Finally David fell silent, and it was Lowell who looked now at Dent, his commanding officer, and grinned. “You think the Bluebellies will run, don’t you, Dent?”
Dent returned the grin. “I’m no expert. We’d better get Stonewall Jackson in here to settle the question.…”
Clay slipped away as the talk turned to the coming battles and went to the kitchen. His mother was stirring a large pot filled with something that smelled good. He put his arm around her, asking quietly, “You all right?”
“Yes. Are you?”
Clay gave her an odd look, for she knew him better than he knew himself. “No, but that’ll pass, I suppose. Things like this are always hard.” At that moment Melora came through the door accompanied by Rena. She was in the midst of a story, and Clay was glad to see the smile on his daughter’s face.
“I started home,” Melora said, “but I had an idea, so I turned around and came here. I wanted to talk to Rena.”
“What are you two plotting?” he asked. “You look like you’re up to some outrage.”
“Rena’s coming to our house,” Melora answered. A smile turned the corners of her full lips upward. “I’m going to teach her how to raise pigs.”
“Can I, Daddy?”
Clay looked at Rena, nodding at once. Be good for her to be with Melora, he thought. “Why, sure. Every cultured Southern belle should learn the gentle art of raising pigs.” He gave her a hug, adding, “Be sure you take a bath before you come back.”
“Oh, Daddy!”
Clay and Melora watched the girl flounce away, and Melora said, “You shouldn’t tease her so much, Clay.”
He grinned suddenly. “I always teased you when you were a little girl. You turned out fairly well.”
Melora tried not to smile, then gave it up. “I was a lot tougher than Rena.”
“You were, for a fact,” Clay said thoughtfully. He glanced at Melora and then noted that the other women had gone to deliver the food to the men. “Melora, watch out for her, will you? With me having to go away and her mother gone, she needs someone to talk to, to trust.”
“I know. That’s why I asked her to come and spend some time with me.”
“Besides, she’ll have to get used to you being her new mama!” Clay teased, winking at his beloved.
“Rena’s fine,” Melora stated evenly. “It’s you I believe who needs some mothering!”
Clay chuckled. “You have a way of rapping out with the truth. You always did that, even when you were ten years old.”
“I did it when I was six,” Melora returned, her eyes twinkling with the memories of the days when he’d first come into her life. She’d been only a child, but she’d fallen in love with Clay Rocklin from the beginning. She knew one day soon she’d be his wife—but that day was not now.
“Let’s go join the others, Clay,” she said. “When do you and the other men have to be back?”
“Dent will have to leave tomorrow. Lowell and I have a little job to do in Richmond, so we’ll have a little more time.”
“Bring Rena tomorrow. We can all look at the pigs.”
He smiled at her, and they went into the drawing room to join the others. Clay felt a sense of relief that Melora had stepped into the responsibility of caring for Rena. He had discovered that Rena was very dependent on him, and now that Ellen was gone and he would be away on duty for yet another summer, she needed someone. Nobody better for that than Melora, he thought.
General Jeb Stuart pulled his horse up shortly and put his direct gaze on the two men who had halted their own mounts to let him pass. He was headed out of Richmond, but the general always had an eye for a good horse. “Well now, that’s a right pretty animal you’ve got there, Private,” he observed.
“Thank you, General,” Lowell said, returning the salute, then added boldly, “That’s a pretty fair animal you’re riding.”
Clay had recognized the officer riding beside Stuart at once as General James Longstreet. Longstreet pulled a black cigar from between his teeth and laughed softly. “The boy sounds mighty confident, General. And that is a nice mare he’s riding.”
James Ewell Brown Stuart bridled. “She can’t beat Skylark!” Jeb Stuart was a colorful figure, and he was also the leader of the Confederate cavalry. He was proud of his ability—and his horse. “Private, you’re not thinking your horse can beat mine, I hope.”
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid I am.”
Longstreet laughed in delight. He himself was a plain man, and the flamboyant Stuart sometimes aggravated him. He gave Clay a look, seeing the resemblance at once between the two men. “Your son, Captain?”
“Yes, sir. I have two sons in the Richmond Grays.”
Longstreet was impressed. “Have you, now?” he murmured. “That’s admirable.” He considered Clay, then the mare Lowell was riding. “Are you of the same opinion as your son—about the mare?”
Clay grinned. “She’s never been beat, sir!”
Stuart saw the sly look of amusement on Longstreet’s face. “Well, sir,” he announced firmly, “that record is about to be broken!”
“You’re not going to race an enlisted man, are you, General?” Clay asked with alarm.
Stuart’s face was hidden behind the bushy black beard, but his eyes twinkled with humor. “I do it all the time, Captain,” he said gleefully. “That’s how I enlist my cavalry.” He looked at the terrain, then lifted his gauntleted hand, pointing to a single tall pine in the middle of a pasture. “To that tree and back, Private—what’s your name?”
“Lowell Rocklin, sir, and this is my father, Captain Clay Rocklin.”
“General Longstreet, you give the signal,” Stuart commanded. He brought his big stallion around so that he faced the tree, and Lowell did the same. As soon as they were in position, Longstreet shouted, “Go!”
As the two horses exploded into action, Clay said nervously, “Sir, my son is in a no-win situation. If he loses, his record with that mare is broken, but if he wins—well, nobody ever made any money beating a general!”
Longstreet looked at Clay, puffed on his cigar, and nodded. “That’s pretty wise, Captain Rocklin, but don’t worry. Your boy won’t beat General Stuart.”
Clay watched uneasily but saw with some relief as the two horsemen made their return that Longstreet was right. Stuart beat Lowell by three lengths. Lowell pulled up, crestfallen, but General Stuart said heartily, “You have a fine animal, young fellow, and you’re a fine rider.” His blue eyes gleamed. “Jine the cavalry! Nothing like it!” He gave Longstreet a caustic grin, adding, “Any yokel can dress up and march around with a musket, but I need young fellows like you! We’re the eyes of the army. Why, General Lee wouldn’t make a move without me and my boys!”
Lowell was fascinated by the colorful Stuart and glanced at Clay. “Sir? Do you think I might?”
“Have to ask Colonel Benton for a transfer, I guess.”
Stuart suddenly lifted his plumed hat, waved it, and shouted, “Do it, Private!” He spurred the stallion and drove off shouting with a wild whoop.
Clay stared after Stuart, then put his gaze on Longstreet. “Sir, he’s quite a man, isn’t he?”
Longstreet nodded. “For what he does, there’s nobody better.”
“Do you think General Stuart really wants me in the cavalry, sir?” Lowell asked.
Longstreet smiled. “Every young fellow in Virginia wants to join Jeb Stuart, and if he extended the offer to you, he means it.” He nodded to Clay. “Come along, tell me about those boys of yours, Captain Rocklin.”
Clay was flattered by the general’s interest, and he gave a brief sketch of his boys. “This one is the best horseman of us all—best in the county.” Clay smiled at Lowell, adding, “In my opinion, General, the best anywhere!”
Longstreet noticed Lowell flush at his father’s praise. “Don’t be embarrassed, Private. We’re going to need the best from everyone to hold off the Yankees.”
“May I ask your opinion of the enemy force, Gene
ral?” Clay inquired cautiously.
Longstreet shrugged. “I expect you know he’s coming with as big an army as has ever marched on this continent. He’s got everything he needs—guns, ammunition, artillery—even balloons.”
“Even what, sir?” Lowell asked with surprise.
“Balloons, Private.” Longstreet nodded. There was a sober quality in the man, a steadiness that controlled all that he did and said. He was, Clay knew, the most reliable of all the Confederate generals, and Lee put much confidence in him. “Fellow named Thaddeus Lowe has come up with a new idea. Makes big balloons out of silk, fills them with hot air. They have baskets underneath, and the Federals send up an officer to get the position of the opposing troops.”
“I haven’t heard of that, sir,” Clay said with interest. “Does it work?”
“They tell me it does, though I haven’t seen it myself.” Longstreet took the cigar out of his mouth, studied it, and added, “I hope it doesn’t, Captain, because they have them and we don’t!”
“Just a big balloon filled with hot air?” Lowell asked with surprise. “Why, that shouldn’t be much trouble, General.”
Longstreet turned his head to study the young man. “We had one last spring for a few days, and we sure could use every advantage we can muster. Private, if you want to serve the Confederacy, you make one of those things for me. I’ll promote you on the spot to sergeant.”
“Really, sir?”
Longstreet nodded. “You’d be a lot more use to the Cause doing that than riding around with General Stuart—” Longstreet suddenly realized what he had said and added hastily, “Of course, we couldn’t do without General Stuart and his boys, but when the Yankees hit us, how are we going to know where they are? They’ll know where we are! They’ll have spotters up in those blasted things telling them where every man we have is located.”
Lowell stared at General Longstreet, his eyes narrowing. “Sir, I can do it!”
Longstreet had not been serious, but at the intent look on Lowell’s face, he grew sober. “Do it, then!” he snapped. Looking at Clay, he nodded, saying, “If your boy can come up with an observation balloon, it might make a big difference when we go into action.” He nodded shortly, then rode off toward Stuart, who was waiting impatiently up the road.
“Never thought we’d be talking with two generals, Father!”
“Nor did I.” Clay gave Lowell a quick look. “Did you hold your mare back?”
“Sure did! I’ve got more sense than to beat a general at anything!”
Clay laughed loudly. “Come on, son; we’ve got work to do.”
As they rode into Richmond, Lowell said suddenly, “I could make that balloon, sir.”
Clay was startled, for his mind was on other things. “Why, I guess you could, Lowell. You were always good at inventing things.” He considered this intent young son of his carefully. “You going to try it?”
“I’d like to, sir.”
“Well, I’ll ask Colonel Benton to give you some time for this project. Shouldn’t be too hard since Old Pete asked you to work on it.”
“I’m going to have a try at it.” Lowell’s hazel eyes glowed. “Say, wouldn’t that be something?”
“Wouldn’t what be something?”
Lowell pointed up to where a red-tailed hawk was sailing high in the air. “To be up there with that fellow!”
Clay glanced upward, studied the steady flight of the bird, then nodded and smiled. “Yes, that really would be something, son!”
CHAPTER 3
CHIMBORAZO
Studs Mulvaney, owner of the Royal Hotel, was not a man prone to granting favors. But he’d taken Clara Smith on as one of his “hostesses”—dance hall girls—only because Alf Swanson had asked. Studs had given the woman a room on the second floor—a room that would be used to entertain men. She looked so ill and tired after her hard journey from Vicksburg, Studs had surprised himself by saying, “Take a few days to rest up, kid.” Afterward on his way to his office, he’d had second thoughts. Looking over to Bugs Leggett, his one-legged swamper who was cleaning up, he remarked, “She won’t make it, Bugs, but I got to do it. Owe Alf a big one.”
“Wot about the girl and the kid?” Bugs demanded. “Pretty girl like that, she’ll be trouble if she don’t come across.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s right. Go get her, will you, Bugs?” After the swamper thumped out on his wooden leg, Mulvaney leaned back and stared at the picture of the coyly smiling nude on his wall, though not really seeing it. He was a huge man, well over six feet, with the battered features of an ex-prizefighter. He was nearing fifty now and growing fat, but was still rough enough to serve as his own bouncer. And the Royal Hotel needed a tough bouncer, for although it might qualify as a hotel insofar as it had rooms that could be rented, it was more of a saloon and a dance hall than anything else. And the rooms upstairs, where men followed the women, were paid for in bribes to the police each month.
When a slight knocking on the door drew his attention, he got up and walked to the door. Opening it, with a nod of his head he motioned in the two who stood there, then closed the door behind them. Staring down at the pair, he stated bluntly, “This ain’t no place for kids.”
Rooney said quickly, “Mr. Mulvaney, Buck and me can work. You got to have cleaning, and we’re real good at that.” She was frightened but held her head high. “Just give us a corner someplace to sleep in, and we’ll work for our room and board.”
Mulvaney had made up his mind to get rid of the pair, but he liked the girl’s spunk. Taking the stub of a foul-smelling cigar out of his mouth, he stared down at them uncertainly. The boy, Buck, piped up, “And I can take messages and run all your errands—and I can do anything else you need done.”
“Can you, now?” Jamming the cigar between his battered lips, the big man thought hard. I can use the boy, but the girl could be trouble if any of my customers get an eyeful of her. Still, he liked the girl’s steady look and asked abruptly, “You’re a good girl, ain’tcha?”
Rooney’s cheeks reddened, and she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, I’ll do what I can for you.” He thought hard, his eyes almost hidden in their sockets. A thousand blows had formed scar tissue that pulled his thick eyelids down so that he was slit eyed, but Rooney had learned to know the looks of men. Studs Mulvaney, she was sure, though hardly a civic leader, wasn’t one of the bad ones.
Mulvaney reached a decision. “C’mon, I’ll show you what I got. Might work out, might not.”
Rooney and Buck followed the big man out of his office. It was only the middle of the afternoon, and the saloon was almost empty as he led them through it to the stairs near the back. They creaked under his weight, but he ignored the sound, turning at the top to his left. The hall was lined with doors, and there was a strange, thick odor that both young people noticed. At the end of the hall Mulvaney opened a door, and Rooney looked cautiously inside. It was some sort of storage room with mops, buckets, chamber pots, and other equipment piled carelessly around.
“See that ladder?”
Rooney and Buck saw a ladder composed of two boards nailed to the wall with two-foot-long pieces nailed across to form a rough sort of ladder.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, up at the top there’s a room—sort of. Go up and look it over; then come back down here.”
At once Buck scrambled up the ladder, and Rooney followed, trying to keep her skirt around her legs, but glancing down, she saw that Mulvaney was staring down at the floor.
At the top of the ladder, she stepped off and found herself in a garret room—more or less. It was composed of a floor, four walls, and a peaked roof. Someone had boarded up the attic of the Royal Hotel and slapped a door in one side and a single window in the outer wall that looked down on Sixth Street. The walls were covered with yellowing newspaper, and the furniture consisted of two cots, one table, a chair, and a battered washstand.
Buck stepped over and pulled the window open. “H
ey, we can see everything from here, sis!”
Rooney stared around at the room, and a great relief came to her. It’s like a little tree house, she thought. We’ll be safe here! Aloud she said, “We’ll make us a real home here, Buck.”
As she descended the rungs of the ladder, her mind was already working on how to fix up the room. Stepping to the floor, she said, “Oh, Mr. Mulvaney, it’s just what Buck and me need!”
“Pretty rough for a young woman, ain’t it?”
“Oh no!” Rooney’s eyes were glowing, and she spoke with excitement. “Buck and me can fix it up fine! Can we work for you?”
“I reckon so.” Mulvaney saw the two exchange happy glances and shrugged. “Guess we can round up some bedding and stuff. Buck, go find Bugs and tell him to see what he can dig up.” As soon as Buck disappeared, Mulvaney looked down at Rooney.
“See that door?” He shoved some boards aside and with a grunt opened a door that had been concealed behind them. “It goes out to some stairs, see? Used to be a fire escape, I reckon. Somebody made this closet and closed it off.” Puffing blue smoke like a miniature engine, he considered Rooney, then said, “Wouldn’t be too safe for a young girl to be in the hotel. You better use these stairs.”
Rooney was relieved and said, “That’ll be nice, Mr. Mulvaney.”
“Can you cook?”
“Oh yes! I can bake biscuits and cook just about anything, if it’s not too fancy. I worked for a café once, just washing dishes at first, but then I got to help the cook all the time.”
“Guess that’s what you’ll do, then. C’mon, I’ll show you the kitchen.”
When they had descended the stairs, Rooney followed the owner through the bar into a dining room that held half a dozen battered wooden tables flanked by an assortment of chairs, then through a swinging door. “Hey, Chin, this is your new helper. Her name’s Rooney.”
Rooney faced a small, thin Oriental with a smooth yellow face. “Looney?” he said in a sibilant voice. He bowed three times, saying, “Wely nice, Looney!”
Appomattox Saga Omnibus 2: Three Books In One (Appomatox Saga) Page 63