Annie, Between the States

by L. M. Elliott

  Colleen darted after, screeching, “Mine, mine.” Neither had said thank you.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Annie. “I wish Mother were here to teach them some manners. I’m failing miserably at it.”

  “Oh, I can’t imagine that,” Thomas said pleasantly. Then he held out a gift for Annie: a handful of chocolate candies wrapped in tissue. Annie almost drooled. She hadn’t seen chocolates for two years.

  She reached out, but then dropped her hands. “I can’t accept that, Major. The doll was gift enough. I know that it was costly.” A sutler had passed through the lines recently, and Annie knew full well that doll had cost as much as twenty dollars—nearly a month’s wages for Thomas.

  Disappointed, Thomas pulled back his outstretched hand. But then he had an idea; Annie could see it. He grinned impishly. “You won’t mind if we sit on the porch a moment?”

  Annie eyed him with amused suspicion. He was up to something. But it was a pleasantly cool autumn afternoon, and she was happy to sit down for a while. She had been out with Rachel and Lenah, picking apples to dry for winter. She was unused to such back-straining, tedious work. Her arms and shoulders ached. She nodded and sat.

  Thomas seated himself across from her and opened the tissue. “Do you mind if I have a chocolate, since I cannot convince you to have one?”

  It wasn’t exactly a polite request, but Annie could already see what he was up to. “Mmmmmmm,” he mumbled as he chewed. “This is mighty fine.” He held the chocolates toward her again.

  Annie laughed. “I do believe you are the devil incarnate,” she teased, “tempting a poor girl with such things.” She hesitated, then reached for a small dark rectangle. She nibbled the end demurely. Lord, did that sweetness melt in her mouth. She couldn’t help it. That was lovely. She took another small, delicious bite, savoring the treat.

  In truth, she had recently enjoyed what now seemed tremendous delicacies. A few days before, some of Mosby’s men had raided the outskirts of Warrenton and found sutler wagons stuffed with sardines, pickled onions, oysters, figs, and cakes. Jamie and Charles Murdock had brought home raisins and cheese, and she and the children had feasted on them. These days they lived on what they had in their own fields and woods—rabbits, fish, wild onions, dandelion greens, root vegetables that hadn’t been trampled by cavalry. It was lean, plain food. The occasional taste of the fancier life she used to know was wonderful.

  The bad part of the raid, though, was that Murdock had also brought home claret and champagne. He’d drunk himself silly and staggered about the house, bragging, swaggering, swearing. Annie had had to herd the children upstairs and Rachel and Lenah out of the house to their cottage. She didn’t like the way he talked to them. Jamie had done nothing to help. In fact, Annie worried that once she’d gone upstairs, the boy had sampled some of the claret himself.

  But she shoved those thoughts away. This was the first time Thomas had visited since right after Miriam’s death almost a month earlier. Annie had to admit that she was sorely glad to see him. He had not come to the funeral, perhaps knowing that many of those attending would not have welcomed his presence in the least. Instead, he had ridden up the next day to tell Annie how sorry he was. He had been unable to stay and had handed her a letter, in which he reminded her that Miriam was now out of pain, away from “The weariness, the fever, and the fret / Here, where men sit and hear each other groan,” once more quoting Keats.

  Perhaps they could read a bit of poetry this afternoon. They hadn’t since that night the doctor came to see Miriam and Thomas had started to say something, well, something wonderful. Annie took a final bite of the chocolate. Jamie and Murdock were off somewhere. They’d see Thomas’ horse and not ride up until he was gone. It was safe to linger a moment. Thomas was her first real gentleman caller. And she was almost eighteen years old now—practically an old maid.

  She smiled over at Thomas. He smiled back.

  “Can you stay a bit?” she asked.

  “I’d like to,” he said, “but I’m afraid I’ll need to return to my detail soon. I—”

  Annie’s expression stopped him. Over his head she had suddenly noticed something alarming: a plume of smoke in the distance. Then she realized she saw another one, farther off to the east.

  Thomas turned and looked where she did. He sighed. “That is where I must head,” he said, and stood. He took her hand and lifted Annie to her feet. “You must forgive us, Annie. We only follow our orders.”

  Annie looked up at him in horror. “What orders?”

  Thomas kept his eyes on hers, even though his face flushed. “Do you remember a month ago, Mosby attacked a thirty-man detail of ours that was escorting a hundred horses?”

  Annie played dumb, although she knew well of it. Murdock and Jamie each rode one of those Federal army horses now, keeping their old ones as reserves. Mosby had also been shot through the thigh and groin on that raid. He’d been recuperating until recently.

  “Well,” Thomas continued, growing uncomfortable, “that raid really ruffled headquarters, because healthy horses are scarce right now. There’s been a terrible outbreak of hoof-and-mouth among our mounts. Even so, we’ve skirmished back and forth with Mosby’s company on what horses we have.”

  Annie knew that, too. Just a few days ago, in fact, the 2nd Massachusetts and Mosby had clashed at Rector’s Crossroads, just about a mile south. Annie had half hoped to see Thomas then when Jamie and Murdock and several other rangers had scampered through their fields into hiding.

  “Headquarters is pressing its orders to burn down houses that harbor Mosby’s men. Colonel Lowell refuses to obey the directive for men who simply belong to Mosby’s command. But he has agreed to destroy known rendezvous points. If he doesn’t, Annie, they’ll replace him with someone who has no compunction about destroying homes and chasing off women and children.”

  Annie recoiled from him. “Whose homes?”

  “I don’t know to whom they belonged. Two mills and a farmhouse.”

  Annie felt sick. She’d been a fool to think that she could be friends with this man who rode with an army determined to starve and burn her people into submission. She took several steps back, shaking her head. “You have to go,” she said hoarsely.

  “Annie, please.” He moved forward.

  “No,” she choked. “You have to go.”

  Thomas stopped, gazing at her sadly. “I’ll be back.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head again. “Please, don’t.”

  “But I will, Annie,” he answered quietly as he backed down the stairs. “I have to. Now that I have found you again, I must. I retreat today. But I do not surrender.”

  The first weeks of October brought quiet to Hickory Heights. Thomas Walker had not come back; his regiment was staying close to its Vienna camp. Annie busied herself and everyone else at Hickory Heights with harvesting all they could from the hills around them. They picked up black walnuts, hickory nuts, and chestnuts from the ground beneath the trees. They picked pawpaws for jelly, and persimmons. They ensured they had found every last apple. Wood was cut and hauled and stacked to heat the old, drafty house.

  The world was beginning to paint itself. Orange, gold, and red flashed up in little flares of color amid the fading greens. Armies of migrating birds gathered, flicking up into the air in a dance of wings at the slightest movement along the ground. The air was crisp and invigorating. The world moved her, and the ache of sadness in Annie began to lift a little each day. The wariness war had taught her, though, never left. Her eyes constantly scanned the horizon for sudden armies, checked the lane for potentially dangerous riders. So much trouble had dashed up that tiny dirt road, one that before the war had always promised the arrival of invited guests or happy news.

  When she first spotted the pair of slow riders, one morning in mid-October, her heart jumped happily with the hope it was Thomas. Then she slapped it down with reprimands. There was to be none of that. He was a good, kind man, certainly, but not one she should a
llow to romance her. That would be even worse than having feelings for the married General Stuart. People would have understood and forgiven her being infatuated with Stuart—half of all Southern women were. But falling in love with a Yankee? No one would understand that.

  She watched the riders for a moment, steeling herself to be polite but firm. She’d have to turn Thomas away. Why are they moving so slowly, she wondered? One of them looked to be leading the other’s horse, and the led one slumped in the saddle. Oh, Lord, is Thomas hurt? She rushed to the top of the lane.

  There she could see the riders’ distant faces. She gasped. “Aunt May! Isaac! Come quickly! It’s Laurence!”

  He was bone thin and pasty faced, as gray as his faded, frayed uniform. Annie fought off tears as she and Aunt May fussed over getting him into the house and settled by the fire. He mustn’t see that his condition worries me, Annie told herself, mustn’t see that I’m frightened. She could have kicked herself for flinching when she tried to help him into the chair, grabbing to steady him by an arm that was no longer there.

  Laurence had seen it and smiled at her wanly. “It’s all right, Annie. I do that myself all the time.”

  Then he’d asked that terrible question: “Where’s Mother?”

  Annie broke the news as gently as she could. But no matter the delivery, of course, the news was the same.

  He didn’t cry, though, until Annie shared Miriam’s last words, that she’d known he was alive because Laurence was not with their dead brothers in a dream she’d had. That’s when Laurence began to cry, and then sob, breaking into wrenching coughs and shudders. Annie only made it worse by trying to quiet him with Miriam’s last request for him to find a happy life.

  “A happy life?” he choked out. “Look at me, Annie. Look at all of us. Hickory Heights is on its knees; so is the Confederacy. I’m not capable of pulling us back up. Mother was the one who knew how to do that.”

  “Oh, Laurence, you’re wrong,” Annie tried. “It’s you who’ve always kept us strong.”

  “No, Annie. It was Mother—Mother telling me I could do it.” Laurence looked so lost. “I will be nothing but a burden to you now. I need…we needed Mother.” Then he turned away. “Please, leave me, Annie. Leave me alone.”

  Annie tiptoed out and went to find Aunt May. She collapsed into the wide, strong arms of the old woman.

  “Miss Annie, you’ve had time to get used to Missus Miriam being gone,” Aunt May consoled Annie. “Poor Mister Laurence. All anybody as hurt as him would want right now is his mama. Give him a few days. He’ll find himself. He always has.”

  The man who had brought Laurence home continued on his way. He, too, had been captured at Gettysburg and paroled. He, too, was gaunt and sickly, but his body was whole, the wound to his leg mostly healed. The long, circuitous trip had been less hard on him. Both he and Laurence had been taken from the Washington hospital to a Federal prison at Point Lookout on the edge of Chesapeake Bay. From there they’d been taken by barge to Aquia Creek in Virginia for prisoner exchange. When Confederate authorities had seen their condition, they’d discharged them from the army and told them to go home. It was up to Laurence and the man to make their way there.

  “It’s only a few more miles to my home, Miss Annie. Don’t you recognize me?” the man said.

  Annie nearly fell over when he told her who he was. She had known him somewhat, an excellent foxhunter. He couldn’t be older than twenty-five, but he looked twice that age.

  “Give your parents my hellos,” she called after him, as he rode away. “Thank you for bringing Laurence.”

  All day, Annie did her best to make Laurence comfortable. But she could tell he was in pain. The surgeons had just recently removed the final strings from his severed arteries, and there were tiny pin-pricks of blood stains on the shoulder of his jacket. She tried to ease it off him but bumped him about as she did, clumsy from nervousness. Finally, right before dinner, he dropped off to sleep in his chair.

  That’s when Jamie crashed into the house with Murdock. They were laughing and hooting. Annie rushed to silence them.

  “Laurence?” Jamie asked excitedly, then stopped himself and adopted an unimpressed bluster. “Big brother’s home now, Murdock. Better go upstairs and stay out of trouble.”

  Murdock smirked and started up the stairs. He was carrying a bottle of whiskey.

  Annie was appalled by Jamie’s attitude. Even at his most impudent, Jamie would never have spoken so callously before. Murdock was a bad influence. Annie made a quick decision. “Best go upstairs and pack your things, Mr. Murdock. We can no longer house you. With my brother so ill, you’ll have to leave. I’m sorry. If the Federals come again, I can explain Jamie. But I cannot explain you. I cannot risk their arresting Laurence, given his current condition. I am sure you understand.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Charlie,” Jamie fairly shouted. “I’m not about to take orders from her now, too. You stay. I say so.”

  “Jamie!” Annie moved closer to speak so only he could hear. She didn’t like Murdock. He frightened her somehow. The last thing Laurence needed right now was to be disturbed by some renegade ranger. Murdock’s presence certainly wouldn’t benefit the already volatile trouble between Jamie and Laurence. But when she drew near to Jamie, she smelled the distinct sticky-sweet scent of whiskey. She gasped, “Have you been drinking?”

  Jamie grinned at her, like a schoolboy caught in stealing a pie.

  “Have you?” came a clear, commanding voice.

  Annie and Jamie turned. Laurence stood in the doorway, steady, tall. Annie knew just how much it cost him in pain to look so normal and strong.

  Jamie turned his usual shade of red. He said nothing, nothing about Laurence’s condition, nothing to welcome him home.

  Laurence studied his younger brother. Then he turned to Murdock. “I must ask you to leave—Mr. Murdock, is it? My sister requests it.”

  It was Murdock’s turn to color red. “It’s nightfall. I’ve nowhere to go.”

  Laurence’s answer dripped with contempt. “I am sure a seasoned soldier such as you is accustomed to bivouacking for the night. Please help yourself to a blanket if you have none and leave. And be sure to take that whiskey bottle with you. We do not drink in this house.”

  Murdock scowled and stomped his way upstairs.

  Laurence turned to Jamie. Annie held her breath. Oh, please, Laurence, please, Jamie, she thought, I can’t bear a fight between you now. She thought of their horrible fist-fight the last time they’d been together, right before Laurence had left to ride into Pennsylvania, into disaster.

  “James,” Laurence began with thunder, then stopped. He reached up to wipe his forehead, and Annie started for him. Laurence held up his one hand. “No need, Annie. I’m all right; the rest did me good. You’ll see that I remember what we talked about before I left for Gettysburg. There is enough warfare outside our home. We needn’t have it here between brothers,” he added quietly and sadly, “especially when one is now only half a man.”

  He began again, carefully, with a weary voice, the spark all gone. “James, I know if you had thought through that, you would have thought better of your answer. A good Southern soldier…like yourself…always supports a lady’s decision.” Laurence fell back to lean against the wall, slumping. “Come. Give me your arm to lean on.”

  Jamie at first looked suspicious, as if there had to be a rebuke or disapproval hidden somewhere in Laurence’s words.

  Laurence held up his hand. “I need your help now, Jamie.”

  Jamie looked about ten feet tall as he helped his brother to his chair.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  November 1, 1863

  Hickory Heights

  “Miss Annie! Miss Annie! Come quick! Lord have mercy! Miss Annie!”

  Annie nearly fell out of bed, scrambling to answer. It was just past midnight. With shaking hands, she lit her candle and stumbled to the top of the stairs.

  Below in the front hall were Aunt
May and Isaac, in their nightclothes. Aunt May had sunk to the floor and was rocking back and forth, crying.

  “Good God, what is it?” cried Annie, frozen to where she stood. She knew it had to be awful since Aunt May was so upset.

  “That Murdock man. He came to our cottage. He and another man,” Isaac began.

  “He done took my baby,” wailed Aunt May. “They took Rachel and Lenah and said they was going to sell them to a trader ’cross the river. My baby!”

  “What?” Annie gasped. Behind her came the running feet of the entire household, followed by the slow, unsteady tread of Laurence. Annie skittered down the stairs to free herself of the frightened clutch around her knees of her little cousins. Jamie followed.

  “Aunt May.” She crouched and held the shaking body. “How long ago?”

  “Just now. They tied the girls onto a mule. Murdock held a pistol to my baby’s head so I wouldn’t do nothing. If he’d held it to mine, it wouldn’t have stopped me. He could’ve put a bullet in my head and I’d still have kicked that varmint to death.”

  “Jamie!” Annie turned to scream for her brother, but he was already beside her.

  “Who was with him? Do you know?” Jamie asked.

  “No.”

  “Describe him to me.”

  She did.

  “I know who it is.” Jamie turned to Annie. His calm stunned her. “I think I know where they’ll go, too. Murdock muttered something about this. His friend was furious with Mosby because the major didn’t give him a share of some money we found last raid. Major Mosby said the Confederate army needed it instead. So he and Murdock started concocting a plan to steal some slaves and sell them.”

  “Jamie, why didn’t you say something to me!”

  “He was drinking. I didn’t believe him.”

  “Miss Annie,” Isaac asked in a quavering voice, “what about that e-man-sup-ta-tion proclaim Mister Laurence told us about? Ain’t we free now?” Tears were streaming down the old man’s face.