The Last Confederate Read online

  “Yes, I heard that Grandfather Nathan used to say those very words,” Sky nodded.

  “Well, Dan Winslow, that’s the only answer I can give you,” the captain said, referring to Dan’s statement about the country being divided. He looked pensively at the boy. “I believe God’s hand is on America. If I’m right, somehow we won’t destroy each other. We have other Winslows in the Midwest, too, who are fighting for the North. It’s your father’s brother, George—his family. He’s dead now, but his grandson, Zacharias, is in the army of the Potomac. Lots of Winslow men have died for this country, and more of us may die yet.” He stood up abruptly, saying, “My grandson Lowell has a very good friend. They went through West Point together, but just last month, his friend resigned and went to serve in the Confederate Army in South Carolina. What if Lowell and he meet on the field of battle? I can’t say, but my heart tells me that we are in for a tribulation time.” He shook his shoulders and moved toward the door. “We’d best be on our way, Davis.”

  “I’ll have my man drive you to the hotel,” Sky offered. Then while the others were saying farewell, he went to the kitchen where he found Thad half asleep at the table. “Thad, take the two gentlemen to the Ballard House.”

  “Carriage is all ready, sir,” Thad told him. He got up and followed Mr. Winslow through the house.

  “Thad will take you, Captain.”

  “Why, that’s a kindness,” the old man returned. He looked at the boy with a quizzical expression on his face. Pet noticed that he seemed to falter; then he asked, “Do I know you, young man?”

  “I don’t think so, sir,” Thad replied.

  “Well—you remind me of someone. It’ll come to me later, perhaps. Thank you all for your hospitality. I’ve talked to many of our family, north and south, but none have shown the graciousness I have met tonight.”

  The two men left, and immediately the inevitable dissection began. They all agreed that the captain was an exceptional man. “But,” Belle said, “something should be done about that young man.”

  Pet grinned. “You intend to convert him to the cause, Belle?”

  “He’s not much, is he?” Dan added with disdain. “Can’t see how any grown man can stand on the outside and watch like he’s planning.”

  “How long will they be here, Papa?” Belle inquired.

  “Long enough for you to try to make a rebel out of him,” Sky commented. “But it might not be as easy as you think.”

  “You know what, Sky?” Rebekah slipped her arm in his. “I’ve always loved your family, but tonight, after listening to Captain Winslow, I’m prouder than ever!”

  Sky squeezed her, then looked at her soberly. “It’s a good name, all right. But there are Winslows wearing blue uniforms.”

  He turned and left the room. After he had gone Pet spoke. “He’s worried about the war.”

  Oblivious to what Pet had said, Belle murmured under her breath, “If Davis Winslow would lose some of that baby fat, he’d look wonderful in a gray uniform!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE VICTORS’ RETURN

  The blazing August sun beat down on the fields with a scorching heat, but Thad took off his straw hat anyway, enjoying the faint breeze that gently moved the tiny cotton plants. An early morning rain had swept across the fields, transforming the dry, dusty soil into thick mud, and drops of moisture glittered like diamonds on the tiny green leaves.

  Pet, walking beside him, leaned down and pulled up a stalk. “The rain will help the crop,” she remarked. Tossing it down, she flashed Thad a smile. “A lot different out here than in Richmond, isn’t it?”

  Thad put his hat on and looked across the wide field for a moment. It was a way he had of thinking over questions before answering, and Pet liked it. Most young men she knew talked too much. He nodded finally. “Like a different world. Staying in that place would be like living in a lunatic asylum for me.” He gave her a swift glance and added, “I know Miss Belle likes it, but I’ll take Belle Maison any time.”

  “It’s just a big party to Belle,” Pet nodded, and then she laughed. “She’s been keeping company with Cousin Davis the whole two weeks he and the captain have been here. She’s determined to make a rebel out of him, but she does it to make her beaux jealous, too.”

  Thad also thought that, but feared saying anything critical of Belle, so he changed the subject. “Let’s ride down to see how the corn is doing by the creek.”

  They walked to the end of the row, mounted their horses, and Pet cried out, “I’ll race you!” Driving her heels into her mount’s sides, she shot off before Thad was ready. He grinned, admiring the way she rode, then raised the reins and spurred his horse after her. They thundered down the muddy road. Slowly, slowly he gained, riding furiously until he pulled up beside her. She turned to see him coming alongside and began to cry out “Come on, Lucy!” as she urged her mare on. Thad kicked his heels against his horse’s side and picked up speed, driving his mount hard. Soon he was side by side with Pet, but he pulled his mount back to keep from passing her. They rode together at a dead run, turning off the road to go crashing through the grove of large oak and pine that dotted a ridge. The trees whipped by and he allowed her to get ahead so that when they emerged from the trees she was leading by several lengths. She pulled up suddenly beside the small creek that marked one border of a huge corn field, and slipped to the ground.

  “Beat you!” she laughed as he dismounted beside her. Her straw hat had slipped back on her head, held by the cotton cord, and her face was flushed from the ride. Her gray eyes sparkled, and the sun caught the glints of gold in her rich crown of auburn hair. She reached out and touched his face, saying, “You look as if you’ve got some kind of chicken pox!”

  He pulled his bandanna from his pocket and wiped his face, but she took it away from him, laughing at the smears he made. “Now you look like a field hand! Come here, let me wash it off.” Leading him to the creek, she made him sit down under a bull pine, then dipped his bandanna in the clear water. She sat beside him and began to clean off the mud.

  He sat very still, listening to the water gurgle over the mossy stones, and noticed that she smelled of soap and lilac. She had a light touch, and her face was close to his, so close that he could count the freckles on her smooth cheeks. His thoughts made him uncomfortable and he was relieved when she drew back and said, “There!”

  He leaned back and looked at the slender emerald stalks that stretched out in endless rows. Sighing with satisfaction, he murmured, “Looks good. Soon as the ears appear, the coons will be at ’em.”

  “We’ll have to go on another possum hunt,” she said, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. “Remember last time how you tossed the bobcat down to Dooley?” The thought amused her, and she laughed softly, giving him a punch in the side. “Were you ever green! Didn’t know a possum from a bobcat!”

  He smiled at her. “Sure, I remember that—but what I remember best is what happened after the hunt.” He looked at her and there was a serious light in his black eyes. “You offered to teach me how to read. And you have, too.”

  His praise brought color to her cheeks, and she dropped her head. “Oh, that was nothing.”

  “Yes, it was.” He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder, and the action was such a surprise she lifted her eyes. He had never touched her once in all the months he’d been at Belle Maison, and now the intense look on his angular face kept her silent. “I’ve never said thank you, but I say so now. Thank you, Patience.”

  “I . . . I had a good student, Thad,” she murmured. “You learned to read so quickly!” She reached up impetuously and touched his face. “And you’re the best friend I’ve ever had!”

  He sat there, feeling the light pressure of her hand on his cheek. Then his dark face with its slavic cast broke into a smile. “Well, shoot, you’re my best friend, too!” The comment made him feel embarrassed, and he removed his hand from her shoulder. Getting to his feet, he suggested, “We’d better get
back. I’m taking some fresh garden stuff to the market this morning, and you have to go back to town.”

  “Oh, rats!” she snapped as she mounted her horse. “I wish I could stay here all the time! I’m going to ask Papa if I can come back with you. Those house servants are letting the house fall to pieces!”

  “Maybe he will. Dooley’s found a place to run a trotline, and we could get a few of those big river catfish that taste so good. Your mother mentioned our getting some because your father likes them.”

  As they approached the house they heard a horse coming at a dead run, and Pet cried, “It’s Dan—something must be wrong in town for him to ride like that!” They spurred their horses forward and intersected him as he turned down the road that led to Richmond. “Dan! What’s wrong?”

  “The regiment is back!” Dan shouted over his shoulder, then spurred off without another word.

  “Oh, Thad, Mark and Tom will be there!” Pet said urgently. “Let me ride in and you can bring the vegetables later.”

  “No. Your father wouldn’t want you to ride in alone,” Thad said.

  “He wouldn’t care.” She looked at him defiantly. “I’m going!” She kicked her horse into motion and took off after Dan. But Thad’s powerful stallion caught up with the mare in fifty yards, and he leaned over and caught the bridle, then hauled back on the reins.

  “Let me go!” she blazed, struggling to pull the bridle from his grasp.

  “We’ll go as soon as I get the wagon loaded,” he promised firmly, and there was a determined set to his jaw. “It won’t take but a few minutes.”

  “Oh, you don’t care about the soldiers!” she countered, and instantly saw the hurt look in his eyes. Her face broke into shock. “Oh, Thad, I didn’t mean that! I’m sorry!”

  “It’s all right,” he replied quietly. “I know you want to see your brothers—but your father asked me to look out for you, and I have to do it.”

  “I know,” she agreed quietly.

  She helped him load the wagon with the vegetables from the huge garden, working in a subdued way unusual for her.

  Finally they got into the wagon and headed for town but were stopped by Sut Franklin at the gate. “I’ll take the wagon to town, Novak,” he said gruffly, his face flushed.

  Thad saw the red veins in the man’s nose and noted the way he almost fell as he tried to get into the wagon. “You’re drunk, Sut,” he told him.

  Franklin stared at him out of his pig-set eyes, then began to curse; but Thad simply slapped the reins and spoke briskly to the horses. The team plunged away from the overseer, who staggered and fell to the ground as he attempted to stop them.

  “I don’t know why Papa doesn’t get rid of him!” Pet declared. “He stays drunk half the time and he treats our negroes awful!”

  Thad agreed with her, but didn’t voice it. “He behaves better around your father than he does with anyone else. And a good overseer is hard to find.”

  “Oh, fuzz!” Pet snapped in disgust. “You do most of the work he’s paid for, Thad. And the negroes always come to you when they have a problem. I’m going to tell Papa to make you overseer and get rid of Franklin.”

  He laughed at her. “You’re going to get a snub if you do, Pet. Your father realizes I don’t know enough about farming to be an overseer. You have to be brought up here to know that.”

  “Oh, the negroes know about when to plant and all that! What we need is someone to lead them. All Sut Franklin does is whip the poor people—and they hate him for it. You know they do, Thad. They all work just as slowly as they can, ’cause he’s so mean they don’t want him to look good. But they try harder for you, because they know you care for them.”

  “Well, maybe; but all the same, you’d better not be running Mr. Winslow’s business.”

  As they rode along at a fast clip, they talked about the Battle of Bull Run that had been fought on July 21, a month earlier. It had been an anxious time for those far from the battlefield, since most of them had sons or other relatives in the army. The battle had been brought on because of pressure, for North and South had been pushed into the skirmish before the troops were ready.

  The two green armies had met at Manassas, a small town in Virginia, but in the South the battle was called “Bull Run,” named after the small creek nearby. General Beauregard, the hero of Fort Sumpter, commanded the southern troops, while Brigadier General Irvin McDowell led the Union Army. There had been a great deal of confusion as the untrained troops blundered out of position, and at first reports, the Union was winning. Then Beauregard made a final effort and the Union troops faltered. What started as an orderly retreat by the Union became a disorganized throng as the retreating soldiers clogged the escape roads mingled with “sightseers” who, reportedly, had come from Washington to witness the Confederate Army smashed with one great blow. The newspapers reported that the congressmen with their ladies, the society leaders who had come from Washington to watch the battle, led the mad rush back to safety, never stopping until they reached the Capitol.

  It was a stunning defeat for the Union, and the South was alive with hope. Now the troops were back in Richmond, and as Thad drove the wagon into the main district, he saw that it would be impossible to get the vegetables to the merchants. The streets were filled with riotous crowds, jamming the streets so densely that he said, “We’d better go to your house. They’re not thinking about tomatoes and greens in Richmond today.”

  They found the house occupied only by Mary, who said, “Dey all done gone to town. Big doin’s, wid all dem solgers back.”

  “Oh, Thad, let’s go try to find Mark and Tom!” Pet pleaded, and he agreed at once. Leaving the wagon, they made their way on foot across the town, and when they got to Cherry Street, they were just in time to see the regiment parade between the screaming throngs that lined the streets.

  The gray-clad troops marched by, and suddenly Pet cried out, “Oh! there’s Mark,” and before Thad could move she darted out to throw herself into the arms of her brother. Mark was caught off guard, and his dignity went with the wind as she glued herself to him. The crowd laughed, and Mark’s face turned red, but then he, too, laughed. “Go give Tom a hug, Sis. He’s right back there.”

  She found Tom, who was marching along with a wide grin, and Thad noted that Pet was not the only one breaking into the parade. He caught sight of Belle Winslow in a snowy white dress. She detached herself from the crowd and ran to where Vance Wickham was marching behind Captain Sloan. She had a flag in her hand and gave it to him, then marched along with him, clinging to his arm. Other girls did the same, and soon the military gray of the Third Virginia was dotted with the vivid reds and blues of taffeta dresses.

  Thad pushed his way along with the crowd until they got to the park at the west end of town, where the regiment was formed in front of a platform often used for band concerts and special speakers. The platform was shaded by a group of stately elms and decorated with red and white streamers. Seated in place were a group of dignitaries.

  Eventually the crowd quieted, and Jefferson Davis came forward. He was a thin man, straight as a ramrod, and his face seemed almost cadaverous as he faced the troops and the massed crowd of civilians. His wife, Varina, stood to his left. She was a striking young woman, dark-haired and attractive. The President began to speak, and despite his austere manner, he spoke well, ending his speech with a promise: “When the last line of bayonets is leveled, I will be with you!”

  A shrill, yelping cry erupted, and then soldiers and civilians alike joined in, filling the air with cries of victory. Thad felt out of place, alienated, standing there quietly when seemingly every other person was jumping and screaming. He moved his eyes over the crowd to his left and was surprised to see Captain Winslow and his grandson standing at the edge. They, too, were marked by their lack of enthusiasm. Davis was listening intently to the President. But the sharp eyes of the older man were locked on Thad, and for one brief moment, the cries seemed to fade. It was almost as if the cap
tain and Thad were alone. The two stood there in that strange manner until Thad dropped his head and moved back into the crowd, escaping the scrutiny of the other.

  All day, the people milled around, but Thad made his way back to the house and sat in the swing on the front porch, listening to the sounds of laughter and joy that floated over Richmond. He was depressed. He wished he were back at Belle Maison. He longed for the silence of the woods, for the warm, dark laughter of the negroes as they worked in the fields.

  Again and again, his mind went back to those eyes riveted on him. I have to get away! he thought. He got up and walked toward the fields lying west of town, going far enough to shut out the sounds of revelry floating over the city.

  ****

  Every public room that would hold twenty people was packed that night, but the most prestigious celebration was in the large dining room of the Ballard House. Colonel Barton and his staff were the guests of President Davis, and the cream of the Confederate world was there.

  Sky had pressed Davis and his grandfather into attending, and both of them felt out of place as speaker after speaker lauded the troops of the Confederate Army. Davis studied the cabinet members, especially the pale, emaciated Vice-President Alexander Stephens and the attorney general, a plump, seal-sleek Jew named Judah Philip Benjamin of Louisiana. He sat at the table next to Davis’s, masking his thoughts with a perpetual smile held before himself like a silk-ribbed fan.

  After a while Colonel Barton arose. “You have heard much about our brave men and the victory they won. I want you now to hear from one of our own officers concerning the death of our beloved General Bee.” A hum went around the room, and Barton continued. “Lieutenant Winslow, I want you to tell our guests what happened at the Henry House.”

  Mark stood up slowly, his uniform gray as ash, his boots shining like well-rubbed wood, and the tassels on the colored sash gleaming in the candlelight. Rebekah gripped Sky’s arm, for she could not stem the tears that spilled over. She thought how handsome he was—so vulnerable! One ball could bring this child of hers to a grave on some far battlefield! Yet, she was proud and hung on every word he said.