Chapter 10
My heart bleeds at the death of every one of our gallant men.
—Robert E. Lee, in a letter to his wife, December 25, 1862
December 1863
In the dusk of early evening there lay an aura of quiet graciousness about the house called Waverly. It was one of those uncommon evenings in winter when a hint of warmth comes back into the air, bringing with it the comfort and contentment of a spring-like night.
Sarah had just lit the lamps when she heard boots on the porch and knew instinctively they were his. No one else moved with such impatience, authority, or strength, and no one else had the power to cause her heart to pound so forcefully. Fighting both the fear and excitement of seeing him again, Sarah restrained the urge to hurry. She wished to appear unaffected by his visit, yet she was so happy to see him that she knew it was impossible to look otherwise.
Reaching the door before he did, she flung it open as he prepared to knock. Her look of welcome faded when she beheld his gloomy countenance, causing a sinister sensation to creep up her spine. Her gaze drifted over his shoulder to the shaded darkness of the tree line where some of his men waited. The horses stood motionless and the men in the saddles appeared as silent shadows in the gloomy dusk.
“Won’t you come in?” She stepped aside for the colonel to enter, and then paused, waiting for Major Connelly who was in the process of tying his horse to the post. Connelly simply removed his hat and swallowed nervously. “I’ll wait out here ma’am.”
Sarah glanced once more at the men in the shadows, but could make out none of their faces, so deeply were their heads bowed to their chests. Closing the door behind Colonel Benton, she stared at him with heart-wrenching scrutiny, trying to read what the lines on his face foretold. He spoke no words for a few long moments, yet his eyes said everything she needed to know. “You bring bad news?”
Benton gazed at her silently as if mustering strength for a confession. Fingering his hat, he took a deep breath, and with heroic effort kept his voice from cracking. “I fear so. And words cannot convey how deeply I regret the necessity of bearing it.”
Sarah took a choking breath as she stepped forward, her fingers digging reflexively into his arm. “Jake?” Her eyes brimmed with tears, yet somehow none breached the lids.
“He was wounded two days ago in that engagement at Bailey’s Farm.” Benton seemed to be trying to make his voice sound unemotional, but he blinked twice to control an apparent sudden rush of moisture. “He passed this morning.”
Sarah nodded, her chest rising and falling as she absorbed the dreadful news. Normally calm and collected, she now trembled, yet her head remained held high as she gazed mournfully into vacancy.
“I had no reason to believe that I would be exempted from the loss that so many others have endured,” she murmured, knowing full well there was no house, high or low in the length and breadth of Virginia, that had not mourned some lost father or brother or son.
“I took the liberty of telling Jake about your…situation before he died,” Benton said, his tone more grave than reassuring. “He wished your forgiveness, and I told him I knew you well enough to know it was freely given.”
Sarah nodded in acknowledgment that she had heard him, but her chin trembled at the effort of suppressing her emotions. It gave her some measure of comfort to know her brother died knowing that she served her country, and she was grateful that Benton had made the decision to tell him.
“It’s very kind of you to deliver the news personally, Colonel. You come at great risk.”
“He was one of my best officers, Mrs. Duvall.” Benton’s glistening eyes told Sarah more than his words. “I know this is a great loss to you, but it must give you some measure of consolation to know he died bravely in defense of his country.”
Sarah nodded, and then turned to the door to let him out. She was surprised by the light touch of Benton’s hand when he laid it upon her shoulder to stop her.
“Wait. There is something else.”
She turned slowly. “Yes?”
“Jake’s wife came to his side as soon as she heard he’d been wounded.”
“His wife?” Sarah cocked her head and stared at him, her voice and countenance giving away her surprise.
“Yes, and I have no means to convey her safely back through the lines now—especially with Snipes patrolling the area. I know it would be an inconvenience, but—”
“Does she know?”
“No, I did not feel it my place to tell her. If Jake didn’t, then she believes you are a—”
“Traitor.” Sarah finished for him.
Benton lowered his head and nodded. “Yes. But she is weak right now. I do not wish to risk her traveling any farther, and Jake requested that she come here.”
“Very well. Where is she?”
Benton nodded toward the door, where the sound of the creaking wheels of a wagon could now be heard. “Her name is Lucy. Mrs. Lucy Callahan.”
Without hesitation, Sarah opened the door and descended noiselessly down the steps. Greeting Lucy solemnly and taking her hand like she was an old friend, Sarah helped her down from the conveyance, and pretended not to be surprised when she saw the young girl was with child.
Benton cleared his throat and walked toward the two women. “Lucy, despite Mrs. Duvall’s politics, I believe you will be safe here until other arrangements can be made.”
Teary-eyed with emotion, Lucy merely nodded. Sarah wrapped her arm around the girl and helped her up the steps to the door. Letting her inside, she paused and turned when Benton spoke.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back, Mrs. Duvall. It may not be safe for Lucy to travel for some time.”
“She will be safe here. I will see to that.”
“Yes, I knew you would.” Colonel Benton handed Sarah a bag of Lucy’s belongings and went to untie his horse before turning to her one last time. “Your brother wished to be interred here. I can have a burial party here tonight if it is acceptable to you.”
“Near the old oak.” Sarah nodded toward the spreading limbs of the tree that dominated the far side of the yard as if anticipating the question.
Benton nodded and mounted his horse. “If I can serve you in any other way, hesitate to ask nothing of me, Mrs. Duvall.”
Sarah looked at Benton with glistening eyes, smiled briefly in appreciation, and then disappeared through the door.
* * *
“Miss Lucy, you must be famished.” Sarah closed the door and stared at her sister-in-law in the dim light of the house.
“Not so much hungry as tired, ma’am,” the young girl answered shyly. “I’d really like to sleep.”
“Yes, you poor dear. Let me show you to your room.” Sarah lit a candle and led the way up the stairs. “You must make yourself right at home now. You will, won’t you? You won’t be afraid to ask for anything you need?”
Lucy nodded as the light from the candle flooded a small room. She paused at the doorway, and turned toward Sarah. “This was Jake’s?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Yes. I thought you might like it.”
“Yes, ma’am. I like it very much.” Lucy sat on the bed and ran her hand across the pillow where her husband’s head had once lain, as a lone tear slid down her cheek.
“I’ll bring some water up so you can wash before retiring.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Duvall.”
Sarah turned. “No more of that. You must call me Sarah.”
“Yes, ma’am…I mean yes, Sarah.” She cocked her head and stared at Sarah a moment before casting her eyes to the floor.
“What’s wrong, child?”
“It’s just that, well…you don’t seem like what they say.”
“And what do they say?”
“Oh, I couldn’t repeat it.” Lucy lowered her head, but not before her cheeks blazed with color.
Sarah sat down on the bed beside Lucy and took her hand. “If they say I feed and house Union troops, you will soon find that to be true. I will not turn away hungry men fighting for their country.”
“But don’t you love the South?”
Now it was Sarah’s turn to blush. “Of course I do. But war puts us in unusual circumstances, and we must act as we see fit. Do you understand?”
“Not really,” Lucy answered. “But Jake told me to trust you.”
“He did?”
Lucy nodded, her eyes welling with tears again. “I don’t know why. I’m so confused. But right before he died, he told me to forget everything I’d heard and to trust you.”
Sarah reached out and drew the young widow to her, stroking her hair as she talked. “Yes, Lucy, no matter what happens, no matter what you see or hear, please know that you can trust me.”
* * *
Sarah left her sister-in-law to rest and went downstairs to check on the stew she had been cooking. Too tired to sleep, she sat up knitting and heard the sound of shovels clanking outside around midnight. True to Benton’s word, his men had carried her brother’s dead body to his home in the dark of night, not ten miles from where he’d been slain, and laid it to rest where he had been born only twenty years earlier. About an hour later, Sarah heard a tentative knock on the door and opened it slightly.
The young private standing the doorway appeared white-faced with fear. “M-M-Mrs. Duvall, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I saw the light still burning.”
“That’s quite all right.” She opened the door wider and saw the shadowy forms of the others already mounted on their horses. “Is there something wrong?”
“N-no, ma’am, well yes… maybe,” the young man stammered. “It’s just that Jake and I were good friends. And I’m, well, I’m sorry for your loss.”
Sarah nodded. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you, Private…”
“Private Matson, ma’am.”
“I appreciate your condolences, Private Matson.” She paused for a moment when he did not move. “Is that all?”
“Well…no, ma’am. Not exactly.” He took a deep breath and stared at the floor as he spoke. “Jake told me you had a way with horses.”
Sarah nodded. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Well, ma’am, Colonel Benton’s horse, Invincible—he calls him Vince—well, he was hurt real bad in that fight that killed Jake.”
“Oh?” Sarah again lifted her eyes toward the darkness behind him, but could see nothing.
“Yes, ma’am, and the colonel…well, the colonel ordered me to…to…”
Sarah finally understood what had given the young man the courage to knock on her door. “He ordered you to put him out of his misery?”
The soldier let out a sigh of relief. “Yes. But I thought… I thought maybe you could do something for him. The colonel puts a lot of stock in that horse, ma’am. I mean he and that horse are mighty close, and I hate the thought of…”
“I understand,” Sarah said. “But it seems a rather big thing to go against the colonel’s direct order.”
The boy’s face turned red. “We… I mean, I thought about that. The colonel don’t need to know. I mean, if you think he won’t make it then I’ll do what the colonel ordered. And if he does make it, well maybe the colonel won’t be so mad that I disobeyed.”
Sarah shook her head as she realized how thoroughly the men had thought out their plan and how much they revered their commander. Yet she wondered whether it was wise to take on such an enterprise, especially considering the new ward now under her care. Weary beyond measure, Sarah continued to hesitate at the thought of going behind Colonel Benton’s back.
But thinking about the magnificent animal she had seen him riding, she decided there would be no harm in looking. Perhaps she owed him that much anyway. Benton had, after all, stood before her steadfast and strong to inform her personally of Jake’s death, never giving the slightest indication he had suffered a loss as well. The least she could do was take a look.
“I fear it’s too dark to make that sort of decision tonight,” she said after another moment’s thought. “Put him in the barn. I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”
The young man smiled shyly for the first time. “He’s already there, ma’am. Jake told me you would never let a horse die like that.” He tipped his hat, backed off the porch, and disappeared into the night.