Crossing (42 page)

Quickly Becky came to her, bent down, and wrapped her arms around Lorena’s trembling shoulders. “Don’t, don’t, darling, don’t. Your hope is not in Yancy. You must have hope in the Lord. The Proverbs promise, ‘The hope of the righteous shall be gladness.’ So be glad, dear Lorena. Yancy’s heart will bring back the remembrance of love.”

July simmered on. In the aftermath of the Battle of Seven Days, Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia remained camped close to Richmond. Eagerly Yancy read every single newspaper he could get his hands on, starving for information about the army and particularly about the Army of the Shenandoah Valley. As always, Jackson managed to keep his movements secret. Journalists could only speculate, and generally their speculations were wrong.

President Lincoln and Secretary of War Steward, frustrated with General McClellan’s stubborn reluctance to make any offensive moves with the Army of the Potomac without shrill and unreasonable demands for anywhere from 50,000 to 100,000 reinforcements, finally decided to meet him halfway. They formed the new “Army of Virginia” and put General John Pope in charge of it. All of the Richmond newspapers reported Pope’s pompous and blustery speech to his men upon accession to command.

Yancy read as much as he could, but he was subject to violent headaches, so Lorena still often read to him. One hot stuffy afternoon Yancy had given up sitting in his chair, his headache was so severe. He lay in bed in his darkened room with a cool cloth on his forehead, his eyes closed.

Lorena skimmed the newspapers and picked out light, amusing things to read to him. “Listen to this,” she said. “The
Richmond Report
reads, ‘General Pope bombastically told his men: “My headquarters are in the saddle.” When our valiant General Stonewall Jackson heard this, he shouted, “I can whip any man who doesn’t know his headquarters from his hindquarters.” ’ Isn’t that hilarious?”

Yancy scoffed, “General Jackson never said that. He wouldn’t say anything like that.” His voice was weak, with that slight petulant note that came to people in severe pain. His eyes were closed and restlessly he fidgeted with the cold compress.

Lorena rose, took the cloth from his forehead, and dipped it into the icy water in the bowl on the washstand. Folding it securely, she placed it back on Yancy’s forehead. “Why do you say that General Jackson wouldn’t say that?” she asked curiously. “I had the impression that he’s a man with little use for such theatrics.”

“He is,” Yancy answered shortly. “But that reply is boastful. General Jackson is never boastful. Never.”

Wistfully Lorena thought,
He knows and remembers everything about Stonewall Jackson, down to the last detail of his uniform and every facet of his personality. Oh, how I wish he remembered me that well!

“Yancy, I can see you’re in pain,” she said quietly. “I know you’re trying very hard to get better as fast as you can, but you simply cannot speed up the healing process by sheer force of will. You never ask for laudanum anymore, but today I think you should take just maybe ten drops and see if you can nap a little.”

He shifted restlessly. “What time is it?”

“It’s only one thirty.”

“In—in the afternoon?” he asked.

Lorena was somber when she heard this. Yancy hadn’t been confused about the time for a couple of weeks now. This was a definite setback. “Yes, it’s early enough in the afternoon that a short nap shouldn’t keep you from sleeping tonight.”

After a short hesitation he said, “Okay. I do feel kinda tired.”

Lorena gave him ten drops of laudanum. “I’ll come back and check on you in about an hour,” she told him. “But if you need anything, just call. I’ll be in my room right across the hall.”

He nodded, already drifting off to sleep.

She left and went to her bedroom. Since Yancy had been better, he didn’t require constant bedside monitoring, so Lorena left him for naps and at night. But since he seemed somewhat worse today, she pulled up one of her desk chairs right by the door so she could hear him if he called. And then she sketched.

Still, Yancy continued to improve, in spite of occasional setbacks such as the one he’d had that day.

General Pope’s Army of Virginia moved northwest of Richmond, arrayed along the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains. McClellan’s Army of the Potomac stayed at Harrison’s Landing on the James River, where they had retreated to after the Seven Days battle. It was obvious that the two armies were going to try to overtake Richmond in a pincer movement.

General Lee sent Stonewall Jackson to the north to deal with Pope. This news made Yancy so restless he was miserable, knowing that his Army of the Valley would soon be in battle.

The last week of July he announced that he was going to rejoin the army on August 1.

Dr. Hayden said calmly, “Oh? And what, exactly, are you going to do when you rejoin?”

“I’m on General Jackson’s staff. I’m a courier, you know that. They’re in the north, and they need me,” he answered with a touch of impatience.

“Mmm-hmm. And so, are you planning on riding Midnight to perform these courier duties?”

“Of course. I’m feeling much better and stronger. I’m going to ride for about an hour this afternoon, and then slowly increase the time each day until the end of the month. Then I should be fit to rejoin my unit.”

“I advise against it, Yancy,” Dr. Hayden warned him. “There is a world of difference between riding a high-spirited horse like Midnight and taking long walks and climbing up and down stairs.”

“I’ve ridden horses since I was five years old, sir. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not at all worried.”

But he should have been. He rode Midnight for an hour that afternoon. He returned home with a headache so excruciating that it literally left him bedridden for two days. And his arm, though the hairline crack was fully healed, had not been exercised and was pitifully weak. Trying to control Midnight, which Yancy had taken so much for granted before, made his arm hurt. It throbbed so deeply and incessantly that he finally asked Lorena to bind it up and immobilize it again.

As he lay in bed, fighting the pain but knowing that he would have to ask for laudanum to be able to rest at all, he came to the bitter realization that he had been insidiously weakened by his wounds. He knew then that it would be some time before he could join General Jackson again.

Dr. Hayden improvised a cautious regimen of exercise, progressing very slowly for Yancy, and he followed it faithfully. But August of 1862 proved to be the most maddening, frustrating month he had ever endured in his life.

On August 9, General N. P. Banks, Pope’s commander of II Corps, attacked Jackson at Cedar Mountain. A relatively small but bloody battle ensued; in fact, it would have been called a skirmish except for the high number of casualties on both sides. The Army of the Valley sustained about 1,350 casualties—killed, wounded, or missing—while Pope’s Army of Virginia lost almost 2,400 men. But General Jackson was once again victorious. Pope’s army retreated, and the weary, dispirited troops made the miserable retreat northward to Culpeper.

On August 10, Yancy had another headache, though it was not so painful as those he had endured before. They had been diminishing both in number and severity.

Lorena had noticed that any stress or worry tended to cause them, as happened when Yancy exercised too vigorously, and mentioned this to him.

He was coming downstairs regularly now, and this morning they sat together in the kitchen while Missy made breakfast. Yancy closely perused each newspaper, frowning. “Where are the casualty lists?” he muttered.

Sitting with him, Lorena said soothingly, “Yancy, you know that it takes a couple of days for those to be published. Be patient.”

“It’s so hard,” he murmured distractedly. “They’re my men. They’re my friends.”

“I know,” Lorena said sympathetically. “Every single day of war is hard.” She reached over to cover his hand with hers.

He grasped it hard—as if it were a lifeline—for long moments, his shoulders and head bowed. Lorena stayed very still. Then with a sigh he released her and sat up. “It is. I don’t for the life of me understand why I miss it. Something must be wrong with me.”

“You don’t miss war, Yancy,” Lorena said gently. “You miss your friends, and you feel a responsibility toward them and to General Jackson. That is an honorable and just motive to wish to return to the war. And I believe you will … soon.”

For Yancy it would not be soon enough.

On August 17, the Richmond papers were afire with the news that General McClellan and his Army of the Potomac had embarked for northeastern Virginia, to join forces with General Pope’s Army of Virginia. It was clear that they now planned to drive toward Richmond from the north.

In the next few days, Lee made his plans and began the brilliant countermoves of the two Federal armies. These maneuvers culminated in not only a victory over them but, in the end, with both Pope and McClellan suffering devastating defeats. These lastterrible days of August were referred to as the Manassas Campaign. Once again the humble crossroads was to become the center of a raging war.

To Yancy’s vast relief, the newspaper coverage was good, though it dealt with the campaign in generalities. General Lee’s movements could not be hidden or kept secret, and so word of the events in the campaign were generally only delayed by one day.

General Lee sent Jackson to sweep around Pope’s right and flank him. This movement of the Army of the Shenandoah Valley was kept a tight secret, and ultimately it trapped Pope into thinking that Jackson was retreating from northern Virginia. Jackson’s first triumph was the capture of the Federal stores at Manassas Junction, a truly welcome gift for his always hungry and ragged troops.

On August 29, Pope attacked Jackson in force, thoroughly believing in a quick and easy victory. He was wrong. Jackson’s army fought ferociously, and Pope flinched. The next day Longstreet arrived. In the Battle of Second Manassas, the Confederates shattered Pope’s army, both physically and mentally. McClellan didn’t arrive in time to save him. With this humiliating defeat, both armies fell back in ignominy, harried and driven and tortured by Jackson’s pursuit, until they finally managed to flee in disarray back over the Potomac River.

On the last day of August, Yancy read of the Confederate’s triumph and that they were camped at Chantilly, in northeastern Virginia. It was only twenty-five miles from Washington DC. When he read this, Yancy got chills. He had no way of knowing, but somehow he thought that this might be the critical time for General Lee to invade. Yancy knew that General Jackson, since the days of his Valley Campaign, had continuously called for an offensive action into the North. Now, after the glorious victory at Second Manassas, Yancy just had an instinct that maybe this time General Lee and President Davis might listen to him.

He went to Dr. Hayden, who was sitting in the garden, also reading the newspapers. As Yancy approached, Dr. Hayden looked up, and for an instant a shadow crossed his kind face. He knew.

“Sir, I believe that I have recovered enough to rejoin General Jackson,” Yancy said bluntly, coming to stand before him, his arms crossed stubbornly. “I may not be exactly as well as I was before I was hurt, but I feel good and strong.”

Dr. Hayden nodded. “You have improved almost miraculously this last month, Yancy. I’m proud of you, for you have shown courage and true determination in your recovery. I am very sorry to see you go, but I have to agree with you. I believe it is time.”

Yancy was so eager that he left the very next day. He felt a deep urgency, for he sensed that General Lee would move very soon. At dawn the family was up to see him off, assembled in the foyer. He kissed Missy and Lily and Lorena and shook hands with Elijah and Dr. Hayden.

“I can never thank you enough,” he said in a deep voice. “I am so blessed by the Lord to have a second family such as you. Pray for me, and I’ll pray for you all to have peace, undisturbed. I—I love you all.” A little embarrassed, he hurried outside.

Lorena followed him. Great luminous tears shimmered in her dark eyes, and impulsively she threw herself into his arms, whispering, “Oh, I will miss you so terribly, Yancy.”