When Johnny Came Marching Home (29 page)

Josiah rode up minutes later and climbed down from his horse.

"Bobby Suggs just rode on by with a wagonload of Billy Lucie's timber," I said.

"T'was kind of 'em," Josiah said. "Saved us a long ride."

Josiah put his horse in our barn and we walked down to the sawmill. I went inside the shack that served as the main office and told Jesse Barton, the yard manager, that I needed to talk to one of the men unloading Billy Lucie's wagon in the rear yard. He glanced at my half-empty sleeve and told me to be careful, that those big pieces of timber could roll off the wagons without warning. I wanted to tell him that my legs could still move as fast as they ever could, but knew it would be a waste of time, so I just smiled and thanked him.

I had a set of handcuffs in my jacket pocket and I took them out and tucked them into my belt so they were visible. I had little hope of using them, and they were more for intimidation than anything else.

"You gonna lock his ass up?" Josiah asked.

"If he gives me a reason. Right now I just want him to know I can, and that I'm thinking on it."

"I wish ya would," Josiah said. "I'd ride alla way ta Richmond wit ya if ya done it."

Josiah hated Suggs as much as I did, but why shouldn't he? He had been with me at Spotsylvania and had seen what Suggs and Johnny and the others had done.

"Betta yet," he added, "ya oughtta jus' take 'em out ta the woods an' bury the sumbitch. Snow's comin' soon, so's the varmints won' find 'em till spring."

Bobby had his back to us so he didn't see us approaching, and when he finally turned we were standing only five feet away. The sight startled him, bringing a smile to Josiah's face.

Suggs glared at Josiah. "What you smilin' at, nigger?"

Josiah took a step toward him. "White trash is always makin' me smile," he said. His body was coiled and waiting for Suggs to make a physically aggressive move.

Suggs turned quickly to me. "What do ya want? Ain't ya bothered me enough?"

"I haven't even begun to bother you," I said.

Suggs was holding the long handle of his cant hook in both hands, and I knew it would take little effort to swing it toward me and stab me in the chest.

"Put your hook down and come over to that stack of lumber behind me. I want to talk to you privately," I said.

"You kin talk ta me right cheer," Suggs spat.

His hands tightened on the cant hook and I pulled my coat back to make my pistol more accessible. It also gave Suggs a good look at the handcuffs tucked into my belt. "Last chance, Bobby," I warned.

"You gonna arress me?"

"Depends on you, Bobby. You do as you're told, you might be back to work in ten minutes. You don't, I promise you your day's gonna be one long misery."

Suggs cursed and dropped his cant hook to the ground, then walked past me, stopping again at the stack of cut lumber.

Behind us the heavy saw started up and began to chop the first of the tall pines from Billy Lucie's wagon. It was a high screeching sound, and sawdust floated into the air as the raw timber was cut into long white boards.

I gestured for Bobby to go to the other side of the lumber stack to cut down on the noise. He hesitated at first, but finally complied. He seemed to realize that I was just looking for an excuse to hand him a bit of the misery I had promised.

"All right, what do ya want?" He shouted out the words to be heard over the high-pitched wail of the saw.

"I didn't like the little games you were playing yesterday, Bobby."

"Wha' games?"

I took a step in, bringing myself close enough to grab him. "Following us around." I turned my hand into a gun and pointed it at him. "Trying to intimidate Abel's sister."

"'At girl was the fat boy's sister?"

I lashed out with the back of my hand and struck his face as hard as I could.

Suggs staggered back, his hat flying off, and Josiah grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. He had pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt and had the blade pressed against Bobby's throat.

"Lemme cut this sumbitch's head off," he hissed.

Bobby's eyes widened in terror and, afraid to turn his head, he desperately tried to watch Josiah out of the corner of one eye. "Git him off me," he begged. "This black bastid's gonna cut my throat."

"I expect he will, you keep calling him a black bastard," I said. "I happen to know for sure that Josiah's momma and daddy were married.Are we going to have any more of your games?"

"No, no games." He again tried to look down at the blade pressed to his neck. "He's cuttin' me. He's cuttin' me! I kin feel the blood."

I peeked at Bobby's throat and saw a line of sweat running down his neck.

"You're just sweating like the pig you are, Suggs." I took his shirt front and Josiah moved the knife away, but kept it ready in his hand. I brought my mouth close to his ear, taking in the rank odor that came off his body. "And you smell like one," I added. I straightened up, holding him at arm's length. "I'm going to tell you this once. You ever again say anything like that about Abel Johnson, and I will cut your throat myself. Do you understand me?"

"I unnerstan'." He pulled back and straightened his shirt. "You been affer me fer a long time, Jubal. Ya even tried ta git me in trouble wit the army. Johnny too. Oh yeah, he tol' me all 'bout it when I got cheer. I din' know it afore, but he did, an' he tol' me. But ya couldna prove nothin' then, an' ya ain't got no proof 'bout nothin' now. So you best be leavin' me alone."

"You want me to leave you alone?"

"Tha's right."

"Not on the best day of your miserable life," I said.

 

* * *

 

Josiah and I walked back to the house, saying very little until we got there.

I turned to face him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are one scary man," I said. "I thought Bobby Suggs was going to wet his pants."

"Wouldna been able ta tell iffen he done it," Josiah said. "Man smells as bad as he does. You looked like you was gonna kill 'em when he said 'at 'bout Abel."

I slowly nodded my head. "You and I both know what he did. He killed Abel, sure as we're standing here."

Now it was Josiah's turn to nod his head. "Yessir, he sure did. Him and Johnny Harris bowf."

 

* * *

 

Rapidan River, Virginia, 1864

We were camped along the banks of the Rapidan River, only a few miles from Chancellorsville and a few more from Fredericksburg. There were a number of small units, mine among them, scouting the woods and farmlands to see if Lee's forces would try to reestablish his army in the area. The people who lived in that region of Virginia had been among the most rabid supporters of the Confederacy, taunting us whenever we moved through the area, even taking the occasional shot as we marched past. Now, with Lee's defeat at Gettysburg and newspaper reports about the devastation General William Tecumseh Sherman was wreaking across the deep South, a mood of inevitable defeat seemed to permeate the population. Some store owners and tavern keepers had even begun to trade openly with Union troops, appearing to want good relations with an army that seemed certain to become an occupying force.

There were still many, of course, who were determined to fight us to the end. We came across one at a rope ferry set up on the river. When we arrived, ready to cross, the operator told us boldly that he only ferried Confederate troops and Confederate citizens, that Yankees could either go twelve miles downriver to the bridge, or swim.

The man was short and skinny with scraggly gray hair and beard and several missing teeth, someone who clearly preferred to keep any form of civilization at a safe distance—what we would call a "woodchuck" in Vermont.

"Sir, I am standing here with ten men who are armed to the teeth, and you are telling me we can
swim
the river if we want to cross to the other side. Am I right about that?"

Abel walked up beside me.

"Tha's what I'm sayin'," the ferry operator replied.

I pointed at a large tree about ten yards from the ferry. "Now, if I stood you against that tree and lined up my men as a firing squad, do you think you might change your mind? Because if you didn't we could just shoot your cantankerous old ass and pull ourselves across, now couldn't we?"

The ferry operator, who looked to be in his sixties, spit a wad of tobacco off to one side. "Ya'd waste that many bullets?"

"We're from the North," I said, exasperated. "We have a helluva lot of bullets."

"Better use 'em then, cause I ain't takin' ya."

Abel started to laugh. "I don't think yer scarin' 'em, Jubal."

Johnny joined us. "What the hell is goin' on?"

"This ol' geezer says he won't take us across. Says we kin swim," Abel said.

Johnny removed his sidearm and cocked the hammer. "I'll jus' shoot the damn Reb an' we'll do it ourselves."

I placed my hand on the barrel of Johnny's pistol and pushed it down. "Put the Colt away," I said. I glanced at a ramshackle cabin off to my left, assuming it was a shelter, maybe even a place the old man used as a home. I turned to Abel. "Take him over to that cabin and tie the dumb son of a bitch up . . . Maybe some Rebs will come along and cut you loose. Or maybe they'll just take what you've got in your pockets. I don't really care. You are a crazy old man and I don't have time to fool with you."

The old man spit out another wad of tobacco juice and grinned at me. "Yankee," he said, "y'all kin go shit in your hats."

Abel started to laugh again. "Son . . . of . . . a . . . bitch," he said. "Ever'body in the South is crazy as hell."

 

* * *

 

We took a southerly route through a region of small farms and rundown plantations. We were just east of the area known as the Wilderness, almost all of it now badly scarred by the artillery duels that had taken place there.

We met another unit coming toward us on the same road. Their sergeant explained that they had crossed the river farther south and were now working their way north. I noticed he was commanding the group Bobby Suggs and his friends were a part of, and that Johnny was standing off to one side talking to them.

The sergeant said his name was Riddle and claimed he had seen nothing but a small group of what appeared to be deserters. "Took off inta the Wilderness when they saw us," he said.

"We've come about ten miles since we crossed on the rope ferry north of us," I reported. "We haven't seen even that much activity."

I wished him luck and called to my men. They assembled quickly, all but Johnny, and I had to shout for him again before he pulled himself away from Bobby Suggs. They were too far away to be sure, but Suggs seemed to be showing Johnny something that he quickly returned to a pocket when he saw me watching.

"We're going to push into the Wilderness and head south another five miles or so," I explained when Johnny had finally joined us. "Then we'll head back to the river and cross at the stone bridge. We should be back at camp by suppertime."

As the men started to cross an open field, headed for the dense scrub forest that lay ahead, I moved up beside Johnny. "What did Suggs have to say?" I asked.

Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "Nothin' much. He was jus' tellin' me how borin' the patrol was so far. Sounded like they been havin' the same luck as us."

"What was he showing you?" I had grown suspicious of anything Suggs did.

"What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"He was showing you something. I just wanted to know what it was."

Johnny shook his head. "T'was an ol' Reb compass he found. Said he thought it might fetch a price, but if not, he was gonna keep it as a war souvenir." He hesitated a moment. "Ya sure do got a bug up yer ass 'bout Suggs. How come?"

"I don't trust him," I said. "I don't trust him as far as I can spit."

 

* * *

 

We moved through the Wilderness, my men keeping line of sight to the man on their left, the brush so thick in places that we could be no more than five feet apart to still maintain eye contact. I spread the men out where I could do it safely, but those places were few and far between, and I didn't want any of my men lost, and I certainly didn't want them mistaken for a Reb and shot.

I gave up after five miles and cut back to the east, reckoning that we could reach the river in another two miles or so. As we came out of the thick brush there was a moderate-sized farm up ahead, and I decided to make for it so the men could replenish their canteens and take a much needed rest. When we drew closer the devastation was apparent. The first body we came across was a young black woman, clearly a slave, her dress pulled up and the bodice ripped, exposing both her breasts and vagina. She had been raped and strangled and her brown eyes bulged from her face and her tongue protruded from her open mouth. She was no more than sixteen or seventeen.

I reached down and touched her cheek. It was cold. I lifted her arm and found it still limber; there was no sign of stiffening.

Abel and Johnny came up beside me. "She's only been dead a few hours," I said.

"Musta been them Reb deserters," Johnny said. "I heard they treat runaway slaves pretty much like this."

"This girl was no runaway," I countered. "She was here on this farm." I turned to Abel and saw the hurt in his eyes. He was thinking of Jemma and little Alva, I guessed. "Pass the word to the men to keep an eye out. They see anybody, Reb or Union, they're to keep their rifles trained and ready until I have a chance to question them."

"What are we gonna do 'bout her?" Abel asked.

"We'll bury her before we leave," I said.

We found three more women who'd been raped and killed, along with two children whose heads had been bashed in, probably by rifle butts. One of the children, a little girl no more than four, had been hit so savagely that there was nothing left of her small face.

Inside the house we found a white man and woman, both somewhere in their fifties. The man lay in the hallway. He'd been shot and then bayoneted repeatedly. The woman's body was in the dining room. She appeared to have been shot while running away, her body having skidded across the bare wood floor after she fell, leaving a swath of blood behind her.