The Titans (34 page)

time. I don't hold that against you." "Believe me when I say you're only hurting yourself if you refuse to follow orders." "Gideon, it goes against my grain!" "But you'll never get that flag into battle-or turn up those souvenirs Miss Nancy wants-unless you change your ways. I imagine your girl's proud of you-was Rodney pointed to the letter. "That's what she says." "And you want her to stay proud?" He thought it over. "Reckon so." "Then you don't want to end up in Company Q. Or be mustered out as unfit. So bend a little!" "You askin' me? Or tellin'?" Earnestly, Gideon gazed across the lamp-lit tent "Asking. As your friend." Rodney Arbuckle III reflected en that a while, too. Then he shrugged again: "Well, maybe you're right. Nancy would be shamed if I didn't comport myself properly. My mama and papa would be shamed. Even the house niggers would be shamed, I "magjne." Gideon doubted the last, but said nothing. "I'll make you a bargain." Encouraged, Gideon leaned forward. Rodney picked up the letter. "Nancy gets mighty sentimental in here. I won't read you the exact words. But she says if anything should ever happen to me-you know. A wound-was The Titansbledfc The word death crept into Gideon's mind. He suspected it was in Rodney's, too. "Go on," he said. "If anything like that did happen, I'd want her to have the flag and any souvenirs I turn up. She'd also want to know whether I fought well. Could I ask you to tell her?" "Of course." "She'd appreciate it. So would I." "You can count on me-if anything happens." He smiled. "Which is unlikely, provided you learn the lessons old Jeb's trying to teach." "Old!" Rodney snorted. "He's not five years older'n me, I'll wager." "But he's experienced." Gideon rose and put an arm across his friend's shoulder. "Trust that experience and you'll come through just fine. We all will. It's just like Stuart says-we have to out-fight the Yanks because we don't outnumber them. We can't do it unless we pull together." A truculent expression crossed Rodney's face. "I hope nobody's got the idea I'm scared to fight." "No. But you'll never get the opportunity if you keep disobeying orders. Let's consider the bargain sealed. In the unlikely event you get your big toe shot off or a Minie ball in your backside, I'll get the flag and the souvenirs to Miss Wonderly. I will, that is, provided you put on your uniform and go stand watch." Rodney stared at the eleven-star flag draped over his palms. Let out one more long sigh. 'Tair enough." He laid the flag on the cot, then pulled on his sweat- stained coat. Before he buttoned it, he folded the flag and slipped it inside against his belly. As he started out, Gideon said: "Do me one more favor." "What?" 464With Jeb Stuart "Send Isom home. Tomorrow. You'll be a better soldier." "Really think so?" "I do." "All right." He bent to leave, then hesitated again. "Y'know, Gideon, I shouldn't tell you this. But I think you're gonna make a damn fine officer. I'd hate your damn guts if we weren't friends." He waved, smiled and left Gideon relaxed and allowed himself a weary smile. He'd won a small victory. Out of such small victories might emerge a cavalry regiment worthy of the name. He noticed the presentation box again. He looked at it for nearly half a minute. Then he went out into the darkness, no longer smiling. Just after dawn the next day, Gideon was yawning over a bitter cup of coffee at the cook fire in front of his tent. He glanced up to see Isom standing a couple of feet away. The graying Negro carried a maple branch with a bandana-wrapped bundle tied to one end. "Good morning, Isom." "Morning, sir. Master Rodney-he sending me home today." Gideon nestled his tin cup at the edge of the coals so the contents would stay warm. He stood up; stretched. The morning air was fragrant and full of sound: men complaining as they turned out of their tents; the whicker of a horse; the tang of woodsmoke and droppings. "I know. I suggested it. You'll be safer there." The black nodded sadly. "I 'spose." "Did Rodney write you a pass so you won't be stopped and locked up as a runaway?" The Titansbledfe Isom patted the bundle. "Got it right here. I reckon I'll walk on down to Piedmont and catch the Gap Railroad. I wanted to ask you somethin" first, though." "Anything, Isom." The older man's eyes locked with his. "I know you his beside' friend. He thinks a mighty lot of you-even though you wearin' that officer's sash now. I want you to look after him, please, sir. I love that boy. Been with him since the hour his mama birthed him," "I'll do everything I can, Isom." "Thank you, sir. That's welcome news." The black man shook his head. "Wish this whole scrape was over. I feel plumb sorry for them Yanks." Gideon misunderstood: "I don't blame you. We're going to lick "em hands down." "Hope so. I'm gettin" too old to be turned out in the world with no family to look after-and none to look after me. I sure wish everybody'd quit fightin' over us niggers." "Isom, that's not the issue. It's our right to independence, to-was Again Isom shook his head. Gideon frowned: "What is the issue in your opinion?" "I don't mean to show no disrespect, Lieutenant. But this war is about the niggers and what to do with "em. I can read, sir. The Arbuckles, they good people. They never had that fool notion that a nigger who can read is a dangerous nigger-was Gideon caught a touch of resentment in the words. "So I know folks up north-old IJ-NKURN-THEY gonna set us all free if they win, Then it's gonna be worse." "Why do you say that?" ""Cause I don't think those Yanks know what they're doin'. Sure, things are bad for some of my people who got masters that ain't decent like the Arbuckles. But it won't improve things none if all the niggers are turned 466With Jeb Stuart loose overnight-free an' equal like it say in that Declaration old President Jefferson wrote. Deep down, I don't b'lieve most of the Yanks really want us free. They just want to punish the South. The Yanks won't know what to do with us if we are free-I don't think they'll even want us around. It's a bad war, sir, a bad war. It's goin' places nobody ever dreamed." Gideon said nothing. The Negro shrugged in a self- conscious way: "Guess I'm talkin' out of turn. Didn't mean to. Mostly I just wanted to ask you to look out for Master Rodney." "I will, I promise. I wish you a safe journey, Isom." "Yes, sir. Thank you. An' you take care of yourself, too." He turned and walked away with a slow, tired step. Gideon stared after him until he was lost in the blue smoke and the confusion of men stumbling out of their tents. Isom could be right. Those windy, hate-filled abolitionists would never welcome poor black people into their elegant parlors if the South lost- Hell, what a ridiculous speculation! They weren't going to lose. They were going to win. With men like Stuart leading, they couldn't fail. iv The hot weather intensified, and with it, the training. But not in camp. The First Virginia spent more and more time on patrol, ranging north toward the Potomac. Gideon kept learning. He learned how to sleep in the saddle while jogging over some unfamiliar back road. Sleep was an irritant to Jeb Stuart He needed next to none himself and failed to understand why other men did. The Titansbledfg Gideon learned how to prepare a quick meal at a woodland campfire. How to grab his ration of flour; wet it in a handy stream or with water from his canteen; season it if there happened to be a paper twist of salt in his sabretache; fry the putty-like mass in bacon fat and wolf it as bread before jumping into the saddle again. He learned how to endure. They rode in fair weather, out before dawn and continuing until long after moonrise. They rode in thunderstorms and the humid aftermath, gradually perfecting then ability to travel in a column of fours-the best way to move masses of mounted men rapidly along a road. No matter how long the hours or unpleasant the weather, Stuart and his staff always seemed jaunty. Perhaps it was because the commander usually sang in the saddle. Depending on the position of I Company, Gideon could sometimes catch the sound of Stuart's fine, resounding voice tossing "Alabama Gals" to the summer wind. Or, Sundays, "Rock of Ages," Stuart permitted no secular songs on the Sabbath. Gradually, too, Gideon gained an understanding of why Stuart drove himself and his men so hard. He believed in the cause, of course. But he was goaded by something more personal: a desire to match the reputation of his father-in-law, Colonel Philip St. George Cooke. Cooke had been commandant of the Second U.s. Dragoons when Stuart had courted and married his daughter Flora out at Fort Leavenworth. But Cooke had remained with the Union-and fancied himself an expert in the relatively new area of cavalry tactics. "You see, gentlemen," Stuart explained one drizzly night in late June when H, I and J Companies halted briefly during a cross-country ride, "until about seven years ago there was no such animal as a cavalryman. "In the Federal service we had the dragoons-big, 468With Jeb Stuart beefy fellows packing muskets and sabers for fighting on horseback or on foot. We had the mounted rifles- which is where I got my start, in Texas, after coming out of fhe Point. Mounted riflemen are nothing more than infantry on horseback. The animals are mere transportation to get the men to and from the battlefield. "It was President Davis who figured out that maybe there should be a new type of horse soldier. A man who could fight on horseback most of the time. That's why Davis organized the First and Second Cavalry when he was Secretary of War for President Pierce. His idea was radical but sound. In seven years it's become clear that cavalry can fulfill one function better than any other branch of service. Moving fast, cavalrymen are the eyes of an army." He grinned at the soaked men gathered around him. "There's something I like even better. When reinforcements are needed, the cavalry can get to a fire fight faster comthan anybody else. Well-was He tugged out a pocket watch. "We've spent twenty minutes resting and palavering. That's ten too many. But I wanted to present a little explanation of our purpose for the benefit of you gentlemen-was His glance singled out several troopers, including Rodney. "Especially you gentlemen who insist on explanations along with your orders. All right-stand to horse! Let's see whether any Yank pickets have stuck their noses over the river." Gideon had never imagined his body could withstand so much physical punishment He discovered he had almost limitless strength when it was demanded-and Stuart demanded it often, from all the men who rode with him across the upper Shenandoah, hunting for signs of an enemy invasion. The First Virginia rode with a growing certainty that their state would be the chief theater of war. True, fighting had erupted way out in Missouri, which the The Titansbledfi Confederacy had hoped to claim. To counteract the maneuvering of a secession-minded governor, Congressman Blair-a younger jnember of the powerful Maryland clan-had helped an Army captain named Lvon organize the Missouri Home Guards and secure the city of St. Louis. Promoted to brigadier, Lyon had then defeated an enemy force at a place called Boonville-all but guaranteeing Missouri's presence in the Union. There were equally ominous developments closer at hand-in Virginia's western counties, where the farmers and mountain folk had never taken to slavery. Troops from both sides were moving into the area, and there was a plan afoot to set up a new government at Wheeling. The damned traitors'in that part of the state were actually talking of seceding.from the South! Talking of establishing a separate state, possibly called Kanawha. Naturally the devious Mr. Lincoln didn't object The new state would be on his side. The First Virginia often covered thirty-five or forty miles a day. Side roads; forest trails; open fields. Despite the grueling pace, the men thrived. Their legs strengthened. Their butts hardened. Their pride grew right along with their muscles. Gideon accustomed himself to getting by with very little sleep. Even when he did catch a few winks, he heard commands in his dreams- Prepare to mount. Mount! DRAW SABERS! And he was pleased to see that although Rodney still huffed and complained about the discipline, he'd finally surrendered to it, and was earning marks as a good trooper. Even Captain Macomb had survived the threat of removal. On Sunday, the thirtieth of June, they were back at the Bunker Hill encampment The next night, after 470With Jeb Stuart seeing to the sentries, Gideon retired to his tent to open a letter delivered at evening mail call. His body throbbed. They'd been in the saddle almost four days. He was growing increasingly impatient to test himself under fire. Stuart's spirit was catching. With a groan, he lay down on his cot. He had the tent to himself. Jack Harris had opted for euchre with the enlisted men. Curiously) his victims seemed to enjoy being beaten. Respect had an almost endless array of sources among Southerners, Gideon had decided. Rodney was still much admired because he'd dared to ride out and ask Beauty Stuart a question. Wiping perspiration from his forehead, Gideon studied the envelope. The return address-a street in Richmond comwas unfamiliar. But the handwriting was clearly his mother's. He ripped the letter open. My dearest son: I trust this finds you well and in good spirits. As you must have judged from the envelope, we have returned to the capital, leaving Jeremiah in Lexington with Grandfather Virgil-who, I might note, is in a state of outrage. Quartermaster officers for the War Department purchased (his word is stole) all of his remaining horses. Further, he was paid an outrageously low price for each. So guard well that fine mount he gave you. You will guess why we are in Richmond. Edward has taken a position as a copyist-clerk in the Treasury Department. He was welcomed for his patriotic spirit-not to mention his willingness to accept a pittance in wages! The Department makes good use of your stepfather's fine, clear handwriting. He transcribes many important documents and memoranda. His office is one floor below that of the President, in what was formerly the Federal Customs House. Everyone is generally in The Titansbledga support of the President, and admiration is universal for his lovely and intelligent spouse, Mrs. Var-, ina Howell Davis. Still, we hear occasional grumblings. They say Mr. Davis insists on taking all the principal decisions, civil as well as military, upon himself; that he considers anyone who dares disagree with him an enemy; and that his condition- nervous dyspepsia, which I understand he has suffered for some years-continually aggravates tensions within the government. Yet hope is high. People are confident "Old Bory" is more than a match for his pedestrian West Point
classmate, McDowell. Despite Mr. Greeley's shrill incantations, everyone is certain McDowell will never come "forward to Richmond!" Our physical circumstances are not the best. Because of Edward's low wages, we have been forced to take a small and rather drab flat. But I am resolved to sacrifice, just as so many others are doing, and would not for a moment question Edward's wish to serve. I wilt say his clerkship in the Treasury has made him a positive maniac on the subject of finance. He talks of nothing but the South's need for huge sums to carry a potentially long war to a successful conclusion. He works long hours. Perhaps fatigue is the explanation for a curious incident which took place just the other day on Main Street. After church, we encountered an old acquaintance from Washington, Mr. Cheever. Gideon frowned. Where had he heard that name? He couldn't recall. But he neither acknowledged Edward, nor was acknowledged by him. When I mentioned it later, Edward grew quite sharp and refused to discuss it. 472With Jeb Stuart I take his behavior as a sign of the mounting strain upon those striving to blend conflicting personalities and urgent priorities into a cohesive and well- run government. Cheever, Gideon thought again. Where-his He remembered. He'd heard the name at the National. His father had mentioned someone named Cheever being in Baltimore; being involved in that imaginary murder plot. Edward had admitted knowing Cheever while denying everything else. Why the peculiar turnabout in Richmond? The unanswered question left Gideon puzzled and a bit uneasy. I must end this, my dear son, and see to preparing some supper for Edward. It is well after nine in the evening, but he is not yet home. We are all earnestly praying the Valley-including Lexington-will not become a battleground- A vain hope, Gideon decided. The Federal and Confederate strategies were emerging on parallel courses: two armies confronting one another in eastern Virginia; two more in the Shenandoah. It remained in doubt as to which area would see the first heavy fighting. Camp speculation said eastern Virginia. comand every night T ask the Almighty to give us a swift victory so that younger boys like your brother Jeremiah will never need to experience the perils of military service. Of Matthew we have heard little. He, like you, is not a frequent correspondent. But that is understandable given your ages and your devotion to what you are doing. Matthew's last brief letter said he was attempting to find a berth on some vessel in our Navy. Whether he will succeed, I cannot The Titansbledgc say. I know I cannot stop him, regardless of my reservations or fears. Gideon, we think constantly of your welfare. I have often wished that I knew the full name and address of your young lady- His eyes grew somber. coms that I might call on her and make myself known. But the two letters we have received from you made no mention of her. Is something amiss? Must close now. Write to me when you can. I am glad you are with "Beauty" Stuart, of whom many admirable things are said. But I implore God to keep you safe from harm. Please write. Your loving Mother Slowly, Gideon refolded the sheets, more upset than comforted by all Fan had written. There was that odd incident with Cheever. And the even more unsettling reference to Margaret- He must set his mother straight about Margaret. Tell her in his next letter that the relationship was ended. In fact, he might as well write tonight. He had time. He began to search under his cot for the pencil and precious sheets of foolscap he'd borrowed from Rodney. He'd barely gotten them out when the sounds outside intensified. There was always noise in the camp. Men wandering about restlessly; singing; joking. But now it was interrupted by distant bugles and drum rolls. Then he heard horses. Perhaps some of Turner Ashby's Rangers. Ashby, the son of a prominent Valley family, had refused to serve under Stuart and insisted on a cavalry com 474With Jeb Stuart mand of his own. Gideon knew of only a few First Virginia patrols on the move tonight He laid the writing materials aside and started for the tent entrance. Jack Harris burst in, strewing frayed playing cards behind him. He flung the rest of the deck over his head. The cards came drifting down as Harris grabbed Gideon and hugged him: "It's happened! It's happened!" "For God's sake, Jack, what are you talking about?" "Some of our scouts just galloped in. That old fucker Patterson's over the Potomac." "For sure?" "Yessir. He started crossing at Williamsport at four this morning." "How many Yanks?" "Fifteen, twenty thousand." "My God." "We're gonna see some action at last. Cap'n Macomb says the regiment will be movin' out quick. With Jackson and an infantry brigade." Gideon let out a whoop, seized Jack Harris' waist and then his right hand. He waltzed Harris around the card-littered tent, both of them yelping and barking at the top of their lungs. All thought of Fan's letter was gone from her son's mind. CHAPTER VI "The Ball Is Open" THE JULY THUNDERSTORM blazed and boomed above the woodland. The shimmering lightning dimmed all too soon, leaving Gideon as hopelessly lost as he'd been for the-last hour. He was soaked and bone-weary. His campaign hat did little to keep the rain out of his eyes. He ran a hand along Dancer's neck as the stallion shied from ruts and rain pools in the road that was rapidly becoming a morass. At the next lightning flash, he reined in. He tried to decide whether it would be wiser to follow the road-it ran westward, he thought-or to leave it Neither alternative seemed very attractive. The road might take a turn in the wrong direction. The woods might stretch on for miles, and he could wander the rest of the night without locating the men of I Company he'd been leading on patrol a few miles southwest of Shepherdstown. Rain poured over Gideon and his horse. Lord, it seemed like a century since that evening a week ago when Jack Harris had brought the news of the invasion. The very next day, near the little hamlet of Falling Waters, up river from Harper's Ferry, he'd gotten his initial taste of battle- Stuart's cavalry had been out with Old Jack. The colonel had three hundred and eighty infantrymen and a single battery. Jackson took the brunt of an attack by