He was not a homey kind of man. After he found out Flora was pregnant, he hung around the house most of the time, but Flora was reminded of a caged lion. He paced, he fidgeted, he made unneeded repairs on the cottage just so he could hammer something and make noise.
Finally she persuaded him that he needed to ride the horses to keep them in good condition, he needed exercise, and he needed to be with the new 1st Cavalry as they were still a regiment in training. With ill-disguised relief, he started riding, some for pleasure and some patrolling, scouting around the countryside, learning the ground and the territory.
And soon he was called to his grim duty again. The 1st Cavalry got news from the frontier that the Cheyenne were raiding wagon trains, and in May they rode out to hunt them down.
It was a fine spring morning, even on the dreary plains of the border of Kansas Territory. The 1st Cavalry had been following a number of Cheyenne for nine days, their scouts finding clear tracks but always days old.
Jeb rode with two of his longtime friends who had joined the 1st Cavalry, along with Jeb, back in St. Louis: Pat Stanley and Lunsford Lomax. Their commanding officer was Colonel Edmund Sumner, and the men respected him as a good soldier and officer. Still, the men were restless, for they had thought they would find the renegade Indians before now.
“We’ll find ’em,” Jeb said confidently.
“How do you know?” Stanley asked.
“Because if we don’t chase them down, if they’ve got any grit at all, I’d imagine they’ll find us,” he answered.
Two days later his words proved prophetic. They had come into a small bowl of the prairie surrounded on three sides by small, smooth hills. That afternoon they stared into the west and saw three hundred Cheyenne warriors lined along one of them.
Colonel Sumner immediately shouted orders for battle formation, and the straggling column quickly formed up as the Cheyenne, screaming bloodily, started riding down the little hill. Jeb fully expected Colonel Sumner to order a carbine volley—Jeb had already started pulling his rifle out of the sheath—when the commander thundered, “1st Cavalry! Draw sabers! Charge!”
The men, sabers glinting like steely death in the dying red sun, charged, screaming and yelling furiously. The line of Cheyenne riding toward them wavered, slowed … and then they turned and fled.
Jeb spurred Ace so furiously that he got ahead of the battle line and rushed into the scattered Indians, yelling like fury. Only a few of the officers had barely kept up with him, including Stanley and Lomax. Close by him, Stuart saw an Indian turn and point a rifle right at Lunsford Lomax, and Jeb thrust at him but landed only a thin slash on the Indian’s side and rode past him, then turned back. The Indian now had his rifle pointed at Jeb.
Close by Jeb heard, “Wait, Jeb! I’ll fetch him!” He saw Pat Stanley, unhorsed, kneeling and pointing a carbine at the Indian. He pulled the trigger, but the rifle misfired, and Stanley was out of ammunition. Quickly the Cheyenne rode toward Stanley, who watched helplessly as the warrior raised his rifle to point directly at Stanley’s head.
Jeb shot forward, and this time landed a killing blow to the Indian’s head. But as he fell he fired, and Jeb felt the shot hit him high on the breast.
Stanley jumped up and ran to him. “Jeb, you’re shot! Stay here. I’ll get my horse and get you to the rear.” He disappeared and soon came back riding his horse, which had managed to unseat Stanley in the middle of the fray but then had only moved a few feet off to unconcernedly graze a little.
“I don’t think it’s too bad,” Jeb said cheerfully. “But I guess I had better go get it seen to. No sense bounding around on Ace, here, until the bullet plows around and finally blunders into my heart.” Blithely he rode to the rear.
… I rejoice to inform you that the wound is not regarded as dangerous, though I may be confined to my bed for weeks. I am now enjoying health in every other respect …
Flora kept reading those two lines over and over and weeping harder each time the words burned into her heart.
Her father had been an Indian fighter for many years, and she and her sisters had always worried about him when he was on patrols. Flora had seen injured men, had even seen men killed and brought home to weeping wives and families.
She’d thought she knew and understood the dangers of a soldier’s life. But this was different. This was her husband, her beloved Jeb. And though his letter was so obviously cheerful, with the energetic note of his demeanor clearly coming through, Flora sobbed helplessly with the sudden harsh reality she was now facing. Jeb was a soldier, he was in constant mortal danger, he could be injured—he could even be killed. Thinking of it, she felt as if she herself might simply pass out into a cold, lonely darkness and oblivion.
How long she remained in this desolation, she really didn’t know. But finally she rose and washed her tearstained, swollen face and smoothed her hand over her swollen belly. She couldn’t do this to herself. She couldn’t do it to the baby. And most certainly she could not do it to Jeb. If she were a weeping, wailing wreck of a woman all the time, Jeb would go mad with grief, she knew. He was happy with her, he found joy and pleasure in his life with her, and she was determined that she would keep it that way.
She would find the strength in the Lord, to live with His comfort, to live under His care. She would learn to live her life with Jeb—no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the hardships or the grief—to the fullest, every day, to be grateful to God every day for him, and never to forget all of the countless treasured moments they had. She would be strong, and she would be full of joy, always, for Jeb.
She would do this. No matter what the cost.
The wounded of the 1st Cavalry were not able to get back to Fort Leavenworth until August 17th.
Flora saw them come into the parade grounds, and she saw Jeb’s big body lying on a travois. Though she was so big now she couldn’t possibly run, she hurried as fast as she could to his side. He looked up at her, and with an almost stunned relief, Flora saw that his eyes were clear and dancing as merrily as ever. She knelt by him, awkwardly.
“The baby’s not here yet,” Jeb murmured. “Oh, I’m glad.”
“I am, too. He waited until he could see his father.”
“Flora, my best girl, you can’t know how I’ve missed you.” He joked, “I would have hurried back much sooner, but these lazy fellows wouldn’t come along with me.”
She ran her fingers down his face and entangled them in his soft beard. “You’re pale, my darling. Your letters … You seem not to be hurt too badly.”
“I’m not,” he grunted then pulled himself up to a sitting position. “And I’m as tired of this infernal machine as a man can be. I can walk into that infirmary myself. There’re no men big enough to carry an ox like me, and somehow I don’t think they’d welcome Ace pulling me in.”
“No Jeb, don’t. You’re scaring me,” Flora begged even as he stubbornly pushed himself to his feet.
He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it, as he had so many times before. Flora never tired of it. “Please don’t be frightened, Flora. I never want you to be frightened of anything in this world. I am fine, really. I’m so much better, thank the Lord, and I feel very well, if only a little weak.”
Flora nodded. “All right, then. I do have to agree that perhaps I might walk you into the infirmary, instead of Ace.” She put her arm through his.
He hesitated and said uncertainly, “Flora, I know this must be so hard for you, but you’re really all right, aren’t you? I mean, you grew up in a soldier’s house and you married a soldier. You always knew, didn’t you? You always knew what it would mean?”
She could see the fear in him, as she knew she would. And she steeled her thoughts and cried out to God and then smiled up at him. “Of course, Jeb. Just know that I love you, I will always love you, and I will always be waiting for you when you come home. Now come on, silly bear, and let the doctor see you.”
No matter the cost.
/> CHAPTER FIVE
Flora entered the room and paused abruptly at the scene that was taking place before her. Her lips curved upward in a smile, and she felt a rush of love mixed with pride.
She had been confident, almost from when she met him, that Jeb Stuart would make a good husband. He was always considerate, even gallant to her, a man who was faithful to everything that marriage stood for. But many men who had these qualities didn’t necessarily take well to infants. She’d been relieved, however, as Little Flora had come through the first year and a half utterly adored by her father.
Flora remained silent, watching as Jeb, who was lying flat on his back, set Little Flora down upon his chest. She leaned forward, making little yelps of joy. Grabbing Jeb’s luxurious beard, she tugged at it and yelled, “Paaah! Paaah!”
“Well, be careful there, little darling. You’re going to pull my beard out, and you would see what an ugly fellow I am. Did you know I grew this beard just to hide my ugly face?” He suddenly reached out and grabbed her and held her high in the air. She chortled with joy, and he lowered her until their noses touched.
“Jeb, what in the world are you doing? You always have to play on the floor,” Flora demanded, coming to stand over them.
“I’m just too big. There’s not enough room anywhere else,” Jeb said, lifting Little Flora high again as she squealed.
“You’re supposed to be rocking her to sleep.”
“I tried to, but she talked me out of it.” Jeb grinned. His eyes sparkled with merriment, and his red lips, almost hidden beneath his thick mustache, revealed a smile, exposing his excellent teeth. “I miss out on so much time with our little princess here, I have to make up for it.”
“You’ve been playing with her for over an hour. We have to feed her and put her to bed.”
Jeb got to his feet reluctantly.
Flora reached out and took their daughter.
“I’ll just watch and you feed,” Jeb said. “I think it’ll be better that way.”
Flora was still nursing Little Flora, so she opened the front of her dress and the baby began to nurse noisily.
“No sweeter sight on earth than that to me,” Jeb said. “Everyone I know says children take in their mother’s character when they nurse, so she’s going to be sweet and beautiful like you.”
Flora couldn’t help but smile. “You must want something, Jeb. You never say those sweet things to me unless you want something.”
“You hurt my feelings, darling.”
“I couldn’t hurt your feelings with a sledgehammer. What is it you want?”
Jeb pulled a straight chair close beside her. A thoughtful expression replaced his wide smile. “I’ve been giving a lot of thinking of what I am to the Lord.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’ve never been a very deep thinker. I’m a lot better at action,” Jeb said, stroking his beard. “But a man has to think about his spiritual life, too, and I’ve been doing a lot of that.”
Flora felt thrilled, for she had often wondered about the depth of Jeb’s spiritual life. He had an experience with the Lord years ago, but Flora wasn’t certain it was a conversion as she thought of it. She thought of being “converted” as she was. This included repenting of her sins at the preaching of a traveling Methodist evangelist, confessing Jesus and following Him in baptism, and taking the Lord’s Supper. Her life had been tied up with church and such devotions, but Jeb had never seemed pressed to do such service to the Lord.
Jeb leaned back, teetering on the back legs of his chair, as he often did. He kept his hands on his heavy thighs. He was wearing only trousers and an undershirt, for May had come, bringing hot weather with it. He teetered back and forth. “I’ve been a believer in Jesus for a long time, Flora. You know that. There’s never been a doubt in my mind that He is who He says He is and He came to do what He said He did. But since we’ve been married, I’ve been watching you, and I can’t help but think that I’ve let the Lord down.”
“And what is it you want to do, Jeb?”
Stuart spread his arms out in gesture and his eyes opened wide. He had piercing eyes that could see farther than any man in the company, and when he turned them on people, they were riveted, as they were on Flora now. “Why, Flora, I need to do what you’ve done. I need to join a church and start living as a Christian.”
“I think that would be wonderful, Jeb. You’ve always been a good man, I know.”
“I try to be, but from what I read in the scripture, that’s not enough. I wrote this letter to my mother. Let me read you just a bit of it.” He pulled a paper from his pocket and began to read in a low, serious tone:
“I wish to devote one hundred dollars to the purchase of a comfortable log church near your place, because in all my observation I believe one is more needed in that neighborhood than any other I know of; and besides, ‘charity begins at home.’ Seventy-five of this one hundred dollars I have in trust for that purpose, and the remainder is my own contribution.”
Flora exclaimed, “Why, Jeb, I know your mother will be so pleased. The church is so far she can’t go very often.”
“She mentioned that a few times to me.”
Flora stroked Little Flora’s silky hair. “And what church were you thinking about joining?”
Surprise washed across Jeb’s face. “Why, Flora, I want to belong to the same church as you and my mother. The Episcopal church.”
Joy flooded through Flora, for she’d spoken to Jeb’s mother, and they had written each other, both praying that Jeb would make a step just as this. “I have to write your mother and tell her.” Then she shook her head. “No, you put it in that letter that you’re going to join the Episcopal church. I know she will be so glad.”
“It wasn’t a hard decision. You know, I promised my mother when I was very young that I’d never touch a drop of liquor, and I never have and I never will. But I think there’s more to being a Christian than just not doing things that are evil. When I ride into battle, I’d like to know that if I get put down I’d be in the presence of the Lord.”
Flora held out her hand, and Jeb took it. “What a wonderful surprise you’ve given me, Jeb.” She hesitated then added, “And I have a surprise for you, too.”
“You do? What is it?”
“It’s about your son.” Flora laughed when she saw Jeb’s expression. This sentence seemed to amaze him completely.
Then he cried with delight, “You mean we’re going to have another child?”
“Yes we are, and I’m praying that God gives us a little Jeb to go along with Little Flora.”
Jeb came off of his chair and began pacing the floor. “Well, thank God above! Nothing could’ve pleased me better.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re a perfect mother, and I’m working hard to be a good father.”
Flora reached up and put her arm around his neck to pull him closer to her. His beard was scratchy, but she didn’t care. “I’m so happy, Jeb. You’re the best husband any woman could ever have. And you already are better than a good father. You’re a wonderful father.”
Jeb straightened up and said, “You know, it’s even more important now that I try to make some extra money. I think I’m going to go to the War Department.”
Jeb had been working on a simple mechanism that would allow a soldier to remove his saber from his belt instantly and replace it exactly the same way. At the present time, the removal of the saber was awkward and unwieldy.
He went on, “If I can get them to adopt this, we’ll make some money off of it. It’ll be good for the army, too.”
“Jeb, I think that’s wonderful. When will you take it to them?”
“I’m going to write up the proposal and draw diagrams. Then I’ll be ready to present it to them.”
“I bet they’ll buy it, too. You’re a resourceful man, Jeb Stuart.”
Summer had passed, but in October it seemed that it was almost as sweltering in Washington as it had been in August.
As Jeb waited, he noticed an odd escalation of activity in the War Department offices. Men hurried up and down the corridors, clutching papers, doors opened and slammed, and soldiers went into General Stratton’s office and then came back out, barely glancing at the bearded young officer from the 1st U.S. Cavalry waiting in his outer room.
And then General Stratton opened his door himself. Stratton was a lean, hungry-looking individual with hawklike features. He had the red eyes of a drinker. He was known to be a good officer, however. He called to Jeb, “Lieutenant Stuart, please come in.”
“Yes, General.” Springing to his feet, he went into the office. It wasn’t as ornate as he expected, although Jeb admitted to himself that he’d had little enough to do with generals.
Before he could say a word about his invention, Stratton said, “I’ve got a duty for you, Lieutenant. I know you came here of your own doing, but there’s something you must do for me.”
“Certainly, General, you just name it.”
“I need for you to take a message personally to Robert E. Lee. You’re acquainted with Colonel Lee, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Yes, sir, he was the commander at West Point when I was there.”
“A very serious matter has occurred. There’s been a rebellion led by a man named John Brown. Have you heard of him, Stuart?”
“Yes, sir. I even met him once. Old Osawatomie Brown. He was causing trouble in Kansas. He is always causing trouble.”
“That’s the man, all right. I’ve written this letter to order Colonel Lee to take charge of a force. Brown and his men have taken the arsenal at Harpers Ferry. They are trapped in the engine house, and they have hostages. We have sent ninety U.S. Marines ahead, because we have no army units close, only local militia. You might as well know what the orders are. Colonel Lee is to take command of all forces in Harpers Ferry and arrest John Brown and the other mutineers. The War Department has authorized him to use any means necessary to do so. Please hurry, Lieutenant.”
The Sword Page 6