I don’t see why you should concern yourself. He was irritated. What would you do about it if I handed you the statutes?
I’d sit here and read them. She brushed her hair out of her eyes. She was proud that it was clean, and that she had a clean dress and clean hands. The major probably took a bath twice a week in hot water.
You have no business reading them. You will merely get odd ideas and interpret them in peculiar ways. You will have a lawyer assigned to you to do that. He regarded her from under his thin eyebrows. Can you read?
Of course I can read. My father is a justice of the peace and he teaches the common school.
The major smiled. Read that, he said. He shoved a copy of Godey’s Ladies’ Book in front of her. They tell me this is suitable material for ladies.
Adair took it up. She said, Do I get treated better if I can quote some poetry? Should I have brought my watercolors?
Read.
She read, in a firm, clear voice,
“In the first place, the breathing of impure air tends inevitably to shorten life: the body loses its health and strength, the mind its vigor, and becomes feeble and desponding.”
The major heard In th fuss plaice, th breathin of impyuh aiy-yur . . .
“People who breathe bad air day after day are always in a low, nervous state—they are, in fact, little more than half alive. A hundred years ago, the Lord Mayor of London, two judges and one alderman, all died from a fever which broke out at Newgate, owing to the dirt and want of fresh air.” She looked up. Is there any chance you might take this here to heart or is it going right over your head?
He paused and for the first time he smiled a meager half smile. I have sent a copy to the matron, Mrs. Buckley, and have been told to mind my own business. I think they call her The Ironclad.
Well take it to somebody else, Adair said. Surely she ain’t the last word in prisons around here.
I am doing my best, he said. Although I don’t expect you to rise up and cheer.
Are you waiting for us all to die?
Young woman, I said I am doing my best. You are impertinent.
I’ll pray for your soul, Major.
He turned his eyes down to his papers and cleared his throat. In regards to your case.
Why are you even talking to me about it? she asked. She kicked out her foot in impatience and made her hem jump with the toe of her stiff ankle-jack. If it’s all marshal’s law and I am a prisoner without recourse.
Listen to me, he said. Your treatment will improve if you cooperate.
How old are you? asked Adair. How’d you get into this kind of thing, you a major in the U.S. Army and tormenting women?
I am a soldier, he said. I do what I am assigned to do. He was furious. He bit his teeth together and pressed his fingertips on the paper. His fingertips were white. This is the kind of assignment given to those of us daft enough to have read law.
Well then, go on, she said. She turned to the window and saw a man on a gray horse going past. The horse had its chin tucked in and head tilted to one side as if it were searching for lost change in the gutters. She looked at the major again. I suppose you have to go on about it.
When I was first assigned here—
And where are you from, anyway?
Shut up! he said. If you continue I will send you back to the General Ward.
Adair looked down at her shoe toe. There was a long silence and the fire crackled in the stove.
He said, When I was first assigned here I found the situation confusing, as most areas of Missouri have both Union and Rebel adherents living sometimes side by side. You can imagine my relief when I was assigned to prisoners from the district of southeast Missouri. You are all Rebels down there. Solid South. Every man jack of you, and so there is no confusion whatever.
Well, said Adair. What a relief that must have been.
You can’t know.
But there’s about ten people gone over to the Union down there, she said. Is what I heard.
He went on as if he had not heard her. And we are occupying the southeastern counties by force of arms. But we cannot pacify the countryside, can we? Adair realized this was a speech that he gave to everyone. To all the women. He said, We dash out of Iron Mountain and Rolla, and burn things and then retreat to our garrisons. Then your people shoot at us from treetops and bushes. He ran his fingers through a drumroll on the desktop, his nails clattering on the oak like a startled horse. Then he stopped and picked up the pen. Our purpose there is to deny the guerillas sustenance, food, and clothing and whiskey. His voice was that of a lecture to the soldiers. All these things are produced by women. Apparently they are getting their horses from Illinois.
Think of that, she said. The Union Militia took my daddy and my horse both. Times are hard all around. Adair tapped her foot.
You really are insolent, Miss Colley, he said. He leaned back in his chair. He smiled at her. You are very good at it.
Well! Adair brightened somewhat. I never thought of it as a talent.
Do you think it will get you out of here?
Will anything?
Depends.
Well go on with what you were saying. I guess you got to say it.
He said, Ahem, as if it were a word. Missouri is under martial law, Union martial law, and the other side is not regular Confederate Army as far as we are concerned, but guerillas. They have no regular communication with the CSA staffs and are not part of the chain of command and they are not in regular communication with their superior officers in the CSA. So we maintain they are freelancers moving at will and freelancers are called guerillas. It is the rules of war. You see I have given this little lecture many times. He did not smile. You understand that captured guerillas are not accorded the same treatment as regular CSA troops.
She said, But, Major, I think Colonel Reeves has a commission from the Missouri State Guard and is charged with the defense of the state. We’ve been invaded by Buckeyes and Hoosiers and ice people from Illinois.
He said, Miss Colley, I believe it is wrong to argue the war with women. Since women are under our protection and cannot vote nor sit on juries. However. Reeves’s Fifteenth Missouri Cavalry is, as far as we are concerned, a guerilla band, and they are outlaws, and criminals.
Well what do you know if they are criminals or not? said Adair. What about your own criminals? Her face tightened and her voice became heated.
He went on. And if they are caught they will be executed after a very hasty trial. With a drunken mob of Missouri Union Militia troops standing around outside screaming for the rope.
She said, The Militia don’t give people trials.
He said, I know. He took a grip on the papers in front of him, as if to lay hold of the whole nasty business. I will admit we have had to court-martial at least fifteen men from those assigned to southeast Missouri for arson, theft, murder and one case of. . . . He paused. Arson, theft, and murder.
I would think that would be enough, said Adair. Surely to God you ain’t waiting for them to start roasting babies before you do something about them.
He stared at her and said, The Union Militia is an embarrassment to the Union Army. We are trying to disband them. He fussed again with the forms before him. But they are Frank Blair’s pets and Frank Blair is a powerful man. He tapped a forefinger on the papers. Blair organizes very popular parades and rallies here in St. Louis. They pass out pony kegs of beer and sing “Rally ’Round the Flag.” It is all very patriotic and fervent. He cleared his throat. Men join up in droves.
I’m sure it’s all to the good, Adair said. A way of admonishing the erring.
He bowed slightly. And are not we all erring in the sight of the Lord? Pray for my soul, Miss Colley. He walked back to his desk and dredged up a report. But wait. There is more admonishing here. He looked down. Miss Colley, you are suspected of three things. He had a blank, careful expression on his face. He then turned again to the forms. First, with cutting telegraph lines. I am sure you know that in D
ecember of 1861 General Halleck declared that all those caught cutting Union telegraph lines were to be shot, women included. Secondly, you have been accused of harboring and feeding guerillas, and harboring can mean anything we want it to mean, including keeping guerilla money in a bank account under your name. This means we may confiscate your family’s bank account on nothing more than suspicion, that order given by General Ulysses Grant. He who is even now trampling out the grapes of wrath in Virginia. Thirdly, you are accused of spying.
He put the papers down. Looked up at her without expression.
She said, Gracious. Adair nodded, as if she had just been told some interesting fact about the amazing volume of shipping in the St. Louis port. I’ve been a busy girl.
The spying part was supposed to be when you were brought here on the train.
It was flat dark, she said. It was the dead of night.
Adair thought, They have made up all these accusations. One of them ridiculous so it could be easily thrown aside and she would feel relieved and happy. She would confess to one thing but not another, they would become friends, she would begin to tell him things to please him.
Suddenly and without any preliminaries she felt panic and a kind of frantic surge of energy as if she were having a seizure. There was no way out. She had been shut up in a dark hole. She took in a long breath through her nose with her lips shut, as if breathing in secret.
Miss Colley. He was watching her, alert as a raptor. You have thought of something.
I thought . . . She paused. I thought of my father.
And where is he?
Captain Tom Poth and some militiamen took him away and he was very beat up and then I don’t know.
She thrashed silently in the snare she found herself in. Her father might even now be dying of a fever, and his handsome big dark horse Highlander hitched to an artillery caisson and sprayed with flying metal. Her sisters sleeping on the floor of Dalton’s Store and treated like redheaded stepchildren. Adair strove mightily within herself against the weird internal noises of alarm, as if she had just caught fire or were drowning.
He looked at her for a long moment and the parlor stove thumped and sucked air, radiant with dry heat.
Do I have your attention? he asked. Not unkindly.
Yes, she said. Adair knew if she kept on with these thoughts she would end by giving in. She read the titles of his books. There were large tomes by a man called Schoolcraft, Lewis and Clark’s Report on the Louisiana Purchase, a Report on the Flora and Fauna of Texas.
He said, I can decide to turn any one of these accusations into actual, legal charges.
Well, don’t wait for me to make up your mind for you. Her hands hardened together.
He paused. Then he said, You are quite brave.
I am? Adair was caught flat-footed.
Yes. He moved his chair to one side of the desk, and sat facing her, his hands clasped together between his thighs, bent forward to her. Miss Colley, the provost marshal’s department seems bent on extracting confessions from women. I am one of the unlucky fellows sent to get them. I don’t like this any more than you do. You must help me. You must plead guilty to one or the other and then write a confession.
She said, What am I confessing to? She looked at the forms. Do I get a choice, there?
Provisioning guerillas. That’s the only way they can continue to operate.
Why is that?
Don’t evade me, he said. When Captain Poth went down to oversee the November elections, he reports he found a number of uniforms and gray cloth in Doniphan. He drew out his handkerchief and blew his nose and put it away again. The uniforms were at a house belonging to the Colleys.
She stared at him. Well that’s a flat lie, she said. We live fifteen miles from town!
Quiet down. He began to jiggle his foot. You all quiet down after a while. You start out all fiery and defiant and then you quiet down.
Adair said, That captain who wrote that was the one who came to our place. Took my father away. They beat him in the face with a wagon spoke. They broke his face bones. My father is a judge and a teacher and he wears spectacles.
The major regarded the floor between his thighs and interlaced his fingers. I am sorry for it. There was a long silence. What else did they do?
Set the house on fire. Took the horses. They smashed up everything, said Adair. Then she suspected his sympathy. Are you trying to get on my good side?
Do you have one?
When I’m not in prison I am very charming.
I am not interested in your charms. I am interested in some solid information.
Adair then opened her hands in her lap. She would try acting. She sighed and brushed a tendril of hair out of her face. Well, you had better give me some advice on what I am to do, I suppose. Lord listen to me I am turning into Rhoda Cobb.
Stop acting, he said.
Well, how could I know any of this? I am not a soldier!
You’ll do.
My father is too old to go for a soldier. My brother has a withered arm and can barely plow!
Apparently your brother is with Reeves’s Fifteenth. And are you not engaged to someone? His voice was slightly strained when he asked that question. Then he hurried on. I imagine you are.
My brother is not with Reeves, she said.
The major watched her.
And your intended?
I don’t have one. She looked up at him. Last I heard. But they write anything they want on those reports, don’t they? I am surprised they ain’t give me six children and several husbands and a pair of bloomers. The standing water in her eyes spilled over. He had her fixed in his barbed black handwriting, the wrought-iron bonds of reports. Who writes all this?
Various people. He picked up his pen and laid it down again. Sign here. This guilty plea. Guilty to a vague charge of provisioning guerillas. Then you can be moved into a cell. I know perfectly well what is in the women’s General Ward. I don’t want you in there.
Adair raised her head. She said, Can you find out if my father is in any of these prisons up here?
Yes. Write down his name and the date when you last saw him, and where. And in return, Miss, I want you to write a full statement of all you know of Reeves’s activities, Reeves or the Chiltons, or Colonel Berryman, the Freeman brothers. Names and mail routes, contacts with the CSA command, and so on. And a confession on your own account. Then perhaps release.
Adair bit her lower lip. Is that all? she asked. Anything else? Her voice began to quaver.
Buried treasure, he said. Indian herbal remedies,
Adair wept beautifully into her hands. Oh, Major, you can’t know how it is in there. The latrines, and doing the washing with the guards looking on. She continued to cry in a light, dainty way.
He said, Miss Colley. Quit sniveling. It sounds very false. However hard you may find this, remember that the human beings that you people have held in bondage for a hundred and fifty years have been subjected to worse degradation than you can imagine. What you are suffering is nothing. Nothing.
She kept her hands over her face and was furious at how he managed to say all these things in practiced, smooth, complete sentences, and then remembered he had probably talked to a dozen women like herself. Had said all this a dozen times.
I never held a living soul in bondage!
But your society has. You see I have found the perfect, irrefutable answer to any complaint, he said. She heard him sit back with a creaking of the chair. Miss Colley, I am very sorry about all this. She kept on crying. I will do what I can for you. It is grievous to see a young woman like yourself in such conditions. She heard him rattle the accursed papers. Please think a little better of our cause. His voice was no longer officious. To preserve this country. To free an innocent people from bondage. He paused. I am attempting to drown you in guilt.
Adair was desperate to regain lost ground and so she began to cry once more. She began with a long snivel and then burst out in hiccupping sobs.
It’s not fair, she said. It’s not fair. She heard him walk toward her, his pocket change rattling and a few crashing noises as he passed his sword hung on the hat rack, he was simply a walking trade in scrap metal, noisy as a tinker. She looked through her fingers and saw his boot toes.
This is much more convincing, he said.
Adair wiped her face with the flat of her hands and straightened up.
Well, it ought to be. I am about to faint with all this arguing. Pretending to cry is not as easy as you think.
He opened the door. Sergeant, would you go and bring something to eat? Bring some coffee as well. Thank you.
Apparently a glass of something was ready to hand. Here, Miss Colley. Here.
No, she said. She smelled brandy. Get it away from me.
Very well then. His hand remained on her elbow, he was bending over to her.
Is she all right, sir? The sergeant was standing in the door. They always end up crying.
Yes, she is all right. Major Neumann turned and shut the door with a vigorous slam. She jumped. Miss Colley, listen. She turned up her face to him and saw that he had pulled his chair up before her with scraping noises and was bent over to her. He had a pleasant scent, of good soap and tobacco. Are we agreed? This is all I can do for you. I want you to write a confession to assisting guerillas, the one charge, and then I will do my best to see that it is taken lightly. After all, these are your own family.
Adair stopped crying. She looked over at the papers on his desk. Adair wanted to live. She was young and she had all her life ahead of her and she would live to go home.
A knock at the door. The sergeant came in with a tray and a disapproving stare. Adair reached for the tray almost before he had set it down. She sniffled and wiped her hands on the napkin. Tore a beignet into small pieces and ate the pieces one by one. The sergeant still stood at the door.
All right, Sergeant, said Major Neumann. You have some concern?
The sergeant said, I didn’t spend fifteen years in the army to be a waiter.
All right, Sergeant.
To a secessionist gal.
Lady.
Sir.
At ease, Sergeant,
Sir. He saluted and left.
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