Antebellum BK 1 (72 page)

Anna shrugged. “You do know that I’m notoriously bad at keeping secrets.”

“
I know you have that reputation,” Nancy replied, “but I also know the truth of it.”

The carriage bearing Congressman LaGrange and Rupert Greene arrived at the curb and LaGrange leaped down to help Anna and Nancy aboard while Greene saw to the baggage. “What luck,” LaGrange said, giving his hand to Anna. “Every available source of transportation in Washington has already been hired, so when Rupert begged to come along, I just couldn’t say no.”

“
Of course you couldn’t,” Anna said. “This is my dearest friend Nancy Vreeland.”

“
Charmed,” LaGrange said. He seated Anna in the carriage and offered his hand to Nancy.

Nancy accepted his hand and stepped up, flashing a smile of gratitude at Anna for using her maiden name. “I’m so glad that I won’t be a fifth wheel, Congressman.”

“
Please. You must call me Charles. And let me introduce my friend, and soon to be colleague, Mr. Rupert Greene. Rupert, this is my lady friend, Mrs. Anna Lagrange and her charming friend, Miss Nancy Vreeland.”

“
Enchanté,” Greene said, examining Nancy’s tastefully low-cut neckline.

“
Well,” LaGrange looked behind them. “They’re getting impatient back there. Is everyone ready?” He climbed in and let the Willard’s doorman close the door. “Did you ladies pack ball gowns?”

Nancy looked at Anna. “No. Will they be necessary?”

“
I’m quite sure that there will be a victory ball in Richmond,” Greene said as the carriage moved away from the hotel and joined the slow-moving procession.

“
There should be ample time to find one in Richmond,” Anna said. “Most of the fashionable dressmakers keep ready-made gowns on the racks for emergencies. Nancy and I are of an average size that will require little alteration.”

“
If you’ll forgive me for being so bold,” LaGrange said, “neither of you ladies is what any sighted man would call average.” He looked pointedly at Nancy’s breasts.

“
Indeed,” Greene agreed.

“
Did we intend to go all the way to Richmond tonight?” Nancy asked to avoid replying to the off-color compliment.

“
Oh, no,” LaGrange replied. “The battle may last as long as two or three days. We thought that we would follow along with the army’s march and stop at some quaint little inn for the night – if necessary.”

“
Unless you ladies object, of course,” Greene said. “If you do, we can bring you back to the Willard each night and then fetch you the following morning.”

“
I pray that you don’t object to nights at the local inns,” LaGrange added quickly. “If we must return to the Willard each night, we risk missing some action.” He smiled knowingly.

“
I have no objection to nights in quaint little inns,” Nancy said. “Anna?”

Anna took a moment to answer. “No objection. Staying at an inn would be fine. Nancy and I are well accustomed to sleeping in the same bed.”

July 21, 1861

Fairfax Courthouse, Virginia

T
he caravan of revelers had traveled two abreast through the moonlight and into the following morning, singing and exchanging delicacies and the occasional ribald joke. At noon, they stopped to sightsee and to feast upon the treats that the Willard had packed. “This is quite good,” Congressman LaGrange remarked as he gnawed on a chicken wing. “Does anyone else think that eating with one’s hands enhances the flavor?”

“
Indeed,” Greene said. He had taken an undivided interest in Nancy’s cleavage and didn’t look toward LaGrange.

Nancy leaned forward to pour Greene some more wine. “Those ladies with Congressman Ely said that they were going to Centreville.”

Greene was beginning to perspire heavily. “Indeed.”

“
They say the army’s there and that there’s a victory celebration in progress.” Nancy let him look for a few more seconds, then she sat up straight, pulled her shoulders back and gave him a dazzling smile. “Goodness. It’s hot.”

“
Indeed,” Greene offered. “Indeed.”

“
What say you, Charles?” Anna asked. “Shall we go celebrate with the troops in Centreville?”

“
What say
you
to a little nap after this fine dinner?” LaGrange asked. “I’m sure we can find some private, shady spot.” He wagged his eyebrows at her.

“
Perhaps at Centreville, we could find one of those quaint little inns you mentioned,” Anna replied. “Napping in the grass and getting leaves and bugs in my hair is not terribly appealing.” She gave him a smile like the one that Nancy had bestowed upon Greene.

“
Driver?” LaGrange called. “Do you know the way to Centreville from here?”

“
Yes, sir.” The driver tugged the brim of his cap.

Centreville, Virginia

T
he afternoon was hot and humid. Sounds of cannon and musket fire mingled with the sound of cicadas. In the distance, smoke floated lazily above the trees where Blackburn’s Ford crossed the creek called Bull Run. A messenger on a lathered horse rode into the U.S. Army camp at Centreville, asked directions and spurred his weary mount toward Captain Quincy Van Buskirk. “Orders for Colonel Sherman from General Tyler, sir.”

“
I’ll take them.” Quincy reached up and accepted the pouch.

“
There’s hell to pay, sir,” the messenger said. He turned his horse and raced away.

Quincy opened the pouch, read the orders, climbed the steps and walked into the house where William Tecumseh Sherman was sitting at a large desk. “From General Tyler, Colonel.”

“
What does it say?” Sherman asked, without looking up from the document he was writing.

“
We’re to reinforce General Richardson’s brigade at best possible speed.”

“
Very well.” Sherman put his pen in the inkwell. “Assemble the brigade.”

Quincy stepped onto the porch and circled his right hand over his head with his index finger extended. Within moments, the sound of bellowing sergeants, cheers, excited conversation and running feet drowned out the gunfire and silenced the cicadas.

Colonel Michael Corcoran, commander of the 69
^th
New York, was the first to his horse. After making sure that his regiment was assembling, he rode over to meet Quincy. “Was that Ayres’s battery that just went forward?” Corcoran’s Irish accent was stronger when he was excited.

“
Yes, sir,” Quincy replied. “The new orders are for the whole brigade to advance forward of Ayres.”

“
Do we know who we’re t’ be facin’ down there?”

“
No sir. The operation was only to be a reconnaissance in force, but it seems that Richardson’s brigade has tangled with more than was expected.”

“
Where’s General Tyler?”

“
The messenger came from the direction of Blackburn’s Ford. I presume he’s there with General Richardson.”

Sherman came out onto the porch. “What’s the delay?”

“
There’s no delay, sir,” Quincy said.

“
Where’s my horse?”

Quincy pointed at the animal that was tied to the porch rail. “Would you like me to bring him to you, sir?”

“
Don’t be impertinent,” Sherman growled. “I didn’t recognize that ugly beast.”

Colonel Corcoran chuckled.

Sherman gave him a scathing look, then untied the horse and mounted. “When I find the bastard that shot my horse I’m gonna hang him.”

“
Your horse dropped dead from old age, sir,” Quincy replied. “The men were just showing their respect by cooking him for supper.”

With a sour look, Sherman rode out toward the road, raised his fist over his head and pumped it twice.

“
Brigade!” Quincy shouted, drawing his sword.

“
Regiment!”

“
Battalion!”

Quincy raised his sword. “Forward, by ranks, quick-time – march.” He watched until the 13
^th
New York, the 69
^th
New York, the 79
^th
New York and the 2
^nd
Wisconsin were on the road, then he kicked his horse and joined the column. When the last man was on the road, he raced forward and once again raised his sword. “Brigade!”

The command was echoed along the column.

“
Double-time – March.”

The sound of tramping feet and excited chatter accompanied a rising cloud of dust. Quincy ran his horse toward the front of the column, but didn’t sheath his sword.

Stragglers and wounded from Richardson’s brigade were already coming up the grade. The number of dead and badly wounded was having a sobering effect on the men. The chatter and shouts of bravado stopped.

“
Sergeant, gather up those walking wounded to help the others,” Quincy shouted at some stragglers as he rode by.

“
Yes, sir,” the sergeant called after him.

When Quincy caught up with the front of the column, Sherman didn’t acknowledge him but instead kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, as if he could somehow see through the trees. “The brigade is on the march, sir,” Quincy reported.

“
Very well.” Sherman was still watching the road.

“
Are you all right, sir?”

That got Sherman’s attention, but only for a second. “Yes.”

Quincy turned in his saddle and signaled the 13
^th
New York to pick up their pace.