She heard Thomas cough and saw a smile twitch across his face briefly before he suppressed it.
The superintendent rattled his papers. “I suggest you adopt an air of cooperation, Miss Sinclair. How you answer may determine what charges we bring against you. We know that you have alerted both Mosby and Stuart of our troop movements, twice that we can prove with witnesses. That constitutes spying. We know from our own operatives in Warrenton that Stuart was quite impressed by your loyalty and espionage abilities and communicated with you frequently.”
Cousin Francis stepped in again. “There has been no proof of that. You have thoroughly searched Miss Sinclair’s home and found absolutely nothing to support your egregious insinuations.”
Thank you, God, for little Will. Annie hadn’t known what had happened about those poems. She had heard nothing further from Charlotte. Either Will had hidden them completely or Charlotte had told Laurence to destroy them. Oh, she hoped Charlotte had found her compassion and married Laurence, too. She longed to know.
Her questioner noticed the change in Annie’s face. “You needn’t look so relieved, Miss Sinclair. We also know that you shot a picket. You are lucky that the soldier lived—otherwise we might see fit to charge you with murder.”
Annie couldn’t help herself. A wave of joy overcame her. “He lived? He did? Oh, praise God!”
“Annie,” shushed Francis.
“Aha!” The superintendent said triumphantly. He slapped his papers onto his desk and wrote furiously.
Annie didn’t care. The boy had lived. She hadn’t killed him. She knew she had shot in self-defense, but oh, the guilt of thinking she had taken another life had imprisoned her as surely as the walls of Carrol Prison had. Now she was free of it. She felt life flood through her. Beaming, she looked over at Thomas. He was watching her so carefully; she felt that his eyes burned through to her soul. She looked at Cousin Francis, who had lowered his head and was shaking it back and forth, his bald scalp shining. There was no sound save for the scribbling of prison officials.
Annie laughed out loud, clapped her hands together, and repeated happily: “He lived!” She wanted to dance!
Suddenly Thomas burst out laughing as well. “God help me, Annie,” he said, “I just knew it had to be an accident. I just knew you couldn’t have planned to do it.”
“Major Walker,” Cousin Francis fairly shouted.
“You’re making things worse.”
Thomas sobered quickly. “No. I’m going to fix them.”
He stepped forward, pulling a letter from his breast pocket. “I have a letter here that was delivered under a flag of truce from Colonel Mosby.”
The superintendent’s head shot up.
A letter from Mosby? wondered Annie, still too pleased by the news of the picket’s survival to grasp her peril—that this military tribunal was aiming to prosecute, try, and sentence her all at once.
“And how did you come by a communiqué from Mosby?” the superintendent sneered.
“Through proper channels of war,” replied Thomas. “Colonel Mosby is a lawyer; he knows the law. And he writes:
“Miss Ann Sinclair comes from a family of Southern patriots, serving their country with bravery. Her brother James is an enlisted member of the Confederate cavalry, assigned to my command, the 43rd battalion of Virginia. Upon occasion our soldiers have been billeted at the Sinclair home, which is in accordance with the practice of lawful warfare. Miss Sinclair has never engaged in subterfuge, coercion, stealing of information, crossing borders illegally, carrying of official Confederate documents, or deceit. Her shooting of the Union picket, who had fired upon her and her companions from the cover of bushes, was entirely in self-defense. As such, she should be acquitted of all charges immediately. Lieutenant Colonel John S. Mosby, Esquire.”
Thomas pulled another letter out of his pocket and held it up high for emphasis. “This is a letter I have written but not yet delivered to Mrs. Lincoln at the White House. It is well known that she is a devoted abolitionist. I’m sure if she is informed of the purpose of Miss Sinclair’s ride out into the night, in which Miss Sinclair fired in self-defense, the first lady would surely persuade her husband to grant her clemency. Miss Sinclair was out to defend the life and freedom of a freed slave, her servant, her friend. I wouldn’t be surprised if President Lincoln didn’t decide to oust you, given the length of Miss Sinclair’s imprisonment and oft-improper denial of visitors and food. I know that he plans to commute the sentence of Private Trammel from death to ten years of hard labor. President Lincoln wishes to show clemency once this war is over. He wants the country reunited. Persecution of persons such as Miss Sinclair will only prolong the hatred between North and South.”
He lowered the letter and stood in a kind of spread-legged swagger she’d seen Laurence adopt sometimes, a king-of-the-hill kind of posture. “In fact, I suggest you release Miss Sinclair today, before a heap of trouble befalls you.”
The superintendent had been gaping at Thomas all this time. He blinked his froglike eyes. “Are you daft?”
“No, quite sane. You’ve jailed her long enough.”
The superintendent sputtered. “The only way I would release this woman would be if she swore allegiance to the United States by taking the loyalty oath, and even then I would have serious doubts that she would hold to it.”
“How dare you, man.” Thomas stepped closer, his chest heaving. “This lady has done nothing but act with integrity and the deepest of loyalty to humanity. She and her mother nursed Union wounded at Manassas even as our troops trampled their crops and stole—oh, excuse me—appropriated their horses. She risked her life to save the freedom and well-being of her servant. If she signs an oath of loyalty to the United States, she will keep it, probably more strongly than any man.”
Thomas’ words rang in Annie’s ears. They were the most heartfelt words of love and admiration he’d ever spoken, even though he had not said the specific word.
Cousin Francis broke into her thoughts: “Will you sign an oath of loyalty, Annie? If you do, they will release you. This very day.”
Would they? Today? Annie’s heart raced at the thought of being free. Still, she couldn’t sign those papers. She would be betraying all she’d fought for, suffered for, if she did.
Slowly, Annie shook her head. “I do not plan to ever engage in this war again. I will pray for it to end soon. No matter the outcome. But, no, I cannot sign a paper to be loyal to a government that seems obsessed with degrading my people, or to a country to which I no longer belong.”
The superintendent smirked. “So much for your speech, Walker. I am going to see that you are written up for insubordination and consorting with the enemy and…”
Thomas held up his hand to stop the superintendent’s prattle. He was so unafraid, Annie marveled. Thomas approached her and took her hand. His smile radiated confidence and entreaties both. “Could you promise loyalty to your husband’s country?”
Annie caught her breath. What a place for a marriage proposal! If she accepted, would it later feel she had done so simply as a way out? How could she give up so many things for this man—her homeland, her family, some would say her honor—after fighting so hard to save them? He was the enemy. And yet, he was all she had ever wanted to have in a husband, a true soul mate.
Thomas saw her wavering and whispered fervently, “Come read me a poem, Annie, a poem of your choice, and lend it the beauty of your voice.”
Oh, it was so tempting. Flustered, Annie looked at the floor to think. If she kept his gaze, that passionate, imploring gaze, she’d say yes automatically, completely beguiled. What should she do? Annie felt complete with him, protected and challenged at the same moment, coveted for the right reasons—her mind and her heart. Now she knew what love felt like—not some breathless infatuation based on unfulfilled hints, but a heart-pounding trust and respect and desire to be with someone, no matter how different the two people were.
Still, Annie lingered in confusion. T
hen, quietly, magically, Miriam’s gentle voice came to her, steady and reassuring as in life, repeating something she’d said as she died: “Remember that it doesn’t matter where someone comes from, but where that person is going.”
Did it matter where either of them had come from, as long as they moved forward together? But it had to be a new world of their combined voice. Annie looked up and saw fear on Thomas’ face. Tenderly, she reached out to the jagged welt that ran along his face. Their own voice.
Her answer came. “Yes, Thomas, I could, if you could promise never again to raise arms against my homeland.”
Now Thomas hesitated.
Annie knew what she asked him to sacrifice: a distinguished military career he had worked for since his youth. Thomas was an honorable soldier, one who believed in the Union he fought to preserve. If he said yes, they would both be emigrants, cut off from all past alliances, roots, beliefs, and dreams. But they’d have each other.
She waited.
It took Thomas only a moment. “Done,” he said. “I’ll resign my commission from the army. We will make our own peace treaty between us.”
“Done,” said Annie.
And so it was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
September 24, 1864
Hickory Heights
There it was—home. But no longer her home. Annie pulled up her horse. Thomas halted his, waiting for her to be ready. Ready to say good-bye.
They paused at the bottom of the lane. Autumn gold was beginning to seep into the leaves of the vaulting hickory trees surrounding the house. The dogwood underneath them blazed red, and Annie remembered how, come spring, their white flowers would look like a constellation of stars strung through the green sky of taller, larger trees. She felt a hard lump growing in her throat. “Do you have dogwood in Massachusetts, Thomas?”
“Not as many as here,” he answered quietly.
“We do have mountain laurel the size of elephants that grows thick through the forests.”
“Does April come gradually, with misty rains that wash the earth in soft green and bring the scent of lilacs and apple blossoms? Do Carolina wrens nest in the crooks of houses and bring luck with their warbling? And are there valleys wide and open enough that you can watch the shadow of a red-tailed hawk drift across its entirety?”
“Not where I—where we will live, my dear,” said Thomas. “But there’s a brook that runs through our property that laughs as it goes, and wisteria that climbs along the porch, inviting the same hummingbirds you have here. The winters are long but filled with books and reading and music in fire-lit rooms. There are hills, and there is the ocean—a coastline of waves and the promise of worlds beyond. There is beauty there, too.”
Annie nodded. She was excited by the idea of new landscapes. She’d never seen the ocean. And yet, this good-bye would be so very hard. Not even the difficulties of the past two months had prepared her for how much her heart was aching at the thought of it now that it had come.
She and Thomas had left Carrol Prison the evening of her hearing, after she’d signed her oath of allegiance. It would take several days before Thomas could complete his resignation. They decided to remain in the city until that was done. Besides, it wasn’t safe to leave Washington after dark and try to cross the Potomac or pass through lines of Federal pickets to the home of Cousin Eleanor and Francis. So the three of them walked to a hotel near the White House.
“It’s a delightful place. They’ll have a fine dinner, too. I certainly could use a decent meal,” said Cousin Francis, who’d been congratulating himself for Annie’s release all afternoon. He suddenly realized, however, that it was Annie who could really use a filling supper. “It will do you a world of good, Annie. I’ll see if they can provide you a bath as well. Major Walker and I will share a room.”
Annie hardly heard him. She was overwhelmed at the feel of fresh, twilight air on her face, the push and bustle of the street, the seemingly acres of white columns and marble staircases of the government buildings and imposing town homes near them. She tucked her hand around Thomas’ arm and tugged him toward her as a shield.
“It’s all right, Annie,” Thomas soothed her. “I know it is a hard adjustment after being locked up for so long. We’ll get you into a quiet place quickly. Here we are.” He nodded toward the wide steps of a grand old building.
They climbed the stairs and walked into an elegant foyer. Annie took in the huge, gleaming chandelier, the wide, colorful Oriental rugs, the potted ferns, and red velveteen sofas with their claw feet. Her head began to swim a bit from the sudden change to her circumstances. Thomas gently guided her to a chair that was as puffed up as a pincushion. Cousin Francis approached the official-looking man behind a polished brass cage and mahogany desk.
“We need two rooms for the night, please,” said Francis. “One for the gentleman and myself, and another for the lady.”
The man eyed him and then peered around him at Annie. “We’ll be glad to serve the gentlemen, but I’m afraid we cannot accommodate the…red-headed girl,” he said coldly. He pointed to a small sign in the window beside the door.
It read “No Dogs or Irish Allowed.”
It had taken several hours after that to find a boardinghouse with rooms available. Before sinking into a bed that was only slightly cleaner than what she’d suffered at Carrol Prison, Annie remembered horror stories that Aunt Molly had told about her maternal grandparents’ arrival in the United States, how much prejudice they had encountered in New York City. “It was even worse in places like Boston, dearie,” she’d said. “You’d think them English be running the new world. That’s how it was the family came to Virginia, to build railroads. ’Tis better for us in the country.”
“Thomas,” she asked the next day, “you don’t live in Boston, do you?”
“No,” he answered. “But not too far away from there, outside a small hamlet. Why do you ask that now, Annie? You won’t change your mind and break my heart, will you?” His smile was so disarming, she almost forgot the question. And when he kissed her, it no longer mattered.
Still, there were more difficulties. Thomas faced a great deal of inquiry regarding his resignation. He then became as suspect as Annie in terms of travel. They couldn’t leave Washington until Cousin Francis had convinced the judge advocate of the War Department to grant them passports and to hold Francis responsible if they caused any trouble.
They traveled to Francis and Eleanor’s home then. There, they were married in early September. Cousin Eleanor read from the Song of Solomon, “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come….”
Amazed by the choice of such lush biblical verse, Annie wondered about Cousin Francis and Eleanor’s youth. The old lady certainly wasn’t as crusty as Annie had once thought. But then, so much about the world was different from what Annie had believed it to be. She felt a glimmer of a strong affection for Eleanor. Her indignant wrath at the clerk and her baskets had kept Annie breathing, hoping.
Gaining passes to travel to Hickory Heights had been an enormous task as well. But in that instance, Thomas’ past service with Colonel Lowell helped. Lowell was now riding with General Sheridan, and Sheridan had retaken Winchester and again occupied most of northern Virginia. Atlanta had fallen. The Yankees felt confident enough to be magnanimous. Thomas was issued a pass through.
And so they had arrived. What reaction would Laurence and Jamie have to her marriage? Annie drew in a deep breath.
“Let’s find Laurence,” she said, and clucked the horse into a trot up the lane to Hickory Heights.
“Mrs. Walker, I presume?” Laurence asked happily as Annie dismounted the horse.
She smiled and nodded shyly.
He caught her up with his good arm and swung her around. Oh, he felt strong and whole again. Annie was so glad. So grateful for his understanding.
“How did you know?”
she asked, gasping a little from his tight embrace.
“Oh, I just knew, honey,” Laurence said, suddenly sober. “Any bluebird who could be that distressed at arresting such a hardheaded Confederate as you…well, it was clear to me that he loved you. I knew he would do all he could to win your release when I had no power to do it. The only thing I was uncertain of was if he could win your heart—that proud, brave, rebellious heart. I’m glad he did.” Laurence turned to Thomas and extended his left hand. “I thank you for my sister’s safety…brother.”
Thomas extended his left hand as well and the two former adversaries, now kin, shook hands.
That’s when everyone else, who’d been waiting quietly in the hall, rushed forward to surround Annie.
“Look at you, Miss Annie, all growed up. Why, you is the spitting image of Missus Miriam when I first laid eyes on her.” Aunt May had to put her apron to her face and cry.
Colleen and Sally joined hands and danced around her, singing a nursery rhyme: “The King of Spain’s daughter kissed me wild and free / And all for the sake of my little nut tree.”
Annie blushed and shooed them off.
“Congratulations, Miss Annie, I…I…,” Isaac began, but he choked up as well.
“What Daddy’s trying to tell you, Annie, is thank you.” There stood Rachel, safe, beautiful, and…round!
“Rachel!” Annie gasped, holding Rachel out at arm’s length. “Are you?”
Rachel nodded. “If it’s a girl, I’d like to name her Anna. If it’s a boy, Andrew. In honor of the lady who made the baby’s life possible. Would that be all right with you?”
“I cannot think of a greater honor for me,” Annie whispered with emotion. What kind of world, what kind of acceptance awaits this baby beyond Hickory Heights, Annie worried silently. What she had seen in Washington did not reassure her in terms of their prospects. And some Southerners, no matter how much she hated to admit it, would only become more bigoted and resentful if—when—they lost the war. She shook her head. This was not the time to think on such worrisome matters. Now was time for jubilation. She turned to congratulate Sam on becoming a father, but a sudden recognition changed her words. “Sam! You made it home.”
Annie, Between the States Page 29