“Yes, sir.”
“This is very kind of you, Fitz.”
“No it’s not.” Fitz Lee shook his head. “It’s been a long time since I had someone to talk to.”
~
Johnny had his leg attached and was almost dressed when Fitz Lee came back into the tent with an enlisted man at his heels. “What is it?”
“Sheridan’s riding toward Winchester along the Berryville Pike with two corps,” Fitz Lee replied. “We’re going to try to catch him crossing Opequon Creek. My groom will help you pack your horse and then he’ll take you back to the wagon train.” He gestured toward the enlisted man.
“Take him with you, Fitz. I really don’t need him and you will.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I can mount and dismount if I must, but it’s embarrassingly clumsy, so I avoid doing it when anyone’s watching.”
“Very well. I’ll see you when I see you, Johnny Reb.”
“Keep your head down, Fitz.”
September 15, 1864
City Point, Virginia
In early September, Grant’s headquarters tents were replaced with two rows of modest log cabins connected by a wooden sidewalk. Grant’s cabin was in the center and Robert Van Buskirk’s was directly across the narrow, rutted, and usually muddy road. Both cabins had two rooms. The front rooms were used as offices and the back as sleeping quarters.
This evening the two generals were sitting on the narrow porch in front of Grant’s cabin, smoking and enjoying a cup of steaming coffee.
“I got a letter from a touring Shakespeare company today,” Grant said. “They’re offering to do Romeo and Juliet here to entertain the troops. They have their own stage. All we have to provide is a place for them to set up and seating. What do you think?”
“Did they send a playbill?”
“Maybe. The letter’s on my desk.”
Robert got up, went inside and came out with a printed card. “The woman I told you about is playing Juliet.”
“The one on the Atlanta train?”
“How many women have I told you about?” Robert sat back down and gave Grant the card. “Elizabeth Murray. Urilla’s cousin.”
“Do you think she’s planned all this just to see you again?” Grant waved the card.
“I hope not.”
“I’m inclined to graciously refuse, anyway. If something were to happen to them it’d be a public relations nightmare.”
“What could happen to them?”
“The Rebs could set off another bomb like the one last month.”
“How likely is that, now that you’ve increased security?”
“Listen, Professor. If you want her to come, say the word.”
“No, no. I was only talking about the risk to public relations. Just because I don’t see the risk, doesn’t mean that I want that predator hunting me.”
“Predator.” Grant chuckled.
“She told me in no uncertain terms that she was actively looking for a husband who would father two children for her before she was too old. She also made it clear that I was an acceptable candidate.”
“Only two children?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Did she specify gender?”
“A boy and a girl.”
“How old did you say she is?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“You’re old enough to be her grandfather,” Grant said.
“I think I pointed that out to her. Perhaps not in so many words or quite so bluntly.”
“What’s she look like?”
“An older version of Urilla.”
Grant whistled between his teeth. “We have to reorder Johnny and Urilla’s wanted posters about once a week because the men steal them and keep her picture in their wallets.”
“A little brassier, perhaps.”
“What?”
“The cousin’s brassier than Urilla. Not cheap, you understand, but – well – brassier.”
“Who could be brassier than Urilla?” Grant asked. “It takes a lot of brass to sneak around behind enemy lines, spying for the enemy.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“This other woman, Elizabeth, really looks like Urilla?” Grant asked.
“Quite a bit. Yes. She may be a bit plumper. Curvier. You know.”
“Well,” Grant said with a chuckle, “she must not be the force behind this theatrical company’s offer because a woman that looks like that can surely find a more suitable husband than you almost anywhere.”
Robert looked at him for a moment, then tossed the dregs out of his cup into the street. “Can you get me another cup of coffee please, Sam? The walk may be too much for an old geezer like me.”
Grant made a face at him and signaled an aide. “Coffee for the old geezer, please.”
September 19, 1864
Winchester, West Virginia
Johnny was dozing with his back against a tree when a commotion broke out at the front of the assembly area. He got up and limped toward the sound of a woman shouting.
“Go back you cowards,” she was shrieking. “Stand and fight. Go back.”
Johnny drew his revolver and fired a shot into the air to part the sea of fleeing men.
“Your place is on the front lines,” the woman continued. “Get back where you belong.”
Johnny could see her now and he recognized her as Fanny Gordon, the wife of Major General John Gordon. Mrs. Gordon was known by all as a camp follower who was not to be denied access to her husband, orders or no orders. Jubal Early had once wished out loud that the Yankees would capture her and keep her until after the war. Johnny fired another shot in the air and limped toward her. “It’s me, Mrs. Gordon. Johnny Van Buskirk.”
“Oh, my,” she said, with her hand to her mouth. “I didn’t recognize you in civilian clothes and thought you had come to do me harm.”
Johnny took her arm and began guiding her toward the ambulances. “These panicked men may not intend to do you harm, but if you should fall they’ll crush you under their boots.”
“Can you not turn them back?”
“I don’t know where they’re running to, from or why. But I’ll try.” He released her arm. “Stay close to this ambulance but don’t get between the wheels. The horses might get spooked and pull the ambulance over you.”
She nodded.
Johnny walked back toward the flow of men trying to think of a way to stop them. As he reached the edge of the crowd he saw a familiar face and made a grab for the man’s tunic.
The man reacted by trying to pull away but stopped struggling when Johnny put the pistol in his face. “Don’t shoot. I’ll go back.”
“You’re Fitz Lee’s groom. I saw you this morning.”
“Yes, sir. They’re all dead.”
“Who?”
“Our brigade.”
“Where’s Fitz?”
“Back there. He’s dead too.”
“Where is he exactly?”
“I don’t know,” the man whined. “Please let me go.”
Johnny cocked the pistol and pressed it against the groom’s forehead. “Tell me how to find Fitz and I’ll let you go. Otherwise, this is the day and place that you die.”
“He’s in the creek. Under his last horse.”
“Last horse? What does that mean?”
“He had the horse he was riding and two remounts when we left camp. All of them were shot dead. The last horse fell on him.”
Johnny released the hammer of his pistol and lowered it. “Get out of here.” As quickly as he could he returned to the ambulance and Fanny Gordon. “I’m going to take this ambulance and look for Fitzhugh Lee. His groom says he’s dead. I want to see for myself. You can come with me or take your chances alone.”
“I’ll come with you. After these years with John, I’ve become a fair nurse.”
“My arm’s not strong and I’ve got an artificial leg. Can you climb up to the driver’s box without my help?”
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“Yes. But where’s the driver?”
“I suppose he ran off when he saw all these fighting men running away.”
Fanny hiked up her skirts and climbed onto the ambulance, then leaned over and offered her hand to Johnny.
“No. I’ll pull you off,” he said. “Just move over and give me room to flop around a little. I’d be grateful if you didn’t watch.”
She scooted across the seat and turned her head away. “At Antietam, John was shot five times. His jaw was wired shut and he couldn’t eat. Then he got an infection. Are you up yet?”
“Yes,” Johnny grunted. “More or less.” He dragged his leg up with both hands and released the catch so he could bend it at the knee. “At times I feel like a turtle that’s on its back.”
“Urilla must be proud of you.”
“I’m surprised that you remember her name.” He picked up the reins and released the brake. “Ha. Let’s go, horses.”
“I stayed with her at her father’s plantation after Chancellorsville. Didn’t she tell you that?”
“I don’t think so.” He guided the team toward the road. “There’s a chance that some of our soldiers will take this ambulance from us to escape and an even better chance that we’ll run into the Yankees that’re chasing these boys. My brother’s here somewhere with Sheridan and he’ll see to our safety if we’re captured.”
“I’m not worried.”
He chuckled. “No. I don’t think you are.”
September 19, 1864
Winchester, West Virginia
“Where am I?” Fitz Lee murmured.
“New Market, Virginia,” Johnny said. “You’re gonna be fine.”
“How bad was it?”
“Let’s talk about that later.”
“No,” Fitz Lee said. “Please, Johnny. I have to know.”
“It was bad. I can’t tell you exactly how bad, but I know that all the artillery was lost and that casualties were very high.”
“I don’t know how it could have happened. We had them on the run.”
“From what I’ve heard, Sheridan wasn’t there when you first attacked and when he got there he rallied the troops that were running away and formed them for a counterattack. I’ll have John Gordon visit you tomorrow. He can fill you in.”
“Was Fanny Gordon here or did I dream it?”
“She was with you in the ambulance while I drove you here. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”
September 22, 1864
City Point, Virginia
Grant crossed the muddy road to Robert Van Buskirk’s cabin and sat down in the chair next to Robert’s. “A little chilly this evening.”
“Not as chilly for us as it is for Lee.”
“He can’t hold out much longer.”
“He’s still getting supplies from the Shenandoah Valley.”
“Not for long. Sheridan chased Early to Waynesboro, Virginia this morning. The Valley’s wide open. I’m going to give him orders to burn everything of value from one end to the other. Crops, barns, mills, warehouses and factories.”
“What about livestock? He doesn’t have any wranglers or enough troops to protect the herds if he did.”
“I told him to kill any livestock that he couldn’t use.”
Robert raised his eyebrows.
“What?”
“Do you think Stanton will back you?”
“No. But I sent the orders directly to Sheridan by courier instead of relaying them through Washington.”
“You’re looking for trouble.”
“I’m looking for a way to end this siege.” He glanced down the long sidewalk toward the water and then turned away quickly. “Uh, oh. Speaking of trouble.”
“What?”
“I’m going to bet that the woman walking toward us is Urilla’s cousin.”
Robert squinted. “Could be.”
Grant stood up. “I’m going back to my place.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll just go get another chair.”
Map by Hal Jespersen, www.cwmaps.com
October 8, 1864
Tom’s Creek, Virginia
Johnny rode into the Confederate cavalry camp, reined in his horse and lay flat along the animal’s neck to swing his artificial leg over the saddle.
“Need some help there, Johnny Reb?” General Thomas Lafayette Rosser walked over to Johnny’s horse.
“No thanks, Tex.” Johnny dropped to the ground, then offered his hand to Rosser. “I heard that you came up from Petersburg to take over Fitz’s brigade.”
“Yup. I’m here to give my old roommate Custer the best whippin’ that he ever got.”
“You may have the chance tomorrow.” Johnny gave his reins to an enlisted man and walked toward the fire. “Custer’s in General Alfred Torbert’s command. Sheridan’s using Torbert to protect the infantry that’s burning all the farms and mills.”
“If that’s all you came to tell me I gotta say that you’re not much of a scout. I’ve been harassing Torbert for the last three days. The thing is, he won’t come out and fight.”
“You weren’t listening to what I said. Sheridan ordered Torbert to send Custer and my brother to chase you off tomorrow.”
“Chase me off?” Rosser laughed. “Two little brigades?”
“Pea’s got thirty-five hundred troopers and Custer’s got twenty-five hundred.”
“We’ll eat them up.”
Johnny accepted an offered cup of coffee from a junior officer that he didn’t know. “Thank you.”
“Your folks still in Waco?” Rosser asked.
“They were in Richmond the last time I saw them,” Johnny replied. “But they were planning to go back to Texas.”
“Why’d your father quit the Confederacy?”
“He didn’t quit the Confederacy, he resigned his commission.”
“Why’d he do that?”
“That’s not a question I’d ever ask him but I’m sure he had a good reason.” Johnny put the coffee cup down by the fire. “Well, I think I’ll turn in, Tex. It’s been a long day.”
“You’re not stayin’ with us?”
“No. I prefer being on my own. I’ve got a camp not far from here.”
“Okay. Good night then, Johnny Reb.”
“Good night, Tex. Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need luck to handle two Yankee generals, even if one of ‘em’s a Texan.”
October 9, 1864
Tom’s Creek, Virginia
Union General Alfred Torbert pointed to the map. “Rosser is here with three thousand men and Lomax is here with about fifteen hundred.”
“I want Rosser, sir,” General George Armstrong Custer said.
“Weren’t you paying attention, Custer?” Torbert asked. “He outnumbers you. General Van Buskirk will take Rosser, you take Lomax.”
“We can help General Custer if he needs it, General Torbert,” Paul Van Buskirk said. “He’s got a personal bone to pick with Rosser.”
“Sheridan will skin me alive if I agree and this thing goes bad,” Torbert grumbled.
“It won’t go bad,” Paul said. “Rosser and Lomax think that we’re afraid of them because we haven’t come out to meet them before now. They’ll be overconfident.”
“Rosser thinks he’s the new Jeb Stuart,” Custer said. “He’s in for a big surprise.”
“All right,” Torbert said. “But I want tight communication between you both. And,” he pointed at Custer, “if you get in any trouble you immediately ask Van Buskirk for help.”
Custer nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Get outta here,” Torbert said. “I can see the eastern horizon already.”
The two younger generals walked out and signaled for their horses.
“I think I owe you a sock on the jaw,” Custer said.
Paul looked at him and chuckled. “I’ve heard that you’re stupid, but until this minute I didn’t believe it.”
“Not now, of course.”
“Any time you want a few days hospital rest.” Paul swung up onto his horse. “Rosser’s using the high embankment of Tom’s Creek for protection. He’s all bunched up. You can turn his flank easily.” He kicked his horse and rode out to rejoin his men.
Confederate General Lomax’s men were asleep when Paul struck. He captured nearly three hundred and chased the other troops for over twenty miles until they reached the safety of Jubal Early’s infantry.
Rosser was better prepared than was Lomax, but when Custer sent three regiments around his flank, the Confederate troopers broke and ran.
The battle, which became laughingly known as the Woodstock Races, firmly established the new dominance of Union cavalry.
October 15, 1864
City Point, Virginia
Grant waved an envelope at Robert Van Buskirk. “Letter for you by special messenger from the White House.”
“For me?” Robert took the envelope and ripped it open. “It’s from John Nicolay. The President’s assistant.”
“What’s he want?”
“Gimme a second.” Robert skimmed the letter. “Hmm. Well, it looks like he wants me to come to Washington and attend parties.”
“What?” Grant put down the order he was writing and sat back in his chair.
“The hidden agenda seems to be that they want someone to send a message to the troops that you aren’t a serious candidate.”
“I’ve written letters to everyone saying that I have no political aspirations.”
“Yes, I know. But I think Nicolay’s concern is the actual voting by troops.” He looked at Grant. “You’re aware that troops are going to be permitted to vote in the election, aren’t you?”
Grant gave him a sneer. “If that’s what Nicolay’s concerned about, why doesn’t he just say so?”
Robert handed Nicolay’s letter to him. “I know from a conversation I had with Anna that Lincoln absolutely refuses to take any active part in his reelection campaign, so my guess is that Nicolay’s been forbidden to openly participate.”
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