And One Wore Gray (31 page)

“Jeremy—”

“Don’t touch me, Callie!” he snapped. He spun around and went stomping off the porch.

“Jeremy!” She tried to call him back, but he was gone. She leaned against the wall, and then she pushed away from it and made her way back into the house.

The chicken was ready. She had cranberry sauce on the table. And thick gravy, the kind Jeremy loved the most. The table was beautiful, and she’d been so very happy.

She leaned her face down upon the table, right against the linen. She was too weary and heartsick to cry.

It didn’t matter. She’d fight for the baby. She’d fight Jeremy and Joshua and Josiah and the whole town.

She’d fight Daniel too.

But she’d lost her brother. There were more ways than death to lose someone, she realized. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t. Not anymore.

Her eyes opened, for she felt soft fingers against her cheek. She opened her eyes again and her brother was there, kneeling down by her side. “I’m sorry, Callie, God forgive me, and I pray that you forgive me. I love you, Callie. I don’t understand what you did, but I love you. And I’ll love my nephew—or niece-I swear it. I’ll be here for you.”

She started crying, despite all her determination that she wouldn’t do so anymore. She threw her arms around his neck, and he held her.

“Callie, I can help you still, if you let me. I can maybe find this Reb—”

“No,” Callie said firmly.

“Oh Lord, he hasn’t been killed already, has he?”

She shook her head. “He is, er, out of action for the moment. Jeremy, please, just leave me be. Maybe, when the war is over, if he survives it and I can find him, I’ll let him know.”

“Callie, damn it, he has a responsibility—”

“Please, Jeremy, please!”

He sighed. “Callie, I’m going to get the truth out of you if it takes me an eternity.” She smiled at last. “Well, I can’t stop you from trying.
But I want this baby. And the baby is mine. Anything else is for a far distant future. All right?”

Jeremy still wouldn’t agree. He stood up, and he started to prepare their plates. He sighed. “Well, I’ve made supper a bit cold here.”

“I can stoke up the fire again—”

“No, the gravy’s still warm. That’s what’s important.”

She smiled at him.

“Callie?”

“Yes?”

“Merry Christmas, sister. Merry Christmas.”

She jumped up, because she just had to hug him one more time.

The end of 1862 proved to be an especially brutal period for Daniel.

While he had been held in Old Capitol, Jeb Stuart had been managing another of his sweeping raids around the Yanks, going so far as to encircle the enemy in Pennsylvania. But by the time Daniel returned to active duty, it was necessary for the Rebs to begin a tight watch around the area of Fredericksburg, Virginia.

In the North, President Lincoln had given up trying to believe in his very popular general, George McClellan. Rumor had it that Lincoln felt sending reinforcements to McClellan was like “shoveling flies across a barn.” McClellan was removed and General Burnside was sent in to take his place.

Daniel wasn’t so sure about the wisdom of such a choice. They were calling a bridge over Antietam Creek “Burnside’s Bridge” these days because the general had tried so long—and at such a great cost of human life—to cross that bridge.

Burnside was a good man, though. Daniel knew him by reputation, and knew that he was loyal to his cause. He knew that Lincoln was totally disgusted with the way that “Little Mac,” as McClellan was known, had
hesitated time and time again when he could have moved against the Rebels.

It would remain to be seen just what Burnside would do. Because there was one certainty about the South. The Rebs might be low in manpower, and they might not have industrial strength, and Lord knew they hadn’t the sheer numbers of the North, but the South could boast some of the finest generals to come along in centuries. Lee would be careful, watching Burnside. Daniel still doubted there was any way Burnside could “out-general” Lee.

Still, it seemed apparent that the new Union commander was going to be making a strike toward Richmond. The North was growing more and more desperate to take the Confederate capital.

On the fifteenth of November, they skirmished with Federal troops at Warrenton, Virginia. By the eighteenth, General Burnside and his Army of the Potomac had arrived in Falmouth, on the banks of the Rappahannock River, across from Fredericksburg. Jeb’s cavalry was positioned at Warrenton Station.

It was good for Daniel to be back with his troops. He was still with Billy Boudain, having managed to get the boy transferred into his cavalry regiment. Billy had been given a promotion to sergeant and was serving as Daniel’s staff assistant. Although the cavalry prepared for heavy battle, they remained the “eyes and ears” of the Confederacy, and it didn’t seem to Daniel that a single night passed in which he wasn’t sent out to scout Union positions.

He didn’t mind. He liked falling into his cot dead exhausted every night. Sometimes the exhaustion kept him from dreaming.

But sometimes he dreamed anyway. The dreams were sweet, and the dreams were cruel. Sometimes he’d be back on the river. He’d see the rolling landscape, feel the breeze. The river air would rustle the
leaves in the trees and all around him the world would be rich with the sweet scent of the earth.

And she would be there. Her eyes so wide and gray, touched with shimmers of silver. She’d be whispering and in his arms. The feel of her flesh would be warm and velvet, the sweep of her hair like a caress of silk. She’d come closer, closer, whispering …

Then, from somewhere, would come an explosion of heavy artillery, and she would be gone.

It was war, Daniel told himself wearily. And there was nothing to be done but fight it.

And live. Yes, live. Because he had to go back. No matter how long it took him, he had to return to that small farm near Sharpsburg.

Sometimes when he lay awake at night, he wondered what he would do once he got there. It wasn’t to be soon. On the thirteenth of December, the situation around Fredericksburg came to a head. Burnside’s force of one hundred and six thousand men attacked the Confederates under Stonewall, a force of seventy-two thousand.

During the battle, the Yanks were forced to attack Marye’s Heights. The slaughter was horrible.

By nightfall, it was clear the Confederates had taken the day. For Daniel, there was little other than a hollow feeling in his heart. He’d heard that one Union soldier had commented, “They might as well have asked us to take Hell!”

When the fighting had ended and the generals had conferred, a very weary “Master” Lee had said, “I wish these people would go away and let us alone!”

Dear God, yes, Daniel thought. By midnight he’d made his reports, he’d been to the field hospital, and he’d braced himself against the horror to be found there. Now his men were preparing to sleep, and he was free from responsibility until morning. He walked down to the river and looked out over the water.

Jesse would be busy tonight trying to put back the pieces of human beings.

Just leave us alone, he thought, remembering Lee’s words. Lee had looked so weary of the war when Daniel had seen him last, delivering Aunt Priscilla’s package to him. Daniel was sick to death of the killing, and there was so much more to follow. Why couldn’t Lincoln just let them go? He didn’t understand it.

But Jesse did. That’s why he had stayed in the Union. “God in heaven, I am at war with my own brother!” He whispered aloud. He lifted his hands, suddenly remembering that he carried a package in brown wrapping. He had seen Harley Simon, a neighbor in the artillery, when he had gone through the hospital. Harley had been carrying the package with him for two months. It was a silver baby cup, a present for Jesse and Kiernan. Harley’s wife had gotten it to Harley, and Harley had been carrying it in his haversack ever since, hoping he’d see Daniel soon enough. Jesse might be on the other side, but he’d always been the Simons’ friends.

How could it be that they were all trying to kill one another, but they were still friends?

Daniel closed his eyes, then opened them. The moonlight glistened on the water. How many good, good friends did he have in the Union army, not to mention his brother? He didn’t want to think about it. Jesse and Beauty. When the war was over, would they all be able to drink good whiskey and laugh over pranks again?

Would they survive the war? Would they be able to forgive one another?

Yes, he could forgive anyone. He had understood Jesse from the start.

Not Callie. He would never forgive her. She had betrayed him. He had fallen in love, and she had betrayed him.

And now his every moment, waking, sleeping, fighting, was consumed with her. Maybe if he could just touch her again.

Burnside retreated the next day, but Daniel was swamped with duty, being sent almost daily to observe his enemy. Christmas was approaching, and it seemed the action had somewhat quieted here in the East, although skirmishing did take place. The situation was different in the West. President Jeff Davis was furious with the happenings in New Orleans. Since the fall of that city, a Union general named Butler—“Beast” Butler, as he was being called—had been in charge. The women in the city had been so rude to the Union officers that Butler had issued a proclamation called his “Women’s Order,” in which he stated that any female acting rude to his officers would be considered a woman of the streets, plying her avocation, and be so duly treated in turn.

Jeff Davis wanted Butler executed on the spot if he could be captured. It was a strange turn of events, for once upon a time, when there had been only one country, Butler had been one of Jeff Davis’s strongest political supporters.

Thankfully, despite strong support in the North, Butler was removed, and General Banks was sent in to take his place. Banks was far less objectionable to the citizens of New Orleans.

December wore on.

Three days before Christmas, Daniel was given ninety-six hours leave. When he heard the news, his heart began to thud with anticipation.

He was going to go to Maryland. He was going to find out just what he would do when he saw her again. He would wrestle with both the beauty and the beast that haunted his dreams, his days, and his nights.

But another Beauty got wind of. his plans, that Beauty being Jeb Stuart. Beauty, dashing as ever in his
flamboyant plumed hat and cape, came to visit him, carrying a bottle of a fine vintage wine and good-humored Christmas stories. As they sat there, Jeb suddenly ceased to smile and told him flatly, “You’re not to travel north, Daniel. I need you too badly. You cannot risk capture now.”

“I risk capture almost daily!” Daniel exploded. “How else does one encircle an enemy for intelligence?”

Stuart sighed. “Daniel, war is a danger. Bullets are dangerous! We cannot avoid either. But I’ll not lose you again over something … unnecessary. Daniel, you’ve chosen not to speak about Sharpsburg, or your capture, or even your days in prison. I can’t make you. But you’ve changed since then. Even the men have noticed it.”

“I’m a damned good officer, and I never ask more of my men than I’m willing to give.”

“I agree, the men would agree, and hell, yes, you must be a cat, you’re so willing to lead into the fray rather than ask another man to do it. But Daniel, you can’t go north now. I’ll see that your leave is revoked unless you give me your word that you won’t head into Maryland.”

Daniel scowled. Anticipation had been so sweet. Seeing her, shaking her, touching her. It had all seemed so close he could almost taste it.

“Daniel, damn it, don’t put me in a position to pull rank!” Stuart pleaded.

Daniel swallowed hard. “I’ve got to get back to Sharpsburg.”

“I’ll get you there. In ‘63 sometime. I swear it,” Stuart promised him.

Daniel exhaled. It hint. Almost physically. Stuart rose and stretched out his hand. “Your word, Daniel. I need you back here.”

His word. His precious honor. Wasn’t that what they were fighting for?

He gave Stuart his hand. Beauty turned and headed out of Daniel’s field tent. He paused, his back to Daniel. “Jesse is just across the Rappahannock. Did you know that?”

“I figured he was still with the Feds, somewhere close.”

“We’re exchanging some prisoners right before Christmas. Anything you want to send him?”

“Yes,” Daniel said quietly. “Tell him that Harley Simon sent him a gift for the baby, and tell him that I’ll be taking it home to Kiernan. And send him his brother’s warmest regards. Tell him that I’ve gone home for Christmas. And that we’ll all be thinking of him.”

“I’ll tell him,” Stuart agreed, then left the tent.

The next morning, Daniel started off.

From his position near Fredericksburg, Daniel needed the time to carefully skirt the Yanks and ride the distance, stopping overnight in Richmond, where he was able to attend an evening at the White House of the Confederacy with President and Mrs. Davis. The house, which had been donated to the city of Richmond and then to the Confederate government, was gracious and beautiful, but what made it more so, Daniel thought, was the South’s first lady. Varina Davis was many years her husband’s junior. Where Davis was known for being reserved and opinionated, Varina was all warmth and beauty. The cares of the Confederacy were etched in her features, but she had lost none of her warmth that Christmas season. Daniel came into the entryway with numerous other officers. He was led into the house, where all of the pocket doors had been thrown open to make one large space for all of the guests. The president and his lady were not elusive creatures, but hardworking individuals who strived to
be available to friends and associates. Daniel had never known Jeff Davis well; still, the man was kind and concerned when they spoke. And Varina reminded him of everything that they were fighting for. Beautiful, vivacious, and still regal and dignified, she moved with a rustle of silk and a whisper of femininity. Watching her brought a warmth to him, until her movement reminded him of Callie.