Day Nine

by Clayton Spann

July 1: 4:35 p.m.

  They reached the farm just after four-thirty in the afternoon. The last several miles on the York road they had heard distant rumbling, coming from the western horizon. The two sergeants riding beside him expressed fear they would miss the battle.

  Jackson had told them not to worry. Tonight they would get all the fighting they wanted. Until then, he reminded, they were to act the noncombatant role their civilian garb prescribed.

  The three men trotted down the lane flanked by elm trees. He had left here a week ago to the day. It had been a sad day, made sadder by the necessity of imprisoning Susannah and Peggy three days earlier.

  He knew it had been a great ordeal for the two. Even with a long supply of food and water, they must fear for their lives. Who was to say if anyone would come looking for them?

  Ever since, their fear and discomfort had burdened Jackson. Yes, Amanda and Robert swore they would post letters to authorities in Abbottstown and York. But Jackson had worried the letters could be lost in the confusion caused by the invasion. His soul would never rest if Susannah and Peggy died of thirst or starvation.

  The house and yard looked the same as when he left. Nothing out of place. Most importantly, the padlock remained intact on the root cellar doors.

  They halted before the sod covered root cellar. The sergeants were quickly off their mounts. They gave Jackson plenty of room as he carefully came off his.

  At their first rest after leaving Carlisle this morning, the sergeants had scampered to help him down. He sternly told them to keep away. Their intent was good, he knew, but he would not be treated as a cripple. He would overcome the loss of his arm like he did everything, through determination.

  “Sergeant Howard, retrieve the key.”

  “Yes, General.” There was still the mix of disbelief and reverence in the sergeant’s voice.

  Both sergeants had required much convincing after they were brought in on his survival. At first they thought it some terrible jest. Only when General Ewell swore on a bible and Jackson recounted shared experiences did they finally accept.

  The sergeants afterward treated him like a deity. He ordered them to desist. They tried, but kept slipping back into worship. It was embarrassing. Adulation should be reserved for the Almighty.

  Howard scurried into the cider shed, where Jackson had said where the padlock key would lie buried a yard beyond the door.

  Jackson called from the top of the cellar steps. “Susannah! Susannah! Can you hear me?”

  Howard shortly brought him the big key. Jackson almost took it, but had to yield to the fact that two hands would be needed to remove the padlock.

  “Come with me, Sergeant. Unlock the lock.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They went down the cellar steps. Robert had drilled a dozen holes in the two stout doors. As Jackson neared the doors the smell hit.

  The odor was faint, but unmistakable. Human waste. He had hoped not to encounter it.

  From a barrel Robert had constructed a makeshift privy for Sue and Peggy. He half filled it with applejack. Robert said the alcohol in the applejack should cleanse the waste. Apparently it had not. Or perhaps they had accidentally tipped the privy and spilled its contents.

  Shame swept him. To have subjected a woman and a girl to such indignity.

  As Howard worked the key, Jackson yelled directly into the holes.

  “Susannah, are you all right?”

  Immediately he heard muffled shouting. The shouting of two voices. He gave thanks to God. Then the two were banging on the cellar door.

  “Help us! Help us! We are locked in!”

  “Susannah! This is Thomas—Billy. I have come to let you out.”

  He heard a gasp. Then an eye showed at one of the holes.

  Howard had the padlock off. Then he pulled open the doors. His face screwed, and he stepped back as the full strength of the stench pushed out.

  Jackson held his ground. But he saw no one. Sue and Peggy had retreated into the cellar darkness.

  “Susannah! Come out. You have nothing to fear.”

  Silence. Then Jackson thought he heard Peggy whimpering.

  “Little darling,” he called. “Don’t you want to see your friend again?”

  “Please don’t hurt us,” said Susannah. Her voice quavered. “We won’t tell anyone.”

  So she had determined who he was.

  “Come out, Sue. I want to see that you are all right.”

  “We—we will be. Just let us alone. No one will know you were here. I swear they won’t.”

  He abhorred they thought he would do them harm. He had treated them with only tenderness. Until that Sunday, of course.

  Jackson made to enter the cellar. Howard grabbed him.

  “Unhand me, sergeant.”

  “You can’t go in there, sir. What if she has a knife?”

  “Unhand me!”

  Now Sergeant Folwer was beside Howard.

  “You can’t take the chance. We’ll bring them out.”

  “No! You touch them, I’ll have you bucked and gagged.”

  “Sir—”

  “No force will be used on them. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, General. But we can’t let you go in there. We won’t. We can’t lose you again.

  Jackson glowered, but caught himself before his tongue could lash. These men were only doing their duty. And they were right, he could not be lost hours before the decisive assault of the war.

  “Very well.”

  Jackson peered again into the dark. Why didn’t they have a candle lit? Robert had left them plenty.

  “Sue, Peggy, please come. I want to say goodbye.”

  “Why?”

  “I am fond of you both. I do not want you to remember me as a cruel captor.”

  “Damn you, Thomas—Thomas Jackson. We could have died in here.”

  “That is why I returned. I was urged not to. But I insisted.”

  “Do you know how horrible it has been?”

  “I can only say it was necessary. Since you know who I am, you must see that. Please come out.”

  “Sir, you should go back to the top of the stairs.” Fowler had drawn his pistol.

  “Put that away.”

  “We have our orders, sir. To protect you at all costs.”

  “I am your commanding officer, not General Ewell. Put your weapon away.”

  Folwer exchanged looks with Howard. “Be glad to, sir. If you’ll step up the stairs.”

  His face heated. But he stepped up. The sergeants joined him.

  “Sue, please. I cannot stay long.”

  He waited. Presently two witches, a big one and a little one, appeared at the cellar entrance. He scarcely recognized the pair he last saw ten days ago. They were filthy. Both squinted fiercely against the light of day.

  “Let us go into the house, Sue.”

  “No. Say what you have to say. Then go.”

  Haggard Susannah looked twice her age. Jackson’s shame grew. Would God forgive him for the trial he had put her and her child through?

  “Your food and water has held out?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you use all the candles?”

  “The one I lit went out while we slept. It’s pitch black in there, Thomas, even with the holes in the door. I couldn’t find the matches to light more. In our hunt we knocked over the thing Robert made.”

  Her bitter eyes watered.

  Jackson swallowed. “You have my deepest apology for the tribulations you have suffered. I hope the money we left will provide some consolation.”

  Amanda had put five hundred dollars in gold and seven hundred in greenbacks in the flour barrel.

  “I thought that was a lie.”

  “It’s there, Sue. It will provide you and Peggy for at least two years.” Perhaps five, if used wisely.

  Her lower lip quivered. Then she came up the steps
to hit him in the chest. Her fist pounded. The sergeants grabbed her arms.

  “No,” he said. “It is all right.”

  Then she was crying. Below little Peggy looked up beseechingly at Jackson.

  “Let’s sit down,” he said.

  Susannah slumped on a step. Jackson closed the cellar doors, then sat beside her. Peggy sat beside him.

  The odor of excrement had greatly lessened. He could smell the rank unwashed bodies beside him, but that rated nothing to the other.

  Jackson turned to the sergeants.

  “I suppose you won’t leave us alone,” said Jackson to the men.

  “Sir, we can’t. You know we aren’t to leave your side until we reach the battlefield.”

  “At least go back to the horses.”

  “Sorry, General. We have to stand close.”

  His lips compressed. Sergeants telling generals what they would do. Then he exhaled.

  “All right. But your ears will hear nothing. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, General.”

  He turned to Susannah. “When did you know? About me?”

  “Not until we were in the cellar. I—I had thought something was amiss, almost from the start. But I never suspected you were a Confederate. Perhaps a Union deserter, who Robert and Amanda wanted to hide. Or maybe a fugitive from justice.”

  Jackson grimaced. They had not considered she might think along those lines. What if she had gone to the provost in York? The jig would have been up.

  “But I didn’t care,” she said. “At first there was the money. Then—”. She looked toward the sergeants. Her voice lowered. “Then there was you.”

  His cheeks burned again, now for a different reason.

  “I regret you developed that sentiment.” He said the words gently.

  But her lips curled anyway.

  “So do I!”

  “I am a married man, Susannah. And did I ever lead you on?”

  “While I was down there, I hated you. Married man or not.”

  “You had reason. We badly deceived you this past month. It was necessary, though.”

  “I fell in love with you. And Peggy did too.”

  Jackson did not look at the soldiers behind him. What must they think of these words? He had told them to ignore what they heard, and by the wrath of the Almighty, they better.

  “Sue, I am fond of you. In other circumstances…”

  “Don’t tell me that! You were counting the days until you could be away from here. Back to your war. So you can start killing good men again.”

  Jackson winced. She had also figured out that, her husband dying opposite his corps.

  “The war has killed many good men,” he said. “On both sides. Some were very good men.” He remembered the hard loss of Ashby and Paxton. “If I had one wish, it would be the war ended today.”

  “They say you live for battle. I believe it.”

  “Sue…”

  “Why couldn’t you just have been Billy? We could have made a good life here.”

  Peggy finally spoke. She had climbed onto his lap. Her words struck to the bone.

  “Uncle Tommy, please stay. It would be so wonderful.”

  Jackson’s throat constricted. He waited a moment to be certain his voice would not issue huskily. The sergeants must not hear him like that.

  “I truly wish I could, my little darling. But I do have a wife and daughter I love. And I have duty to my country.”

  Now Susannah cast beseeching eyes.

  “Tell these men to go. Stay here. Forget the rest of the world.”

  Jackson was finding it hard to breathe. Not on any battlefield had he felt such distress.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the sergeants watching intently. Their mouths hung open. Did they really think their general would abandon his command?

  During his years in Lexington he had never wanted a return to war. He could happily live in that comfortable town in the Shenandoah—a husband to Anna, a father to Julia, a professor at the Institute, a deacon in the church, a Sunday school teacher to the colored, a tender of his garden, a drinker of Valley beauty—all the rest of his days. He did not need war.

  But the North had forced battle on the South, not the other way around. Union armies had stormed into his state. The North was trying to trample Virginia’s liberty, not the other way around. It was no crime to defend one’s self and land.

  He hated the enemy, but he did not hate the individual soldiers of the North. For the most they were fine men. They were devoted to their cause, even if it was a poisonous one fostered by a tyrant. Jackson very much regretted making women like Susannah Cooper widows, and leaving children like Peggy bereft fathers.

  Jackson was startled to find Susannah’s hand on his.

  Very gently he pulled his away. Her eyes immediately moistened.

  “You had better go then,” she said. She spoke sadly.

  “No,” said Peggy. “Please stay. I will go to church. Every Sunday.”

  Jackson stroked her knotted, dirty hair. “You must do so anyhow, my little darling.” He turned eyes to Susannah. “So must your mother.”

  Susannah shook her head.

  “If not for yourself, Sue, for Peggy. I beg you to consider her soul.”

  “We have had this conversation before. I will not kneel to a god who has allowed this carnage.”

  “Men cause war, Sue. Not the Almighty.”

  “You best go, Thomas. Go and win your battle. I will pray you do end the war today.”

  “General, we should be getting on,” said Fowler. “It’s past five.”

  Yes, they better.

  They were not to directly head to Gettysburg on the York Road. They would backtrack north to Hampton. There they would rendezvous with Stuart’s men.

  He and Stuart should arrive at Gettysburg by nine. They would meet with General Lee for final details of the double envelopment—which would commence under the full moon at midnight.

  The sky was still overcast. But as Amanda promised, the gray was lightening. He could see some patches of dull blue to the west. As the evening progressed the skies should clear until only a smattering of high, thin clouds remained.

  “Go, Thomas,” said Susannah. “Duty calls.”

  “Return to the Heavenly Father, Sue. He will bless you.”

  “If I kowtow to Him.”

  “Sue—”

  “Leave, Thomas. Please.”

  She sounded as if her heart were breaking. That would torment him, causing this good woman such pain. He swore he would make it up to her. And to Peggy, who was biting her lip and sniffling.

  Jackson kissed the forehead of the girl, then helped her slide from his lap.

  “Goodbye, my little darling,” he said. “But not farewell.”

  As he and the sergeants trotted away from the farmhouse, battle lust seized Jackson. He would fiercely smite the Army of the Potomac. He would destroy four of its corps tonight and savage two more tomorrow. Only one would remain intact as it fled toward Washington City.

  The stunning victory would take the heart out of the North. The grief and rage of many millions would force Lincoln and his abolitionist cabal to abandon their unholy aggression. Then all the good men, on both sides, could go home to those who loved them.