The Last Confederate (23 page)

Finally they got back to Virginia, and Captain Wickham was ordered to report with Company A to Richmond. When they marched into the city, Thad felt peculiar as he saw Cherry Street lined with cheering citizens. He remembered the first time he’d seen Richmond, covered with snow, when he’d fled the city looking for Belle Maison. He thought of the farewells he’d received from Mrs. Winslow and Pet. He had not dreamed that he’d be back so soon, thinking rather that he would never see it again.

Then, as the company passed the courthouse, he spied a huge black man, his face split in a wide grin, with tears flowing down the cheeks. Toby! Thad could not break his march, but their eyes met, and for one fleeting instant, he felt that in all his life, he had done one thing that was good! As Toby
passed out of Thad’s sight, he thought,
No matter what else I’ve done, for once I was right!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I’M AFRAID FOR THEM!”

The officers of the Third Virginia had little spare time the first two days in Richmond. Under the urgent commands of Colonel Stone and Major Lee, the men worked feverishly to get the regiment in first-class condition. Mark was responsible for the wounded, getting them into the huge Chimborazo Hospital. Beau scurried from office to office, trying to obtain signatures that would free replacements for their depleted supplies. Wickham and Major Lee scoured the country for new recruits, while Barton campaigned among his friends in Congress for both men and arms for the Third Virginia. All the officers were well aware that their unit would be rushed to join General Joe Johnston’s forces very soon, so they worked day and night to bring the regiment to full strength.

In addition to the intense preparation by the Third Virginia, someone else was working just as hard—Belle Winslow. “It would be a shame to let our men get away to fight without some sort of celebration for what they did at Shiloh,” she protested to her father.

“Guess you’ll take care of that, won’t you, Belle?” Sky teased. “But it might be difficult to do. Major Lee knows that most of his staff is on the verge of a duel over you, so he may not want to take any risks.”

Belle had laughed, but as Sky guessed, on Wednesday evening he found himself dressing for a ball that Belle had organized on short notice. As he changed into his evening
clothes, he asked Rebekah, “Which one do you think she will take? Wickham or Beau?”

“I don’t think she herself knows, Sky,” Rebekah replied soberly. “I’m afraid she’ll make a decision too fast. It’s hard on young people, this war. Remember how Rose Howland married that young Tarrent boy just before Bull Run? They were afraid to wait, and look what happened—he was killed, and she’s a widow.”

“I guess there’s really nothing we can do, is there?” Sky said. He came over and put his arms around her, saying fondly, “If any old fogey had tried to keep me from marrying you, I’d have either shot him, or eloped with you.” He kissed her soundly, then took her arm. “Let’s go to the show.”

When they entered the ballroom, it was filled with officers and guests. “I didn’t know there were so many young women in Richmond,” Sky commented. “I think they come out of the woodwork every time there’s a ball.” He nodded toward a group. “I see the moths have already swarmed around the candle.”

“Let’s hope they don’t burn up in the flame,” Rebekah smiled. “Belle
is
lovely, isn’t she?”

“Second best-looking woman in the room,” Sky said, giving her a squeeze. “Come, let’s find a spot to sit down. My feet hurt.” The group of officers clustered around Belle was composed largely of young men who had been on duty in Richmond, and they listened avidly as Captain Wickham and Lieutenant Beauchamp told of the battle at Shiloh. Mark stood back with Rowena Barton. They listened awhile, then drifted over to the refreshment table. As they ate, Rowena asked, “Remember the New Year’s Ball at Belle Maison a year ago?”

“Yes.” Mark looked around, observing. “Seems like a long time ago. But Beau and Vance are still right where they were with Belle.”

“I don’t think she loves either one, Mark. She’s in love with love.”

Mark stared at her, for it was as if she had read his mind. “You’re a perceptive woman, Rowena,” he commented, sipping his punch. “That was the night you told me about your rich Yankee suitor. You still seeing him?”

“No, he got away,” Rowena laughed. “But remember I told you about his friend, your relative, Lowell Winslow? He’s still a good prospect. Rich and handsome—but a Yankee officer, of course.”

“I remember. His grandfather came down not long ago.”

“I met him,” Rowena nodded. “And you met Davis—but he’s nothing like his brother.”

Mark shot her a straight look. “What about us?”

“Oh, Mark, you were never in love with me!” She touched his arm gently and murmured in a soft tone, “You’re much like Belle, I think. You’re young, and everybody else is thinking of love and courtship. I was just the closest one, that’s all.”

His face flushed, and he laughed at her perception. “I guess that’s right, isn’t it? Well, you deserve someone better.”

She shook her head and her eyes were kind. “No, I only hope my man will be half as fine as you are, Mark.” She smiled up at him and said quickly, “Let’s dance before we get maudlin! It may be a long time before the next ball.”

Belle was at her best that night. She danced every dance, her dark beauty drawing the young men’s eyes, and was cordially hated by most of the young women.

It was a contest between Wickham and Beauchamp, each trying to maneuver her away from the crowd; but it was almost midnight before Wickham’s ploy worked. Beau was dancing with another girl, and Vance deftly moved Belle outside onto the wide porch that by some miracle was not occupied.

“Now, I’ve captured you!” he exulted, pulling her into a tight embrace, his cheek against her hair.

“Why—Vance! You mustn’t hold me like this!” Belle protested.

“I can’t play games any longer, Belle,” he murmured, kissing her hard. His lips sent a shock through her, and she found
herself responding, her arms creeping behind his neck. He held her tighter, then finally drew back and looked into her eyes, saying huskily, “Belle, it’s got to be yes or no. Which will it be?”

This was not the Vance Wickham Belle had known, and her hands fluttered to her heart as she studied his handsome face. “Why—Vance, you’ve changed!”

“I’ve seen what this war is like, Belle,” he replied quietly. “Men die and life is over. It may or may not happen to me—but in any case, I can’t dangle on a string any longer. I’ve told you for months now that I love you and I want to marry you. You’ve shuttled back and forth between me and Beau—and that’s been all right. It’s the way a beautiful young woman will do. But I won’t play anymore. I love you and want you to marry me. Will you?”

She caught her breath, realizing he was deadly serious. The suddenness of his words and the enormity of the decision she must make frightened her. She stood there, thinking of life without him, and found it unbearable. “Yes, Vance—I’ll marry you,” she whispered.

He gave a glad cry, kissed her and held her close. “I’m a lucky man, Belle! I’ll make you happy!” After a while he asked gently, “What about Beau?”

She leaned against his chest, saying, “He’s a very attractive man, Vance. But he’s . . . he’s very
demanding.
I was drawn to him, yet I think I’ve known all along that he and I would fight all the time if we were married. Both of us want our own way too much.”

He laughed and asked lightly, “Is that your feminine way of informing me that I’m too well mannered to cross you, Miss Winslow? Well, we’ll see about that!” Then he sobered and said, “It’s going to make things harder—with Beau and me. We’ve got to get along, and I’m just not sure how Beau will handle it. I’m not even sure how
I
could handle it if you had chosen him. But we’ve got to get it out in the open, Belle.”

“Yes. I’ll go tell Mama and Papa.”

“No. Go tell Beau. He deserves to hear it from you, not in a public announcement.”

He led her back to the dance floor, and she went immediately to Beau. The two disappeared, and within five minutes Belle returned. Her face was pale and her eyes teary. She whispered, “I hate myself, Vance.”

He shook his head sadly. “You’re just paying the price for being a beautiful woman. Come on, I’ll speak to your parents.”

****

Thad and some men from his unit were digging on the endless lines of fortification around Richmond when Mark rode up. He pulled his horse to a stop and called, “Corporal Winslow, I need a man to drive a wagon out to Belle Maison. The owner there has a wagon load of fresh vegetables for the company.” He added solemnly, “Detail a man for the job.”

Corporal Tom Winslow caught the slight droop of his brother’s eye, and looked over the line of men, all of whom would rather drive a wagon than dig a ditch. Then he said, “Novak, you drive the wagon for the lieutenant—and take Young with you to help with the loading.”

Thad and Dooley followed Lieutenant Winslow back to the supply station where a spring wagon was waiting for them. “It’s getting pretty late in the day,” Mark commented with a wise look at the afternoon sun. “Wouldn’t be too surprised if dark didn’t catch you fellows. You might not make it back before tomorrow.”

Dooley’s mouth twitched behind his mustache as he recognized the ploy to give him time to go see his people, but he only said, “Time do go by, don’t it, Lieutenant?” He watched as Winslow turned his horse and left. “See, Thad,” Young remarked, “prayer does work, like I always tol’ you.”

Thad laughed. “You mean you’ve been praying for a chance to get home?”

“Hare, no! I mean that leetle ol’ Julie gal’s been praying
to git me back, and she’s a foot-washin’ Baptist gal. Come on, boy, let’s stir some dust!”

They made record time on the trip to the plantation, and as soon as they pulled through the front gate, Dooley jumped out of the wagon, saying, “Thad, don’t let them count the hosses too close tonight. I’m gonna borrow one to go see my Julie gal.”

“Take Blackie, Dooley,” Thad called as the soldier scooted toward the barn. “And you better get your courtin’ done by noon tomorrow. I think that’s about as far as we can stretch the lieutenant’s patience.”

He drove the wagon around to the back of the house, and as he wrapped the lines around the seat and got down, the front door slammed, and he saw Pet come sailing out of the house. “Thad!” she cried out, and he thought for one instant that she was going to throw herself into his arms, but she halted abruptly, and said awkwardly, “Well, you made it back, didn’t you?”

She was wearing a blue dress he had never seen before, and he thought she looked prettier than ever. The late afternoon rays washed over her hair, bringing out the reddish tints, and her gray eyes were bright and clear as she smiled. “I—I didn’t know you’d be coming out here,” she added.

Thad felt a little uncomfortable in her presence. He had been gone only a matter of a few weeks, but she seemed different. Then he realized that
he
was the one who was different. His life had been rooted deeply in the cycles of Belle Maison, and his sudden baptism into army life had already begun to shape him. Everything in the army was rough, so her youthful beauty, her soft skin and feminine air moved him greatly.

“You look fine,” he commented uncertainly, then added, as a horse tore out of the barn and disappeared into the woods, “That’s Dooley. He’s going to see his girl.”

“What’s her name?” Pet asked.

“Oh, Julie something.” He licked his lips and said, “I sure am thirsty, Pet. We burned up the road getting here.”

“I’ll fix you some lemonade,” Pet offered and led the way into the house. As he was sipping the refreshing drink, he told her how Mark and Tom had arranged for him and Dooley to come for the supplies. “The other men sure were mad,” he remarked. “We’ll get it when we get back.”

“Has it been hard—I mean—”

“You mean me being a substitute?” He completed the sentence for her, seeing she was embarrassed. “Not as bad as I’d thought it would be. ‘Course having your brothers in the company hasn’t hurt any—and Dooley, he’ll get by anywhere, and he’s stuck real close.”

He lingered a little longer as she urged him to tell about his experiences. Suddenly he stopped. “I nearly forgot! Your brother sent this.”

She opened the note he gave her, and looked up with a strange expression. “It says that Belle is engaged to Vance Wickham.”

“Is that right? Well, she picked a good one.”

“Yes—but Beau, he’s going to be unhappy. He loves Belle so much.” Then changing the subject, she said, “Come on, there’s one chore you’ve got to do right now.”

“What’s that?” he demanded, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the door. “Come on, I’ll race you!” she cried, and ran lightly down the path leading toward the east. She ran like a deer, but in his heavy brogans he was no match for her. She didn’t stop until they came in sight of the slave cabins, where she called loudly, “Toby! Toby! Look who’s here!”

Thad pulled up beside her, wondering what she was up to. He looked around and saw some of the slaves either puttering in their little gardens or sitting in front of their cabins waiting for supper.

“Thad! It’s Mistuh Thad!” Jessie cried as she threw open the door. Soon it seemed that from every cabin the entire population of black people—young and old, big and small—descended upon him. He shot a bewildered look at Pet, but
she smiled and stepped back. Then he was engulfed—hands patting him, everyone crowding to get near him, laughing and crying. The rich black drawls of their speech, calling out his name, brought tears to his eyes.

As quickly as the joyous cries had filled the air, silence fell, and a path opened up in the black sea of faces. There coming toward him Thad saw Toby! He walked slowly up to where Thad stood, and as the tall man looked down on the white boy, the black face was contorted with suppressed emotion. Toby stood there, weaving slightly in the fading light; and then a single tear made a silver track down his cheek, and he said hoarsely, “My friend—is come home!”