Fire Over Atlanta (2 page)

However, Jeff now seemed able to put this from his mind. His grin flashed, and he held Leah’s hand for just a moment longer than necessary, leaning over to wink at her. “You’re going to have a good time at this party,” he promised. “Everybody will be here.”

Leah smiled quickly. “I hope so, Jeff. Don’t leave me all alone, now.”

“Oh, you won’t need me. There’ll be plenty of fellas coming to ask you to dance. Let’s go in.”

Leah and Jeff entered the palatial mansion and moved down the hall toward the sound of music. When they stepped into the ballroom, she saw that the large room was filled with young people and decorations hung from the chandeliers and on the walls. Across one end stood a long table, draped with a white cloth and topped with gleaming china. Cut crystal glasses caught and reflected the light from the chandeliers.

The dancing had already started, for Lucy Driscoll would have nothing less for her birthday than a dance. The music was provided by a five-piece band, and the dresses of the young women looked like green, red, blue, and yellow lights as they moved about the room.

“This beats starving in the trenches at Petersburg,” Jeff said. Then his eyes narrowed. “There’s Lucy.”

As Leah had guessed, the girl was wearing the most beautiful gown that money could buy. Lucy’s dress was baby blue silk with a small, woven floral design. It had a square neckline, edged with a white lace frill. The lace-frilled sleeves were very short and puffed. The overskirt touched the floor and was looped up at the sides and held in place by large
white silk bows. It was worn over a large hoop. Her fair hair was coiled high on her head with long ringlets hanging down the back. She had on short, white silk gloves and a pearl choker.

“Let’s go wish her a happy birthday,” Jeff said.

Leah seized Jeff’s arm and clung to him. She had the impulse to turn and run, for she felt like a crow at a meeting of brilliantly colored bluejays and cardinals and canaries. Her brown dress, though serviceable enough for church, was totally out of place here. She wanted to cry.

I wish I’d never come
, she thought and gritted her teeth.
As soon as I can, I’ll get away where nobody can see me
.

“Why, Jeff, how nice to see you—and you too, Leah.”

Lucy Driscoll was small and shapely and charming. Her hair was as blonde as Leah’s, but whereas Leah was tall and strong-looking, Lucy was diminutive and made the most of it.

“You look great, Lucy.” Jeff smiled, taking her hand. He bent over and kissed it, then laughed. “I been practicing up on that.”

“I bet it was with Leah here,” Lucy said archly. “Has he been practicing his charms on you, Leah?”

“No,” Leah said shortly, “he hasn’t!”

Jeff shifted uncomfortably. “To tell the truth, that was my first attempt. Anyway, I been practicing up on my dancin’, even though it was all by myself.” The music started up again just then, and he said, “Could I have this dance, Lucy?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I already promised it to Cecil.”

A thin young man about Jeff’s age, who had been standing off to one side listening, stepped forward. He had chestnut hair and bright eyes and wore the
uniform of a first lieutenant. “Go ahead. I’ll make the sacrifice for you, Jeff.”

“Well, that’s nice of you, Cecil—I mean, lieutenant. I keep forgetting you’ve been commissioned, sir.”

“Oh, let’s forget that,” Cecil said, “at least while we’re here.” He seemed to be the only officer present among several young soldiers and many civilian boys not yet old enough to enlist. He turned to Leah. “May I have this dance, Leah?”

Glad to get away and feeling very warm toward the young man, Leah said, “Of course.” She soon was sweeping around in a waltz with Cecil Taylor. He was not the best of dancers, but she liked him.

“Sorry about that,” he said after a misstep. “I’m just never going to learn to be good at this.”

Leah smiled at him. “You’re doing fine.”

Cecil was only an inch or two taller than Leah herself. She had grown fond of him on her first trip to Richmond. At that time he had proved to be a friend when Lucy had been somewhat less than friendly. His father was a wealthy planter. His mother was from one of the finest—that is to say, wealthiest—families of Virginia.

Leah glanced around the ballroom. “There aren’t as many here as I thought there would be,” she remarked.

“No, it’s not like it used to be. I remember when fellows would come from all over the county for a party like this. But I guess a lot of ’em are in the army now. And besides, there just aren’t enough horses to get us where we want to go.” He looked down at her, interest in his friendly blue eyes. “I’m so glad you could come,” he said. “I was afraid you might have gone back to Kentucky.”

“I suppose I’ll have to pretty soon. I came to bring Jeff’s little sister here, but now that it looks like his father’s going to remarry, they won’t need me anymore as a nurse for her.”

“That’ll be a sorry day for me when you go back. As a matter of fact, I’ve missed you a lot.”

“Will you be in the fighting soon?”

“I don’t know. I’ve put in for it, but they keep me here as an aide in the War Department.” Cecil sounded disgusted, and he missed another step, almost stumbling. “Sorry about that.”

“What do you hear from your brother, Royal?” he asked after the music stopped and they were at the refreshment table. He was pouring her some lemonade from a tall pitcher.

Leah said, “He’s in Chattanooga, but I don’t think you’d want to hear about the doings of a Yankee soldier.”

“If he’s your brother, I would!” Cecil sipped his lemonade and made a face. “This doesn’t have enough sugar in it. Here, let’s sweeten it up with some of these cakes.” He picked up some small white cakes coated with sugar and bit into one. “The Yankees whipped us pretty bad at Chattanooga, but I don’t think they’ll ever take Atlanta.”

“I just wish it was over,” Leah said, “and that we didn’t have to hear about war all the time.”

Across the ballroom, Jeff stood talking to Lucy. He was enjoying himself tremendously. He was also looking forward to having some of the refreshments, for food had gotten scarce in the Confederacy. Looking down at Lucy, he said, “That’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen, I think. You sure look nice.”

“Why, thank you, Jeff.”

“I haven’t seen you wear that one before.”

“No, it came in on a privateer last month. Daddy bought it for me. Had to pay too much for it, I think.”

“It was worth it.” He led her toward the refreshment table. “Sure wish there wasn’t anything to do but go to parties, and drink lemonade, and eat cake. Sure beats soldiering.”

“Leah looks nice,” Lucy said idly.

“What? Oh, yes, she does.”

“She’s so tall, though. I hope she doesn’t grow any taller.”

“I don’t know. She looks pretty healthy.”

“Oh, yes, she’s healthy all right. Look, she and Cecil are trying to dance again. Cecil isn’t much on a dance floor, I’m afraid.”

Jeff glanced over as Cecil almost tripped over Leah’s long skirt.

Lucy said, “Well, I hope he doesn’t fall down and drag Leah with him. That would humiliate her, wouldn’t it …”

“This is too much to ask a lady to put up with,” Cecil said.

Leah was somewhat embarrassed, but she said, “No, you’re not going to get any better if you don’t practice.”

The evening went on and on, and Lucy and Jeff—it seemed to Leah—danced almost every dance together. She herself kept going back to Cecil, who stood much of the time against the wall. “Come along, Cecil,” she would say, taking his hand.

The more she saw Jeff laughing down at Lucy Driscoll, the more unhappy she became.
If I can’t
have the prettiest dress, I
‘
ll have to do something else to get Jeff
‘
s attention
, she thought.

Leah was not a scheming girl. But having come to the party in such poor style, and then seeing Jeff so taken with Lucy Driscoll, she decided that she had to do something. She toyed with an idea.
If he’s going to pay all that much attention to Lucy, then I’m going to make him jealous. I’ll make him jealous of Cecil
.

The thought pleased her, and she moved closer to Cecil, saying, “You do look nice in your uniform, Cecil. I think officers of the Confederacy are so dashing, and I’m sure you’re going to be a perfect hero when you get your chance.”

Leah had never paid such attention to Cecil before, and he seemed dazzled by her compliments. “Why, Leah, I didn’t know you felt like that!”

“Oh, I do! Now, let’s try again. One, two, three. One, two, three. That’s it! You’re going to be the best dancer when I get through with you, Cecil Taylor.”

Leah hardly saw the pleased look that came into Cecil’s eyes. She looked across the room at Jeff and Lucy, thinking,
I’ll make him so jealous, he won’t even see Lucy Driscoll
.

S
gt. Royal Carter entered the tent and found Pvt. A. B. Rose lying limply on his cot.

“What’s the matter with you, Rosie?” Royal said. “You’re not ready for breakfast?”

For a moment the gangling soldier stretched out on the cot said nothing. Then he looked past his big feet to reveal a pair of light blue eyes. His tow-colored hair was badly awry. He managed to say mournfully, “Well, sergeant, I reckon my time has come.”

“The time’s come for breakfast!”

Rosie shook his head. “Nope, it’s all up with me this time, Royal. I don’t hold out much hope that I can make it anymore.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Royal stood over him. “You look all right to me.”

“Well, looks are plumb deceivin’. You ought to know that. I might look good, but I ain’t good inside. No, sir, not a bit of it!”

A slight smile curled the corners of Royal Carter’s lips. He mused over the limp figure of the tall private a moment more. “Well,” he said, “if you feel so bad, I guess I’d better go and eat those pancakes and ham that the cooks made for us this morning.”

As Royal had anticipated, the mention of pancakes seemed to bring fresh strength into Rosie. He sat up at once, cleared his throat, and ran his hands through his hair. “Well, now, Professor—maybe if you’ll help me, I can make it to the mess hall. Then
if I get one of those pancakes down me, I might feel better.”

“Just lean on me, Rosie,” Royal said soothingly. Hiding a grin, he pretended to sag as the huge private put an arm over his shoulder and the two started for the eating area.

Royal, at twenty-two, was not more than five feet nine but was sturdy and strong. He had light hair and blue eyes and was known as Professor by his fellow soldiers primarily because he had some college education. He also was rarely seen without a book.

The mess hall was a large frame building that had once been a factory but had been seized by the Federal army when it took Chattanooga. It had been turned into a fine kitchen and mess hall combined.

“Come on, now! You’re going to make it! Just up these steps.”

Hanging on loosely and shuffling his feet, Rosie said, “I made my will out last night.”

“Again? That’s the tenth will you’ve made that I know of! I wish I was as sure of living as you are, Rosie. You’re healthy as a horse.”

Rosie’s craggy features looked pained. “Nobody understands me,” he said. “I’m a sick man.”

Actually there was no healthier soldier in the Union army than Pvt. A. B. Rose. He was indeed healthy as a horse and as strong as one as well. But he fancied himself sick and repeatedly went to the surgeon of the regiment, trying to explain his ailments. He had an enormous collection of patent medicines, including pills, syrups, and concoctions of all sorts, to which he added some that he himself had invented. His friends warned him that he was
going to kill himself with some of these medicines, but Rosie gloomily persisted.

The two soldiers went into the mess hall, and Royal called out, “Make room, men! Let’s help poor old Rosie try to hold something down.”

A yell went up from the soldiers, who were putting away pancakes at a prodigious rate.

Walter Beddows, a short, stocky boy with brown hair and brown eyes, laughed aloud. “Sit down here by me, Rosie. I’ll hold you up while Sergeant Pickens stuffs a few pancakes down your throat.”

Another private said, “Here, I’ll even pour the syrup on ’em. We got fresh-made sorghum.”

Rosie sat and looked across the table at Walter and Ira Pickens, a tall, lean sergeant with brown eyes and bushy black hair, who grinned at him.

“I think he’s gonna die this time, Ira,” Walter said.

“No, just get some of these pancakes down him. They’d make a corpse come to life.”

A great deal of wry humor passed back and forth as Rosie slowly forked a pancake onto his plate. He drowned it in syrup, cut it in two, and stuffed half of it into his mouth. Then he annihilated the second half. His eyes brightened. “That’s better, fellas. Let me have a few more of those.”

Royal watched and winked at his fellow sergeant, Ira Pickens, as Rosie helped himself to a half dozen large pancakes and attacked them.

“I suppose you’re going to live, aren’t you, Rosie?” Ira asked finally.

“I reckon I will. If I just had some coffee and a piece of that ham to come out even.”

Rosie looked up as another private entered. The newcomer was tall, strong-looking, athletic. He had
crisp brown hair, gray eyes, and his uniform was spotless. “Well, Drake, I think I’m going to make it. These pancakes, I believe, have got some kind of therapeutic value.”

Drake Bedford took a seat and lifted his eyebrows at Rosie. They had joined up together and were the best of friends. “You didn’t leave any pancakes for me?” he exclaimed. “What a pig!”

“Here,” Royal said, “I saved three of them back for you.”

“Hey, thanks a lot, sergeant.” Drake grinned. “I’ll do the same for you sometime.”

As Drake began eating his pancakes, talk went around the table about the battle that they had just been through.

“We sure whipped them Rebs this time!” somebody said. “I reckon the Army of Tennessee is running yet after we charged ’em up Missionary Ridge.”

Loud cries of agreement sounded, and Walter Beddows said, “You’re right about that. Furthermore, I think we’re gonna run ’em all the way back to Atlanta.”