Freedom (Gone For Soldiers)
Page 27
“I know where we are. The boat’s in a creek that flows into the river. It took me all day to drag it here against the current. Would you stop talking and move?”
“I’ve got three broken ribs. How far do I have to walk?”
“Not far. Maybe a hundred yards.”
“Your definition of not far and mine are very different.”
“The walk to the gallows is much shorter. Would you prefer that?”
“Let’s go.”
~
Urilla finished helping Johnny to get dressed and then began stripping off her own clothes. “Once we reach the river we’ll have to use the oars to keep away from the trees that hang over the banks. The current’s fast so it’ll take both of us.” She threw the calico dress into the water. “It’s bad luck that the night’s so clear and the moon’s so bright, but I don’t think the Yankees will be looking for us on the river.” She began unwrapping a bandage from around her torso.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Then why are you bandaged?”
“Oh. I had to strap my breasts down so they wouldn’t show. I padded my waist too.” She removed a girdle and the padding. “Talk about uncomfortable.” She reached out and pushed the boat away from an overhang, then stripped off her undergarments and tossed them into the creek. “Oh that’s better.” She arched her back, kneaded her breasts with both hands and moaned.
Johnny was gawking at her.
“What?” she asked, dropping her hands to her sides.
“You’re more – more developed than I remembered.”
“I had a baby since the last time you really looked at me. Not that I haven’t tried to make you look.”
He nodded. “I should have been looking at every opportunity. I’d forgotten how damned beautiful you are.”
“Was that a compliment?” She giggled. “Maybe I should get naked more often.”
“You should,” he agreed. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you completely naked before.”
“No. Really? Well, maybe not completely. I used to be more modest. Maybe I was too modest.” Urilla watched his face for a moment, then started removing her fresh clothes from a carpet bag. “Anyway, in the future I’d be glad to get completely naked any time – if you’d just show a little interest.”
“I’m more than a little interested right now,” he said.
“Now?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes.”
“You’re interested in me right now? This minute?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am very serious.”
“Here? In this leaky boat?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say no,” she giggled nervously. “This isn’t the right time or place.”
“I suppose I could say no, if that’s what you really want me to say. But this bulge in my trousers would prove me a liar.”
She giggled. “Really?”
“Would you like to check?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean yes. Absolutely yes.” She nodded vigorously. “But, like I said, this isn’t the right time.”
“It feels like the right time to me.”
“Have you gone mad?”
“Yes. You’re driving me mad.”
“By taking off my clothes?”
“Yes. You’re maddeningly beautiful when you’re naked.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember you saying very recently that you were no longer interested in me.”
“That must have been someone else.”
“Was it someone else who said…”
“I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean,” he interjected.
Urilla sighed. “So did I. When we get home we’ll move into the guesthouse and I’ll walk around naked all day and sleep naked at night.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “If you’d like that.”
“Oh yes. I’d like that very much, and I promise to make it worth your trouble by every means at my disposal.”
“Damn,” she giggled. “Now I’m getting titillated.”
“Good. Come here.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if the Yankees catch us they’ll hang us.”
“Then we’ll die happy in each other’s arms.”
She looked around, then back at Johnny. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. It’s been too long and there may never be another chance.”
“Yes. To hell with the Yankees.” Urilla reached out and caught a tree branch, then she tied the painter to it and moved toward him. “This is really crazy.”
“I know. Do you care?”
“No, I don’t.” She unbuckled his trousers. “Don’t let me hurt you.”
“I don’t care if you don’t care.”
“I do care – I care for you,” she said breathlessly.
“I love you, Urilla.” He pulled her face down and kissed her. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. If we live, I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
“Hush,” she gasped. “I’m ready.”
May 27, 1864
Richmond, Virginia
Anna was wearing nothing but a rag that covered her torso and upper thighs. The rag was held up by a piece of rope over her boney shoulders. Beneath the filth, her exposed skin was broken by animal bites and ulcers. As the guard pushed her through the gate, she put her arm across her eyes and squinted into the bright sunshine. “Who are you?”
“I’m Assistant Secretary of War Charles A. Dana, Mrs. Lagrange,” the man said.
“What do you want?”
“You’re being exchanged.” He put a duster around her and took her arm. “If you’ll come this way, there’s a matron with the Marshal Service in the coach. She will help you…”
“No. Wait.” Anna balked. “We have to get Mary Walker out of there.” She looked back at Castle Thunder. “Dr. Mary Walker. We have to get her out.”
“We can’t do that,” Dana said. “Not right now. But we’ll work on it. First we need to get you some medical attention, some decent clothes and some food.”
“No. I can’t leave Mary here alone. She needs me.”
Dana beckoned toward the waiting coach and a stout woman in black climbed down, then waddled toward them. “Come now, Missus,” the woman said. “There’s a nice lady.” She reached for Anna’s arm, but Anna pulled away.
“Listen to me, Mrs. Lagrange.” Dana looked around to see if he could be overheard. “The mood in Richmond is ugly. Grant is only a few miles away and the Confederate dead and wounded are streaming in from the battlefield by the wagon load. If we don’t go now we may not be permitted to.”
“No,” Anna said. “I won’t leave Mary.”
Dana nodded to the matron and caught Anna’s arm. “Drag her if necessary.”
May 30, 1864
Orchard Hill Plantation, Virginia
Colonel Donald Murray knocked on the door of his guest house and looked in through the open window. “Yoo-hoo. It’s me.”
“Just a minute, Daddy,” Urilla shouted. “I’m not dressed.”
“It’s almost lunchtime,” Murray called back.
“I know. I’m coming.” Urilla trotted barefoot through the living room, holding her robe closed.
“You’re just gettin’ up?”
“No, you caught me changing into something cooler,” she said, pushing the door open.
“Uh huh.” Murray walked into the living room. “Johnny’s changing too, I’ll bet.”
“He’ll be along in a minute.” She pushed her damp hair back from her face. “Sit down, Daddy. Can I get you something to drink?”
“You’re the one that needs a drink,” he said, dropping onto the couch. “You’re sweaty as a field hand.”
“Hello, sir,” Johnny said as he came in on his crutches. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”
“I wanted t
’ tell y’all that this isn’t gonna go away after the war. Not unless the Confederacy completely destroys the United States, and I don’t think that’s likely.”
Urilla looked questioningly at Johnny, then back at her father. “I don’t understand, Daddy.”
“They’ve got a federal warrant out on the both of you and the charge is treason,” Murray said. “That’s a hangin’ matter.”
“What should we do?” Urilla asked.
“Change your name, maybe your appearance and move to Europe.”
Johnny shook his head. “Over the last month the mobility of my arm’s increased to a point where I’m beginning to believe that, with exercise, I can get most of its use back.”
“That’s good,” Murray said. “But I’m not sure what that has to do with the warrants.”
Johnny smiled at Urilla. “Urilla’s learned of a doctor in Canada who’s invented an artificial leg that attaches by suction and bends at the knee. With a new leg and the use of my arm, I think I can get my commission back. Richard Ewell lost his leg at Groveton and he’s still active.”
Murray looked at Urilla, expecting an argument, but she returned his gaze calmly. “You do know that the South can’t win this war, don’t you, Johnny?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. But we can lose it with honor. I’ve given a great deal to the Confederacy and I’d like to see this through to the end.”
“Okay then.” Murray stood up. “I can tell that you two’ve talked about this and made up your minds.”
“To love, honor and obey,” Urilla said.
Colonel Murray kissed her on the top of her head. “Don’t bother to show me out. I know the way.” He walked to the door and let himself out.
Urilla watched him until he was at the end of the walkway, then she turned to face Johnny and opened her robe with both hands. “See anything you like?” She bumped her hip. “Or have I worn you out?”
“Bedroom,” he said, tipping his head toward the hallway. “But lock the door and close the front windows first.”
Map by Hal Jespersen, www.cwmaps.com
June 1, 1864
Cold Harbor crossroads, Virginia
The night was very dark and clouds had blotted out the moon.
“Are you still there, Pea?” a voice called from the Confederate lines.
“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere, Fitz,” Paul called back.
“Just wanted to tell you that Johnny and Urilla are home safe.”
“Thank you. I was wondering. After Jeb – you know. I seem to be worrying a lot.”
“How’s your Aunt Anna?”
“She’s in bad shape,” Paul said. “She’s suffering from malnutrition and malaria, plus God only knows what kinds of infestations.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Your Congress should investigate that prison.”
“Thanks to y’all’s naval blockade, the people of Richmond don’t have enough to eat. You can’t very well expect prisoners to be better fed than citizens.”
“Good night, Fitz. You should be gone in the morning or we’re going to have to kill you.”
“Keep your head down, Sweet Pea. You’re in Virginia without invitation and tomorrow, we’re throwing you out.”
~
The eastern horizon was turning pink when Robert E. Lee rode into a clearing, about a half mile southwest of the crossroads, and dismounted. “Good morning to you, gentlemen.”
General Joseph Kershaw, General Thomas Clingman and General Fitzhugh Lee all murmured their greetings. Yesterday Clingman’s infantry brigade and Fitzhugh Lee’s cavalry had been driven back by elements of Union General Philip Sheridan’s cavalry. During the night, Kershaw’s division had been brought forward to reinforce.
“I want those crossroads back,” Lee said, pointing at the Union position. “If that proves to be too difficult or too costly, I’ll settle for fortifying this line and permitting not another inch of Virginia soil to those people. Is that perfectly clear?”
“Yes, sir,” the three generals replied in unison.
Lee saluted them. “Godspeed.”
~
“Here they come,” a picket shouted.
“Pick your targets,” Paul called out. “Make every round count.” His brigade was dismounted and positioned behind a barricade that they had taken from the Confederates on the previous day.
The Rebel attack began with a cavalry charge by Fitzhugh Lee that the Union’s Spenser repeating rifles cut to ribbons. The infantry charge by Kershaw and Clingman that followed suffered the same fate.
~
“My men are exhausted, sir,” Union General Horatio Wright said. “We marched all night to get here.”
“We need to attack now,” Grant replied. “The enemy’s busy building extensive fortifications over there with interlocking fields of fire. Lee himself is overseeing the design.”
Wright looked toward the sound of construction.
“If we can break through here,” Grant said, “we’ll be in position between Lee and Richmond.”
“Very well, sir,” Wright said. “Are we to be alone?”
“No,” Grant said. “Smith’s Army of the James will go with you.”
“How much time do we have before the Army of the James arrives?”
“He’s here. I think.” Grant looked at Colonel Porter and Porter replied to Grant’s unspoken question with a shake of his head. “They should have been here by now, sir,” Porter said, “but we’ve had no recent reports from General Smith.”
“I’d like to rest my men until General Smith arrives, sir,” Wright said.
“Very well,” Grant said. “I’ll inform General Sheridan of the delay.”
Wright saluted and rode away.
“Where the hell is Smith?” Grant growled at Porter. “He sent a report that he was almost in position hours ago.”
Porter eased his horse closer to Grant’s. “One of our cavalry regiments on a scouting mission came across General Smith’s Army of the James. They apparently marched the wrong way. I just got the report.”
“But he said…” Grant groaned. “He thought he was in position, but he was on the wrong side of the river.”
Porter nodded. “It would seem so, sir.”
“How far out is he?”
“He can’t possibly reach us before late this afternoon.”
“Why do these kinds of things keep happening?” Grant asked angrily. “This entire campaign has been fraught with mistakes, too many of them mine. I need Robert Van Buskirk back.”
“Should I create an order, sir?” Porter asked.
Grant shook his head. “No. Sherman needs him worse than I do right now. Johnston and Hood have a lot more room to maneuver than Lee has. Our battle with Lee is going to come down to a slugfest. Sherman’s is still a battle of tactics.”
~
Ulysses S. Grant and George G. Meade, together with their staffs and key commanders, were gathered around a campfire not far from the crossroads. Meade was angry, and was not trying to hide it. “The reconnaissance was inadequate. In my opinion, General Grant, ordering the attack was ill-advised.”
Grant puffed on his cigar for a moment before answering. “The attack was ordered for this morning and based upon the conditions of the battlefield at that time. It wasn’t launched until after 6:30 this evening. The conditions had changed.”
“I urged you to cancel the attack, General,” Meade replied. “It was your decision to launch.”
“Upton’s brigade, from my division, literally walked into a hail of fire,” General David Russell said, angrily.
“In the future I’d advise that all commanders be instructed to reconnoiter the ground in front of their positions,” Grant said. “Aside from being standard operating procedure, it’s common sense.”
Several other generals grumbled complaints similar to Russell’s.
Grant appeared unaffected. “We came close to breaking them today and we’ve now got them pinned down.”
Meade nodded. “Yes. That’s so, General Grant. We’re told that Lee’s designing very elaborate fortifications with redoubts and interlocking fields of fire that extend across most of his front.”
Grant looked at Meade. “I know. It was me that told you. What are your plans for tomorrow, General?”
“Well.” Meade looked around at his generals. “We kept Anderson engaged for most of the day so he won’t have had time to do much fortification building. Our initial attack will be at dawn, against Anderson on Lee’s right.” His eyes fell on Winfield Scott Hancock. “General Hancock’s corps will shift from Totopotomoy Creek to a position left of General Wright. General Smith will be on the right flank.” He pointed at Warren. “When the attack on Lee’s right is underway, General Warren and General Burnside will attack his left. At all hazards, you must prevent him from shifting troops to his right.”
“It will take me all night to make that move,” Hancock said.
Meade offered no reply.
Grant waited a moment. “At dawn, General Meade?”
“Yes, General Grant. As I said, at dawn.”
“Thank you, General Meade,” Grant said. “Good night, gentlemen.” He walked to his horse and mounted, then waited when Hancock waved to him.
“General.” Hancock’s face looked ashen in the moonlight. He had been badly wounded at Gettysburg and had not yet recovered. “A word, please.”
Grant shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say, Win. Do the best that you can do and if your troops aren’t up for a fight in the morning, tell Meade. So far he hasn’t been in the least reluctant to delay an attack.”
Hancock looked over his shoulder, then moved closer to Grant’s horse. “This isn’t working. There’s no one in command here and there’s no battle plan. I’m supposed to be in a coordinated attack with Wright and Baldy Smith, but none of us knows the terrain or what we’ll be facing.”
Grant took some time to answer. “If I jump in the middle of this now, it’ll be the same as firing George Meade.”
“That may not be such a bad thing.”