Chapter Four

 

 

The war raged on, and another battle near Chickamauga Creek, Georgia, nearly annihilated the Yankees. Hopeful the Confederate army would be victorious once again, David became light-hearted, but he kept his feelings hidden. His thoughts flashed back to the day he’d enlisted with Jake, how they had traveled to Chattanooga, and how two elderly sisters had fed them and filled them with Confederate conviction. The recollection made him smile. He wondered how the old ladies were doing and hoped they were safe, along with his own family.

His thoughts wandered to Callie. Was she still waiting for his return? He hoped, in a way, she wasn’t. Regardless of their differences, he was falling for Anna. He knew it, but he wasn’t sure how to deal with his feelings. Nevertheless, he missed his home, his family, and his Dixie. He hoped everything was still intact. If only he could send a letter or receive one, but he knew it was impossible. There was no way he could get a letter across enemy lines. Even if he could, it might lead the authorities back to him. Not only would it imperil him but also Anna and her family. He couldn’t take that risk.

By late October, harvesting was completed. David learned from Patrick that Anna’s family planned to sell much of the crops to the Union army. This infuriated him, so he confronted her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sellin’ it all to the Yankees?” he asked.

“Who did you expect us to sell it to? The Union army is paying top dollar, and they’re the ones who need it the most.”

“Is that a fact? My fellow comrades are starvin’ to death.”

“I can’t do anything about that.”

He grunted. “I know. I’m jist riled to learn I’ve been workin’ to feed those scoundrels.”

“We need the money so we can buy new farm equipment in the spring,” she said.

Her words didn’t justify her actions. She had known, yet she hadn’t told him until he’d discovered the truth himself. He wanted to help her, but her cause grew increasingly difficult to accept. Once again, he considered leaving now the harvest was done, except he didn’t want to.

On October 31, Patrick arrived with a bottle of whiskey and invited David to partake with him. They stood shivering at the back door, passing the bottle between them.

“‘Tis Samhain tonight, lad. All Hallow’s Eve. Were ye aware of it?”

David nodded. “Where’d you git this whiskey?” he asked.

“Aye, ‘tis a grand thing the Meyers provide me with allowance for such an indulgence,” he replied. He pulled a pipe from his coat pocket and lit it. Puffing away, he shook his head and remarked, “Sure’n ‘tis a far cry from real tobacco.”

A thought crossed David’s mind. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He went upstairs to his room, grabbed the pouch of tobacco, and brought it back down to his friend.

Patrick peeked inside before taking a deep whiff. “Ah!” he sighed, relishing the pungent aroma. “Might this be the Southern tobacco I’ve heard tell about?”

David grinned. “Jake brought it along for tradin’, and this here’s what’s left.”

Patrick loaded his pipe, relit it, and puffed euphorically, smiling all the while. “‘Tis a wee bit o’ heaven, indeed.” He glanced at his friend. “Now, have ye any scary tales from the Southland that might have me skin crawlin’?”

David thought for a moment, “There’s a story from north Alabama about a place called the Red Bank.”

Raising his eyebrows, Patrick said, “Let’s see if ye might be tellin’ it frightfully enough to send a shiver up me spine.” He happily puffed away.

David grinned. He lowered his voice so it was a threatening grumble and delved into his story. Once he had completed the tale of an Indian maiden who had killed herself after losing her baby and had promptly turned into a ghost, he paused.

Patrick puffed silently on his pipe. “Well, now, I have a scarier one.” He puffed again, took a swig from the whiskey bottle, handed it to David, and said, “‘Tis an old tale from the motherland.”

The wind blew past them, whistling off through the barren fields. Both young men shivered, suddenly aware of the ominous darkness surrounding them.

David forced a nervous laugh before taking a swallow. “All right, Patrick. Let’s hear it.”

He took a puff and slowly exhaled. “There once lived a wealthy lady who was courted by two lords. One of the lords grew so jealous of the other that he plotted to kill his rival. So one night, he snuck into the unsuspectin’ lad’s bedchamber. But instead of choppin’ off his head—”

He said this with so much exuberance David jumped.

“He accidentally chopped off his legs instead.”

A dog howled in the distance, adding to the nuance of Patrick’s eerie Irish story.

“His torso received a proper burial, but his legs were tossed into a hole in the castle garden and covered with dirt. The murderin’ lord deceived the lady by tellin’ her the other suitor had abandoned his proposal to her. She agreed to marriage. But on their weddin’ night, in walked the two bodyless legs.”

An owl hooted from somewhere off in the empty trees.

“The legs followed the bridegroom relentlessly until the day he died. It’s said the legs can still be seen walkin’ round by themselves. ‘Tis a true phuca.” Upon this conclusion, Patrick puffed on the pipe. Smoke billowed around his head like an apparition.

“What’s a phuca?” asked David.

“A ghost,” Patrick responded.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, David snorted. “I reckon that’s the dumbest spook story I ever did hear.”

A gate near the barn caught in the wind and slammed loudly against the fencepost. The two men jumped. They chuckled at their reaction, but immediately felt the terrible chill. Reasoning they would be more comfortable inside, they entered the kitchen, consumed the remainder of the whiskey, and bid each other goodnight. Patrick returned home, and David retired quietly upstairs, careful not to wake the others. Relieved the fireplace had been lit for him, he undressed.

Climbing into bed, he snickered at the thought of two legs unattached to a body, chasing after a rival. Once he’d fallen asleep, however, the thought invaded his dreams. The legs ran toward him. Right behind them rode the headless Union horseman. The torso raised its saber and swung it where its head should have been. Just as the blade came down, David jolted awake. He gasped to catch his breath, realizing, once again, his imagination had gotten the best of him. Slowly, he lay back. Unable to sleep, he listened to the wind rattle the shutters and shake through the skeleton-like tree limbs from outside the frosty, lace-covered windows.

 

 

 

The men spent the next two weeks laboriously preparing for winter. They repaired fences, patched holes in the barn roof, lifted bales of hay and straw into the loft, finished clearing the fields, and chopped enough firewood to get through most of the winter depending on how harsh it would be. They also checked their machinery for any breakages. After slaughtering four hogs and two head of cattle for each farmstead, they hung the carcasses in their respective smokehouses.

During the following week, a dark cloud appeared and covered the entire sky as an immense flock of passenger pigeons migrated south for the winter. David wished, in a way, he was one of them so he could take wing and return home. The South seemed a very far off place. He and Patrick took turns shooting down as many pigeons as they could by using the Enfield rifle David had discovered on the Chancellorsville battlefield. Mrs. Meyers and Sarah then cooked the birds for several suppers in a row. When Anna asked him how he had killed them, he casually replied he and Patrick had taken turns shooting them with his rifle.

“And I sure would appreciate gettin’ my pistol back,” he remarked, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Is it here in the house?”

“Yes, but that’s all I’m telling you.” She huffed and left the room.

“I don’t intend to use it on y’all!” he hollered after her.

With that, he became more determined to find his missing Colt Army. Whenever the opportunity arose, he searched for it, careful not to be detected by those he was indebted to. Some rooms he inspected twice. Still, he couldn’t locate the girls’ hiding place.

One morning, the local newspaper announced the Soldiers National Cemetery in Gettysburg was to be inaugurated on the following Thursday, November 19. The womenfolk decided they wanted to attend, especially since Sarah had been there to assist with the wounded. Anna asked David to accompany them.

“No, thank you,” he said firmly. “I have no desire to go to a ceremony surrounded by Yankee diplomats and heads of state.”

“But we need a driver,” she said.

“Can’t Patrick drive y’all?”

“No. I’ve already made arrangements for him to tend to our livestock so we might get an early start. It says here the military will form at nine o’clock, and the procession will start at ten.”

David gawked at her in shock. “How long have you known about this? And why did you wait until now to ask me? How can you expect me to drive y’all to a place swarmin’ with Bluecoats?”

She smiled at him, loosening his defenses. “Don’t fret. No one will suspect you’re a Confederate,” she said and walked off.

Stunned, he knew he didn’t have much to say about the matter, so he let out an exasperated sigh.

Maggie, who had been listening to their conversation from across the kitchen table, said, “I’m looking forward to this, David. The entire town of Gettysburg will be full of Union soldiers, so you’ll be surrounded. There won’t be any escape for you, should someone turn you in.” She sneered at him in a sinister way.

He glared at her, speechless.

She stood, wrinkled her nose at him, and left the room.

Letting his guard down, he sank onto a chair. Would she really do such a terrible thing? He considered leaving right away, but he knew he wouldn’t get very far without a mount, since Renegade was still unable to travel. The only option for now was to drive them to Gettysburg and make sure to keep his distance from the Yankee Bluecoats.

When Thursday arrived, they boarded the family carriage and departed before dawn. Anna insisted on sitting beside David on the driver’s bench, and seated herself on his right side. As they drove away, they heard Renegade nicker frantically. David hoped the stallion wouldn’t break through his new stall door and chase after them.

Once they had traveled a few miles, he said quietly, “Miss Anna, I’ve decided I should leave at the end of this week.”

“David.” She glanced over her shoulder at her aunt and sisters. “You can’t. I mean, Renegade isn’t ready yet.”

“I know, but our agreement was for me to stay on till after harvest. I’ll come back for him when I can.”

She glared at him. “You do realize you don’t have documentation to allow your passage across the border, if you even get that far,” she said glibly.

“Yes,” he replied, looking down at the reins he held in his hands. His hat hid his eyes from her. “If I live through today without bein’ detected, then I reckon it’ll be my time to go.”

She sat quietly for a few moments. “David,” she finally said, “please don’t leave. I need you to stay. Please say you’ll stay on through the winter.”

He looked over at her. “Why?”

“I’ll explain it all to you on the way home,” she said.

With those words, he knew she wasn’t part of Maggie’s plot to have him exposed at the ceremony.

He drove Alphie through the rolling farmland, observing chevaus-de-fris fences that had been erected to repel the Rebel cavalry. For some reason, he hadn’t noticed them before when he and his fellow cavaliers had ridden into battle as part of J.E.B. Stuart’s “Invincibles.”

The family arrived to find throngs of people clogging the road into Gettysburg. David drove slowly toward the center of town, past two- and three-story brick, stone, and weatherboard houses. Abolitionists lined the street, holding signs degrading the South and singing “John Brown’s Body.” Students from Pennsylvania College gathered near street corners in clusters. Union soldiers were everywhere. A group of them walked over and surrounded the Brady’s landau carriage. David’s heart raced wildly. All of his battlefield memories rushed over him. He continuously drew deep breaths in order to contain his composure and repeatedly wiped his sweaty palms against the coat Anna had provided him.

She glanced at him and noticed his wary expression. “Are you all right?” she asked.

All he could do was nod in response. His heart clenched in terror, but he couldn’t let his fears be known to the family.

Pulling Alphie to a halt, he climbed down, tied him to a post, assisted the ladies from the carriage, and escorted them toward a wooden platform that had been erected for the occasion. Someone handed him a program, so he smiled politely, being careful not to speak. The Stars and Stripes waved from atop a flagpole overlooking the gathering, its stars now totaling thirty-five, which included all the states of the Confederacy. Behind him, he saw rows of graves, their white markers protruding from the dead earth like silent sentries, gleaming in the bright sunshine. Remnants of the fierce battle still remained. Scarred trees, pieces of wagons, rifle pits, scraps of clothing, broken fences, canteens, and other personal artifacts cluttered the sacred ground. Adjacent to the new Soldiers Cemetery was the old town graveyard. Ironically, a sign had been posted there before the great battle: All persons found using firearms on these grounds will be prosecuted with the utmost rigor of the law.

The Yankee dignitaries, lined in procession, finally appeared. Parading through the center of the enormous crowd, they made their way to the platform, which had a sofa and several chairs positioned on it. Four military bands began to play “Hail Columbia.” Union soldiers filed in. They stood only a few feet from David as the procession came through.

“There’s the president!” a man behind him said.

“He’s quite a Chesterfield,” remarked another.

David turned to see Mr. Lincoln atop a gray horse, riding toward the platform. Either the horse was too small or the president was too tall. His feet nearly touched the ground.

The soldiers saluted, and the president returned the gesture. David almost did too, but caught himself in time. He gazed at the tall, slender, dark-bearded man who wore a long black suitcoat and stovepipe hat. President Lincoln’s expression was somber. His large eyes glanced over the crowd, and a faint, sad smile crossed his lips. Awestruck, David took in the sight of the man he’d heard so much about. The president’s weathered face, both homely and attractive at once, showed sensitivity and remorse. David felt overwhelmed to be in his presence. He continued to stare while the president rode past him. Mr. Lincoln turned his head and looked directly at him, apparently sensing his gaze. Their eyes met. David’s heart leaped into his throat. The president dismounted and stepped up onto the platform. His kind, gentle expression showed compassion. David wondered how he could intentionally proceed with the war and pass laws to cripple the South.

Just before noon, the program commenced with the Birgfield’s Band of Philadelphia playing “Homage d’un Heros.” Called to prayer, the audience was reminded of how so many young men had departed from their loved ones to die for their cause. The Reverend T.H. Stockton spoke with such soulful entreaty his listeners were overcome with emotion. When he was finished, the United States Marine Band played “Old Hundred.”

David glanced around; relieved no one could detect his secret. His eyes met Maggie’s. She mouthed the word “Rebel” at him and glared so harshly he felt compelled to look away.

Edward Everett of Massachusetts began with an oration. He went on endlessly in an eloquent speech, referring to Athens, the occasion for which they were all assembled, the significant victory, and the history of the war. Giving an elaborate account of the battle, he said nothing about the cavalry fight and predictably proceeded to castigate the South. In his opinion, the Confederacy had committed treason, comparable to the Bible’s “Infernal Serpent,” by perpetuating wrong and injustice. He referred to the Rebels as Eversores Imperiorum, or destroyers of states.

David continuously scanned the crowd, half-expecting the soldiers to surround him at any moment. He noticed how some of the spectators yawned and wandered off to observe unfinished gravesites. After nearly two hours, Mr. Everett’s harangue finally ended. The Musical Association of Baltimore, accompanied by a band, sang “Consecration Hymn,” but the lyrics were so traumatic many people began to sob.

 

“Here, where they fell, oft shall the widow’s tear be shed.

Oft shall fond parents mourn their dead; the orphan here shall kneel and weep.”

 

David felt his throat tighten. He stared down at his boots, waited for the hymn to end, and remembered his comrades, his best friend, and his father.

At last, the President of the United States was introduced. The crowd applauded. Mr. Lincoln made his way to the front of the platform. Keeping his eyes downcast, he withdrew his steel-rimmed spectacles from a vest pocket. His visage remained staid and melancholy. Slowly, clearly, deliberately, he began to speak. David hung on every word. In spite of how he felt about the man, his heart began to swell.

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

“But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion, that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

David thought it ironic the Northern president spoke with a hint of a Southern drawl, but then recalled Mr. Lincoln had been born in Kentucky. The president returned to his seat. A sprinkling of applause followed him. David thought he heard the president say, “Well, that fell on them like a wet blanket,” but he wasn’t close enough to be sure. Everyone around seemed surprised the president’s speech was so short, but David found himself overcome by the Yankee president’s words. Although they didn’t necessarily apply to his Southern beliefs, they were heartfelt and poignant.

A dirge was sung, a benediction given, and the soldiers completed the program with a cannon salute, which startled David and jolted his heart for a moment. The spectators filed out of the square. He glanced over at Maggie. The time was ripe for her to confess his true identity, but she merely stared at him with a smirk on her face.

Once the crowd had dispersed, he escorted the ladies back toward their carriage. Hundreds of cheering Yankee soldiers filled every street. Loathing and fearful unease overtook him. He felt light-headed and anxious to leave the little town of Gettysburg once and for all, never to return. Maggie stopped to speak to one of the soldiers. She pointed at David, and the Federal looked his way. David ducked through the crowd. His tension eased when they finally reached the landau. Looking over his shoulder, he didn’t see Maggie anywhere.

“David? Are you all right?” Anna asked, seeing his face had turned as white as a ghost.

“I’m fine. Let’s git outa here.”

He assisted Anna onto the driver’s bench and helped her family into the carriage.

Maggie appeared. “Help me up, would you, Mr. Summers?” she requested and held her hand out to him.

He did as she asked. “I thought you were fixin’ to sic the Yankees on me.”

“Oh, I did. But they didn’t believe me.” She smirked. “They thought I was joking. After all, why would one lone Rebel be so stupid as to come here unprotected?”

David wondered himself and bristled at the prospect of being ridiculed. Climbing up onto the driver’s seat, he drove the wagon out of town. He looked over his shoulder at Maggie, who snarled at him. Turning back around, he frowned from under his slouch hat. She couldn’t be trusted, but he supposed the feeling was mutual. Slapping the reins, he coaxed Alphie to trot for a short distance until the draft horse tired and slowed to a walk.

“The president is quite tall, isn’t he?” Sarah remarked.

“I’d estimate you’re nearly his same height, David,” Anna said, smiling at him.

He gazed over at her, his sullen expression alarming her.

“Are you all right?” she asked him again. “Your eyes have turned dark brown.”

“I’m fine,” he whispered.

She glanced back at the other passengers. “Did Maggie say something to upset you?” she quietly inquired.

He stared at Alphie’s back. “It ain’t nothin’, Miss Anna. I was jist nervous about bein’ around all those Yankee soldiers is all.”

She took hold of his arm, capturing his attention. He looked over at her.

“I know it was trying for you, but you did fine. No one suspected a thing.” She smiled, releasing his arm. “You’ll have to get used to being around Northerners.”

“Why would I have to do that?” he asked. “And why do you want me to stay through the winter?”

She hesitated while looking out at the empty fields they were riding past. “Our neighbors, the Montgomery’s, have a son. He’s in Washington City right now, working for the War Department. Stephen was injured at Antietam and was promoted to sergeant-major. As far as I know, he sits behind a desk all day.”

David raised an eyebrow at her.

“The reason I’m telling you this is because, well, he and I have been friends ever since I was a child. He’s nine years older than I am. Recently, he’s expressed amorous feelings toward me.”

“He’s quite a bit older than you are, Miss Anna,” David said. “I mean, it ain’t my affair, jist an observation. But I reckon it ain’t uncommon. After all, President Davis and his wife, Varina, are nearly twenty years apart in age.”

She faintly smiled. “I suppose you’re right. But the real problem is this.” She scooted closer to him, causing his heart to flutter. Speaking in a hushed tone, she said, “He doesn’t truly feel that way about me. I know this because of his timing.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Stephen wasn’t interested in me like that until Father died. Don’t you see? He only wants my land so he can combine our two families’ farms and make himself wealthier.” She sighed. “He’s coming home for Christmas, and I suspect he might propose then.”

David stared at her, surprised by his concern for her welfare. “You could jist turn him down,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “You don’t know Stephen. He is very persistent, and he won’t give up until I finally accept.”

“But even if you did marry him, the farm is still yours, right?”

“There’s another problem,” she said. “My father failed to leave a trust. After mother died, he didn’t seem to care about anything. He didn’t plan ahead, and his illness came on rather suddenly. I have nothing in writing that proves the farm has been handed down to me.” She glanced at him solemnly.

“Well.” David gave her a reassuring grin. “All your neighbors know it for a fact.”

“Yes, but you don’t understand,” explained Anna. “The Montgomery’s are very powerful. They could find a way to legally seize my land. I’m certain of it; but they would prefer to gain it through more, well, congenial means.”

“You mean, by your marryin’ Stephen?”

“Yes. They have a reputation to maintain. It would take something drastic to force their hand. Stephen has become so obsessed I’m afraid he will stop at nothing to get my farm.”

Listening to the hum of voices behind him, David finally said, “Well…I sympathize, Miss Anna. It’s too bad their name is Montgomery. That’s one of my favorite cities.”

Biting her lower lip, she gazed deeply into his eyes, nearly taking his breath away. “If Stephen thinks he doesn’t stand a chance of obtaining my family’s farm, he won’t persist. And a relative of mine would have legal rights. Uncle Bill is off fighting, and there isn’t anyone else.” She looked away. “I have no desire to marry Stephen. He would be gone all the time because he’s in the military. He would probably hire farmhands, and—” her voice trailed off.

“You don’t love him?” David asked.

She smiled at him. He wished she wouldn’t because every smile made his heart melt a little more.

“Not like that,” she said. “But I have an idea. Are you ready to hear it?”

He nodded, thinking perhaps, he wasn’t.

“You are my dear cousin from somewhere in, oh, let’s say, New York, and my uncle has left you in charge of running the farm.”

“What?” His eyes grew wide. “You want me to pretend I’m your cousin?”

“Yes. You are my father’s cousin’s son.”

Flabbergasted, he said softly, “Reckon you’ve figured all this out. And you want me to put on this act for how long?”

“Until the war is over. Then Uncle Bill will come back, and you can be on your way.”

The shock of her outlandish proposal started sinking in. “Who knows how long that will be?”

“It’s all I could come up with, David. Besides, you need to stay until Renegade is healed,” she reasoned.

He gazed at her until he finally found his voice. “Where did you say I’m from?”

“Albany,” Sarah said into his right ear.

He jerked around. “Miss Sarah! You know about this?”

Abigail giggled at his astonishment. “We all do,” she proclaimed. “Please say you’ll stay, David. Help us save our farm.”

At a loss, he realized he was once again in a position where he couldn’t resist. “If I’m from Albany, then—”

“We’ll have to work on that Southern accent, so you sound like a New Yorker,” Anna said, disarming him with her smile.

“I’ve been to Albany a few times, David,” said Sarah. “I can assist you with the language.”

“We’ll all help,” Abigail chimed in.

His head started spinning. He couldn’t believe what was happening or how he was being manipulated. Now it all made sense why they had saved him. They’d had an ulterior motive, and he was their scapegoat. Looking back at Maggie, he asked, “What about you?”

She grinned at him. “I know it’s treasonous, but if it preserves our farm, I’ll agree to it,” she said.

“Then why’d you say you were fixin’ to turn me in?” he asked.

“I was only having a little fun with you, dear heart,” she snidely replied.

He turned back around and stared at the road ahead, his face flushed. He couldn’t get his thoughts straight; but after several minutes had passed, he understood that he was obligated to submit to their request because they had saved him. He couldn’t live with his conscience if he left them to fend off Stephen Montgomery for themselves.

“I reckon the whole thing is farfetched, but I’ll agree to it. Whatever y’all need from me,” he said, looking at Anna, “I am your humble servant.”

She squealed and threw her arms around him, which startled him, yet allured him. Quickly pulling away, she giggled, embarrassed by her own reaction.

“Oh, thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me.” She folded her hands in her lap. An immense smile spread across her face.

Jist like the Cheshire cat, he thought. He knew then his situation was hopeless. He would do anything she asked of him.

The long ride home finally came to an end. David drove the landau carriage into the farmyard and pulled back on Alphie. He climbed down, assisted the womenfolk, and led the Shire toward the barn.

Patrick emerged from the house. “Well now, how was your trip?” he asked, smiling gleefully.

“Informative,” David said. “Miss Anna gave me a proposition on the way home.”

“Aye. Did it have somethin’ to do with Stephen? And his impendin’ proposal? And his obsession with obtainin’ her farm?”

Stunned, David gawked at him. “You already know?”

He nodded. “‘Tis a fact. Sure’n we all know of that girl’s schemin’ thoughts. So what did ye tell her?”

David sighed.

“Oh! So you’ve agreed then. Welcome to the family, cousin.” He laughed hysterically.