The Quaker and the Rebel (43 page)

8.
Emily views the privation among the residents of blockaded Richmond with mixed emotions. Why is she troubled by the decline of the Confederacy?

9.
Alexander changes dramatically during the course of the story in several ways. How was his faith impacted by the war?

10.
Both sides, North and South, believed God was on their side. How did this help the individual soldier but hurt the overall progression of the Civil War?

Discover the exciting, brand-new story of a woman of beauty and courage in Book 2 of The Civil War Heroines Series by bestselling author Mary Ellis

T
HE
L
ADY AND THE
O
FFICER

L
ATE
J
UNE
1863

Cashtown, Pennsylvania

G
entlemen, please take heed to what your horses are doing to my flowers!” Madeline Howard spoke with as much authority and indignation as possible after two long years of war.

Four blue-clad officers paused in their conversation to gaze down on her heat-wilted ageratums and hollyhocks. Beneath their horses’ hooves the flowers were trampled beyond recognition. The soldiers offered faint smiles and then resumed their postulating and pointing, affording her as much attention as a gnat.

Except for one officer, who straightened in his saddle and removed his broad-brimmed hat. Tugging gently on his reins, the man guided his mount out of the flower bed toward the road. “Good afternoon, miss, General James Downing, at your service. I apologize for the damage.” He tipped his hat and then turned his attention back to the others.

“Madeline Howard, General.
Mrs.
Howard.” She marched down the porch steps. “Now, if you would kindly move your meeting to someone else’s yard, I shall be forever in your debt.”

A thin, gangly officer mounted on a sorrel mare was quick to retort, “See here, madam. In case you’re unaware, the war has come to the fine
Commonwealth of Pennsylvania with the arrival of Robert E. Lee’s infantry. Your posies are of no importance to the Union Army.”

“I’m well aware of the war, sir. My husband died on the banks of Bull Run Creek, leaving me alone to run this farm.” Madeline settled her hands on her hips with growing indignation. “Those Rebs you’re chasing marched through last week, stripping every ear of corn from the fields and every apple from my orchard. They stole my chickens, killed my hogs, and led my milk cow away on a tether. So if I request that you not to trample my flowers for no apparent reason, I would think you could oblige me.” Maddy completed her diatribe with a flushed face and sweating palms. After months of privation, she had lost her temper.

For several moments silence reigned as the officers stared at her in disbelief. Then General Downing addressed the wiry, haughty officer. “Major Henry, order the troops to remain within the confines of the road and not damage civilian property.” Along the highway, enlisted soldiers trudged in formation toward town, raising a cloud of dust that would linger for days.

Saluting, the major and the other officers spurred their horses and rode off in different directions, leaving her garden ruined.

“Please accept my apologies, madam. And thank you for your husband’s sacrifice to our country.” General Downing pulled off his leather glove and extended his hand down to her.

“Thank you.” Temporarily flummoxed, Maddy reached up and gave his callused fingers a quick shake.

“I will do my best to protect your town from further harm.” He held her fingers and gaze far longer than necessary…or proper.

Tugging her hand free, Maddy retreated backward so quickly she trampled the few remaining blooms missed by the horses. She felt a flush climb her neck as she picked up her skirts and ascended the steps. Pausing in the shelter of her porch, she stared at the man who still sat watching. He bowed a second time, replaced his hat, and galloped away, adding another cloud of dust to the heavy air.

Madeline retreated inside and slammed the door, not pleased with her behavior. She wasn’t normally a woman who became flustered in the company of men. Remembering the trampled flowers under her feet, she shook her head. At thirty years old and widowed for the last two, she had no time for silly flirtations or coquetry. When her wits returned, Madeline headed to her stable to check the animals. The din of artillery shelling all morning made her mares skittish. If it hadn’t been for quick thinking last week, her beloved horse stock—Tobias’s pride and joy—would also be in the hands of the enemy. She stroked the horses’ flanks and rubbed their noses, trying to calm them with soft words and a gentle touch.

Her own fears were another matter. Widowhood had inspired a determination to keep her husband’s farm flourishing. War had created a constant demand for the horses she had bred and raised. Although she would never become wealthy, the bills were paid. Tobias would have been proud of her.

Tobias. It seemed so long ago when he had marched proudly off with the Sixth Pennsylvania Volunteers. He died at a battle the papers were calling First Manassas—first because a second unsuccessful battle was fought at the same loathsome place. He died before she’d grown used to the idea he was a soldier. Madeline had missed him fiercely during the first year, but endless chores filled her hours, allowing no time for grief. She couldn’t remember a day she hadn’t fallen into bed exhausted. But usually a sense of satisfaction accompanied her fatigue, so she persevered.

The marauding Confederates took everything she had, all but her beloved horses. The moment she had spotted ragged butternut uniforms on the road, she had hidden her horses in a nearby cave—a cave known only to the neighborhood children. Now, while her mares munched hay from their bins, Maddy stood in the barn doorway and watched wave after wave of boys in blue march toward the center of Cashtown. The war had come to Pennsylvanian soil. What would happen to her sleepy little community?

J
UNE
30

“Reverend Bennett?” Madeline softly called the man’s name through an open window; no one had answered her knock at the door. From every indication her preacher and his wife were both home. Laundry fluttered on the line, the barn door was open, and the backdoor was ajar to catch a rare breeze. As she’d ridden her mare through the town square and down the cobblestone streets, she’d seen very few people—nothing like the way things usually were, with friendly neighbors hanging over picket fences or milling on the church steps Sunday mornings. “Reverend Bennett?” This time she hollered his name in an unladylike fashion.

The middle-aged preacher’s face appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Howard, come in. Why are you out and about on a day like today?”

“I rode my horse instead of driving the carriage, so I caught a nice breeze. I tied Bo to your water trough in the shade. I hope you don’t mind.”

The reverend slowly lowered himself into an upholstered chair. “Of course not. Sit and make yourself comfortable. I refer to the commotion on the roads, not the heat. With so many soldiers afoot, my wife insists we remain below in the cellar. Haven’t you heard the news?”

Madeline sat on the edge of the couch. “I’ve seen troops moving for several days. First the Rebs stripped my farm, and now our boys in blue are stirring up the dust.”

“Everyone appears to be headed to Gettysburg. Entire brigades of cavalry have been spotted, along with long caravans of wagons. And all those poor boys marching in this heat.” He fanned himself with a folded newspaper. “Many of my neighbors are scared. They packed up their possessions and left.”

“Where were they going?” Maddy asked, sounding childish. The fact she had no nearby relatives to offer shelter undermined her confidence.

“North, east—anywhere away from what’s about to happen. But the time for leaving is long past. It’s no longer safe. Rabble follows every
army. You must stay with us until this ordeal is over. There most certainly will be a great battle.”

“No, Reverend. I couldn’t possibly stay. I need to tend Tobias’s horses. If I’m not home, who knows what will happen to them?” Madeline rose, regretting her decision to ride to town for news.

“All right, but at least come below and share a bite with Mrs. Bennett. She worries about you alone on your farm.”

Maddy loved the preacher’s wife like a dear aunt, so she followed him on the rickety steps to the cellar.

After arriving safely home that evening, she relaxed as she rocked serenely on the porch. Lamplight from the kitchen window illuminated the handiwork of a spider. The thin gossamer strands weren’t organized into a web, but were tiny trapezes strung between porch rails. Maddy stared, mesmerized by the artistry. As she waited for the spider to reappear, the glittering yellow eyes of some creature peeked from the shrubbery. She felt no fear, only mild curiosity. The opossum issued a high-pitched squeak and then crept off toward home.

Heat lightning danced and shimmered over the dark hills. The faint report of gunfire miles away was soon drowned out by peepers and cicadas. The frog and insect summer symphony soothed Maddy’s nerves with its familiarity. The war, although close at hand, was far from her mind that night. Her thoughts drifted to a tall Union officer with silver glints in his hair and sparkling teeth beneath a black mustache. Strength and power seemed to emanate from him. For the life of her, Maddy couldn’t remember why the situation in the garden had so vexed her. They were
silly flowers
. She had lost much more just days ago. She’d lost her entire world a mere two years ago. For the first time, the face of General Downing replaced Tobias’s in her imagination as she replayed their conversation over and over.

“Foolish woman,” she muttered. Rising, Maddy peered up at a sky studded with bright stars. The moon had already finished its nightly path when she climbed the steps to her room. She undressed without lighting a lamp, donned her long cotton gown, and slipped beneath the cool sheets. Forcing away thoughts of the general, she quickly fell
asleep and slumbered fitfully…until the scrape of a rusty latch roused her senses.

With her heart pounding in her chest, Madeline bolted upright. The sound of a whinny lifted tiny hairs on her neck. Someone was in her horse barn! Maddy ran to the window and drew back the gauzy curtains. Peering into darkness, she could see nothing until the moon finally broke free from the clouds. Speechlessly, she watched as her prize-winning mares were led from the barn by several men.

What should I do? Grab Tobias’s squirrel rifle from above the fireplace? Race outside and open fire on those who would pillage in the dead of night? Clad in my nightgown?

Instead, Madeline did nothing. This time the thieves weren’t the marauding enemy who had stolen her chickens and milk cow. The men riding away with her beloved horse stock tethered to their mounts wore the blue uniforms and gold emblems of the U.S. cavalry.

J
ULY
1

The next morning dawned hot and hazy, with acrid smoke hanging heavy in the air. Soldiers in every shade of blue, from recently conscripted recruits to sage veterans, marched in both directions on the road. Horses pulled limbers of artillery and caches of ammunition, while farm wagons hauled food to a hungry army. White Conestoga wagons with red painted crosses carried the wounded from an early skirmish or boxes of medical supplies. Young couriers galloped down Taneytown Road at breakneck speed, perhaps with vital dispatches.

In the hectic fervor, few soldiers took notice of a woman who headed to town on the side of the road. Walking in ninety-degree heat through clouds of dust didn’t put Madeline in the best of moods. She arrived at the parsonage on Hemlock Street three hours later sweaty and thirsty. No one answered her knock until she pounded relentlessly on the door.