“I don’t either,” Jane replied.
Prudence reread the message. “I suppose it means that they could be prisoners of the other side.”
“I think it only means that no one in authority knows where they are. They could be dead or they might be badly wounded in some hospital, or, as you said, they may even be prisoners of war.”
“It’s good that your boys are well.” Prudence gave the telegram back to Jane.
“Yes. How very strange that they met and conversed as brothers in Gettysburg, after three days of trying to kill each other as enemies.”
“Very strange,” Prudence agreed. “How do you suppose the meeting came about?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps it was during some discussion between the armies over terms of retrieving the dead and wounded. Johnny’s a general on Robert E. Lee’s staff. Pea is a general too. The last I heard he was in the Union cavalry, but he may now have a staff position.” She wiped angrily at a tear. “The Van Buskirks all seem to gravitate toward general’s staffs. It must be in their blood.”
“What can we do?” Prudence asked, after a moment.
Jane shook her head. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. As usual, we’ll just have to wait.” She looked at Prudence and saw the deep emotion on the younger woman’s face. “We’ll get along with or without them, Pru. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not that,” Prudence said. “Not exactly. It’s just that I never thought about Jack dying before. I always imagined that he’d come back. Every day, when I practice reading or writing or speaking good English, I think about how proud Jack will be of me when he comes back.”
“For now you’ll just have to make do with how proud I am of you.” Jane gave her a hug.
“I was afraid that my life was over when I was first taken captive,” Prudence said, “but I never stopped praying. Then one day God answered my prayers and sent Jack to me.”
Jane nodded. “Get your hat and we’ll go to the church, light candles for Thomas and Jack, and thank God that Pea and Johnny are well.”
July 7, 1863
Washington County, Maryland
Robert E. Lee’s battered Army of Northern Virginia had begun its retreat from Gettysburg on the night of July 4th by sending the twelve-mile-long wagon train ahead, protected by a brigade of J.E.B Stuart’s cavalry. The next day the Union infantry, commanded by General George G. Meade, followed cautiously, while the cavalry of Union General John Buford harassed the wagon train.
The sun had set and General Buford was outside his command tent, swatting mosquitoes, when General Paul Van Buskirk rode in and dismounted. “That horse looks like you’ve given him a hard ride, Pea.”
“Yes, sir,” Paul replied. “He’s had a busy day and I just ran him all the way from my camp.”
Buford nodded to an aide. “Have somebody see to General Van Buskirk’s mount, please.”
Paul unfolded a camp chair and sat down wearily. “We did some damage to the Confederate train, but we couldn’t hold Williamsport.”
“Who opposed you?”
“Imboden’s brigade initially. We could have whipped him easily, but he was reinforced by Stuart’s main body.”
“Do you know what happened with Kilpatrick’s division?”
“Yes, sir. He’s pushed two of Stuart’s brigades through Hagerstown.”
“Where’s Lee’s main body?”
“At the Potomac. It’s flooded and we destroyed his boat bridge, so he’s caught with his back to the river and entrenching.”
“Did you send that information to Meade?”
“Yes, sir.”
Buford sighed. “I guess we can’t do anything but wait and see what he does.”
“We could stay in front of Lee so he can’t find an escape route.”
“Stuart’s too strong for us. He’d chase us away.”
“He’d chase us, but we’re better mounted and better armed. He can’t catch us and we can use him up in delaying actions.”
“You realize that would just be a big waste of time if Meade doesn’t bring up the infantry.”
“Yes, sir. But Meade’s performance at Gettysburg gives me hope.”
“All right. Take one of my horses and go back to your brigade. I’ll meet you at your headquarters in six hours.”
July 8, 1863
Washington, D.C.
“Listen to this letter from General Grant at Vicksburg, Anna,” Lincoln said. “As soon as our troops took possession of the city, guards were established along the whole line of parapet, from the river above to the river below. The Confederate prisoners were allowed to occupy their old camps behind the entrenchments. No restraint was put upon them, except by their own commanders. They were rationed about as our own men, and from our supplies.
“The men of the two armies fraternized as if they had been fighting for the same cause. When they passed out of the works they had so long and so gallantly defended, between the lines of their late antagonists, not a cheer went up, not a remark was made that would give pain. I believe there was a feeling of sadness among the Union soldiers at seeing the dejection of their late antagonists.” Lincoln looked up with glistening eyes. “There may be hope for a reunited America.”
“Does Grant mention how the citizens of Vicksburg, whose homes have been smashed and children killed, reacted?”
The smile on Lincoln’s face vanished and he put the letter aside. “Trust you to bring me back to reality,” he said in a peevish tone.
Anna squirmed uncomfortably. “Don’t you have enough people telling you what they think you want to hear, Mr. President?”
“Yes, yes. Of course. I’m sorry, Anna.” He waved his hand as if he was shooing flies. “Some days it just seems like…”
“I know, I know. It’s me that should be sorry. You need some good news.”
Lincoln took a deep breath. “I’m beginning to think that we can actually win this war, Anna.”
“Yes, sir. I think so too.”
“I’d also like to think that we can heal the country, once the war’s over.”
Anna didn’t answer.
“I take it from your silence that you think that’s impossible.”
She shook her head. “No, sir. I don’t think it’s impossible. I firmly believe that the country will indeed heal its wounds. But not in our lifetimes. Not until everyone who carries memories of this war is long dead.”
Lincoln sighed. “Yes. I fear you’re right.”
“But, wounded or not,” Anna said. “Once this war’s over we’ll have one nation that’s indivisible. That’s worth the price, sir.”
“From your lips to God’s ear.”
July 14, 1863
New York, New York
The four-story, Colored Orphan Asylum on Fifth Avenue and Forty-Second Street was a wet and smoking pile of rubble surrounded by police and firemen. Anna Lagrange tried to push a big police sergeant out of her way but he stood like a statue. “I’ve been looking everywhere for my sister-in-law, Nancy Van Buskirk,” Anna shouted shrilly. “The desk sergeant at the Thirty-Fifth Street Police Station said that she’s in there.”
“She’s in there but she’s dead, Ma’am,” the sergeant replied. “I’m awful, awful sorry.”
“No, no, no.” Anna shook her head emphatically. “She can’t be dead. There’s been a mistake.”
“John Decker, the chief engineer from the fire department, identified her his-self, Ma’am. He said he knew her well. Right broke up he was too.”
“I want to see for myself,” Anna insisted.
“No. You dunna wanna carry that memory with you forever after.”
“Nancy can’t be dead. She’s always been my best friend. Always. My whole life. She’s my… She can’t be dead.” Anna tried again to push her way past the man.
The sergeant held his ground. “She was horrible maimed, ma’am. Now stop this, please.” He beckoned to someone in the street.
“I don’t understand.” She put her hands on her head
. “How could this happen? Who did this?”
“‘Twas the mob. Them that’s protestin’ against the draft.” The sergeant glanced back at the smoldering ruins for a moment. “The superintendent and the matron got all the children out, but Mrs. Van Buskirk believed that there were still some little ones inside. She refused to leave when the firemen ordered her out. Then the walls collapsed. I seen it myself. ‘Twas awful.”
“I don’t understand.” Anna pulled at her hair. “What was the mob doing on Fifth Avenue? What’s an orphan asylum to do with the Conscription Act?”
“The orphans here was colored, Ma’am.” He took her arm and led her toward an ambulance attendant who had come to meet them on the sidewalk. “The rioters think that the freed slaves is takin’ their jobs.”
“So they killed children? They killed Nancy?” Anna pulled away and sat down on the curb.
“The children are all safe. You best get in the ambulance, Ma’am.”
“No. I’m fine. I just need a moment to…”
“Ma’am. Please. Other people need me. Yer keepin’ me from helpin’ ‘em.”
“Just give me a moment and I’ll get out of your way.”
He looked away for a moment but stayed.
“All right.” Anna got to her feet. “I’m going.” She jerked away from the ambulance attendant who tried to take her arm. “I don’t need any help.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Lagrange,” the attendant said. “I truly am. Mrs. Van Buskirk was a great lady.”
“Thank you.” She turned and walked away, down Forty-Second Street.
July 14, 1863
Williamsport, Maryland
It took Union General George G. Meade until the 12th to reach Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s position on the Potomac River. Meade spent that entire day probing the Confederate entrenchments, but he ordered no general engagement.
On the morning of the 13th, the Potomac had receded enough to permit Lee’s engineers to start building a new bridge. Meade continued to skirmish with Lee while positioning his forces to attack, but during the night, Lee began crossing the Potomac.
It was after midnight when Paul Van Buskirk arrived at John Buford’s camp.
“No,” Buford said emphatically. “I’m sick of fightin’ with my superiors, Pea. I tangled with McClellan over and over again, and look where that got me.”
“If we attack right now, we can destroy the Army of Northern Virginia and be in Richmond by next week,” Paul argued.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know all that. But I’m still not gonna go over there and argue with George Meade about it tonight.”
“Tomorrow’s too late, General. Lee will have slipped away by then.”
“If Meade lets Lee slip away, Lincoln and Halleck can deal with him. It’s not my job.”
“Well,” Paul gestured toward the river. “The Rebs can’t all get across tonight and we don’t need permission from General Meade to attack their rearguard.”
“Do you know who that rearguard’s gonna be?”
Paul nodded. “Henry Heth’s Corps. Probably Pettigrew’s division.”
Buford laughed. “That’s what I call justice. Pettigrew was the first in the fight at Gettysburg. He might as well be the one that takes our last licks. Let’s see if Kilpatrick wants to go with us.”
~
At dawn, almost all of Lee’s army was across the Potomac, leaving General Henry Heth’s division on the north bank to protect the Confederate rear. Buford’s cavalry struck the middle of Heth’s line while Kilpatrick split his division and encircled Heth, preventing him from retreating across the bridge. The fight continued until General J. Johnston Pettigrew was mortally wounded and his division disintegrated.
July 16, 1863
Vicksburg, Mississippi
Grant handed a telegram to Robert Van Buskirk. “It’s from your sister. Your wife was killed in New York during the draft riot. I’m so sorry.”
Robert stared at Grant for several seconds, then read the text, folded the telegram and put it in his pocket without saying a word.
“If you start right away you might be able to get to New Jersey in time for the funeral,” Grant said, after a long and uncomfortable silence.
“No. I’ll stay here,” Robert said.
“Anna will need you.”
“Anna’s a rock. She never needs anyone.”
Grant looked surprised for a moment, but said nothing.
Robert began to pace. “I have to stay here, Sam. The only way to defeat the Confederacy without costing a million American lives is to destroy their economy.”
Grant picked up one of the volumes of the 1860 Census from Robert’s desk. “You’re not the only person that can read livestock and stock production records, Professor.”
“I’m the only one who doesn’t have an army depending on him that can prepare a battle plan for a march from here to the sea.” He choked and turned his back to Grant. “Nancy wasn’t supposed to die before me, Sam. I’m not ready for this.”
“Go home, Robert,” Grant said gently. “The war will wait for you.”
July 17, 1863
London, England
Tabitha Lincoln walked onto the terrace and looked toward a large group of people in Kensington Gardens. “What’s all that?” She asked in Dutch-accented English.
Her husband Samuel looked up from his newspaper. “I have no idea. Seems peaceful enough. Coffee or tea?”
“I’ll pour it myself, thank you.” She sat down across from him. “What news from America?”
“The Union won two significant battles on the Fourth of July.”
“The fourth – and today is what – only the seventeenth?” She raised her eyebrows. “They must have fixed the transatlantic cable.”
“No, it only takes ten days for mail to cross by ship now.”
“Really? Imagine that. Any letters from your family?”
“Yes. From my mother. She says that she and Uncle Abraham are fine, but that Thomas and Jack are both missing in action. She also said that she, Anna and Nancy may be coming here for a visit.”
Tabitha poured tea into a cup, uncovered a serving dish and gagged.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“No you’re not. You look positively green. Is it because of my mother’s mention of a visit? She’s not so bad. Really, she isn’t. And I guarantee that you’ll love Aunt Nancy. Anna… Maybe not.”
Tabitha covered her mouth with her hands and ran into the bedroom.
Samuel folded the newspaper and tried to decide if he should follow her inside or leave her alone. After a moment, he settled on the latter course. Yesterday, when she had gotten sick, she had shouted at him to go away when he tried to help. He got up and walked to the railing to watch the traffic on Park Lane.
“I’m going to have a baby,” Tabitha announced abruptly from behind him.
Samuel turned around and stared at her.
She sat down and tasted her tea. “Did you hear me?”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Why do you look so surprised?”
“Well,” he stammered, “we’ve been married for over two years so I thought…”
“Our baby must be born in America,” she interrupted.
He shook his head. “I’ve told you a million times that I’m never going back.”
“Perhaps not quite so many as that.”
“Irregardless…”
“There is no such word in English,” she snapped.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “So now you’re going to start giving me lessons in English?”
“It seems you need them if you insist upon using a negative prefix before a negative word.”
He sat down again across from her. “If it’s true that you’re going to have a baby, I’m delighted. But I’m never going back to America, baby or no baby.”
“Of course it’s true and I want this baby inside me to be an American citize
n.”
“Why would you possibly want that?”
“America is the future.”
“For white people, maybe,” he said. “But that baby inside you is colored.”
“I expected you to be happy that I was having your baby.”
“I am happy. I just told you that I was delighted, didn’t I?”
“You don’t act delighted.”
“That may have something to do with the way you told me.”
“It’s not my fault that you’re always so grunchy.”
“Grumpy or grouchy. Grunchy’s not a word.”
Tabitha burst into tears.
“Bloody hell,” Samuel muttered. He got back up to stare out at Kensington Gardens. The group of people that Tabitha had mentioned earlier was now being picked up by a line of coaches and carriages. Judging by the quality of the horses and coats of arms on the vehicles, Samuel decided that it must be some kind of function for aristocracy. He watched as a well-dressed man handed three very pretty young women into a well-appointed landau. As the man stepped up to join the women in the coach, he looked up at Samuel. Samuel gasped and stepped back in alarm.
“What is it?” Tabitha asked from behind him. She dabbed at her tears with a silk handkerchief.
“William Van Buskirk,” Samuel said without looking at her.
“The outlaw?” She hurried forward to look down. “Where?”
“In the gilded landau with the three girls. Don’t be obvious. If he thinks he’s been recognized he might come to kill us.”
She giggled. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is England, not Texas.” She waved at the coach. The four occupants waved back. “That cannot be the outlaw Lucky Billy Van. There’s a coat of arms on the door.”
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