Antebellum (Gone For Soldiers)

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Nobody’s going to challenge us when we unload at Lawrence,” Nancy said. “It’s controlled by Free-Staters.”

  “I don’t know if you’re delusional, drunk, or stupid.”

  Nancy turned to look at her. “Why are you being such a bitch?”

  Anna started to say something but changed her mind and took a letter from inside the back pages of the magazine. “I’m sorry, Nancy. This put me in a foul mood.” She gave the envelope to Nancy.

  Nancy read the return address. “Where did you get this?”

  “It arrived as we were leaving. I stuck it inside this magazine and forgot it. I just came across it a few minutes ago. I wish I hadn’t.”

  Nancy opened the letter and read the first page. “Why in the name of goodness did you tell your mother about your using Senator Rucker to get information about the Border Ruffians?”

  “In a weak moment I promised Carla that I’d tell Mother.”

  “Carla?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some other time.”

  Nancy read a little more. “And you told Robert too? Are you mad?”

  “No, I didn’t tell Robert. Mother must have. She’s just adding his criticism to enhance her own bile.”

  Nancy read the letter to the end and then gave it back to Anna. “She’s got no right to say such awful things about you when she’s about to go off to New Orleans with a man that isn’t her husband.”

  “My mother’s always been able to judge other people and then apply a different standard to herself.”

  “My advice is to thrown her damned letter in the river and forget it. If you try to defend yourself by mail, it’ll go on forever. Fight it out with her face to face after her little New Orleans jaunt.”

  Anna’s reply was drowned out by the shrill blast of the steam whistle. A moment later, the steady chug of the paddle wheels began to slow and the gurgle of resisting water rose to a roar.

  Both women stood up and looked ahead to where the river was narrowed by a sandbar and a large number of mounted men were lining the right riverbank.

  “Trouble?” Nancy asked.

  “It doesn’t look good,” Anna replied.

  A crewman came onto the deck and took Nancy’s glass. “You ladies must return to your cabin.”

  “Who are those men?” Anna asked.

  “Border Ruffians,” the man said. Then he hurried away.

  “Let’s go,” Nancy said, pulling Anna by the hand.

  Anna followed reluctantly, still trying to see the goings-on up ahead of them. “They’ll come aboard, Nancy. What good does it do to go to our cabin?”

  “For one thing, it gives us time to think.” She continued to drag Anna down the stairs and through the narrow hallway to the tiny stateroom that they shared.

  “If you hadn’t been swilling down mint juleps you’d be thinking clearly.”

  Nancy pushed Anna into the cabin and closed the door. “Take your dress off.” Nancy began unbuttoning her own sleeves.

  “What?”

  “If we’re not dressed, they’re less likely to take us off the boat, and it also gives us a better chance of surviving if we have to swim for it.”

  “Being partially dressed may make them less likely to take us off the boat but it could make them more likely to rape us and then throw our dead bodies in the river.”

  “If they want to rape us, a dress won’t make any difference.”

  Anna shuddered. “I think I’d prefer being killed to being raped.”

  “That’s nonsense. If you see that you’re going to be raped just give in. Don’t fight, don’t rage or swear that you’re going to see them hang; just go limp and close your eyes.”

  “If I did that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself afterwards.”

  “Yes you could. Trust me.”

  Anna looked at her for a long moment and began undressing. “How far should we undress?”

  “Just take your dress, your petticoats, your corset and shoes off.”

  “How do we explain our state of undress?”

  “It’s logical on a warm day like this to be wearing only undergarments in the privacy of our cabin.”

  “What if they open the crates?” Anna asked.

  “We’ll have to pray that the purser doesn’t tell them that the crates are ours.”

  The boat had come to a stop and was bobbing in the current.

  Anna was still watching Nancy. “Who raped you? Was it my brother William?”

  “The first time was several years before I got involved with William.”

  “The first time?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now, Anna.”

  “How could I not know?”

  “You were a child. If you think about it long enough, now that you’re an adult, you’ll probably figure it out. Although I wish you wouldn’t try.”

  “I remember when we were ten or twelve and you started spending more time at our house than you did at home.”

  “You’re on the right track. Now please stop.”

  “Tell me, Nancy.”

  “I’ve already told you more than I ever intended to, and this is no time for a lengthy discussion,” Nancy shouted angrily. “Let it go.”

  Anna was about to reply when the boat lurched hard, then bumped against something solid, nearly knocking her off her feet. “They’ve grounded us on that sandbar at the bend in the river.”

  “Hang your clothes on the hooks, then sit down and read your magazine,” Nancy said, regaining her composure. “Everything has to look normal. When they open the door, we’ll both scream as loud as we can. That’ll unnerve almost any man.” She hung up her dress and lay down on the lower bunk.

  “Shouldn’t we lock the door?”

  “No. They’ll try it first. If it’s not locked, they’ll come in. If it’s locked, they’ll demand that we open it and we’ll lose the shock value of screaming.”

  “I’m not a good screamer,” Anna muttered.

  “You have to play the weak female, Anna,” Nancy insisted. “Challenging them will get you gang-raped and murdered. The only hope we have is that they pity us and leave us alone.”

  Anna finished hanging her clothes on the rack, then sat down and opened the magazine she’d been reading on deck. “I’m glad you’re thinking clearly.”

  “I always think clearly when I’m terrified.”

  “That’s a gift. I’m about to wet my pants.”

  “Good. If those men start to manhandle you, pee all over yourself. If you can vomit, do that too.”

  Anna stared at the magazine for some time without reading. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It would have hurt you and it wouldn’t have helped me.”

  “I could have told my father.”

  Nancy sat up and looked at her. “And then what would have happened?” She lay back down at the sound of heavy treads on the stairs. “Wait until I start to scream, then join in when I’m about out of breath. It’ll last longer that way.”

  ~

  The passengers and crew of the Kansas Belle were crowded together on a muddy sandbar while a dozen raggedy men aimed an assortment of weapons at them from the riverbank. “I’m gonna start killin’ folks if somebody don’t tell me who them cases of Sharps rifles belongs to,” the spokesman warned.

  Nancy leaned closer to Anna. “Start backing toward the water and moving to our left toward the center of the crowd when I have their attention,” she whispered.

  “What?” Anna looked at her as if she was crazy.

  “Just do it.” Nancy waved her hand in the air and bounced up and down to see over the heads of the men who were lined up in front of the women and children. “Hallo, sir. The rifles are mine. Hello, sir. Hallo.”

  Anna stared at her wide-eyed.

  “Come here, woman,” the leader shouted, gesturing for Nancy to come forward.

  Nancy, who was wearing only muddy stockings, pantalo
ons and a shift, tiptoed daintily through the mud then stopped at the edge of the water and knelt down, clasping her hands as if in prayer. “I confess that I own those sharp rifles, sir.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes and showed him her most repentant face.

  He cocked his head at her. “What did you say? Sharp rifles?”

  “Isn’t that what you said?”

  “How many rifles are there?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Several,” she said after a brief pause.

  “How many cases?”

  “I don’t recall, exactly. I think it was quite a few.”

  “How many rifles in a case.”

  “I don’t know.” Nancy hung her head and sobbed. “Please don’t kill anyone. If you must kill someone, kill me and send me to the bosom of my Lord. These men all have families.”

  “Get back there with the other women,” the man shouted angrily.

  Nancy stood up, turned around and trudged back toward Anna.

  “Damn bible thumpers. Always lookin’ for a quick way to Heaven.” He glared at the male passengers and crew. “Guess we’ll just kill y’all unless somebody confesses that knows what a Sharps rifle is.”

  Silently Nancy took Anna’s hand and led her into the river, then she sank down in the water with just her face above the surface. “Now or never, Anna,” she hissed. “The purser is going to give us up now.”

  Anna lay back beside her and they began floating with the current.

  April 10, 1853

  Lawrence, Kansas

  Colonel Robert Van Buskirk dismounted, threw his reins toward the junior officer beside him and stomped into the lobby of the Free-State Hotel. “Did two middle-aged women check in here earlier today?” he shouted at the desk clerk.

  “Middle-aged?” Anna was standing in the dining room doorway. “Bite your tongue.”

  Robert walked toward her and stopped at arm’s length. “I’ve been looking for you for three whole days and nights.”

  “I sent you a wire this morning.”

  “I know,” he said angrily. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Would you like to come into the dining room and stop making such a scene?” Anna pointed to a table where Nancy was sitting.

  Nancy raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at him.

  “God damn it,” Robert said.

  “Oh, my. Mr. Pure-as-the-drifted-snow has taken the Lord’s name in vain.” Anna took her brother’s arm and guided him into the roughly furnished little eating place. “Nancy and I just finished lunch. If you’re hungry, we should go somewhere else. The food here is just dreadful.”

  “I’m not hungry and this is the best place in town.” He bent and kissed Nancy’s offered cheek, then pulled out Anna’s chair for her. “The riverboat captain reported that you drowned.”

  “Now why would he do that?” Nancy asked, looking at Anna.

  “He probably didn’t want to admit that he left the scene without searching for us,” Anna said, sitting down in the chair.

  “You were smuggling rifles to the Free-Staters in crates marked as bibles?” Robert asked.

  Anna shrugged. “It’s worked, up until now.”

  “Damn it, Anna,” Robert said. “Don’t you realize that you’re just adding to the violence by arming these abolitionist Free-Staters?”

  Nancy raised her eyebrows. “He said ‘damn it’, Anna.”

  “He said ‘God damn it’ when he was in the lobby,” Anna replied.

  “No.” Nancy put her fingertips to her lips in mock horror.

  “We’re not children any more,” Robert grumbled. “You could have been killed. Or worse.”

  “Worse?” Nancy giggled. “What’s worse than being killed?”

  “There are much worse things,” Robert replied seriously. “I’ve seen dozens.”

  Anna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Robert, you’ve chosen a profession that puts your life at risk because you believe that it’s right. Nancy and I believe that what we’re doing’s right. Try to understand that, please.”

  He took off his hat and sat down. “Why can’t someone in our family just be normal?”

  Anna looked from Nancy back to Robert. “You know something? That’s a really good question.”

  April 15, 1853

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  In response to thunderous applause, Adelina Patti parted the curtains and bowed to her adoring audience. Josiah Whipple came to his feet. “Brava.” He pounded his hands together. “Brava.”

  Marina, who was also clapping, stood up beside him and smiled. “Do you forgive me for dragging you here?”

  “For everything except this silly monkey suit,” he said, continuing to applaud.

  The diva on stage waved, vanished through the curtains and the house began to quiet and move toward the exit.

  Josiah was on the aisle and he stepped out to block the exiting patrons so that Marina could walk out of the row into the aisle. “What was the name of this opera again? Gilda?”

  “No, Rigoletto,” Marina replied. “Didn’t you understand any of it?”

  “O’ course I understood.” He took her arm and started toward the exit. “Eye-talian is nothin’ but convoluted Spanish. I understand Spanish; I just don’t talk it so good as I talk English.”

  She looked up at him. “Were you wiping tears off your face during Gilda’s death scene?”

  “Me? No. That’d be plumb sissified.”

  She squeezed his arm and put her head on his shoulder. “Of all the men I’ve ever known, you’re the most complicated, Josiah.”

  He kissed her hair. “Yer flat wrong about that, Marina. I’m surely the simplest man you’ve ever knowed.”

  She straightened up. “Tomorrow we’ll see Edwin Booth as Richard III. They say he’s wonderful. I saw his brother John Wilkes Booth in Washington, but I’ve never seen Edwin.”

  “It’s my turn to pick tomorrow and we’re gonna see Lola Montez do her spider dance.”

  “The Tarantella?” Marina asked with a giggle. “You know that the stories about her dancing without underwear are just falsehoods to attract dirty old men like you to her show, don’t you?”

  “There was a fella at the racetrack last Sunday who told me he could see – everything.”

  “We can go back to the hotel and I’ll show you the same ‘everything’ that Lola Montez has under her dress.”

  “It ain’t really the same, Marina.”

  “Okay then. We’ll go look at Lola Montez’s tarantula tomorrow night. But we’re going to see Richard III the next night.”

  They reached the exit and turned toward the business district. The largest cotton crop ever produced was being shipped from the port, sugar prices were at an all-time high and there were no threats of secession from Louisiana as there were from the neighboring States. New Orleans was booming.

  Josiah pointed to a placard in front of a theater they were passing. “Who’s this Louis Agassiz fella?”

  “He’s a professor of zoology and geology at Harvard.”

  “And people pay to listen to him lecture?”

  She shrugged. “His theory that Negroes aren’t human is very popular in the South.”

  Josiah chuckled. “If they ain’t human, what are they?”

  “He says that they’re another species which justifies owning them and using them as we do other domesticated animals.”

  “Do you suppose he ever took the time to have a conversation with a colored man and then tried the same thing with a horse?”

  Marina laughed.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You have a way of boiling the most complex issue down to something simple.”

  “I keep tellin’ you that I’m a simple man, Marina.”

  “What would you think about staying here, Josiah?”

  “Like permanent?”

  “More like semi-permanent.”

  “Wherever you are is plumb perfect for me.”

  “I’m serious
.”

  “Me too.”

  “Okay then. Shall we look at apartments tomorrow?”

  “What for? Livin’ in a hotel is a lot less work.”

  “It’s a lot more expensive too.”

  “Yer right. Why didn’t I think o’ that?”

  She looked up at him. “Well, it is more expensive. You can’t deny that.”

  “I ain’t denyin’ it. Yer right as rain. If we keep livin’ in the hotel and keep spendin’ like we been spendin’ we’ll run plumb out o’ money – in about two hundred years.”

  She laughed. “Let’s stop by the telegraph office so I can tell my children that we won’t be coming to visit as soon as we’d promised.”

  May 7, 1853

  Washington, D.C.

  Varina Davis excused herself from the group of women and crossed the crowded floor to where Anna Van Buskirk was talking animatedly to Senator Samuel P. Rucker. “May I have a moment please, Mrs. Van Buskirk?” Her Mississippi accent was turned up to high.

  “Oh, hello, Mrs. Davis. Happy birthday.” Anna was doing her best to hide her annoyance.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Davis replied. She looked expectantly at Rucker, who, seeing an opportunity to escape from Anna’s wrath, backed away into the crowd. “You and the senator looked as if you might come to blows so I thought it might be best if I interrupted,” Mrs. Davis said sweetly.

  “The senator and I do not agree on the issue of slavery,” Anna said, “but we were far from becoming physical. In the way you implied, that is.”

  Mrs. Davis ignored the innuendo. “Discussions of slavery have ruined many a Washington party of late.”

  “Not to mention millions of lives.”

  Mrs. Davis scowled. “Do you think all parties are frivolous? Or is it just my having a birthday party – at my advanced age?”

  “Your advanced age?” Anna giggled and shook her head. “You’re what? Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  Anna chuckled. “Was that your feeble attempt to point out how much younger you are than I? You really shouldn’t try subtle insults, Varina. You’re simply not smart enough.”

  Mrs. Davis set her jaw. “What is it about me that you so dislike, Mrs. Van Buskirk?”