Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (37 page)

Chapter
35

“Ah! Soldiers to your honored rest,

Your truth and valor bearing,

The bravest are the tenderest,

The loving are the daring.”

– Bayard Taylor’s “Song of the Camp”

Hunter stopped at a fallen tree and gazed out
over the lake. Every color of the sunset’s spectacular display were reflected
in the water before him, the deep hues even more brilliant than those in the
sky above.

Instead of noticing the flaming exhibit of glass
and fire, he sighed deeply, placing one foot on the fallen timber and crossing
his arms over his bent knee. Two swans lifted off the glassy surface, their
reflections rippling across the water in a blurred, mystical effect as their mirrored
wings and feathers merged with the vibrant colored sky.

“Major?”

The soft voice startled him. Hunter turned to
find Andrea standing behind him with an envelope in her hand. He reflexively
looked back toward the house at the distance she had walked to bring it to him.

“A dispatch for you, sir. You appeared to be
waiting for something important. A courier just brought it.”

Hunter nodded, wondering how she had grown to
know him so well. “You needn’t have walked all this way,” he said a little more
coldly than he intended as he took the missive from her outstretched hand.

Andrea did not seem to mind. She stood staring
over his shoulder at the molten light of the setting sun casting soft hues of
bronze and pewter over the water. “It was worth it.” She took a deep breath and
gazed at the dark outline of the mountains in the distance. Clouds that had
been puffy and white earlier, now shone pink and violet as if lit from within.
But their bellies were slowly turning dark and gray as the last bit of light
trickled out of the western sky.

Hunter watched Andrea’s gaze drift over to a
small rise that overlooked the pond, and then to the single tree that stood
like a stoic guard. She turned back as if she’d forgotten his presence for a
moment. “Daniel is … there?” she asked, motioning with her eyes.

Hunter nodded, his thoughts moving to the lone
tree and the single headstone beneath it.

“I believe he’d be pleased.” Andrea’s gaze moved
to the family burial grounds that lay some distance from where Daniel was
interred. The spot where he rested was a lovely one with a bird’s-eye view of
the estate.

“You cared for him.” Hunter’s voice was low and
husky.

Andrea blinked repeatedly as if recalling the
day Daniel’s life trickled out before her very eyes. “I was not acquainted with
him for very long,” she said at length, “but a greater loss I have never
known.”

They both fell silent for a moment, and then
Andrea spoke. “I trust it’s not bad news.” She nodded toward the unopened
letter.

Hunter turned the dispatch over and then back
again. “I believe it may be.”

“Would you like me to open it?”

Hunter did not answer at first, then hesitantly
handed her the envelope.

The diminishing light made it difficult to read,
forcing Andrea to turn the page toward the setting sun. Hunter watched her eyes
sweep over the missive and knew the report was unpleasant.

“It’s news of Stuart?” His voice cracked with
anguish.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” She took a deep, shaky breath
as if feeling the weight of the news herself. “I’m afraid his wound was mortal.
He died yesterday in Richmond.”

She reached out and put her hand on Hunter’s
arm. “There is honor in dying for one’s convictions, yet it seems an
inconceivable loss. I’m sorry.”

Hunter did not say anything. And now, neither
did Andrea. Yet somehow, just as when Daniel had died, they found themselves in
the embrace of each other’s arms, enclosed in a cloak of shadowy comfort.

Andrea finally broke the spell. “I’m sure he is
at peace,” she whispered to console him. “He fulfilled his duty to God and
country.”

Her words did
little to ease Hunter’s deep sense of loss. He stiffened and drew away. “My
dear, you are mistaken.
God
is nowhere to be found in this war.”

Without another word, he stalked away into the
darkness.

Chapter
36

“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,

that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

– Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

Major Hunter pushed his weary mount forward
through the darkness, as eager as he’d ever been to see Hawthorne come into
view after two weeks on the move.

“Come on, Dixie,” he said, leaning down and
patting his horse’s neck. “We’re heading toward a good night’s rest.”

The animal, seeming to understand his words,
picked up her pace when they were a mile away and soon cantered across the
bridge to Hawthorne.

At first glance the house appeared silent and
dark, matching Hunter’s mood. But when he stopped in the front, he noticed a
candle burned in a room on the second floor. Although well past midnight, that
lone beam shining out of the darkness appeared like a warm, welcoming light.

Turning his mount loose in the nearest paddock,
Hunter glanced again at the window and saw the silhouette of Andrea sitting in
the amber light with a book. The sight drew a smile to his lips. This was not
the first time that solitary flame had greeted him after a long night’s ride.

Finding his way through the dark house to the
stairs, Hunter slowly ascended, his legs and body so weary he found himself
holding onto the banister for support. He could hardly wait to take off his
boots and fall into bed. Yet as he passed her room, with its door slightly
ajar, he found himself knocking once and pushing it open. “Permission to enter
Camp Defiance.”

Andrea stared at him with a look of half welcome
and half rebelliousness, which prodded him to continue his jesting. “Waiting up
for me again, Miss Evans?” He tipped his hat back as he spoke.

 “You are doomed for disappointment, Major.” She
lowered her eyes to her book. “I am reading.”

Hunter laughed and strode into the room. “I’m
beginning to think you believe it your responsibility to stand picket duty
while I’m away. But if you can leave your post, you really ought to take a look
outside.” Hunter nodded toward the window.

“Oh my!” Andrea stood and stared at the full
moon shining in through the door. “But it was cloudy earlier.”

Hunter stepped forward and offered his arm to
help her out to the balcony.

“I always loved and dreaded a night such as
this.” Andrea leaned forward over the railing as she stared up at the sky. “So
beautiful and yet so dangerous.”  The night breeze cast its magic, catching her
robe and twirling it out behind her. She turned and looked at Hunter, causing
him to quickly avert his gaze. In fact, he had been thinking the exact same
thing—but not about the moon.

“What a ga-lorious evening!” Andrea turned back
to the fields and gazed at the horses silhouetted in the moonlight. The stone
walls resembled dark rivers flowing through the fields, twisting and turning
over the hills until they disappeared into the deep shadows. Fireflies flitted
across the pastures like sparkles on an endless sea, their flashing golden
globes illuminating even the shadows where moonlight failed to hit.

“I would hardly call it evening. Do you never
sleep?” Hunter pulled a chair from the shadows and helped her sit, then pulled
a second one to the railing. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

“I do not fear the darkness or the night,” she
said, her voice suddenly somber and serious. “Just the dreams.”

Before he could think of something to say, she
nodded toward the field where his horse now lay in a patch of lush grass.
“Looks like you’ve exhausted your mount.”

“Covered a lot of ground in the past few days.”
Hunter stretched out his long legs and propped his booted feet on the railing.

Andrea gazed back at him, cocking her head to
one side. “Yes, you look a bit tired yourself.”

“Let’s just say it’s good to be home.” He took
off his hat and rubbed his temples.

 “You take great risks being out on a night like
this.” Andrea’s voice held a hint of concern. “It would appear you possess an
unseemly appetite for battle if you dare to ride in the deathly light of a full
moon.”

Tipping his chair back on two legs, Hunter
laughed softly. “It’s my duty to have an appetite for battle. As for the moon,
I generally trust the clouds to be on my side—as they were tonight.”

“You rely much on luck and chance, Commander.”
Andrea draped the edge of her gown over her bare feet and propped them up on
the banister beside his. “Surely it’s not your bravery and devotion alone that
the salvation of the Confederate army depends.”

Hunter shrugged. “I don’t go into battle with
the slightest desire to come out alive unless I’ve won. My life is a small
price to pay for Virginia.”

“Do not speak like that,” Andrea scolded.

Hunter sat his chair back down on all four legs
and met Andrea’s gaze with a curious grin. “Ah, my dear, could it be you were
worried about me?”

Now it was Andrea’s turn to laugh. “Major, your
arrogance is as astounding as your apparent good fortune at commanding the clouds.
If you weren’t to return, it would be no concern of mine.”

Hunter leaned over and put his hand on the arm
of her chair, willing to forget his rank and status as an enemy officer tonight
since she was so willing to ignore it. “Come now, Miss Evans. You wouldn’t miss
me just a little?”

Andrea looked into his eyes, a hint of humor
illuminating her face. “I suppose I
would
miss your overbearing
attitude, your stubborn pride, your inflexible—”

“A-ha, despite our differing philosophies on
war, it appears we have more in common than I thought.”

His quick response apparently caught Andrea by
surprise. She looked up at him with a straight face, but a smile tugged at her
mouth. Hunter felt his heart thump in his chest as a feeling of serenity began
to overcome him. Whether it was the moon or her mood, he did not know, but he
suddenly had a desire for the night he had longed to end, to go on forever.

The moon’s rays became partially shielded by a
thin veil of clouds, then emerged again in even more brilliance. The leaves
above them stirred in response, seeming to writhe with a sense of exhilaration
at the emergence of the night star in its radiant splendor.

“The odds are great against you.” Andrea’s voice
sounded serious again.

“I find that patriotism and determination
generally make up for lack of numbers.” Hunter gazed out over the fields. “Just
because the enemy is better armed doesn’t mean our resolve is any less. In
fact,” he said, pausing to pull out his pipe, “I dare say the North may have
overestimated its strength and underestimated our power.”

Andrea crossed her arms and sank down deeper in
her chair. “It seems a pity to engage in a war in which a soldier’s safest
armor is his determination to fight.”

Hunter lit the tobacco and leaned back in his
chair. “Not just determination. We have cause and will.”

“And we, strength and means.” Andrea leaned her
chair back on two legs. “I suppose your resolve is commendable, if not your
prudence. You dare to continue your campaign where your enemy is all around
you.”

Hunter put his head back and laughed. “My dear,
it is my duty to be in closer contact with Washington than Richmond. I dare say
I was within hailing distance of your Capitol this morning.”

“We are close to the Union lines now?” Her voice
was full of surprise.

“We’re less than fifty miles from Washington.
Much of the time we are within Yankee, I mean Union, lines.”

Andrea nodded with a faraway look in her eye.
Whether she was surprised at her proximity to Union encampments or not, he
could not tell.

Hunter leaned back and watched a smoke ring lift
and hang in the air. When he glanced sideways, he found her staring at him. “Is
something wrong?”

“Just trying to figure you out,” Andrea said
contemplatively.

“And are you having any success?”

“May I talk without restraint?”

Hunter laughed loudly and majestically. “Miss
Evans, you have shown me no hint toward possessing such a thing.”

Andrea joined in with a laugh that sounded in
perfect harmony with the music of the night.

“Well first tell me, Miss Evans. Do you find the
Northern gossip a faithful portrait of the powers I’m alleged to possess? What
did you think of me as a foe?” Hunter leaned back contentedly in his chair,
waiting for her reply as if he regarded her as an old acquaintance whose
opinion he valued.

“I understood you to be a dangerous opponent,
due in part to the close bond you hold with your men.”

“And would you not charge that as a fault to my
character? Does it not seem unwise to become close to men you may potentially
have to hurl at the enemy and to their deaths?”

“I avow I
never regarded it quite like that.” Andrea drew her brows together. “I thought
of it more like a mother ferociously protecting her young.”

Hunter put his head back and laughed heartily
“My men would take great humor in the analogy. I must remember to tell them.”
He grew serious again. “What else?”

Andrea spoke quietly, and Hunter knew it was
from the heart. “There was no one I respected more, nor wished to confront
less.”

He smiled. “Ah. I shall take that as a
compliment.”

“Richly deserved, no doubt. But only because of
your seeming unquenchable thirst for blood.”

Hunter looked over at her, surprised. “I am not
bloodthirsty, I assure you. We are at war, Miss Evans. Therefore, any Yankee
soldier who places a foot on our soil justly forfeits his life.” He stopped for
a moment to re-light his pipe before continuing. “As Virginians, we would
rather give up our lives than our honor or liberty.”