The Stonewall Brigade wound its way back into Richmond, exhausted and hungry. Jeff was still sad because of the death of the young Union soldier. He said little to anyone but went about his duties quietly.
His father approached him early the next morning. “Here’s a letter for you, Jeff.”
Jeff tore open the envelope and stared at the letter. “It’s from Leah,” he said finally.
His father, probably seeing that he was disturbed, asked gently, “Anything I can do to help?”
Jeff shook his head slowly. He knew exactly what Leah had planned and wished there were a way he could help. “No, sir, I don’t suppose so.”
“Well, I think you deserve a break. Why don’t you go into town and see if you can find a razor for me? I’ve looked everywhere, but that’s another thing the blockade’s cut off. I’m gonna have to raise a crop of whiskers if I don’t find one.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do my best.”
Jeff made his way into town where he went from shop to shop for more than an hour.
Finally he found a used razor, but the price was twenty dollars Confederate money. He raised his eyebrows. “That’s mighty expensive. That’s too much to pay for a razor.”
The shopkeeper shrugged his shoulders. “If you got two dollars Union money, I’ll take that.”
This was the usual exchange at the time. The Confederacy might be at war with the North, but shopkeepers, bankers, and those who dealt in trade knew well the worthlessness of Confederate currency. It had been printed up hurriedly without any backing, with merely a promise to pay, and already the government was strained in every direction from carrying on the war.
“It’ll have to do.” Jeff handed the cash over and walked out of the shop. He was headed back toward camp when he saw Lucy in a carriage driven by one of the Driscoll slaves.
“Jeff! Jeff! Wait a minute!”
He halted and went over to where the carriage had drawn up beside the street. “Hello, Lucy. How are you?”
“Jeff! I’ve got to talk to you.” She turned to the driver and said, “Matthew, leave us alone.” She waited until the driver crawled down out of the buggy and wandered slowly off toward the shops.
“Get up in the buggy, Jeff,” Lucy said. “I’ve got something to tell you, and I don’t think you’re going to like it much.”
Staring at her, Jeff asked, “What is it?” He had no idea in the world what the girl had in her mind. She looked pretty, as usual, wearing a dark green dress with a bonnet to match, but he was not in the mood to appreciate beauty. The battle had grieved him, as battles always did.
“Jeff! I know you are friends with Leah Carter, but there’s something going on. There’s something funny going on.”
At once Jeff grew wary. Uh-oh, he thought, I hope she hasn’t found out about that Union prisoner. “What is it, Lucy?” he asked quickly.
“Well, earlier today I found Rufus in town. He had a letter he was supposed to deliver to your father.”
“Yes, I got it. What about it?”
“Well, I offered to carry the letter, and when Rufus gave it to me to take out to camp, he told me he saw Leah and a strange man in a wagon headed out of Richmond. Rufus knows everybody in this county. All he does is gossip and watch people. He said he never saw the man before, and I think he was one of those Yankee prisoners that escaped from Libby.”
“Oh, that’s not right,” Jeff protested. “Those prisoners would be hiding out in the woods. They wouldn’t get right out in the open.”
“Maybe they would, if they had somebody to help them escape. And then that letter! I don’t understand all of it, but something’s going on.” She gave Jeff a curious glance and said, “What about those girls? She and her sister were suspected of being spies. Captain Lyons told me so.”
“Wesley Lyons?”
“Yes!” Lucy grew excited. “I just know she’s a spy, Jeff, so I read the letter and took it to Captain Lyons, and he said he was going to do something about it.”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Lucy!” Jeff exclaimed.
The girl stared at him. “Why not? If she’s a spy, she needs to be caught and put in prison. Isn’t that right?”
Jeff wanted to protest, but he suddenly knew he had to play a part. “Why … sure, I guess that’s right. I just wasn’t thinking, Lucy.” He sat there talking, but his mind was racing ahead. As soon as he could, he touched his cap and said, “Well, I’ve got to get back to camp. Orders you know.”
“Come and see me as soon as you can,” Lucy said. “We can work on this, Jeff. Together. Wouldn’t it be exciting if we caught a spy!”
“It sure would. Well, I’ll see you later, Lucy.”
Jeff made himself amble away, but as soon as he was out of sight of the girl, he ran halfway back to camp.
He found his father and gasped, “Pa, Leah’s in some kind of trouble. I’ve got to go help her!”
“Can you tell me about it, son?”
Jeff hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, sir, I think you better know.” Quickly he sketched what had gone on, and he saw his father’s brow furrow. He ended by saying, “What I think is, Leah’s taking that soldier back through the lines in that wagon. Somehow she thinks she can get him away.”
“Well, what can you do, son?”
“Her letter said they’re going to be at Seven Point Creek tonight. I bet Wesley Lyons will send a troop there. If I can get there before they do, I can warn them.”
Captain Majors thought hard for a moment. “All right. I think this is serious. I’ll draw a horse for you from the cavalry supply, a good one. You’ll have to be careful, though. Horses are precious these days. Come on.”
An hour later Jeff swung into the saddle and pulled his hat down. “I’ll get the horse back safe, Captain. Don’t worry.” He spurred the animal, a fine chestnut stallion, and rode off at a gallop.
I’m getting a late start, he thought as he cantered out of town toward the outer lines. He had a pass signed by his father, so he had no trouble getting by the sentries. In any case, they would not have stopped a Confederate soldier. He rode hard again and tried to think what he would do if he saw the patrol. “I can’t let ’em see me. I’ve got to get around ’em somehow.”
He rode hard until two o’clock, when he stopped at a farmhouse to get a drink of water and to rest his horse.
“Have you seen any troops moving along the road, ma’am?” He drank gratefully from the gourd dipper, savoring the cold water out of the well. “A Confederate unit?”
“Well, yeah, you just missed them, Private.” The woman had a pair of bright blue eyes, and she smiled as she pointed down the road. “They stopped here about thirty minutes ago. I heard one of them say they was headed for the river.”
“That’d be Seven Point, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s right. It ain’t far. I expect you can catch ’em time they get there. There’s a shortcut, if you want to take it.” She quickly described a little used road that cut around the main highway. “You’ll come out right on Seven Point. You might even be waiting for them soldier friends of yours.”
“Thanks a lot.”
He got into the saddle and spurred the big chestnut. A quarter of a mile down the road he saw the large oak where the narrow road angled off. He found it to be little more than a trail, barely wide enough for a wagon. The going was rough, but he did not slow his horse.
From time to time, he ducked a branch and once was almost raked out of the saddle by one. It hit him in the face and gashed his right cheek. As he drove the horse on, he felt the blood trickling down and fumbled for a handkerchief. He wiped the wound as best he could and then paid it no more heed.
The road made several turns, but finally he reached a stream where there was no bridge. “This must be Seven Point,” he said. The trail turned to the left, and he took it, thinking, This has got to lead to the bridge on the main road.
His horse was tired and reluctant, but Jeff lifted him into a gallop, saying, “We’ve got to get there before those soldiers!”