Federal cavalry thundered to the bank. We escaped by moments!

  Despite the hail of their shots across the river, we all made it home to Richmond safely, Mother, except for one poor rider. But isn’t that something! Right around the enemy and back again with only one casualty. I swear, I think Stuart could somehow take on the Devil himself and either charm him or fool him!

  “Saints preserve us,” Miriam muttered, and crossed herself superstitiously. “God forbid that Laurence becomes reckless. What could that General Stuart have been thinking about?”

  Annie smiled and wondered. Stuart’s exploits only made her admire him the more. What dash!

  “And what was the other letter, child?” Miriam asked.

  It was an invitation to visit her school friend Charlotte in Warrenton. With all the fighting and with all the eligible young men off to war, Charlotte’s parents had decided to postpone Charlotte’s debutante ball. But they were gathering together a few friends to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Charlotte had not been the cleverest of students at the seminary, but she was certainly the most prestigious socially, living in the county seat of Fauquier. She was two years older than Annie and always wore the latest fashions, twisting and curling her dark hair into the most amazing coifs, studded with silver combs. Annie was flattered by her friendship and had been uncertain of her hold on Charlotte until Charlotte had laid eyes on Laurence. Annie knew that this invitation came mostly because she was Laurence’s sister, not because she was an especially great friend of Charlotte’s. But that was all right with Annie.

  “Please, please, Mother, may I go?”

  “Certainly not, child. Think of the dangers between here and there.”

  “Oh, but Mother, the Pennsylvania troops have retreated all the way to Snicker’s Ferry. Most of the Union army is down toward Culpeper, way south of Warrenton. The roads will be clear. It would be such a lovely thing for me. I’m so tired and bored of—” Annie stopped short. She didn’t mean to hurt Miriam’s feelings.

  “I know, my darling. Life hasn’t been very entertaining here of late. But I cannot let you ride into potential danger for the sake of a birthday party.”

  Annie thought for a moment. Clearly, she needed another reason to convince Miriam. “You know, Mother, Jamie could escort me. It might be good for him to do some business in Warrenton. We do need more supplies. Our salt is low, and we’ll need much more when it comes time to slaughter the hogs for winter and preserve the meat. And I heard Isaac and Bob talking about how our remaining sheep are suffering for not having salt at all in this dry heat. No merchant in Middleburg has salt to sell now. Someone in Warrenton will, certainly. And Jamie really ought to sell that one horse that’s kicking at Angel. She’d be a good brood mare. She has beautiful conformation, just a horrible temperament for riding; even Gabriel said so. She’d get a much better price at Warrenton. Maybe as much as a hundred fifty dollars. And in gold maybe rather than Confederate paper.”

  Inflation was becoming a horrible problem. Already a barrel of flour cost as much as forty dollars, when just last year the price was six dollars. In her common-sense way, Miriam wanted to use gold or even Federal greenbacks rather than Confederate paper money. And she had indeed been worrying about their salt supply. “We are going to need that salt if we’re to preserve meat for the winter,” she said more to herself than Annie. “I don’t know what we’ll do if we can’t buy some.”

  But it was the thought of Jamie’s attitude that made her consider Annie’s proposal. “Maybe if Jamie realizes how much he’s needed to conduct the business of the farm, he will settle dow
n and stop thinking of running off to fight. As a lady, I certainly can’t negotiate the sale of that horse at market; nor can you, dear….” Miriam’s voice trailed off and she rubbed her forehead. “Let me think on it, Annie.”

  Annie could only stand to wait until dinner to ask again and again. By bedtime, she’d pestered Miriam into agreeing.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  August 19, 1862

  Warrenton, Virginia

  Annie stopped to gaze up at the grand Greek revival pillars and the tall spire of Warrenton’s courthouse. My, it was an inspiring sight. Even though she had visited it before, the town never stopped awing her. With three hotels, two newspapers, and an iron foundry, plus the court and law offices, the Fauquier county seat bustled with twelve hundred residents and a sophistication that made Upperville—for all its beauty—seem a dull, countrified mud pit. Warrenton even had wooden sidewalks and stores with ready-made dresses and hats displayed in their windows.

  Letting her parasol slip back so she could see the courthouse’s full height, Annie stared at the handful of men in top hats and tailed coats charging up its tall marble steps. She thought about all the lives that had changed upon entering those massive, ornate doors—innocent and guilty making their pleas and being judged, people claiming property and others disputing it, families recording their marriages, births, and deaths. That was the way of it, men scurrying and arguing, laying claim and throwing away, defining the world. Annie sighed. Men’s lives seemed so much more vibrant and interesting than women’s.

  “She’s gawking again,” Eliza whispered to Charlotte, nudging her. The three girls had been strolling along Main Street together.

  “Annie”—Charlotte took her arm—“you really mustn’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk, dear.” She straightened Annie’s cream-colored parasol to shade her against the hot August sun and pulled her gently back to walking. “The sun is way too bright. You’ll ruin that beautiful creamy complexion of yours, besides making us look like country bumpkins.” She laughed gently as she said this, keeping the reprimand light.