The Confederate

by Tony Roberts

  “You going somewhere, Rosie? Me and the boys were looking forward to your company!”

  Rosie stepped out from behind Case and smiled professionally. “Well, hello, Richard. Shut the door and I’ll tell you what’s going on!”

  One of Richard’s friends shut it and the three garrison soldiers waited patiently, scowling at Case who leaned nonchalantly against the wall, one hand slipping into his coat and taking hold of the carbine. “Well,” Rosie said brightly, “this is a neighbor of my mom’s and he’s come to take me to her. Seems she’s unwell and she needs me to help around the house.”

  “Oh?” Richard sounded dubious. “And where’s this?”

  “Leesburg,” Case said quickly, not wishing to let anyone know their intended destination.

  “He was talking to Rosie, not you,” a New York drawl snapped from one of the two friends. “Shut it, Southerner!”

  “Real friendly type, ain’t ya?” Case drawled. He smiled, his hand clamping the carbine tightly.

  “Want to know what I think?” the New Yorker said, jabbing a finger into Case’s chest. “You’re no neighborly friend; you’re a damned Reb spy.”

  Case laughed. Rosie shook her head and protested vehemently. “Oh God no! You got it wrong! He’s a real good friend of my mom’s!”

  “He don’t sound like no Leesburg man,” the New Yorker said, glaring hotly at Case.

  “What does a Leesburg man sound like then, my friend?” Case asked in that dangerously soft voice that preludes a storm. His finger curled round the trigger. “Like to show me?”

  Richard went to grab Rosie but Case swung his free arm up, catching the Union man under the chin and sending him sprawling against the opposite wall. The New Yorker snarled and sprang forward but was brought to a sudden halt by the barrel of the Spencer grinding into his gut. “Want to have your guts sprayed over the wall, son?” Case asked pleasantly. The third man edged to the door but Case shook his head. “Uh, huh, pal. Try to open that door and I start shooting. You first, this guy next and then Richard third. Then I start on those happy drinkers in there.”

  “You got more than one gun, bud?” Richard demanded, rubbing his jaw and getting to his feet.

  “Look again, Richard,” Case said softly but with menace. “It’s a repeater carbine. I load it every Sunday and fire all week. Want me to demonstrate?”

  Richard shook his head. He looked at his buddies and the look didn’t go undetected by Case. “Okay, don’t try anything cute. I’m used to killing Yankees; been doing it since ’61. You three don’t look long out of school. So you’ll do as you’re told. Rosie, go open your door. You three wait till the door’s open, then go up and into the room.”

  The three went up slowly, eyeing the muzzle of the Spencer and reluctantly went into the room. Case looked round. Rosie stood in the doorway. “Got any rope, cord, anything to tie up hands?”

  Rosie nodded and produced some curtain cord from a drawer and Case got her to tie the hands of the three men. Then, once they were immobilized, Case handed her the gun and tore off strips of curtain and gagged the three. “Now,” Case stood back and admired his work, “you three look real cute side by side on the bed. Don’t go spoiling it by moving, will you?”

  He led Rosie out, took the gun and slid it back into his coat. “Let’s get out of here,” he breathed. Rosie showed him a side exit and they stepped out into the chill air of late evening. The noisy revelry came to them, softened by the walls. A few men were walking up and down the street but none took any notice of the couple walking arm in arm past the tavern. “We’re going to Lees Hill,” Case said softly. “My horse is tethered there. Hope nobody has taken it or else we’ve got a long walk!”

  Rosie giggled nervously. They turned the corner into Charles Street and bumped headlong into a knot of Union soldiers. Case apologized and stepped aside, leading Rosie along the street away from the loud-talking men. Sooner or later the three upstairs would break out and alert the town, and then the shit would fly.

  The walk up Charles Street was nerve wracking. “There’s guard posts outside town,” Case said. “We will have to get off the road to get through.”

  “I thought all ways in and out were covered,” Rosie said in surprise.

  Case tutted. “I got in, I can get out.” He walked her right then left and along to Lafayette Street. “We’ll go along the Telegraph Road awhile before turning west. If the Yankees come after us they’ll expect us to go north.”

  “And the guards ahead?”

  “Leave that to me.” Case led her up the road towards the place where he’d seen so many Federal soldiers cut down. At the top of the slope the pickets were posted so he left the road and led the girl across the grassy fields, crouching as their silhouettes would otherwise be seen against the sky. Shouts went up from the town and Case pulled harder on Rosie’s arm. “There goes the neighborhood. Not far now.”

  The guards on the road turned to look into the town, wondering what the commotion was. Men were running up the road and shouting to stop anyone leaving, and Case led Rosie on faster. She puffed breathlessly but gamely carried on, even though her legs were aching and lungs becoming painful. A stone wall loomed ahead of them and Case helped her over, then he slid over and led her across the road and over another wall. He glanced towards town and chuckled. “Idiots are looking the wrong way!”

  He carried her over the wall and into a field. At the back of it stood the edge of a wood and here the horse was tethered. It was happily grazing and the arrival of Case and Rosie interrupted its meal. Rosie was deposited onto the back of the creature and Case climbed into the saddle. He turned the horse round and led it deeper into the wood, making for the road further along.

  Behind them Fredericksburg was erupting into a seething cauldron of soldiers, hunting for a scar-faced Reb who was abducting Rosie from the Rising Sun. And while they blundered around in the dark Case was taking Rosie further away along the Telegraph Road and towards her cousin.

  He’d done it and he laughed wildly in the night as he turned west towards the distant Blue Ridge Mountains. Now all he had to do was to get back to the army around Richmond – if they were still holding out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  But things never go as planned. They rode along the plank road towards Chancellorsville as daybreak came and the sky grew dark with clouds that rolled in from the Atlantic, bringing rain that lashed down, cold and wet, soaking the two. Case was protected with his leather coat and wide brimmed hat but Rosie's hair was plastered to her head.

  The horse walked dispiritedly along the sodden road, its hoofs clopping on the thoroughly wet planks, and the sound of that and the rain and the wind whistling through the frequent clumps of trees that they passed drowned out any other noise. It was for that reason that Case didn't hear the approaching Federal patrol until they came face to face just as they rounded a corner.

  Case pulled on the reins and swore. Rosie peered round his bulk and drew in her breath. A small mounted squad of horsemen were riding towards them, trotting. There were six of them, including the leader who was a young lieutenant, fresh out of college. This was his first assignment and he was taking his duty very seriously. Lieutenant Silas Jones was from a prominent family in Connecticut, a family that pre-dated the Independence War, and his father, a preacher in Middletown, enthusiastically endorsed Silas' volunteering to join the cavalry in the fight against the evils of slavery.

  Silas' family used its connections with the governor to secure the rank of lieutenant for the young man and he had enrolled at Hartford into the 3rd Connecticut volunteer cavalry regiment just four weeks previously. They had been sent to northern Virginia to ensure the region was subdued and made safe for the Federal forces as they pushed deeper into Confederate territory.

  So now he had been sent out on his first patrol, his commanding officer handing him a squad of five men including a cynical and tired corporal and four untried and youthful privates. All, apart from the corporal, had never
seen a rebel let alone fired a weapon in anger. None believed they would have to fight anyone, save perhaps a rebel spy or resentful citizen who would easily be subdued or imprisoned. The last thing they were equipped to deal with was a man who had nineteen centuries of combat under his belt and was equipped to deal with most situations in war.

  Jones spotted the two ahead of him through the driving rain and held up a sodden gauntleted hand. “Halt!” his voice rang out, youthful and nervous, yet sure that the two ahead of him would comply.

  Case half turned so that he was blocking the road. “Get down now!” he snapped to Rosie. “Get in cover.” He pulled the girl off the horse away from the side that the approaching unit were coming from. His other hand grabbed the carbine from its holster and he half twirled it as he brought both hands to hold the weapon.

  Silas Jones gaped in shock. He wasn't expecting this! He had assumed compliance and obedience, but here was a man preparing to take on him and his men! This isn’t what he had been told by his captain. He fumbled in his holster for his pistol, forgetting in his panic to order his men to take action.

  “Sir! What do we do?” one of the youths with him asked, staring at the sinister figure blocking their path, rain dripping off his hat brim and coat. He fact he sat there silent, still, but pointing his carbine at them filled the patrol with indecision.

  The corporal, seeing a disaster opening out before him, decided he wasn’t going to get involved and pulled on the reins and took off in the other direction. He was here in the reserves because he’d come out of the Battle of Fredericksburg a broken man, and he’d been sent to the rear so to get him out of the way. He thundered along the wooden road in his flight, leaving the rest to face Case alone.

  Jones pulled open the flap of his holster and his fingers closed round the smooth handle of the pistol. Case had seen the movement and the barrel of the Spencer swung to the lieutenant. As Jones brought out the gun a shot shattered the scene, pitching the lieutenant off his horse and onto his back on the wooden surface. He lay there, shocked at the impact of the bullet that had struck his chest, and stunned from landing heavily on the ground. He looked up, uncomprehending at what he was seeing.

  Case cranked the lever and swung the barrel. The first private had grabbed his carbine and had gotten it clear of the saddle holster. Case’s next shot plowed into his stomach and the Union soldier folded over in pain and slid slowly off his horse. The animal bolted, frightened by the noise and the strange feeling the dying man had made as he fell from its back. The three remaining men tried to pull their horses round to flee but they realized they were too late.

  Case wasn’t sure whether the three were going for their guns or not. The rain made things hard to see, and with Rosie cowering in the roadside trees to look after, he couldn’t take any chances. The Spencer barked again, and another man flung his arms up and fell backwards onto the ground with a sickly thud. One of the two remaining men managed to pull out his carbine but Case brought his up to his eye and calmly shot the man through the head. The cap flew off as brains blew out through the exit hole and the corpse toppled to the ground.

  The last man screamed in terror, realizing his last moment on Earth had come. He tried to put his hands up but Case mistook the move for bringing his carbine to bear on him, since his arms were obscured by his billowing cape, and Case fired again. The last man sighed in pain, clutching his ribs, and fell forward, blood dribbling from his mouth. He landed alongside Silas Jones and the lieutenant’s eyes moved to stare into the vacant ones of the soldier.

  Case slowly walked his horse up to the corpse-strewn position and stared down at Jones. The lieutenant couldn’t move, his limbs were paralyzed; his mind was numb. He tried to shout but his body refused to obey. Case stared at the young man for a moment. “Don’t feel too bad, son,” he said deeply, “you were never going to win.”

  Jones lost sight of the horseman but could overhear voices, obviously him talking to the other one he’d been with. Then he saw him again, this time with a woman behind him, holding onto him. She looked at him with pity. “Can’t we do anything for him?”

  Case shook his head. “He’s done for. And I want to get the hell out of here before the one who got away brings half the Union army down on my ass.” Jones lay there, not knowing why he couldn’t feel his arms or legs, just a creeping coldness that was spreading from his lower torso and gradually overwhelming him. His last sight was of the leaves in the trees around him, slowly turning red and yellow, and he thought how beautiful they looked.

  The horse took Case and Rosie away from the scene of slaughter and along the wet road north-westwards towards the Wilderness area that had seen such slaughter earlier that year. Case reckoned on getting lost in there which would make any search for them well-nigh impossible. The site of the Chancellorsville battlefield was up ahead and Case turned the horse off the road and plunged through the thickets that stood to the south. Rain dripped through each and every minute crack in their clothing, soaking them and making them feel thoroughly miserable.

  Eventually the Eternal Mercenary decided enough was enough and pulled up. The horse needed a break anyway and a feed, and there was plenty of lush grass hereabouts for it. A thick growth of hazel stood all around and they seemed well hidden from casual view. “Are we safe here?” Rosie asked, shivering as Case placed her on the ground.

  “Safe enough,” he grunted, dismounting and hobbling the horse with some rope he had hanging from the saddle. “That patrol has made things harder but I think we’ll make it to the Wilderness, and once through there we’ve got a run to the river. They’ll have it guarded so we’ll have to break through there and then it’s clear all the way to the hills. You’ll have to guide me once we’re over the river. I don’t want to go near a place that’s garrisoned, and Culpeper and Brandy Station are bound to be.”

  Rosie nodded, still shivering. Case glanced her way once, then swore under his breath and shrugged off his long coat and draped it round the woman’s shoulders. Rosie smiled her thanks and huddled against a thicker growth of hazel, trying to keep out of the rain. Case squatted next to her and watched the rain. His mind was trying to go through the options that were left to them. They had to stay off the roads; they would be crawling with Federal soldiers. Anyone who single-handedly killed five of their men would be hunted remorselessly. They couldn’t head east or south. East meant back to Fredericksburg and the waiting garrison there, and south put them too close to the front line and the mass of Union troops pressed in against Richmond and Petersburg.

  That left north or west. North would take them out of their way and they would have to cross the road and the Rappahannock. Both were almost certainly patrolled and they’d be trapped against the river if they were spotted. Case was against heading north anyway as his disinformation back in Fredericksburg pointed to them heading in that direction. The garrison would have alerted anyone to the north and patrols would have been strengthened there. West was the only way to go, and that was for two good reasons; the Wilderness lay there, and that way was where Rosie’s cousin lived.

  The rain eased and both painfully got to their feet and remounted the horse. Case freed it and took his coat back before climbing into the saddle. It was late afternoon and they had to get to the Wilderness before dark and hole up there overnight. He gently guided the horse on and they ghosted through the undergrowth. It thinned and then thickened, so they had no idea how much cover they were in. About half an hour after setting off their luck ran out.

  A shout went up to the right – the north – and two men in blue were stood pointing at them, yelling. “Shit,” Case grunted and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. It took off and Case snapped to Rosie to keep her head down. Branches whipped past, and then the flat, ugly crack of a bullet tore past them and spent itself against a tree. He swung the horse left, then right around a thicket and the shouts behind them receded. He didn’t slow down however, and guided his mount along a muddy track that appeared to be going
in the general direction he wished. Maybe it was some sort of animal track used over the years. He didn’t know nor did he care. His mind was set on getting as much distance between the soldiers and themselves as quickly as possible.

  Sounds of pursuit came faintly to them as they passed through the undergrowth, and they received frequent showers of water from the leaves as they brushed past. Rosie kept on glancing behind her fearfully but nothing appeared, much to her relief. “We’re passing the Chancellorsville Inn about now,” Case said. “Keep an eye out to the right. I’ll try to find a way through this undergrowth.”

  The route was blocked by a tangle of bushes and thorns. Off to left and right the woods stretched and the ground was bare of any grass or bushes. Grimacing, Case decided to turn right and chance it, heading towards the Orange Turnpike Road, intending to turn left again once a gap appeared. The ground rose up and down, like a frozen sea, and he fearfully scanned the land ahead. The Yankees were somewhere close and he desperately wanted to see them first.

  “There!” someone shouted behind him, from a direction he least expected it, and he twisted round and leaned out so he could see round Rosie. Three men about two hundred yards off had suddenly ridden into view. They must have been following his trail. All were dressed in cavalry uniforms and Case waited no longer. Urging his mount on, he galloped off through the woods and made for the road as fast as he could.

  “They’re after us!” Rosie’s gasp came to him. Case grunted and his eyes darted left and right as he charged on, ducking as branches whipped viciously past. He was aware Rosie’s head was pressed against his back and her arms clamped round his waist. Suddenly a small woodland road appeared to the left and Case jerked hard and the reins and his horse thundered onto it and galloped off westwards.

  “How far back are they?” Case barked, keeping low, expecting shots to come their way any time now. He felt her turn and look, and after a few moments, she pressed back against him. “A hundred yards – no more!”