Authors: Patricia Hagan
Pressing her back against the walls, she slowly ventured a few steps at a time, shuffling her feet along to feel her way and make sure no obstacle lay ahead. If she touched something, she was forced to move out a little and get around it, then press back into the shadows once again.
The silence was erupted by a woman’s shrill, drunken laughter. Just ahead, she saw her—standing in the doorway of a dilapidated building and holding a lantern above her head as she bade her customer good night. “You’re too good, soldier. I swear—I’ll be sore for a week. I ought to be paying you instead o’ the other way around.”
“Well, that can be arranged,” a man’s voice slurred. “But I know you’re only joshin’ me, girl. You got others a’waitin’.”
“Got to make a living. I’d rather lie with you all night. My, my, you are a lover. Now, you come back and see me soon.”
The door closed. April could not tell which way the soldier had gone. She held her breath and pressed herself as close against the building as possible. But where had he gone? She cursed him for the valuable time she was losing.
Then she heard the sound of a bottle smashing against the ground, followed by a loud oath. The door opened again, quickly, and the lantern the woman held illuminated the body of the soldier crumpled against the opposite wall in the alley.
“Well, you damn drunk, you can just spend the night there for all I care!” the woman snapped, annoyed. The door slammed, and darkness engulfed April’s world once again.
She breathed a sigh of relief. She’d had just enough of a glimpse of the drunken soldier to tell that he was out for the night. He would pose no threat to her. She began to move along once more.
She was almost opposite the spot where he had crumpled when the idea came to her. He wore a Yankee uniform! She was stripping out of her dress almost before she realized it, then fumbling in the dark to find him and began stripping off his clothes.
Removing his pants and shirt, she struggled into them, nose wrinkling at the odor of cheap booze and the faint reminder of what had just taken place between him and the woman. She hated putting on the soiled garments, but they would get her safely out of Washington. There was no other way.
She tucked her long blond hair up inside the man’s cap. Then she struggled into his boots, though they were much too large and would slip and slide uncomfortably. She would have to endure them, for she could not walk in bare feet, or wear her own slippers.
The drunken soldier snorted now and then but made no effort to resist. She left him lying in long-handled underwear, and stuffed her own clothes into a garbage barrel, making sure she went far enough down the alley that no one would suspect a woman had taken the soldier’s garments.
Leaving the alley several minutes later, she stayed on side roads, refraining from moving onto main thoroughfares where there would be people. When she felt she was far enough away from the hotel that Rance, should he awaken and discover her gone, would not know which direction she had taken, April ducked into a doorway to catch her breath and assess her plight.
It was with some irony that she admitted to herself that, in the process of making sure she would not be followed, she had lost her way! She now had no idea where she was.
The sound of footsteps caused her to glance up. Three soldiers passed beneath a streetlamp. They clung together, lurching and bumping, and she heard one say, “…hell to pay. Late…real late…”
They moved on, slowly, most likely heading for their camp. She decided to follow at a discreet distance. Perhaps she would be able to find out where she was, at which side of the city, so she would know which direction to take.
She had difficulty keeping up, even though the drunken soldiers moved slowly. Now and then they would stop for someone to be sick, and she would search quickly for a doorway in which to hide. But they had reached the outskirts of the city, and there were few doorways. Panic began to well in her as she thought of turning back. She surely did not want to talk to any Yankee soldiers, for her disguise would certainly be discovered.
A halo of light appeared as they topped a hill. Ducking behind a tree trunk, April peered out over a large campground. Tents dotted the landscape like sleeping birds, wings ready to fly should danger descend. Here and there campfires sent gray smoke twirling into the night. A sentry walked his post silently, crossing to and fro in front of the gate.
She watched as the three drunken men slowed their pace. One stumbled, fell, and the sentry was instantly alert, pointing his rifle in their direction and yelling, “Halt! Who’s there?” The trio quickly sang out their names, which company they belonged to, and the sentry called to someone nearby, “We got three drunks here.”
In a matter of seconds, other uniformed men were moving through the gates, taking the tardy, drunken soldiers in tow. April continued to watch, not knowing what to do next. Then she heard the rumble of a wagon passing through the gate, a soldier holding the reins. After being told what all the excitement was about, he snapped, “Well, let’s get this road cleared. I’ve got to get these supplies all the way to Maryland. We got wounded men down there—”
Maryland! South! The right direction. The words danced feverishly in April’s mind. She watched excitedly as the man got down off the wagon and moved to where one of the inebriated soldiers lay on the ground, heaving and gagging. No one was looking, and the wagon had stopped just beside a row of trees extending from the grove in which she was hiding. April did not really know how far Maryland was from Alabama. All that mattered was that the wagon was headed south.
She made her way along carefully, finally sprinting for the wagon. At last, she sprang quickly upward, clamped the back of the wagon with trembling hands, hoisted herself up, and dropped over among the cartons and boxes piled inside. Something jabbed her side painfully, and she ground her teeth together to keep from crying out. The commotion over the drunken soldiers had covered her drop into the wagon, but even so, the driver glanced back. Had she shaken the wagon? Would he come back to investigate? April held her breath, her heart pounding.
No, the driver was again berating the sentry for blocking the path. The two men argued while April got her breath back, and then the driver—Ryerson, the sentry had called him—shook the reins. The wagon lurched to a start.
April was extremely uncomfortable, but she dared not move about for fear of making the cartons fall. She forced herself to lie perfectly still, her body exhausted from her ordeal, lack of sleep, and anxiety.
After a while, it felt as though a part of her were sleeping, while the rest of her body were wide awake and would never sleep again. She stared upward into the darkness, and soon the images began—dancing, fluttering, vague, and vivid. She saw her father’s face, and Vanessa’s, and then, brighter and clearer than these, Rance appeared, desire shining in his eyes. He held out his arms, and everything within her cried out his name. She was moving toward him, her own desire melting through her body until she felt as though she no longer possessed a solid form, but rather a wild, weaving spirit seeking only the pleasure he alone could give.
But then, just as she reached his arms, felt herself being crushed against his chest, felt his eyes burning into hers, breath sweet and hot upon her face, his lips parted in that arrogant grin…his smile told her that he alone would possess her always…while she was nothing more to him than the satiation of his lust. That was all she would be, for as long as she pleased him.
He kissed her, long, hard, hungrily, and she whimpered with the passion he awakened. Then he was chuckling softly, thrusting her away, turning his back. He moved away, and she cried after him, but there was no sound except his laughter. He no longer wanted her.
She was left empty, alone, and anguished.
The sound of her own soft whimpering awakened her with a start. She lifted her head and glanced about, realizing sleep had come despite the overwhelming stress of the night. Had Ryerson heard any sounds? She was instantly alert. But the only sounds were the plodding hooves of the horses. The wagon had not slowed. He had not heard.
Suddenly, the sigh of relief that was about to escape her parted lips froze and terror made her cringe. Voices. Then she realized that she was hearing the sound of more horses than just the two pulling the wagon. Slowly, carefully, she raised up to peer over the pile of boxes. Up front, she could see nothing except the man holding the horses’ reins. Looking to the rear, she saw them—framed in the soft moonlight which filtered down through gentle clouds. Six soldiers riding two abreast directly behind them.
She sank back out of sight. Of course, there would be a patrol traveling with a supply wagon. How could she have been so stupid as to not think of an escort? Now that was going to make her situation much more difficult. She had planned to leap from the wagon at the first opportunity toward dawn. Now it would be impossible without being seen by the escorting soldiers. There was no choice left but to remain hidden for as long as possible. And there was always the chance that she would be lucky and a chance to get away would come.
Now all weariness had left her as though washed away by cascades of rain. Alert. She had to be alert. If they found her, they would probably force her to leave, not caring that she would be stranded along the side of the road. Each turn of the wagon’s wheels put her that much closer to the Southland, where, she felt confident, help could be found much more easily than here in the enemy’s land.
“…bad. Just terrible. Lord, there’s no telling how many men we lost.”
She stiffened as the sound of the voice from behind the wagon drifted in.
“Yeah,” came another, sounding deeply concerned. “But think how bad it would’ve been if those two soldiers hadn’t found the orders. I’d hate to be in the Reb officer’s boots that lost them orders. And it was lucky for us there was an officer in General McClellan’s headquarters who could identify Lee’s assistant adjutant general’s handwriting, so McClellan would know the thing was genuine.”
Yet another voice chimed in. “It sure threw things into McClellan’s hands, finding out that Lee’s army was split into three separate fragments. Them orders told all about how the advance was at Hagerstown, Maryland…not too far from the Pennsylvania border, I’m told. Then there was another division sent back to a place called Turner’s Gap, to make sure none of our men got through. And then the rest of ’em was split into three wings that was going to try to surround and capture Harpers Ferry.”
The man who had spoken first cried, “Damnit, if McClellan coulda moved faster, we’d have won that damn battle. As it was, he broke through that gap and Lee was caught with his forces scattered. He still fought all day and didn’t give much ground.”
“Well, for all purposes, it was our victory,” another interjected. “Thursday, the second day, Lee took his worn out army back to Virginia. I hear we got plenty of recognition for how we come out in that battle.”
“It was the bloodiest day of fightin’ since the war started,” a sad voice declared. “I hear even though it’s said we won it, we lost more men than the Rebs.”
April bit her lip to keep from crying, pressed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. So! The information Rance had found in President Lincoln’s desk had been valuable, but it was too late. Rance had not been sure just when the battle would take place and had wanted to get word to General Lee that his orders had been found by Yankees. Now it was all over, and thousands of good men were dead on both sides. Who could say how it would all have turned out if Rance had been able to get there in time?
Dawn came, the rising sun a sickly yellow hue encased by a gray mist. Crisp winds, heavy with the odor of sulfur, rustled the leaves of the trees alongside the road.
April felt stiff, but she dared not move. She tensed as the wagon stopped. Would they look beneath the arching canopy, she worried, find her hiding there? She waited, but no one came, and it was not long before she could smell coffee, hear the sound of bacon sizzling. She was dizzy with hunger. How long since she had eaten? She could not remember. Last night at the White House did not count. Nerves had kept her from doing more than picking at the food.
Glancing about, she wondered whether some of the cartons might contain food rations, then realized from reading the labels that she was surrounded by medical supplies.
Out the front of the wagon, she could see the men gathered at the edge of a creek bank. Four of them. All in blue uniforms. They were eating bacon and drinking coffee, but they constantly scanned the woods around them.
“We ain’t really safe around here, you know,” one of them said worriedly. “I wish those other wagons and men had kept up, but I reckon they’ve stopped somewhere. We’d lose too much time to wait for them.”
“Right,” Ryerson agreed gruffly. “We got to hurry up and be on our way. I got my orders, and I ain’t lettin’ no dawdlers get my butt in trouble. These supplies are needed by soldiers that might die if we don’t hurry up and get there. Finish your coffee and let’s move out.”
“You always were a stickler for following orders,” someone laughed.
“Yeah, go on and make fun,” came Ryerson’s defensive response. “But you better hope we do hurry up and get among our own. I ’magine it won’t be long before we’ll be close enough that some straggling Rebs could be in these woods. I’ll feel a whole lot safer when we reach McClellan’s army.”