High Hearts

by Rita Mae Brown

  Banjo became a legend. Slowly but surely he cleaned out company after company.

  One frustrated captain, newly impoverished, encouraged Banjo to abandon his cards and embrace the Lord. Banjo replied, “Piety is like garlic. A little goes a long way.” When the remark reached Mars’s ears, he sent Banjo a box of his best cigars.

  Geneva, Nash, and Banjo sat inside Geneva’s tent studying a map of the Confederacy and the United States. Since so much action was in Missouri and Kentucky, they were curious about it and thought the map could offer clues. Wearing an old sweater, Mars walked in and crouched down with them, explaining the situation as he saw it.

  Sumner burst through the flap, but didn’t notice Mars, who had his back to him. “Food! Heard a sergeant in my company whispering that he found a hidden source of flour and oats in an old well on the back of Flugel’s farm. If we hurry, we can beat them to it.”

  Mars turned around. “Stealing, Captain?”

  “Colonel—uh, you see, sir—well, yes. I’m hungry and Flugel’s made out right well in trading, I reckon.”

  “I reckon so, too.” Mars’s eyes were merry. “Let’s go.” He put his hat on Geneva’s cot. No point in advertising that a colonel was descending to petty thievery.

  They made their way through their lines in the darkness. The sentries asked for the password, and Mars, the only one who knew it, said, “Queen Victoria.”

  “Queen Victoria?” Banjo was curious.

  “Don’t ask me, I didn’t come up with it.” Mars shrugged.

  The full moon flooded the dirt road with light. A half mile beyond the sentry, a split rail fence in a zigzag pattern announced the rear of Flugel’s land.

  Nash hopped the fence. Banjo, Mars, Sumner, and Geneva prudently crawled over it.

  “This way, Colonel.” Sumner directed him toward a field full of corn stubble. Picking their way through stalks, they crossed the field to a cleared meadow.

  “Damn!” Sumner swore.

  Six soldiers were hauling up food from the unused well.

  “I got an idea,” Banjo whispered to Mars.

  “I’m glad somebody does,” Nash groaned. He was very hungry.

  “Go to it, Cracker.”

  Banjo pulled his pistol and fired in the air. “You worthless vagrants get away from my well!”

  The soldiers, thinking the farmer had come upon them, dropped the rope and ran back to camp. Banjo fired over their heads again for fun. Those boys moved like a streak.

  “Let’s go!” Banjo dashed to the well.

  Sumner heaved up the rope, harder work than it looked. “Here’s one!” A heaven-sent sack of ground flour, wrapped in heavy burlap, landed by Geneva’s feet.

  “Looks like there’s more down there.” Geneva got down on her hands and knees to peer into the well.

  “I’ll climb down and tie the rope around the stuff.” Nash, wiry and strong, grabbed the rope and scurried down, using his feet against the walls of the well. “Two more big ones,” he called up to the others.

  “Okay, we’re ready.” Sumner and Mars hauled up another sack.

  Within fifteen minutes, they secured their booty.

  Banjo called down the well, “Can you get back up?”

  “Yes.” Nash caught the rope and began climbing up, harder work than climbing down.

  “You’re part monkey, Piggy.” Mars praised him.

  “Thanks, Colonel.”

  “Christ, this stuff is heavy.” Geneva slung a sack over her shoulder and stumbled forward.

  “We’ll take turns. There’re three sacks and five of us.” Mars pitched a sack up on his own shoulder. “This must weigh one hundred pounds.”

  Spelling each other, the five hauled the sacks to the fence, then tottered another quarter of a mile further.

  “We can’t go through the sentries with these,” Geneva advised.

  “I outrank ’em, and they’ll do what I say.” Mars smiled.

  “Maybe they’ll know who you are and maybe they won’t,” Sumner said. “Aside from the stripes on your trousers, you don’t have any insignia.”

  Mars looked down at himself. “You’ve got a point there, Sumner.”

  “Besides which, if he’s one of those infantry boys, they can get pissy.”

  “There’s always some joker who falls asleep or talks to the other sentry down the line. Give me a minute, and let me scout the perimeter,” Sumner offered.

  “Don’t you get shot!” Geneva said worriedly.

  “In the dark those fellows couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

  The four sat on sacks and waited until Sumner returned. “Come on.”

  Heaving the sacks, they puffed down the road. Sure enough, there was a gap in the line.

  “I’ll have that son of a bitch’s hide,” Mars hissed.

  “After we get through.” Geneva took a sack from Nash and started for the line. She scooted through, then Mars and Banjo, each with a sack, also made it. Sumner and Nash crossed about a hundred yards distant, just in case it was necessary to create a diversion.

  “Easy as pie!” Nash exulted.

  They started back for their camp. Before they crossed into the cavalry section, they found themselves confronted by four infantrymen, one of them a Goliath.

  “What have we here?” the giant sneered.

  “Looks like sister boys to me, Charlie,” a thin one sneered.

  “Shut up, asshole,” Geneva flared.

  “You cavalry boys are jes so pretty, it makes my heart beat faster,” Charlie continued. “And here you come courtin’ with sacks of somethin’ special.”

  Mars stepped forward. “Why don’t you forget it. Go back to your tent.”

  “Who died and made you God?” Charlie asked.

  The other infantrymen laughed. Charlie moved to get a closer look. Boldly, Geneva walked right up to him. He recognized her. “It’s the sister boy that’s such a good rider.”

  “Don’t get ugly,” Geneva warned him.

  “Ugly? Why, I was hopin’ you’d come into my tent and keep me warm tonight.”

  Geneva socked Charlie in the jaw. “Hell, no!” She ducked as Charlie swung his right fist over her head.

  Nash sprang to her defense. “Watch the sacks!” He pushed her out of the way and confronted Charlie. “You know how young he is. It’s not fair to pick on him.”

  “No, but it’s fair to pick on you.” Charlie hit Nash so hard, they had to peel him off the ground. The men made a circle.

  Banjo wisely put the sacks inside the circle so no one would run off with their ill-gotten gain.

  Nash, rocky, got to his feet to continue the fight.

  An infantryman sidled over to Banjo. “I say you cavalry boys are all cocksuckers.”

  “Is that a fact? I say that you infantry boys are living proof the Indian fucked the buffalo.” Banjo hit him with both fists in the stomach. As the infantryman keeled over, Banjo landed a fierce uppercut on his jaw. The man went down spitting teeth.

  “Nice work, Banjo.” Mars patted him.

  Two other infantrymen, seeing their friend go down, moved menacingly toward Banjo and Mars. Sumner stayed next to Geneva and the sacks. Geneva was hopping up and down like a rabbit. Mars and Banjo put themselves back to back like a trained team and waited for the infantrymen. Seeing this maneuver, the two infantrymen decided to remain as spectators for now.

  “I jes want to carry him off.” A thin one pointed to the toothless one in the dirt. He hooked his arm under the fallen man and dragged him to the sidelines.

  Nash was getting the worst of the fight. Charlie, much taller, outweighed Nash by seventy pounds.

  Mars stepped in. “Look here, he’s no match for you.”

  “I can take it,” Nash gasped.

  “I know you can.” Mars put his hand on Charlie’s chest. “Why don’t we tangle?” Mars smiled at Charlie.

  “You ain’t much bigger than your fella there,” Charlie boasted. “I’ll make sausages outta you, too.�
��

  As Mars, Nash, and Charlie negotiated who would fight whom, the two healthy infantiymen conferred. The sacks drew their attention at last.

  “They’re gonna make a run for it!” Sumner picked up a sack.

  Geneva and Banjo picked up the remaining two sacks. As the three men came toward them, Banjo and Sumner swung the sacks, knocking their opponents off balance. Geneva swung, but missed. Nash, spattered with blood, moved to Geneva’s aid. Within seconds everyone was fighting.

  Mars and Charlie started pounding on one another. The huge man had an advantage over Mars, but Mars was heavily muscled and quick, and he could absorb punches. Charlie, who had no plan other than to keep swinging, had trouble landing blows on the more agile Mars. “Come on, you cocksucker,” Charlie snarled as Mars moved away from him.

  “I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap,” taunted Mars.

  “Dream on.” Charlie caught him on the shoulder. Mars reeled backwards. He sprang up and continued jabbing. Without meaning to, Mars bumped into Nash and fell over. Charlie pounced on him. Geneva, turning from her opponent, kicked Charlie in the side. Her legs were strong, and she knew she smashed him square on the ribs. Mars rolled away. As Charlie got heavily to his feet, Mars blasted him in the eye. But the large man wasn’t easily daunted. He grabbed for Mars, and Mars leapt away. If that ogre wrestled with him, he wouldn’t have a chance.

  Banjo, meanwhile, dispatched his victim. The fellow was a half-hearted fighter, so Banjo had the advantage. He pushed his sack behind the heels of the man slashing at Sumner and motioned for Sumner to advance on him. Sumner did, enduring a crushing blow to the nose. The infantryman tripped over the sack and went down on his back. Banjo smashed him on the temple with a doubled-up fist, and the fellow was out cold.

  Sumner and Banjo next turned their attentions to Geneva and Nash. Nash, wobbly on his legs, leaned on his wife’s right shoulder. He could no longer land a blow, but he was doing his best to keep the man off her. Geneva was losing the fight, but not giving up. Her lip was split and blood spilled onto her shirt. Banjo pulled his pistol from the holster and cracked him over the head. The victim fell to his knees and then on his face.

  All eyes were now on Mars and Charlie. Mars’s shirt was ripped up the back. A red bruise raised up on his cheek.

  “Boy knows how to box,” Banjo said admiringly.

  Sumner, holding his right hand to his nose, supported Nash with his left hand. “Yeah, but that ape’s a killer.”

  Geneva lurched forward and jumped on Charlie’s back. She pressed her thumbs into his neck, but he ripped her off like a burr.

  “Stay outta this, Jimmy. You’ll get hurt,” Mars commanded.

  Banjo yanked her by the elbow back to his side.

  “We can’t let that man beat up the colonel!” Geneva cried.

  “The colonel?” Charlie paused for a fatal second, and Mars delivered a punishing right to his jaw. He blinked, and Mars followed with a left. Staggering, the huge man, still game, swung wildly at Mars who brought his fist down on the back of Charlie’s neck. The giant folded onto the ground.

  Mars wiped blood off his moustache and grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Five bloodied, rubber-legged cavalrymen stumbled into their camp. The sacks felt like iron.

  “Your tent is closer,” Banjo said to Mars.

  “Put them in Jimmy’s. How would it look if I got caught with this stuff?” Mars gasped.

  Finally inside the tent, they sank onto the cots.

  By now their wounds smarted. Half of Mars’s face shone a resplendent purple. Geneva’s lip swelled so much she looked comical. Banjo, the least injured of the group, had only a cut over his eye, but it bled terribly.

  “Nose is broke.” Sumner tipped back his head to stop the bleeding.

  “We laid ’em to whaleshit!” Banjo crowed.

  They spent the remainder of the evening applauding one another’s prowess. Everything was going fine until Sumner blundered.

  “I don’t much cotton to being called a cocksucker.”

  “You know how jealous they are of cavalrymen.” Banjo hoped that would stop it.

  “Jealous? They’re downright rude and crude. Sister boy? Humph!” he snorted.

  “Cause of me, Sumner.” Geneva gingerly tried another biscuit.

  “They think I’m one, too,” Nash said.

  “You two do swan about like the Siamese twins of love.” Mars wasn’t rancorous, just factual.

  “I’m a married man.” Nash knew that sounded ridiculous. Married men visited bordellos and seduced young men as readily as unmarried men.

  “I’d like to see the sorry female you talked into marrying you,” Mars flared.

  Sumner’s face turned bright red and so did Geneva’s.

  “At least she loves me. I don’t see where your wife gives a good goddamn.” Nash sat up.

  “Leave my wife out of this!”

  “Then return the favor.” Nash was hot. “I despise you thinking I take advantage of Jimmy.”

  “I didn’t say I thought that. I said you two act like the Siamese twins of love.”

  “Oh yeah, I notice you giving him the glad eye!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Hart. You don’t have both oars in the water,” Mars sputtered.

  “I’m ready to fight again.”

  “I don’t like you enough to hit you!” Mars raised his voice.

  “You both make me sick,” Geneva said and left the tent.

  OCTOBER 19, 1861

  Mars’s swollen face testified to the fight the night before. General Stuart upbraided him for it. “I’ve half a mind to bust you back to major, but that would make you too happy. You’ll have to suffer as a colonel.” He decried Mars’s lack of ambition, for surely he could make brigadier, too.

  Mars argued that it was enough to be a colonel. He learned more in the field than he’d ever learned in staff meetings where one was in danger of death by hemorrhoids.

  Stuart laughed. He admired Mars ever since they were at West Point together. Mars was in the graduating class when Stuart was a plebe. Mars’s good looks, horsemanship, and open manner made him the idol of everyone. It was difficult for Stuart, an ambitious man, to understand that Mars’s ambitions rested elsewhere. Perhaps if Mars were a Presbyterian instead of an Episcopalian, he’d snap into shape.

  Mars was relieved that Stuart hadn’t found out about the sacks of stolen grain. He was also delighted that Stuart granted him three days’ leave in Richmond.

  OCTOBER 20, 1861

  The earth shifting on her axis, away from summer’s warmth, seemed to Nash a symbol. By degrees he was moving away from the simple love offered by Geneva. If she had not enlisted, he wondered if he would have been able to pick up the marriage where he had left it.

  He listened to other men, lonesome for their wives, imagining the day when the war would be over. They assumed they’d stride through the front door to be greeted by wives and children. But this war was changing everybody. Perhaps the human race backs into the future, unable to see anything save its own past. He knew he was changing. He didn’t know how much of it was due to the war and how much of it was due to getting to know his wife. True, he was learning about Geneva in extraordinary circumstances, but he suspected he would have discovered her true personality anyway. At Chatfield it just would have taken longer. She wasn’t the wife of his dreams. He knew she was a good person, but she irritated him by her ignorance. She cared nothing for the things he loved—books, good conversation, intellectual respect; and he cared nothing for the things she loved—horses, adventure, and war.

  Nash turned the page of Tristram Shandy. The oil lamp sputtered. Geneva, unusually quiet for her, was writing a letter. He observed her profile. Knowing that his feelings about her were changing frightened him, and yet he felt a deep affection for her. Over and over he reminded himself she was risking her life to be with him. The least he could do was to be kind to her.

  She looked over at him. “G
ood book?”

  “Yes. Who is the lucky recipient of your letter?”

  Smiling, she said, “It’s hard for me to sit still. That’s what I hate about writing. I’m writing Daddy.”

  “Pretending to be in England?” He kept the book open, a signal he would return to it.

  “No, I’m telling him the truth.” Nash’s eyes widened and she continued. “I can’t stand the thought that I’m lying to him.”

  “Once he gets over the shock, I’m sure he’ll be pleased that you did tell him. No one likes being lied to, even when it’s for their own good.”

  She carefully put down her pen and capped the inkwell. “Are you mad at me?”

  He closed his book. “Of course not.”

  “You never want to make love anymore.”

  Embarrassed, Nash said, “How can we? These are difficult circumstances, and we can’t ride off like we used to. Vickers tightened discipline like a noose after Manassas.”

  She sighed, “I know.” She paused. “You still love me, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I love you.” Nash smiled and then opened his book. Liar, he thought, what a liar I am. I love her more like a brother than a wife.

  OCTOBER 21, 1861

  Indian summer bathed Richmond in a deep orange glow. In the overcrowded city, people complained of bad lodgings and obscene food prices. Coffee was up to four dollars a pound. Supplies dwindled daily, thanks to the Yankee blockade. However, even the most pigheaded resident thought himself lucky when passing Belle Isle. Sitting in the middle of the James River, Belle Isle was a camp for prisoners of war. Since the Confederacy was having trouble feeding Richmond’s own sons and daughters, certainly food was not squandered on enemy prisoners.

  Mars noticed the camp as he rode along the Kanawha Canal at sunset. He turned his horse toward the city and was quickly home.

  Considering the shortages, Kate managed to put together a fine dinner for him. The table was already set when he walked into the house.