“Marvelous. Then why don’t we set aside our political differences and pray for the fighting men on our hearts today.” Aunt Ruth was never one to lack diplomacy. “Let’s pray for all the soldiers, blue and gray.”
Aunt Ruth looked at Carrie as if knowing Peyton was in the forefront of her mind.
Everyone bowed her head as Aunt Ruth began petitioning the Lord.
“Heavenly Father, blessed Savior, faithful Friend, we come boldly before Your throne of grace, asking for mercy for our sinful selves, but also for our men fighting today, each battling for freedom as they see it. We bathe our loved ones in the same promise that You gave King David so long ago. A thousand shall fall at their sides and ten thousand at their right hands, but no harm will come to them. Command Your angels all around them, Lord.”
Carrie prayed along, adding her own pleas for Peyton’s safety. Then she remembered Joshua and others whom she’d grown up with in Woodstock who had enlisted in the Confederate army. She asked for protection and provision for her family and thanked God for Aunt Ruth and the living arrangements here in Winchester. And she prayed for her marriage. Whether a ruse or reality, Carrie prayed it would soon be an acceptable union in God’s sight.
For the rest of the afternoon, Carrie got in plenty of practice at patience. Time passed at a turtle’s pace. Finally, she didn’t think she could abide another moment of the Monteagues’ discussions about fashion and the parties which they may or may not be invited to in November. Did they not realize they might not live through this day?
“It’s been quiet for some time now.” Carrie stood. “I think I’ll have a look outside. Perhaps the fighting has stopped.”
“Do you think that’s wise, dear?” Aunt Ruth pushed to her feet and walked alongside her to the stairwell.
“If Tommy returns with news, he won’t know where we are.”
“I suppose that’s true enough.”
“Besides,” Carrie added, “one of us will have to check at some point.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I’m rather certain it won’t be either of the Monteague ladies.”
“Agreed. Do you have the pistol with you, the one Tommy left us?”
“Yes.” Carrie patted her dress’s pocket.
After instructing her on how to open the door at the top of the cellar steps, Aunt Ruth hugged her. “Do be careful.”
“I will. I promise.”
Carrie had little problem manipulating the door. She waited until the bookcase slid back into place behind her and then tiptoed into the library. All was quiet—perhaps too quiet.
Outside, the smell of war hung heavy in the evening air. Down the next block she saw several wagons roll by at breakneck speed, and then heard a collection of men’s and women’s voices. The din of a crowd grew louder the farther she ventured from Aunt Ruth’s home.
Rounding the corner, Carrie continued walking on Loudoun Street. She could almost ignore the buildings that stood in ruins from previous battles.
What lay in rubble this time?
No sooner did the question flit through her mind than Union horsemen and ambulances hurried past. Less than a minute later, she stood in the midst of unfolding chaos.
Men rushed in and out of the Taylor Hotel, many carrying stretchers containing the injured. Many of the walking wounded straggled down the street. Some had fallen before even reaching the steps of the makeshift hospital and lay moaning where they dropped.
A boy wearing a Confederate gray cap paused in front of her. “Have you heard? General Robert Rodes is dead.” He wiped dirty fingers over his eyes. “It’s a sad day.” He ran off to tell the next bystanders before Carrie could ask which side was victorious.
A few minutes later, she got her answer when she saw a large United States flag being draped from the second floor balcony of the red brick courthouse. It hung to the structure’s front entrance. A band struck up a victory song as Yankee soldiers marched into town. One tavern burst with merrymakers, and all the while, ambulances brought in more wounded from the battlefield. On certain areas of Loudoun Street, groans and cries from the injured drowned out the sound of drums. Women scurried about, tending to wounds and asking after loved ones, only increasing Carrie’s fears for Peyton’s safety. Had he survived? What about Joshua—had he been involved in the fight today? How about others she’d known from Woodstock?
Dazed by the sickening sights and anguished sounds around her, Carrie wandered the streets, searching for familiar faces.
Meanwhile the wounded kept coming. Vacant buildings, churches, and several houses were quickly overtaken by Union troops and converted into hospitals. But those accommodations weren’t enough. Men, some horribly disfigured, some with mangled and missing limbs, were set down on street curbs, one after another, until they formed a queue that went on for blocks.
Carrie pushed up her sleeves. She couldn’t stand by and watch a moment longer. As grotesque as the sight was to behold, she had to do something to help these poor souls.
In spite of her good intentions, it took Carrie less than five minutes to determine that she was not prepared for this. She remembered the bandages and other supplies back at home. She should collect them and return. The situation desperately required more nurses and helping hands. What’s more, Carrie had left the four ladies in the cellar, blissfully unaware of all the bedlam. She needed to go back and tell them the fighting had stopped, the Union won Winchester, and now the consequences of the battle filled the city’s streets.
“I’ll get busy makin’ sandwiches.” Tabitha headed straight for the kitchen after coming upstairs from the cellar. “Those men’ll be powerful hungry.”
Carrie wasn’t sure how hungry they were. The fact was, they were starving for medical care.
Aunt Ruth set her hand on Carrie’s forearm. “Any news about Peyton?”
Carrie shook her head. “None. The men I saw weren’t in any condition to answer questions.”
“Then we’d best collect medical paraphernalia.”
“Did you ask over Edward?” Mrs. Monteague said, dusting herself off.
“I didn’t get a chance.”
Her gaze darkened. “Well, then, Lavinia and I will leave you ladies to your gruesome tasks.”
“Yes, and bring us any news of Edward.” Miss Monteague followed her mother out of the library.
“Well!” Aunt Ruth folded her arms and watched her neighbors leave. “That’s gratitude for you. Not even a thank you for providing them a safe haven this afternoon.”
“Thank you.” Carrie placed a kiss on Aunt Ruth’s cheek.
“Oh, my dear girl, I wasn’t referring to you.”
“I know, but I am grateful. Now how about we find those medical supplies?”
“Good idea.”
Carrie trailed Aunt Ruth from the library and together they gathered items they might need to care for the wounded. Then they walked through the breezeway onto hallowed ground—Tabitha’s kitchen and adjacent living quarters.
Tabitha turned, and seeing Aunt Ruth and Carrie, her eyes grew round. “What are you doing in here? Go on. Out with you.”
“Now, Tabitha,” Aunt Ruth said, “many hands make light work.”
The rumbling of hooves in the back yard stole Carrie’s attention. “Soldiers!”
“Yankee or Confederate?” Tabitha looked poised and ready with a butter knife in her right hand.
“I wonder …” Aunt Ruth’s hand fluttered to her dress’s unadorned neckline. “Did we leave the cellar too early?”
“I don’t think so. After all, I saw the Union flag hanging over the courthouse.” Carrie rushed to the window and moved the crisp yellow curtain aside. Riders wearing blue and gold uniforms filled the yard. “They’re Union. And …” She scanned the men’s rugged faces, spotting one so dear to her. “It’s Peyton!” Carrie’s knees threatened to buckle as tears of joy welled in her eyes. Peyton was alive and unharmed! Her hand trembled as she held back the curtain. “He’s got Major Johnston and several others
with him. And Tommy!” Smiling, she whirled around. “I’ll wager they’re hungry too, Tabitha.”
“I’ll bring these here sandwiches out to ’em then, and make more later.”
Carrie was already pulling open the back door. As she stepped onto the small covered porch, she saw Peyton dismount. She passed Tabitha’s wicker rocker before hurrying down the brick steps. Peyton swept off his hat just as she reached him and jumped into his arms.
“I’m so glad you’re alive!” Was she laughing or crying? Carrie wasn’t even sure.
She heard his chuckle as he swung her around in a circle before setting her feet back on the ground.
“I’m very much alive.” Barely any dirt or soot smudged his face, and his eyes sparked with unmistakable elation. “The Army of the Shenandoah has won Winchester.”
“Congratulations.” Carrie smiled as Peyton embraced Aunt Ruth, and then Tabitha.
“And now I have some people for you to meet.” Placing his arm across Carrie’s shoulders, Peyton led her toward a man sitting high in his saddle. He looked familiar, and doffed his dark blue hat as she approached.
“Carrie Ann, you remember General Philip Sheridan.”
“Yes.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “Congratulations on your victory today, sir. The United States’ flag can already be seen in the town square.”
“I won’t ask how you know that,” Peyton muttered.
Good. She wouldn’t have to confess to venturing out on her own.
The commanding general’s dark mustache twitched when he smiled. Then he removed his right gauntlet, leaned forward in his saddle, and took Carrie’s hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Collier. I was surprised to learn of your marriage and insulted that I was not invited.”
She felt bad until he chuckled.
“I’ll have you know that you aren’t the first woman who disguised herself as a soldier in order to be near her husband.”
“I hope you won’t hold it against me, sir.” Carrie glanced at Peyton and the general released her hand. Was that the tale Peyton had told to explain her visit to their camp?
“No hard feelings, Mrs. Collier. I understand your worry over your runaway sister also.” The humor vanished from the general’s tone. “Have you found her?”
“Not yet, sir.” She looked up at him again. His face was darkly tanned from months beneath the summer sun. “But I hope to hear word soon, especially now that the Union will take control of Winchester. I happily anticipate regular mail, but I especially hope for an end to this war.”
“You and everyone else.”
“President Lincoln included.”
“Long live our president and the Union!” General Sheridan stated the words loud enough to bring cheers from his men. Then he leaned forward in his saddle. “Tell me, Mrs. Collier, has there been much trouble in town that I should know of?”
“Well …” Carrie thought a moment. “The newspaper reported the increase of guerrilla activity.”
“I will pass that bit of news on to my pickets and vedettes. Thank you.”
“Anytime, sir.”
“And I trust I will see you both later at my headquarters?” The general affixed his hat on his large head and glanced at Peyton for a reply.
“You will, sir. Thank you for the invitation.”
“Very good.”
Tabitha handed him a sandwich.
“Much obliged, madam.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, General.” A rare smile shone from her dark face. “If I’d baked a dozen cakes that wouldn’t be award enough for what you done.”
Aunt Ruth offered him coffee or lemonade.
“Thank you, but no. I had best take my leave. I will, however, enjoy each bite of this sandwich.” He touched the rim of his hat. “Until this evening, ladies.”
As the general rode off with his staff, Carrie turned to Peyton, curious about the Union commander’s parting words. But Peyton had already begun introducing her to another general, followed by several officers.
At last they came to Major Johnston, who sported an impressive black eye.
“You’re injured!” Concerned, Carrie stepped toward him. He still sat astride his chestnut mount.
“Not to worry. I’m fine, Mrs. Collier.” He spoke her new name with a smile in his voice. “However, I do think we need to discuss a proper ceremony,” he said softly, “one that’s pleasing to God.”
Carrie’s heart raced. She looked up at Peyton. “Truly?”
“Truly, and the sooner the better as far as I’m concerned.” Peyton reached for her hand.
“I’d like that too.” She longed to throw herself into his arms a second time.
“Peyton?” a singsong voice called. “Oh, Peyton Collier?”
Carrie peered around Major Johnston’s horse and glimpsed Lavinia gliding out of the thicket of trees like some ethereal nymph. As the woman neared, Johnston’s horse jerked his head as if the animal knew something Carrie only suspected.
“Easy, boy.” Johnston patted the roan’s neck.
“Peyton!” Lavinia smiled and strode closer in a courtly manner. “I hoped I’d find you among all these Yankees.” She held out her hands.
Instead of taking them, Peyton removed his hat and gave a slight bow. “Miss Monteague.”
She quickly lowered her arms and glared at him. “I was stunned by the news of your marriage.” Her gaze flitted to Carrie and remained there briefly, and then it returned to Peyton. “You needn’t have hid the fact. Mama and I kept your secret, although it was probably a lapse in judgment on your part, allowing her to come to Winchester. Most Union officers’ wives prefer residing in safe Yankee cities.”
“Then, as you’re aware, Miss Monteague, my wife is unlike most Union officers’ wives.”
“That she is.” Lavinia seemed to have to put much effort into producing a smile. The expression in her eyes belied the one that curved her ruby lips.
“Well, then …” After replacing his hat, Peyton rubbed his palms together and looked at Johnston. “The three of us have much to discuss, and I’m looking forward to eating something substantial, as is my staff.” He gave Lavinia a bow. “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Monteague.” He put his arm around Carrie’s waist and moved in the direction of the house.
“Just a moment, please …”
Peyton halted.
Lavinia’s expression softened. “Have you heard anything from Edward?”
“I’m sure I have if he was one of the Rebels shooting at me today.”
“He probably was, but he’s been your neighbor, as have I, for longer than there’s been a war.”
“That’s true and I have nothing personal against him.” Peyton took another few steps toward the house.
“I have never sided with either army,” Lavinia stated.
Peyton replied with a dismissive nod. He took Carrie’s hand, and this time, they managed to get across the yard and into the house. A glance back revealed the other men lingering behind, to give them a moment of privacy. Major Johnston, meanwhile, spoke with Lavinia.
“Perhaps you should go back out.”
“You’re worried about Major Johnston?” Peyton laughed softly before kissing the side of Carrie’s head. “Vern’s a big boy.” Hands on her shoulders, he turned Carrie so she faced him. “You should have seen him repelling the enemy today. Most men surrendered before he could even raise his saber.” Peyton gathered her in his arms.
“And you?” Carrie toyed with the gold trim on his shell jacket before looking up into his face. “I’m sure you fought bravely.”
“Amazingly so, thank God, and with such ease. The cavalry as a whole performed well, but my regiment in particular. Carrie, if you had witnessed it, you’d be in awe of their skill and dash.”
“I’m sure I would have been very proud to see them … and you. I’m proud of you, and so very relieved that you’re alive and uninjured.”
Looking pleased, he touched the tip of his nose to hers.
“
I hope I didn’t cause you embarrassment by my rather enthusiastic greeting. When I saw you I lost all sense of dignity.”
“Hardly.” His eyes smoldered, and his hold around her tightened. “Carrie, I am now the envy of an entire brigade.” On that pronouncement, he kissed her soundly.
New York Times
September 21
The signal victory in the Shenandoah Valley on Monday is one of that class which permits no cavil either as to its scope or its completeness…. The attack was made by our cavalry under AVERILL by gray daylight on Monday…. Our forces, by a series of stubborn and sanguinary engagements which lasted until 5 o’clock in the afternoon, compelled the rebels to fall back, completely defeated Early’s main army, and drove it from one defended line of works to another, until what remained of the routed force, as General STEVENSON tells us, was “sent whirling through Winchester;” all their dead, most of their wounded, and two thousand five hundred prisoners being left on our hands. The wounded in Winchester alone are found to number three thousand and if the dead are counted in, the rebel loss will be found to exceed six thousand, or about one-fourth of the entire army under EARLY.
Cleveland Morning Leader
September 26, 1864
To Major General Dix: The following official dispatch has just been received from General Sheridan, detailing some of the particulars of the battle and victory at Fisher’s Hill.
HEADQUARTERS OF MIDDLE MILITARY DIVISION,
Woodstock, Sept. 23
To Lieutenant Gen. Grant, City Point
I cannot yet give any definite account of the result of the battle yesterday. Our loss will be light. General Crook struck the left flank of the enemy, doubled it up, advancing down along their line…. The rebels threw down their arms and fled in the greatest confusion, abandoning most of their artillery…. I pursued on after the enemy during the night to this point … and have stopped here to rest the men and issue rations.
A Thousand Shall Fall Page 24
