“They ventured north,” he said, “across the Potomac for forage. And now with the rain they cannot re-cross. We’ve driven them to the water’s edge.”
Andrea put her hand to her head. The two men she cherished most in the world were going to meet on the battlefield and she was helpless to stop the slaughter that was inevitable and imminent.
“We’ve given him the opportunity to surrender.”
“He will not back down from a fight for his beloved Virginia,” Andrea shouted, grabbing his arm again. “It is his lifeblood!”
Andrea knew Hunter better than she knew herself—knew he was a Virginian first, a man second. Surrender would never be an option for him. Even hemmed in by nature and the enemy, he would not consider yielding. She turned away, holding her stomach, gasping for breath.
How much more would she have to endure? She had faced death, anguish, and torment at every hour and at every step in this awful hell of a war. Not this! Please Lord, if you are there—not this!
She took a deep, quivering breath and turned back to J.J. “There is not a cowardly soul among them. They will fight you to the gates of Hell.”
J.J. nodded while staring at the tree overhead, seeming to search for the blue jay that had since flown away. “We are ready.”
Andrea looked at him, but she did not see. What she saw was two groups of men preparing for mutual slaughter. She turned away and took a deep, agonizing breath, her prophetic gaze fixed on the distance, where the music of the guns would soon commence. “I can take no more of this, J.J.,” she said, turning back to him. “For the love of God, I swear to you, I can endure no more!”
J.J. placed his hand on her shoulder and she grabbed fistfuls of his jacket. “Can we not let them live in peace? They are guided by love of liberty and what they believe to be a just cause. Why must you fight them?”
Andrea looked up at him, blinking tears from her lashes, but she already knew his answer. He was too loyal and responsible a general to ignore the enemy and not press the advantage. Drawing a deep, sobbing breath, she stared again at the landscape, thinking of the terrible ending to come from all her suffering and sacrifice. They were going to clash—the Union general who was too loyal to avert a fight and the Confederate colonel who was too proud to run from one. She would rather be dead than witness the bloodbath to come.
“Andrea, I know your loyalty is with the Union. But it appears your heart lies in the South.”
Andrea turned around and looked up at him, confused. “But—”
“He cares for you, deeply. I could see it in his eyes.”
Andrea took a rapid breath and averted her gaze, knowing he had figured out her deception about Hunter’s identity when he had been captured.
J.J. took her chin in his hand and turned her face up. “You’ve given enough, Andrea. You’ve suffered enough. Go to him.”
Andrea looked into his eyes, astonished that he would suggest such a thing.
“The South’s Cause is not dying, it is dead. Petersburg is about to fall. The end is near and sure. Rely upon it.”
“They do not believe—will never believe—the Cause is lost!”
J.J. held her by the shoulders and shook her. “Tell him it is.”
Andrea thought again of Hunter, envisioned him plowing his way through the gates of Hell with nothing but fury, resolve, and strength of will. How could she explain to J.J. that nothing short of annihilation would stop him, that his soul and the soil of Virginia were inseparable?
“This may be your final chance,” he said.
Andrea sighed deeply, thinking of everything she had battled for and how confused and distorted it seemed. She looked again at J.J., but her thoughts were miles away. “He’s dangerous, you know,” she said, as if revealing information new to him. “Too fearless and stubborn and loyal for his own good.”
“Perhaps that’s why you love him.”
Andrea blinked. “Love him?”
“You little fool.” He shook her gently again, his eyes full of pity. He, more than anyone, knew she had never witnessed love in her childhood, and had certainly not observed it within the midst of the raging war. “You do know you love him, don’t you?”
“But I’m— I mean … he’s—”
“My dear, love of country should not exclude you from loving a man. You have sacrificed enough.”
“But I don’t know if I can.” She looked up into his eyes. “How can I love him and be loyal to the Union?”
He pulled her toward him again. “Just let your heart see what your eyes cannot. You love him, and you cannot will it otherwise.”
Andrea nodded, staring over his shoulder, thinking back upon the longing, the yearning, the need for him that had never diminished in all their time apart. She smiled and felt something new and elating awakening within her. “How soon will you move? You will give me time? Engage while I am there?”
J.J. gazed into her eyes and smiled, as if he saw in her resolute face the secret that had long lain dormant in her heart. “I will do what I must—as you must do. I will try to give you until tomorrow afternoon, but already Washington is breathing down my neck. You must tell him if he surrenders, he will be preventing the useless effusion of blood.
“I will tell him,” Andrea said, suddenly hopeless again. “But it will do no good.”
Chapter 62
“Duty is the most sublime word in our language. Do your duty in all things.
You cannot do more. You should never wish to do less.”
– General Robert E. Lee
“Kulnel, the boys got someone trying to get through our lines.” Hunter looked up at Malone from the map he’d been studying with his officers. “What does he know?”
“Can’t get a thing out of him one way or another. Says he wants to speak to you.”
“I don’t have time for a private consultation with a—” Hunter’s gaze drifted to the window where he saw the lone figure being held at gunpoint about twenty yards away. He shifted his focus to Carter and then to the other men in the room. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Perhaps it’d be best if I see what he has to say. Send him in, Lieutenant Malone.”
When the other officers had departed and the door opened again, Hunter stared at the figure who stared at the floor. His heart sank and swelled at the sight of the slender form whose boots and trousers were splattered with mud. His nerves quivered and tingled at the danger she had placed herself in by coming, and his mind whirled at what could possibly have been her motive for doing so. He dismissed the escort with an impassive nod, hoping it masked the hurricane of feeling raging within.
Hunter heard the door latch close, but waited for her to speak. He could not help but remember with anguish the torment of their last meeting. And deep down, he possessed little hope there was to be a sudden reconciliation now.
* * *
“The impending attack,” Andrea started, swallowing hard in mid-sentence at the sight of Hunter’s stalwart form staring at her. “You cannot—”
There was something in his proud eyes and kingly bearing that took her breath away. Face to face with him again, she could not frame the words she had practiced to say. Andrea averted her eyes and tried to catch her breath, recognizing for the first time she both worshiped and feared this man’s size and martial masculinity.
“You did not come to ask me to surrender.”
Andrea looked up at the tone of disgust in his voice and noticed his eyes seemed to portray deep annoyance.
“I have never surrendered and it is a little late to be learning the meaning of the word now.” His focus moved from the window to her face. “Surely you did not come here thinking to teach it to me.”
There was no affection or even friendliness in his voice. His cold and uncaring tone was enough to freeze the blood in Andrea’s veins.
“I should not have come.” Andrea took another deep, shaky breath. Riding into his heavily armed camp had not been half so hard as facing him thus. “I would not have come,” she start
ed again, “but you will be facing General Jordan.” She exhaled loudly, relieved to have finally finished her sentence.
“And that is why you are here?” Hunter threw his hands up in the air. “It is the fate of war. It cannot be helped.”
Andrea closed her eyes from his look of scorn, her cheeks burning. So this was to be the conclusion to what she hoped would be a happy ending. She swallowed hard and looked up at him. “I understand. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, sir.” She turned to leave.
“Wait.” Hunter walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You know that is a sacrifice I cannot make.” His voice was softer now.
“Not even for me?” Andrea turned around, imploring him with her eyes.
“You have no right to ask that which I have no right to grant,” Hunter said. “It’s a matter of duty, not mere inclination, that I must stand.”
Andrea stared solemnly out the window at the men talking in small groups outside.
“Andrea, this is not about you and me. It’s bigger than you and me. My Command, the Confederacy, demand I fight.”
“But the Cause is lost!”
“The Cause is not lost!” His voice rose in anger. “And we may yet prove it with another victory.”
“Victory?” Andrea threw her hands in the air, forgetting her former fears. “Victory or defeat, the price is the same—a senseless effusion of blood! Tell me, when will it be over?”
“When the last man falls or peace and liberty are restored … whichever comes first.” His voice was low and even. “We are willing to sacrifice—and to lose—everything but our honor.”
“For heaven’s sake! Half a million of the bravest men in the world have already shed their blood for honor! Where did it get them? Where has it gotten you?”
When she stopped and looked up, Andrea noticed Hunter’s countenance for the first time—tired, weary, like he had not slept for days. His eyes looked strained under the weight of responsibility that rested upon him. Yet he bore the burden with the confidence of one who is accustomed to suffering, one who considers it so commonplace as to be unworthy of his contemplation.
“But Colonel, you gamble against great odds.”
“I am not good at arithmetic nor accustomed to counting odds.” He pulled out one of his revolvers and checked the chamber. “I’m an officer. My duty is to fight, not calculate the capability of the enemy.”
“But the size and number of the enemy’s guns generally have something to do with the end result, do they not?”
Hunter did not respond other than to raise his eyes to hers and then lower them again. From that look she knew that fear, no matter the odds, never entered his mind, just as the word surrender never entered his thoughts. He was planning to accept an assault he had no chance of surviving, simply in accordance with his habitual policy of withstanding anything placed in his path.
“I do not wish you to come back a corpse.”
“I intend to do everything in my power to prevent that,” he replied. “The task is difficult, but I trust not entirely impossible.”
“You cannot win this battle based on Southern resolve. All your men and your Maker cannot withstand that which is aligned against you!”
“If you are asking why I do not surrender, I’ll give you my uncompromising reply.” He paused and looked directly into her eyes. “My honor forbids it.”
“But it is not up to you to vindicate the South’s honor!”
“You yourself said honor is the most priceless gift we can have,” he said, his piercing gray eyes still focused on her.
Andrea sighed in exasperation at the way he always used her own words against her. Then she looked at him wistfully and bit her lip, wanting to say something more but, for once, not venturing to do so.
* * *
Hunter read the look of private agony and suppressed emotion on her face. “Where will you go?” He took her hand in his and stared at its deceiving size. He knew well the slender figure it belonged to possessed more fire and energy per square inch than anyone he had ever met. Even now, dressed as a boy, she radiated a dignity and nobility that was visible even beneath the low brow of her hat.
She took a deep breath and looked up, distress evident in her troubled eyes. “The general knows I am here. I cannot go back.”
“I’ll have one of my men take you someplace where you’ll be safe.”
“I do not wish to leave. With the Colonel’s permission, I will share whatever fate awaits him.”
Hunter remained silent for a moment, his eyes probing hers. Then he reached for her and pulled her to him, almost melted to tears by the poignant complexity of her affection. Her struggle between devotion to him and duty to country stirred his heart.
“Dear Andrea, I cannot accept such a sacrifice.”
“I have come this far. I will share your peril.”
“You will stand with Virginia?” He held her at arm’s length and stared into her eyes.
“I promised you once I would not allow the war to come between us. I did not agree to do one thing to your face, and expect to do another behind your back.” Andrea placed her head against his chest, clutching his coat. “I will share in your danger and glory, Alex. I must. I fear you will not come back to me.”
“Of course, I will.” He rubbed her back. “I have survived worse.”
“And we can go home? To Hawthorne?”
Hunter looked down and searched her face, striving to understand the meaning in her words and the promise they contained. Eyes full of devotion stared back at him. “Home?”
“If the offer still stands.”
Hunter closed his eyes, smiled, and pulled her back to him. “Oh, Andrea, I told you how I care for you. I do so still.” His voice was but a whisper. “I promise. We’ll go home.”
A knock on the door interrupted them and they parted. “Sir, Gus just got back. Said it’s important.”
“Send him in.”
The scout soon entered, followed by Carter and three other officers, including Captain Pierce. Andrea tried to remain inconspicuous, walking to the back of the room, her hat pulled low.
“What have you?” Hunter took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst.
“It appears all routes are closed. They are massing in every direction.” He pointed on the map. “Looks to be at least a brigade.”
Hunter stared at the map, a grave look upon his face.
“Pretty heavy odds,” Carter said, “considering we’re backed up to the river like this and down supplies.”
“If they wish to fight, they will be facing the best the Confederacy has to offer.” Hunter walked over to the fireplace, and leaned for a moment in silent meditation against the mantel.
“Pierce, I want you to dismount your men as skirmishers at the front. Carter, take your men and place them here.” He walked briskly back to the table and pointed to the map. “Jake and Boz, you’ll be here and here to protect our flanks. Gus and Hank can hold some men in reserve.”
Hunter gazed up at the eager faces of his men and then focused once again on the map and the business at hand. “If only there was a way to bring in reinforcements and supplies, we could handle them easily.”
“I’ve been up and down that river,” Gus said. “I have found no ford.”
Andrea began to pace back and forth, her spurs clanking loudly on the floor. More than one of the men looked back at her, irritated at the distraction.
“I see no choice but to proceed as planned.” The men started for the door at Hunter’s words.
“Wait!” The room grew silent as each man turned toward Andrea. Walking to the map, she studied it for a moment, trying to get her bearings. “I know a ford.” Her voice was small and weak.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know a ford,” she said, louder this time. “It’s deceiving. Its banks are steep. But the water runs low.”
“Do you know this boy, sir?” Pierce stepped forward as if he did not trust what he wa
s hearing.
“Yes. He can be implicitly trusted.”
“Capital! We can send for reinforcements. Take me there.” Pierce talked excitedly while starting again for the door.
“Wait!” Hunter’s voice froze everyone in the room. “Are you sure it is passable?”
Andrea bit her cheek. “It will not be easy, but I’ve crossed in similar weather.”
Again, everyone in the room fell breathlessly quiet. Hunter ran his hand through his hair. “How far?”
“Mayhap a mile, probably less.”
Hunter nodded. “Very well. Take some men with you, Pierce. If it’s in enemy hands, engage with anything less than twice your number. If you can take it without firing a shot, all the better. I’d rather not alert the Yanks that we are aware of its presence.”
Pierce nodded with obvious annoyance, apparently more eager for the opportunity for a fray than to take the ford without a fight.
“Post enough men to keep it in our control. We must command that passage at any cost, whether we chose to stand …” He paused and looked at Andrea. “Or not.”
He sat down to write another hasty dispatch, never raising his eyes, even while giving additional orders. “Get this across as soon as you can get through,” he said, handing the message to Gus.
He rattled off more orders with practiced ease and walked to the door with his men as they filed out. He closed the door just as Andrea reached it.
“Are you adequately armed?” His voice was low and strained.
Andrea nodded, but wore a questioning look. “You cannot believe I will use force against your enemy.”
“Damn it. Your enemy is all around you! And if you don’t know that then I am reluctant to let you go.”
Andrea nodded regretfully, seeming to accept that loyalty and treason had somehow fused. “Still, I will not use my weapon save in my own self-defense.”
Hunter put his hands to his temples, trying to decide whether to let her go. The battles fought during four long years of bloody struggle were not half so hard as the decision that confronted him now. “Do you understand the extreme peril you are undertaking?”
Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia Page 47