Songs of the Shenandoah (42 page)

“What you got thar, Fletch?”

“I got a Yankee and a fugitive here.”

“That right? They ain't puttin' up much of a fight, knowing they's about to be hung.”

“There won't be no hanging.”

“Whatcha gonna do, then?” Judson spat out something.

“I ain't doing nothing. You gonna take them.”

“That so? And whereabouts I takin' 'em. I'm gonna claim bounty?”

“No. You're gonna run them.”

“Wha? I ain't dumpin' them up north. Why that's just good fish back in the river.”

“You do this and I'm clearin' your debt.”

“You ain't lyin' are you, Fletch? All of it? Why? What's these fellers to you anyway? What ain't you tellin'?”

“Two favors paid. One to a man who risked his life to save my son. And the other to Roy Perkins's niece.”

“Nah? That redhead girl? With her knowin' it was some Negro boy who slit her uncle's throat? Now I knows you lying.”

Fletch lunged and there was a grunt. “You gonna call me a liar? Or you gonna clear your owings with me?”

Jud coughed and bent over and spit. “Now come on, Fletch. Why you go and choke me? Made me swallow this tobacky. All right. I take 'em first at dawn.”

“No,” Fletch said. “With all of these runaway soldiers here, I don't think it would be safe for our boys here to stay overnight. Either of them die, and you still owe me full and proper.”

“All right then.” Jud reached over and grabbed the rope that bound Davin to Jacob. “I'll load them up while you fetch me one of those Shenandoah Shines. I know you ain't come here without things to swap and I've got the need for courage. 'Cause I got me a long, dangerous run ahead.”

Still covered with hoods and bound with twine, Davin and Jacob were placed under bales of cotton, which Davin could tell by the smell and the fibers brushing against his face. Then they were covered with some type of tarp, because it became completely dark, and he worried whether he and Jacob would suffocate under all of this.

They lay on the cold, splintered wood of the wagon, and despite the discomfort and the bounce of the trail, it didn't take long for Davin to drift to sleep, catching up for being nearly a week's short.

When he awoke, he worried about Seamus and his family. Should he have warned them about Muriel? That she couldn't be trusted?

Or could she? Maybe they were all rebels now. Seamus. Ashlyn. All of them. And he was the outsider. The one who was the enemy. The drunkenness of his lack of sleep made him queasy and his mind strayed to dark thoughts. Had this all been for naught? Hopelessness swamped him.

But then he fell asleep again. At some point, he remembered waking and hearing the sound of a deep voice singing softly. It was a spiritual hymn, one he didn't recognize, but Davin could tell it was full of reverence and joy.

He listened to Jacob's voice and found it soothing, soaking it in for a long time before speaking. “Jacob?”

“Yessum?”

“How can you sing? When we lie here in bondage?”

The man laughed. “My chains? They was cut long ago and for all times. I ain't get my freedom from no man. And no man can take it from me.”

Then Jacob sang again, accompanied by the rattle of the wagon wheels and the chorus of the night.

Chapter 50

The Retreat

“Woah!” The horses protested the abrupt halt. “Will y'all take a look at dat there? Ne'er seen so many with tails between their legs.”

How was Davin expected to see anything having been crammed in the back of this wagon with his head covered for more than a day? They had only stopped once to get drinks of water and to relieve themselves, but that was about ten minutes of the entire journey.

So when he felt the weight of the cotton bales being lifted around him, it was as if he were being released from a dark prison cell.

“Wait there and just so there's no foolin', the both of yous should know this is a shotgun.” Davin felt his forehead being jabbed with an object, which definitely could be the barrel of a gun, and he closed his eyes for fear they would be gouged.

He lay still as he heard grunts coming from Judson, who seemed to be wrestling with Jacob. Then there was a thud and a groan.

“All right, Yankee boy. You climb yerself out now. You get yer wings back.” Davin felt another poke at his head. He sat up and wiggled his way toward the end of the wagon where he was grasped by a strong hand that flung him to the ground.

“Get up, boy.” Davin was lifted again and now was being led. “Right here now. That'll give you a proper view of Dixie's finest. I best be gettin' on myself. Those Johnny Rebs will be in a foul mood.”

Davin's hood was swept off his head and he blinked to defend against the bright sun. His hands were still bound, and a rope tethered him to a tall oak.

He was surprised to see the face of his captor—blond scraggly hair, with rounded cheeks and a paunch belly. The kind of man he could easily lick and would love to have the opportunity.

“Those be eyes of hatred. You best be savin' that for those fellers.” He pointed down to the valley far below, where there was blurring movement. Davin blinked again and could see it was a great army, tens of thousands perhaps, making their way up the slope.

“I's give you maybe twenty minutes or so, 'for the wholes of General Lee's army passes by here. After gettin' whooped by y'all, I s'pose they'll find pleasure in takin' their grief out on you, boy.”

He tossed a knife on the ground, which Davin recognized as his own. “There's your good fortune. That get me time to be gone and you to be on your way. But you best be gettin' to it or you'll be Yankee stew.”

The man returned to the wagon with the cotton lying beside it. Sitting upright, with his neck tied by a rope, was Jacob who sat there with vacant eyes.

“What are doing with him?” Davin shouted, as Judson loaded up the bales again. “He was supposed to be freed with me.”

Judson continued his work, shut the back gate, clamped the bolt, and then dusted his hands. “Ain't lettin' no Negro free. I got me some honor.”

He climbed on the driver's seat and lifted the reins. “Now don't kill any of our rebel boys, or I ne'er sleep sound again.” Judson tipped his hat, and with a jolt the two horses lifted dust in the air and disappeared around the bend.

“Jacob!” Davin shook his head. How could he betray the man who saved his brother's life?

He glanced in the other direction, down the valley, and although it didn't look as if Lee's retreating army had moved much, there would be scouts all over the area. He was probably already out of time. How terrible it would be to go through all of this, only to get captured and hung by the army he helped defeat ten days earlier?

Davin shimmied down, picked up the knife, and then propped it between his ankles. It didn't take too long for him to cut his hands free, and then shortly thereafter he severed the rope holding him to the tree.

But there was little chance of catching up with the wagon taking Jacob away.

Still, he tried. He ran along the trail until it broke into three directions. He had no way of knowing which path to choose or of catching them on foot.

Then he heard the sound of horses coming behind him, and he scuttled into a thick grove of trees. Davin watched as two of Lee's cavalrymen passed by, and then in sadness and anger, Davin headed north.

“So, Private Hanley, you want to explain to me why I shouldn't have you court-martialed for desertion?” The captain had a jigger of whiskey on the table next to him as he sized up Davin.

“Oh yes.” Davin reached into his pant pocket and unfolded a soiled and worn piece of paper. “It's right here.”

The captain eyed him suspiciously as he unfolded it. Then he read it out loud. “A fifteen-day leave. Signed by . . . General Joseph Hooker himself. How about that.” He lifted the glass, gave Davin a curt nod, and emptied it in one swig. “According to this, son, you've got a few days left to spare.”

“Yes, sir. But I am ready to serve.”

The captain smiled and twisted the waxed tip of his black mustache. “I believe you might serve us best by cleaning yourself up, son. You are a mess.”

Davin nodded and started to walk away but then turned. “Sir?”

“Yes, Private.”

“I would like to report . . .” He paused for a moment. Did he really want to do this? This would certainly be the end. But for the past couple of days as he traveled by foot, his rage about what happened to Jacob had been festering in his every thought. Yes. He had a cause now. And there was an enemy.

The captain leaned forward. “What is it, son?”

Davin straightened. “I would like to report the whereabouts of a Confederate spy.”

Chapter 51

Healing

“And what kind of patient has the young man been?” Pastor Asa entered the house with his usual cheer and bluster.

“Are you here to visit the invalid?” Seamus sat in front of the fireplace. He placed his Bible down on the table beside him.

“May I take your coat?” Muriel closed the door behind the pastor.

“No, thank you.” He lifted his hat and held it in front of him. “I am just coming by for a brief moment.”

Ashlyn, who was in a rocking chair alongside Seamus, looked up from her knitting. “To answer your question, Pastor Asa, my husband is restless and unruly.”

“A clear sign of improving health, to be certain.” Asa plopped down on the couch next to Seamus and let out a deep sigh.

“Yes. And his doctor would agree.” Muriel bent down by the fireplace and put in another log. “Two months have passed, and I can say my work here is almost complete.”

“Oh, Muriel dear, please go sit down.” Ashlyn lifted a spool of blue yarn. “She makes us dizzy trying to keep up with her.”

“I have heard this sweet lady has been a real blessing.” Pastor Asa appeared exhausted. “What about your brother? What was his name?”

“Davin.” Seamus glanced over to Muriel and then back to Asa. “We . . . haven't heard from him.”