Above it all, Stuart was laughing, and shouting, “Good day, citizens of Warrenton! Here we are to liberate you!” He was surrounded by the town leaders, their top hats reaching his hip. They gave way, however, to an elderly woman, who croaked, “General, may I kiss you?”
Stuart swept off his hat and immediately bent down. “But, of course, dear madam.” Everyone cheered.
Annie watched it all from the edge, jostled by people pushing past her. The sight of him stopped her there, suddenly shy, trembling all over, hot from the blush on her face. What could she say to him, above all this? Why would he be interested in talking with her when an entire town was adoring him? Would he even remember her? Annie watched his every move, tried to will him to look her way.
And then suddenly he did. Was she imagining the look of recognition on that bearded face? Stuart’s horse pranced and pawed the ground, uncomfortable with all the hands petting her, shoving flowers into her bridle. He looked down for a moment to steady her, but then he looked up toward Annie. She smiled and lifted her gloved hand to wave, then dropped it, feeling foolish. After all, it had been nearly a year since he’d seen her. While she remembered every angle of his figure, how startlingly blue his eyes were when the sun hit them, there was no need for him to recall anything about her. She was no one. He was the quintessential Virginia cavalier, a leader on whom the state, a whole new country, was hanging its hopes.
Sighing, Annie put her hand on her throbbing heart. Oh, if only she’d be able to speak to him. She looked down at the golden black-eyed Susans she held, then back up at Stuart, noting how the wildflowers matched his golden sash. She wondered absently what had happened to the gorgeous plume that typically festooned his hat.
“Annie?” Charlotte was beside her. “Do you see Laurence?”
Annie broke out of her daydreaming. No, she hadn’t seen her brother. She was ashamed to admit that she hadn’t yet looked for him. She took Charlotte’s hand and began walking back down the line of riders.
It took a good fifteen minutes to locate Laurence, way in the back. He and his group had dismounted and were letting their horses graze and drink water from the town’s troughs.
Jamie had already found him. As Annie and Charlotte approached, Laurence put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie was talking excitedly, waving his hands around as he typically did when he was telling a story. Annie pulled Charlotte to a stop about fifty yards away. “Wait a moment,” she told her friend. “Let them finish, please.”
Jamie stopped, and Laurence smiled and patted his shoulder in a “well-done” gesture.
“Oh, good,” Annie breathed. “That will make a world of difference for Jamie.” She stepped forward, still holding Charlotte’s hand. But Charlotte was rooted.
“Do I look all right?” she whispered to Annie.
For a split second Annie felt impatient, because now she’d forgotten Stuart and wanted to embrace her big brother. But she softened, seeing Charlotte’s fluster. “Beautiful,” Annie whispered back with a reassuring squeeze to Charlotte’s hand. “I wish I were as pretty as you.”
“Annie!” Laurence called out, and jogged a few steps. But when he recognized Charlotte, he stopped to straighten his collar, nervously fastening the top three buttons he’d undone in the heat.
So! Annie thought. Good.
After a kiss and a hard hug for Annie, and an embarrassed, formal handshake with Charlotte, the four of them sat under a shade tree. They talked about the campaign, Hickory Heights, and horses. Laurence said he’d be home on furlough soon to gather new, fresh horses. As a rider with the Virginia cavalry, he had to supply his own mounts. He reminded Jamie that the wheat would need to be harvested within the month, the hay cut, to tell Bob to be sure to watch the corn carefully. If it didn’t rain soon, he’d have to go ahead and gather what was there, even if green. How were the potato fields? Any new foals? Jamie answered it all with pride.
Annie watched in surprise, Charlotte in awe. Laurence was having a tremendously positive affect on Jamie. Slowly, Annie recognized the reason for it. It was the first time Laurence had spoken to Jamie as if he were an equal, at least in terms of working Hickory Heights. She decided not to tell Laurence of some of the foolish, dangerous things Jamie had done in the past months. If only Jamie could take this new attitude home with him.
But the mood shifted abruptly.
“Why are you riding in the back, Laurence?” Jamie asked. “If I were you, I’d be up there with old Stuart himself. When I join up, I’ll be a captain in no time.”
Laurence stiffened. “That so, little brother?”
Jamie started his swagger. “You can bet. Why, I almost took down a whole line of Pennsylvania yokels myself.”
Laurence looked sharply at Annie. “That so? Aren’t you watching him, Annie?”
The implication that she’d failed somehow smarted. She lashed out, “Oh, Jamie, for shame. We haven’t seen Laurence since Christmas. Don’t do this today. He doesn’t need to be weighed down with your conceit and nonsense.”
Jamie jumped up. “You’ll all be sorry someday for treating me this way.” He stormed down the road, kicking stones as he went.
Annie hung her head, mortified that Laurence thought she hadn’t controlled Jamie—as if she could—and that they’d made a scene in front of Charlotte. She plucked at the grass.
After a few awkward moments of silence, Laurence, as usual, was the one to restore polite conversation. “Actually, ladies, you might not want to be sitting with the rear guard here, because we are, for the moment, in disgrace.”
“What?” Annie and Charlotte cried out together.
“Oh, Laurence,” Charlotte added, “how could anyone possibly question your honor and bravery?” It was one of the few things Charlotte had said during the past half hour, and there was a tremor in her voice. It touched Laurence. It took him a few moments to respond, and in that time they gazed at each other. Annie had to suppress a smile; they looked so silly.
Perhaps Laurence felt her amusement, for he adopted a lighthearted banter and joked. “Why, because, Miss Charlotte, General Stuart blames us for the loss of his best hat!”
“Oh, Laurence, do tell,” said Charlotte.
With a grin, Laurence told the story of a rich felt hat with a monstrous plume that had arrived for Stuart along with a copy of the New York Herald.
When a truce had been called to collect the wounded and dead from the battlefield at Cedar Mountain—the very battle Eliza had mentioned to Annie and Charlotte—Stuart had overseen the Confederate gathering. He met up with an old U.S. army friend, General Samuel Crawford, who was on the field for the Union.
“Well,” continued Laurence, “while their soldiers loaded wagons with corpses and bleeding men, the opposing generals shared a picnic lunch, remembering old battles fought together out west against the Indians. At their parting, Crawford congratulated Stuart on the Confederate victory at Cedar Mountain. Stuart countered that the Northern papers would surely call it a Union win. ‘The Yankee papers claim every battle a Yankee victory, however it turns out,’ one of our staff officers said.
“Crawford denied it. And then Stuart bet Crawford a hat that the Northern papers would do that very thing.
“Crawford took up the wager, saying, ‘Not even the New York Herald would have the audacity to claim this.’ It had been a terrible defeat for the Yankees. They lost close to three thousand men in one afternoon. But can you believe, ladies, the New York paper did, indeed, tout it as a resounding Yankee victory. So to pay off his lost bet, Crawford sent the hat, which General Stuart put on with great ceremony. It was good for our boys’ morale.”
Laurence’s smile faded. “But Stuart lost that hat, he says, because our unit was late for a rendezvous the other night. He’d sent Fitz Lee a confusing order by courier, so we stopped to gather supplies and rest our horses, not realizing he wanted us to come immediately. It’s bad because we lost the opportunity to trap Pope between the Rappahannock and the Rapidan r
ivers.
“But I think the thing that annoyed General Stuart most was the fact some of Pope’s cavalry surprised him in the night. He heard horses and thought it was us coming. It’s so hard to know who’s riding up the road in the dark. Stuart had to make a rather sudden escape, jumping upon his horse and vaulting a fence. He left behind his hat, cloak, and haversack. He’s had to wear a handkerchief on his head to protect himself from the scalding sun for several days. He is not pleased. So…” Laurence leaned back against the tree. “We ride in back!”
Annie didn’t know whether to be angry with Stuart or to defend him. She couldn’t help blurting out, “Don’t you men have anything better to do than be bragging and making bets? Why just a few days ago—” Annie felt a sharp nudge against her foot through her skirt. She and Charlotte were sitting close to each other, their skirts great pools of blue linen and lace on the green grass. She turned to look at her friend. Once again, Charlotte’s open, pretty face was awash in a silent plea.
Of course! Annie realized. Charlotte doesn’t want Laurence to know she’s been talking to Yankees! Annie’s mouth snapped shut, and she smiled dumbly at her brother.
“Just a few days ago what?” Laurence asked. He laughed. “Did you forget what you were going to say?”
“Oh, no, it’s not important.” Annie shifted topics.
“Where are you off to now?”
“I can’t tell you, Annie, but you shouldn’t worry,” Laurence said quietly. “Although I must say this war is different from what I thought it was going to be. Different from what most people expected, I’m sure. I think General Stuart hoped that a few rousing cavalry charges would frighten them home—that our disagreements would be resolved easily and quickly through a set of chivalrous duels. Many of our Confederate commanders have a deep respect for the Union forces. Our officers and their officers went to school together and fought together out west, for pity’s sake.
“Others don’t have that kind of restraint. General Stonewall Jackson, for instance, is completely different in outlook, a prickly, eccentric, hellfire-and-brimstone, Old Testament type of warrior. After Cedar Mountain, there was a group of his infantry soldiers mourning a fallen Union officer. He had been so brave, leading his men in charge after charge, our boys felt badly for having shot him. But Jackson reprimanded them for their regret and told them to shoot the brave ones because they lead the others.”
Laurence shook his head. “It’s becoming a different kind of fight, all right.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
August 23, 1862
Warrenton, Virginia
It rained that night, great torrents, as if God had looked down, been shocked to see the parched earth, and ordered entire rivers of rain to make up for weeks of dry heat. Annie watched it through Charlotte’s window. She and Jamie had stayed because of the uproar in town over Stuart’s appearance. By the time the Confederate cavalry had ridden out, heading southeast, and everyone had calmed down, it was far too late to begin the long journey home. Given the mud that would surely result from the downpour, she’d probably be with Charlotte for a few more days.
Lightning flashed bright and lit up the room for an instant like midday. Charlotte had finally fallen asleep around midnight out of exhaustion from her flutter. Besides the thrill of seeing Laurence, she had met General Stuart and just about swooned from the excitement of it. But Annie was wide awake, plagued by a jumble of thoughts. The convulsing thunderstorm gave her a good excuse to get out of bed and pace the room to think through the day’s events.
Stuart had not sought out Annie. Why should he?
But Eliza had. She wanted to speak with the handsome and daring cavalry leader. And who better to introduce her to him than Annie, who’d once, for sure, saved Stuart’s life. Eliza was all sugar and deference.
In the blackness, Annie pressed her face against the cool windowpane and relived the mortifying experience.
“Oh, it wasn’t like that, really.” Annie had hastened to modify her boast and dissuade Eliza of her plans.
“You mustn’t be so modest,” Eliza answered.
“You are an inspiration to me, for one. I would have given anything to see you—like Joan of Arc in a knight’s armor, leading the English to destroy France.”
“Actually, she led the French against the…oh, never mind.” Annie bit her tongue to keep from correcting Eliza’s muddied history. She’d seen that look before, on classmates’ faces when they’d heard a romantic story and had no interest in its grittier, more factual details.
Annie had kicked herself. See where boasting gets you? What if Eliza said something to the general about Annie’s supposed lifesaving warning to him in Lewinsville! She’d die of shame right then and there. Annie demurred, saying that the general would be far too busy with important tactical planning to take time for three girls. Then she said his staff wouldn’t let them through. Finally, she said she didn’t feel well.
“You mustn’t keep the general to yourself, Annie Sinclair.” Eliza tried tarring Annie with guilt.
“He belongs to the nation, you know. Think how I’ll feel if I had the chance to meet our champion and didn’t. I want to be able to tell my children that I once shook hands with the famous Jeb Stuart himself.”
All the while, arm in arm, Eliza had been walking Annie and Charlotte closer to the Warren Green Hotel. On the hotel porch, Stuart was drinking tea and amusing the crowd with his stories. While he entertained his admirers, his staff gathered information about the roads to Catlett Station.
As they approached, several townspeople turned from Stuart to look at the three girls. Fleetingly, Annie recognized that they did make a colorful appearance. She and Charlotte had both hurried into their best walking dresses—Charlotte’s pale blue and Annie’s deep royal. Eliza was in a pink frock, festooned with small crimson bows along the skirt and waist, plus a bonnet to match. (Annie was beginning to wonder how many bonnets Eliza owned! She herself made do with two.)
The crowd stepped back to make way as General Stuart stood up, beaming his greeting. “Ladies.” He bowed. “To what do I owe the delight of a visitation by three such enchanting Southern muses?”
Eliza pushed Annie forward. Annie still clutched her black-eyed Susans, and weakly, she whispered, “General, I’d be proud if you’d wear this bouquet in your sash.”
A wide grin broke open that mask of beard, and his blue eyes brightened with pleasure. “Why, of course. I’m sure it will bring me luck in battle, miss”—he paused. “Miss…?”
Annie’s heart sank with the realization that he didn’t recognize her. He was trying to prompt her to provide him her first name. How would she explain this to Eliza and Charlotte? But just as she was about to murmur her name, Stuart put his hands on his hips and threw his head back to laugh. “Why, to be sure, it’s Lady Liberty!” He took her hand and with great show leaned over to kiss it, bowing gracefully. As he straightened he caught her eyes. “You are even more beautiful today, Miss Annie, than when last I saw you. I was so completely enraptured with your loveliness that for a moment I was dumbfounded. Forgive me.” He stepped back and added, “You have grown up into a breathtaking lady.” He looked to Eliza and Charlotte. “And may I have the pleasure of meeting your fair companions?”
At their introduction, Charlotte was speechless. But Eliza spoke boldly. She told Stuart of the Yankee major, his boast about the Union army taking Richmond within a month, and his bet of champagne. “General,” she finished with playful drama, “if you will capture that major, he will win his bet with me, since he will be on his way to Richmond—as your prisoner! If you will bring him by here, I will gladly pay him his bottle of champagne. Won’t that be amusing?”
Stuart roared with laughter. “A lady after my own heart! Indeed, yes, Miss Eliza, we will look out for this unfortunate major and bring him straight back here to you.” He turned to his staff and shouted: “Gentlemen, to horse. If God wills it, tonight we’ll have captured Pope.” He winked at Annie and lifted h
imself onto his thoroughbred.
“I’m going after my hat!” was his final jubilant shout before he rode off, trailed by fifteen hundred followers, kicking up dirt as they passed.
He had left Annie’s flowers behind, as well as Annie, seething with uncertainty. Grown up? Had he thought her a child before? Oh, if only she hadn’t been so lily-livered when she’d seen him, so tongue-tied. Why couldn’t she have been forthright and poised like Eliza?
As thunder rumbled, matching her predawn mood, Annie flung herself down in front of Charlotte’s dressing table and buried her head in her arms on top of it. General Stuart certainly had been all eyes for that Eliza. Miserable, Annie cried herself to sleep.
At daybreak, there was a pounding on the door and the shouting of male voices. Annie’s head jerked up from the dressing table, where she’d slept. Terrified, she listened. Could it be Federals come back into town? Did someone want to arrest Jamie? Throwing on a dressing gown, she scampered to the landing of the stairs. Five men crowded into the front hall, their cloaks dripping water onto the gleaming hardwood floors. At the sound of her running bare feet, they looked up and took off their hats, letting a stream of rainwater fall from the brims. Their hair matted and soaked, their faces drawn with fatigue, it was hard to make out who they were.
“Do you think Charlotte’s mother might have some real coffee for us, Annie?”
It was Laurence!
Charlotte’s house burst into hospitality, laying out a mammoth breakfast, even offering up some sausage—nearly impossible to procure—for the cavalrymen. Laurence had arrived with one of Stuart’s favorite scouts, William Farley. As Annie passed by him, pouring coffee, Laurence motioned for her to lean down. He whispered into her ear, “This is the gentleman scholar I wrote you about, Annie. Of all the men I’ve met, he’s the one who most shares your love of books. You’ll like him.” Annie glanced over at the self-contained South Carolinian. He had a high, wide forehead; soft, dark hair; large, far-set eyes; and a thick set of whiskers outlining his mouth and jawbone. He had a quiet handsomeness about him, none of the charming liveliness, the bodaciousness of his commanding general.
Annie, Between the States Page 12