Carl injected, “That’s the only way we’ll make peace with them! It would be a stroke of luck for us if a Democrat who’s sympathetic to our needs and problems licks Ole Abe in November. The Yanks have had some big victories, but those successes have cost them plenty and we’re still ahead in wins and enormously lower in casualties. Rumor has it, they’re just as fed up with Grant’s and Sheridan’s failures as we are with Johnston’s. You can bet those two will be painful thorns in Ole Abe’s side come election time. Serves him right for turning against the southern states after we helped get him elected! While he was running for office in ’60, he never let on he’d become a traitor to us, but he revealed his true color when he opposed the Crittenden Compromise that December. Then, those thirteen senators dared to reject it in committee two days later! Well, I guess we showed them in January how we felt about their treachery!”
Balmy evening air which passed through windows covered with netting to keep out insects did nothing, Laura fretted, to cool now-heated tempers. She headed to the kitchen to refill vegetable bowls and to fetch more coffee, reflecting on past events as she did so. She knew the defeated Crittenden Compromise had to do with protecting slavery in the western territories, of which five were organized and two were unorganized, one of the organized ones being Arizona where her uncle was assigned. She also grasped Carl’s meaning about the South’s response in January of’61: five states had seceded between the ninth and twenty-sixth. After she returned, she listened again, and noted how attentive and alert Jayce was while he dined in silence.
David said, “It’s no secret Grant don’t care about his men, not the way he’s been sacrificing their lives without making any new gains. He spends his boys’ lives like they were pennies, and he’s the world’s richest man. What more does he need to enable him to roll over us? The odds are two-to-one and three-to-one, and sometimes more, in his favor, but his losses are more like twenty and thirty to one.”
Orville said, “Grant ain’t no Lee. Lee’s a snapping turtle; he won’t loosen his grip on Petersburg and let Grant take it. You be careful down there, Jayce, because the town’s being shelled daily. Yanks are teeming into that area like a swarm of bloodthirsty, disease-carrying mosquitos.”
Jayce lowered his fork and asked, “Why is Petersburg so important to Grant and the Yankees? I’d like to know more before I get there.”
Since Lawrence was from Petersburg, the others let him respond. “Besides being the pathway to our capital, she’s Virginia’s leader in sheeting and shirting, in duck and Osnaburg. We have twenty tobacco factories. Our cotton mills, including mine, produce material for our soldiers’ tents and bedding. We make shot and shells and other military goods, and we repair artillery. We build wagons, bridges, and freight cars, some of them for the Weldon Railroad where Orville works. But our most important feature is our rail hub; five lines connect in our beleaguered city. Grant’s cut off two of them and done damage to the Weldon rails, but Weldon’s been repaired and it’s back in use, thanks in part to Orville and his workers, most of them skilled blacks. We’ll be in a terrible bind if we lose any of the other three, a fact Grant knows too well.”
Carl said, “Grant’s holed up at City Point about ten miles out of Petersburg and he controls its railroad and the mouth of the James River. Too bad some brave Reb can’t sneak in and kill the bastard, then slip over to do the same to Butler. If Joe Johnston would stop riding backward and take out Sherman, and Old Jube Early could bury Sheridan, this blasted war would be over. For certain, with Lee on the job, those Yanks will never conquer and crush the commonwealth of Virginia, not like they did to my Mississippi and beautiful Vicksburg.”
Major Stevens said, “They won’t get near Richmond, that’s for sure, not with its ring of forts and two lines of earthworks. The same goes for Georgia: Sherman will never make her ‘howl’ like he threatened.”
Carl scoffed, “IfJoe Johnston keeps skedaddling backward like a skiddish crawfish, Sherman might make good on his threat. Joe needs to go after that hunk of rotted meat like a hungry catfish and gobble him up, or Jeff needs to find a charging bull who’ll do that job for us.”
Laura set the last piece of sweet potato pie in front of Jayce, who caught her eye and smiled in gratitude before she refilled any empty coffee cups and milk glasses at her table. The men seemed to savor every bite of the fragrant treat in silence before conversation resumed.
Frank revealed, “Did you know that Sherman, bad as he is, defends slavery and detests politicians? Some say he hates just about everybody and everything, except himself and glory. His thoughts got so wild at one time that his command was taken away and northern newspapers said he was crazy as a loony bug. After Lincoln pulled that emancipation trick, Sherman refused to let blacks become soldiers; he vowed to arrest and jail anybody who let one into his divisions. His heart is darker than any skin I’ve seen. About the only friend he has is Sheridan; I suppose because they’re so similar.”
David gave a sigh of relief and said, “I’m glad Lee ordered Jube to clear that riffraff out of the Valley and to strike northward. I’m glad Jube and his boys are wrecking northern railroads and canals and attacking their towns; it’s past time we give them Yanks a taste of this same bitter drink they’re trying to force us to swallow. Maybe his fearless strikes will scare them Yanks and draw ’em home.”
After the others seemingly agreed with David’s last words, Laura took a break in the conversation to say, “If you gentlemen are finished eating, you can have your after-dinner drinks and cigars in the parlor. If you need anything, Belle and Cleo will be on duty in there.”
The men thanked her for a delicious meal and went into the parlor.
Laura was delighted when Jayce lingered behind for a moment to tell her how much he enjoyed the food, conversation, and hospitality in her establishment. As she watched him leave, she wished she were dressed in prettier garments today. The tan flared skirt and matching short-sleeved bodice were clean and ironed, but rather plain and a little faded. She hoped the ivy lace around her neckline flattered her fair skin and green eyes. She glanced at her worn slippers, but knew she had to save her best shoes for special occasions. If only, she fretted, her dark-blond hair lay in feminine curls and ringlets instead of being secured behind her nape with a ribbon. She had not dared to rush home after Jayce’s arrival to change her clothes, shoes, and hairstyle; that unusual behavior would have been noticeable to the others. Besides, she shouldn’t be trying—wanting—to capture a Rebel’s eye!
Laura, Lily, and Mrs. Barton carried out their clean-up tasks: the dining room was cleared of dishes and leftovers, the tables and chairs were wiped, and the floor swept. Afterward, Laura and Lily sat at a small table in the kitchen to eat and chat while Mrs. Barton completed her remaining chores for the day. When the older woman stepped out back to give the leftovers to Alvus Long for his family and to pen up the chickens, Laura and Lily were given a few minutes of privacy.
Lily whispered, “Lieutenant Storm is gorgeous.”
“Remember, my enamored friend: be discreet with strangers. He’s a smart man, a Rebel officer, so we don’t want him guessing our secrets.”
“I see, you don’t want him…socializing with us girls upstairs,” Lily teased. “Now that I’ve seen and watched him, my sly friend, I understand why you wanted him at your table.”
“Behave, Lily Hart. I only wanted to observe him with the others. In view of our work, somebody could be sent here to spy on us for a change.”
“And our reputation could be tarnished if everyone knew the truth about all the…services we offer here. It’s a good thing we only trust our regular patrons.”
“You’re right. I can only get into certain social functions and circles, but I’d be denied even those privileges and invitations if my business was exposed publicly. I need those few paths to remain open. Also, since my family sided with the Union, I can’t allow anyone to discover my identity; Colonel Howard Adams’s daughter would be watched like a f
ox around a chicken coop, and my life could be in jeopardy. I can hardly believe Aunt Clarissa managed to keep the truth hidden for so long; that’s why I only accept those same men or their occasional referrals as patrons.”
“This place wouldn’t be so respectable if you allowed any paying guest or visitor to go upstairs with me and the others. Now, back to our newcomer,” Lily murmured in a silky tone. “What do you think about him? Is he married or pledged to a sweetheart somewhere?”
“I told you earlier all I know about him.”
Lily teased, “I don’t think so, Laura. You have a suspicious sparkle in those green eyes. I caught you stealing glances at him during supper. You like him, don’t you?”
Laura hoped she hadn’t been that obvious to Jayce or the other guests. In the future, she must be more careful. “I admit he’s handsome and charming, but it’s hardly appropriate behavior to be thinking about romance with a stranger passing through town.”
“Ah, so romance has entered your mind.”
Laura sent Lily a playful scowl, but Mrs. Barton returned before she could respond in any manner. “Let’s hurry, Lily, so Bertha can finish and go home, and we can go help Belle and Cleo.”
“I’m sure they need our help with so many special guests tonight.”
Laura caught her friend’s jest and sent her another playful frown. Then, she nibbled at her cooling meal and ignored Lily’s amused grins.
Later in the parlor, Laura saw that Jayce was sitting with the most talkative men present; that intrigued her since he seemed to be a man of few words. She noticed how quiet, observant, and polite he was. She had the impression he was educated, polished, and from a good family. She took a seat on the piano bench and began to play softly so she could listen to that group’s talk and hopefully learn more about the forbidden stranger.
Carl was saying, “They have to be suffering for cotton and tobacco by now, rice and sugar, too. Jeff held back shipments to Great Britain so they’d need it so badly they’d be coaxed into the Confederacy’s arms. When that ploy failed, at least he had the guts to expel Moore in ’63.”
Frank remarked, “We don’t need Britain and its diplomat anyway. We have Austria, Belgium, France, Brazil, and the West Indies buying from us and selling us arms and goods. All except the West Indies have consulates in town. I suppose Britain prefers to buy the North’s industrial goods and wheat over our cotton and tobacco, so let them be naked but well-fed.”
Carl fumed, “The Yankees should never have meddled in our affairs and scoffed at our traditions and lifestyle. They disdained and abused us for too long before we retaliated. We acted like helpless children while they placed a noose around our economy’s neck. And don’t tell me they aren’t responsible for some, if not all, of those black insurrections. We know for a fact northern congressmen did all sorts of devious things to keep the western areas from allowing slavery. They tried to isolate us, then slowly and painfully squeeze us to death, like with that Anaconda Plan to strangle our shipping; they have no rights in Confederate waters. I bet it riles them for our runners to sail through their barriers. Not to forget, our privateers are wreaking heavy tolls on their merchant ships, and our navy is doing the same with their warships. Well, my friends, we rule our own fate now; never again will we submit to Yankee threats and endure their conceit.”
Frank commented, “We’re not sluggish and stupid like the Yankees think just because we don’t rush around like a dog chasing its tail and talk faster than a bullet flies. Calhoun of South Carolina pointed out the way to us when he reminded us what the Articles of Confederation say about the ‘sovereignty, freedom, and independence’ of each state. We had the right to secede from a biased Union. That’s why Montgomery is proud to be the first capital of the Confederacy, proud the states’ delegates met there to forge our bond, and proud that’s where Jeff was inaugurated as our first President.”
“Let’s salute our sister state of Alabama,” David suggested.
Laura heard glasses tinkling as the four men tapped them together. To her, their happy toast was saddening, as was their refusal to believe the Confederacy was doomed. Before much longer, in her opinion, Alabama’s pride would be trampled beneath their conqueror’s boots. All she could do was hope and pray the victors would be merciful and understanding after their triumph. Carl’s gruff voice seized her attention as the embittered man rationalized a major difference between the sides.
“If our slaves knew we treat them better than free blacks are treated in the North, they’d beg to stay with us, even help us kick those Yankees back across the Mason-Dixon Line. Up there, they’re poor and detested, ostracized. As for me and the men I know, we don’t buy slaves with whipmarks and we don’t put ours to the lash; it’s foolish to damage valuable property, and it provokes them to try to escape. We’ve found it’s best to keep families together, to feed and clothe them proper, to tend their ills, to give them rest days and clean cabins. On my plantation, the older Negroes tended the young ones while their parents worked in the fields. Why, I and my children were mostly raised by black mammies. We wouldn’t no more mistreat them fine women than we would our mothers. Lincoln may have emancipated the ones in his territory, but he can’t free ours; he doesn’t have that right; neither does the Union congress.”
Frank reasoned, “If Yankees have been set against slavery for so long, why did they help elect Zachary Taylor as President in ’49 when he was a slaveowner? Before Lincoln’s action, even Maryland and Delaware were slave states. Those Yankees allowed fanatical groups to do too much talking for them; they let themselves be dragged into unwanted war with us.”
David said, “Those Yankees have nobody to blame for this mess except themselves, and it ain’t all about the slavery issue. Those industrialists shout as loud as those abolitionists. They’re the ones who instigated high tariffs on imported goods to prevent foreign markets from selling to us cheaper than they would. They had us tied over a barrel because we have to import almost everything we need, even clothes and goods made from the cotton we raise and sell to them. I know we’re trying to pull ourselves out of that trap we helped dig, but it’s going to take more time and lots of money, money they wouldn’t lend us so they could keep us dependent upon them. Then they turn around and want to destroy the very way we supply their demands.”
Frank said, “They gave us no choice except to rebel and secede. But they hurt themselves in other ways, too. They need us so the Union will appear powerful, democratic, and prosperous to the rest of the world. They need our sugar, rice, indigo, tobacco, and vegetables and fruits; they can’t raise all they need because we have the longer growing season and better soil. I guess they’re no longer laughing, with their mills and factories turning out nothing except arms and ammo. I guess they’ve learned they should have worked with us instead of against us.”
Jayce said, “They do have us beat in the weapons and ammunition areas. Not in quality, but in production.”
“Not for long,” Frank refuted. “Have you seen or used one of those iron-clad railroad cars with two-inch armor plating and a thirty-two-pounder gun? It was General Lee’s idea, and Tredegar Ironworks builds them. I bet they’ll keep the Yanks away from Orville’s trains. I toured Tredegar yesterday; she’s the only foundry and ironworks equipped to turn out large field guns. I also visited Bellona Foundry and Arsenal on Gun Road near town. Then, Richmond has Bowers’ and Talbott’s foundries helping out; and there are arsenals, ordinance, and artillery workshops here, and an ammunition laboratory on Brown Island; and that’s just in Richmond. We have plenty of the same elsewhere, so you boys won’t be suffering from a lack of arms and shells. A friend at the War Department on Ninth Street told me just today we’re putting out plenty of twenty- and thirty-pounder Parrott guns, twelve-pounder Napoleons, and twenty-four-pounder Coehorn mortars. We’ve surely got plenty of blue targets for them.”
Major Stevens, who had just joined the group after several hands of cards with other men, asked the Alabama polit
ician, “Should you be revealing such facts in a crowd, sir, when we could have spies nearby?”
Frank laughed and glanced around as he jested, “Spies, here?”
“There are safer and wiser topics to discuss,” the officer hinted.
“Well, Major, if I see any spies around, we’ll capture them and send them over to Castle Thunder to join the others we’ve taken prisoner.”
Stevens scolded, “This isn’t a joking matter, sir. Lives are at stake.”
“Oh, all right, Major, we’ll change the subject so you can relax.”
“Thank you, Frank, that’ll be appreciated,” the officer told him.
Frank made a final remark, “After your return to Atlanta, Major, I do hope you boys in Georgia protect our many arsenals and arms-makers there; we don’t want Sherman getting his greedy hands on one of our largest suppliers; that would be devastating to our side.”
“Yes, it would, so we’ll guard them with our lives,” Stevens retorted.
Laura was relieved her fingers didn’t slip or halt on the piano keys after the officer’s reprimand. She knew Castle Thunder incarcerated spies, deserters, and serious criminals. She also knew the enormous Libby Prison—located fifteen blocks away from her home—held Union officers, while enlisted enemies were confined on Belle Island in the James River, visible from the second floor above her. She had been careful to avoid other spies in town to prevent exposure if they were watched and caught. Most were women, but not bold and eccentric like the Quaker Elizabeth Van Lew, known as Crazy Bet.
Jayce asked Carl, “Do you have a family?”
Carl took a deep breath, then loudly expelled the spent air. “I don’t know where my three sons are fighting, or even know if they’re still alive. I have no way to contact them and they don’t know where we are, since we had to grab our valuables and flee Grant’s forces in a hurry. My wife, daughter, two daughters-inlaw, and grandchildren are with me at the Ballard House Hotel. That’s why I come here a few times a week, to rest my weary ears. Mercy, those females can chatter incessantly, and those young’uns are like wild animals pent up and clawing to get loose!”
Defiant Hearts Page 4