Last Cavaliers Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  No, Mary thought savagely, I am not him. I am not like him! No one could be so humble, so forgiving, so ready to accept such grievances and call them merciful! I cannot say, “Your will be done!” All that was within her raged for a long time.

  But Mary Lee had known the Lord for many, many years. He had been her love, her companion, her most faithful friend long before Robert E. Lee was. And she realized this, and she knew her love for the Lord Jesus was stronger than her anger, stronger than her bitterness, stronger even than her love for Robert and her children. Her heart broke, and she surrendered.

  After a time of tears, she dried her eyes and opened her last, most treasured letter, though it was not the last one in time. It was dated June 22, 1862, when Robert had just named the Confederate army in the east “The Army of Northern Virginia.”

  I have the same handsome hat which surmounts my gray head…and shields my ugly face, which is masked by a white beard as stiff and wiry as the teeth of a card. In fact, an uglier person you have never seen, and so unattractive is it to our enemies that they shoot at it whenever visible to them.

  Mary looked up again, but instead of seeing a galling darkness, she saw her husband’s face. He had always been the most handsome man she had ever seen, and this was not the rosy imagination of an adoring wife. Men and women alike remarked on Robert’s fine and noble countenance. Even one of the newspapers had crowned him “the handsomest man in the army.” But she knew that Robert’s lines, in his mind, were simple unvarnished truth. There was not a shred of vanity in him.

  And then she read her favorite lines Robert had ever written:

  But though age with its snow has whitened my head, and its frosts have stiffened my limbs, my heart, you well know, is not frozen to you, and summer returns when I see you.

  She looked up again, a dreamy smile transforming her pain wracked, drawn face into the vivacious Mary Custis of Arlington. It really was a beautiful snow.

  It snowed on Christmas morning, a pretty, light snow of big flakes. After dinner Jolie sat in the rocking chair, looking out the study windows on the grounds that sloped down to the river. All the sharp edges of nature were softened. The world beyond the borders of Rapidan Run may rage in fire and blood and death, but here all was clean and silent and tranquil.

  “Hello, Mouse.”

  Jolie’s eyes widened. Then she jumped out of the chair and leaped into Morgan’s arms. For long moments they hugged, holding each other tightly.

  Then Morgan lifted her up and swung her around in circles, laughing. “I’m glad to see you! I’ve missed you!” he said.

  Breathlessly, Jolie said, “Put me down, Morgan! I’m so dizzy I can’t see straight!”

  He set her down, and she smoothed her skirt then felt her hair. “Is it standing on end? Feels like it. I’ve missed you, too, Morgan. Very much. Welcome home. And Merry Christmas! How long can you stay?”

  “Let me at least take off my hat and coat and sit down. Hm, a real chair. Not sure I remember…”

  Jolie took his snow-soaked slouch hat and heavy overcoat. “Silly moose,” she said. Once when she had been little, her father had called her a silly goose. The next time she used the phrase herself, she had transformed it into ‘silly moose,’ and that’s what she had said ever since then. “Sit down. What do you want, tea, coffee, cocoa?”

  “How about if you sit down with me for a minute and stop fast-firing questions,” he said good-naturedly.

  Jolie went and hung up his hat and coat, then returned and obediently sat on the sofa across from his old armchair.

  He cocked his head to the side and studied her. “You look different. You’re growing up. And it seems like every time I don’t see you for a while, I’m always surprised by how pretty you are. And you’re filling out. You don’t look so much like a gawky little girl anymore.”

  “I was going to thank you for the compliment,” Jolie said with mock wrath, “but now I think I’ll pinch you instead. But I don’t want to talk about me, Morgan. I want to know everything, everything about you, and General Lee, and the horses, and the Yankees—”

  A shadow crossed his face, and now Jolie saw that when he wasn’t smiling weariness and sorrow marred his smooth features. “Jolie, I wish I could give you everything that you want right now,” he said with an attempt at lightness, “but I can’t talk about me right now. All I want to think about, and talk about, is home. Please?”

  “Of course, Morgan,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Why don’t we go to the kitchen and get mugs of hot coffee, as we used to do, and then go to the stables?” She smiled slyly. “I know you’re going to pretend you came home to see us, but we all know you too well. You only came home to see the horses.”

  “I did not!” he said with indignation. “I missed you all so much, and I’m dying to see everyone. Right after I check on the horses, of course.”

  They spent the entire afternoon seeing the horses, the stables, riding around the pastures, inspecting the barn and the storeroom and the root cellar and pantry. “Looks like we’ve still got plenty of stores,” Morgan said with relief. “For both the humans and the horses.”

  “I’m glad horses can’t eat meat and vegetables,” Jolie said mockingly, “or the humans would be eating oats and barley.”

  Morgan requested that Amon and the entire family join him at supper at the dining table in the farmhouse. “And that means you, too, Evetta,” he said sternly. “No hopping up and down and serving us. I want you to sit down and eat with us like a Christian woman.”

  “I’ll do that, but I s’pect only till they’s something you want out in the kitchen,” she said suspiciously.

  “If there is, I’ll get it myself,” he said. “If there’s one thing Perry and Meredith have taught me, it’s that I am most definitely not Marse Robert, so I can wait on my own self along with all of the other lesser beings in the world.”

  They had supper late, and true to her word, Evetta sat down like a Christian woman. Morgan said a heartfelt prayer of thanks for their family and for the great bounty of their meal. Everyone else had, without being told, understood Morgan’s need for a time free from dealing with worries with life-and-death consequences, and they kept the conversation airy and cheerful.

  As they were finishing up with pecan pie and coffee, Morgan said, “Now tell me all about everyone from Fredericksburg who stayed here after the evacuation. I’m not even sure who was here.”

  Everyone turned to Jolie, and she swallowed hard. But she managed to say blithely, “You know about the Bledsoes, of course, and Ellie Cage and Mr. and Mrs. Patrick and Will Green. But you didn’t know the Cogginses, did you? Or the Archers. First, let me tell you all about Connie Archer. She’s just a wonderful woman….”

  Jolie went on telling Morgan about the good things, the funny things, the odd little quirky things that one didn’t know about people until living with them. She said very little about the Bledsoes, and what she did say was kind.

  Jolie noticed that Amon and Evetta were listening to her with approval written all over their honest faces. Evetta even smiled at her.

  They all sat at the table laughing and talking for over two hours. Even when Evetta finally rose to clear the table, everyone, even the men, helped her. They all trooped out to the kitchen, and Evetta made a fresh pot of coffee.

  At ten o’clock, Morgan suddenly yawned hugely. He looked vaguely surprised, as if he’d been ambushed by a practical joker.

  Jolie and Ketura giggled.

  “I must be getting old. Next thing you know I’ll be dribbling soup down my chin and forgetting where I put my teeth,” Morgan grumbled. Then he grew sober. “But before I go to bed, there’s something I have to tell you all.”

  They all grew very still.

  Morgan went on, “I have to go back, first thing in the morning.”

  “Oh, no,” Jolie whispered, but it sounded loud in the quiet kitchen.

  “I have to, Jolie,” he repeated firmly. “And this ma
y be the last leave I’ll have for—well, I can’t know for how long, because I’m not requesting leave anymore. You see, I thought about it the whole time I was riding here. It’s not fair. In fact, I feel guilty, almost dishonorable, taking a leave right now. There are thousands and thousands of men who are far away from home. They can’t just saddle up and ride to their farms in an afternoon. Some of them haven’t been home in two years. In good conscience, I can’t come home and then go back and face them.”

  “But they would do the same thing if they were only ten miles from home!” Jolie cried. “And I’m sure General Lee would give them a leave, just as I know he must have given one to you, or you wouldn’t be here!”

  “He probably would, if in fact we all asked him for leaves, which of course we don’t,” Morgan said, taking the sting out of his words by speaking very gently. “But in any case, General Lee himself won’t even take a leave to go home. I know that President Davis urged him to visit Mrs. Lee in Richmond, but he refused, and I know why he did. It’s because he believes that he must set an example for his men and also because he very consciously shares the hardships of his men. It’s the same thing when people send him food or ask him to stay at their homes. He sends the food to the hospitals and eats our rations. Unless he’s so ill he has to stay in bed, he lives in his tent. Even that is plain and simple and without any luxuries. The only frill he has, if you can call it that, is a little brown hen named Abigail. She lives under his cot and lays him an egg every morning,” Morgan finished with an oddly sad smile.

  “But I still don’t understand,” Jolie said stubbornly. “That’s all very admirable of General Lee, but like you said, Morgan, you’re not Marse Robert. You’re not responsible for setting an example for tens of thousands of men.”

  “But I am,” he said slowly. “We all are.”

  Jolie decided to leave Morgan in peace for the night, but she knew that she simply must ask him about Leona Bledsoe before he left in the morning. She tossed and flailed around, turning her bed into a mare’s nest trying to think of how to ask him about Leona without upsetting him or worrying him. Finally she thought, If he’s not in love with her, then nothing I say will upset him, and if he is in love with her, then nothing I say will worry him. Now I’m the silly moose. Finally she slept soundly.

  She must have awakened as soon as Morgan did, in a glowing dawn. Quickly she dressed then ran downstairs to wait for him.

  He came down about five minutes later.

  She met him at the bottom of the stairs, saying, “I knew you’d try to sneak out, but you’re not going to get away with it, mister.”

  “I wouldn’t try to sneak anything past you, Jolie,” he said, grinning. “You’re too smart for me. In fact, I’m finding out that most ladies are.” He took her arm and started toward the back door.

  Jolie plucked at his sleeve and asked, “Now that you’ve mentioned it, could I talk to you for a minute before we go get breakfast?”

  “Sure,” he said, doing a quick turn and leading her into the study. “Mentioned what?”

  “Ladies,” Jolie said as carelessly as she could. “I wanted to ask you about one.”

  “Ah, I bet I know who. Leona Bledsoe, right?” he said playfully as he handed Jolie onto the sofa, and he settled into his old shabby chair. “I forgot to tell you yesterday. Well, I guess I forgot to tell you because there’s nothing to tell you.”

  “Morgan,” Jolie said, summoning all her patience, “make sense.”

  “That’s just it. I can’t even really tell you why I got so weird about Leona,” he said, obviously perplexed. “Just minutes after I had sent Rosh off that night, I started wondering about my silly self. I kept thinking, why send the carriage after the Bledsoes? They’re a wealthy, prominent family with loads of friends and resources. Why not send the carriage for Ellie Cage and the baby? Or the Patricks?” He shrugged. “I guess it was just some throwback gut reaction. ‘Send the carriage for the Bledsoes.’ Kind of pathetic of me, I feel like now.”

  Jolie was so enormously relieved she almost felt dizzy. She felt silly and rather pathetic herself, letting Leona Bledsoe make her so miserable. She knew Morgan Tremayne as well as she knew herself. In fact, she probably understood Morgan better than she did herself. Morgan could never love and honor the woman she had seen here, in those difficult weeks. Jolie didn’t know what Leona had been like before, and she didn’t care. Now Morgan was here, and now Jolie knew that he loved her deeply. He may not love her in the way that she loved him—with a deep, desperate longing and passion—but he certainly did not love Leona Bledsoe in that way, either.

  Morgan was watching her curiously, and finally he asked, “Jolie? Leona didn’t insult you, did she? Amon was telling me that she was the worst harridan that ever lived while she was here. I can’t imagine Leona acting like a snarling fishwife, but apparently she did. So, did she say something ugly to you, Jolie?”

  Jolie smiled radiantly. “I hope never to lie to you, Morgan, so I will tell you that yes, she did. But I also will tell you that I don’t care about that now, not in the least.”

  “Good,” he said with relief. “Because after what Amon told me, I realized that Leona is far beneath your notice. You’re a nobler, more honorable person than she has ever been. She’s not the grand lady, Jolie. You are.”

  In an hour Jolie stood holding Vulcan’s bridle, looking up at Morgan. Do not cry, she told herself sternly, until after he leaves. “I’ll miss you, Morgan,” she said softly, her dark eyes like rich velvet. “I’ll pray for you always. Good-bye.” She let go of Vulcan’s bridle.

  “Good-bye, Mouse,” he said.

  She watched him until he disappeared into the snowy woods.

  CHAPTER TWENTY–THREE

  Although the Battle of Fredericksburg had been a ghastly defeat for the North, and the Army of the Potomac had crept away in the middle of the night as they had done before, this time they didn’t retreat all the way back to the safety of Washington. They stayed on the far side of the Rappahannock River, ranging up and down in their thousands, looking for another way to get at the apparently unbeatable team of Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and James Longstreet. And so, General Lee and his army settled into winter quarters in his old tent on the hills behind Fredericksburg.

  When Private Morgan Tremayne reported back for duty on December 26, 1862, that is where he went. In the coming months, although his gaze and his mind often went fifteen miles to the northeast, he was determined not to ask for leave until Robert E. Lee did.

  On January 20th of the new year, General Ambrose Burnside, who had been devastated both personally and publicly by his ignominious defeat, again marshaled his army to cross the Rappahannock River to attack the Rebels. It rained for four days and four nights. The army became so mired down in Virginia sludge that they had to give up and retreat. It was dubbed Burnside’s Mud March, and this debacle finished off Burnside. He was replaced on January 26th by General Joseph Hooker as commander of the Army of the Potomac.

  By the end of January, Morgan was beginning to see that being in the army did not mean going from glory to glory in a series of battles. What it meant was weeks and months in camp, resting and refitting from the last battle and preparing for the next one. Morgan was lucky, he knew. He was never bored because he had his horses. He could, and did, spend all day feeding them, grooming them, exercising them, shoeing them, diagnosing and doctoring them.

  He was riding Vulcan one bright morning when he came upon some troops from Georgia and Texas who whooped and hollered as they played in the snow. It was obvious that they had never seen such a phenomenon. As delighted children invariably do in a good sticky snow, a snowball fight started. Morgan walked Vulcan around for hours, because by early afternoon he estimated there must have been at least five thousand men, spread out for miles around, in snowball fights. He grinned so much that his face hurt that night.

  Morgan had told Amon that he could come to camp twice a month as long as the Yankees stayed on
the other side of the Rappahannock. Each time he came, he brought food for Morgan and hot mash for the horses. Morgan shared the food with Meredith and Perry and all the other officers’ lowly privates and servants. But he jealously gave the hot mash only to Traveler and Vulcan and the staff officers’ horses.

  Amon also brought good news from Jolie and from Rapidan Run. The horses and foals were doing very well, and the army had sent two dozen men to harvest the winter forage crop. At the end of February, Morgan asked hesitantly, “Does Jolie ever ask to come with you?”

  “No, sir,” Amon replied. “I think she knows that’d prob’ly worry you too much.”

  Morgan was relieved. He hadn’t forbidden Jolie to come to camp, because he wanted no shadows of war to dim that perfect Christmas day. But he had hoped that she would comprehend that it would be a hardship for him. He began to realize how very mature and wise she had grown to understand that.

  At the end of March, General Lee grew ill, and for the first time he agreed to be moved to a private house near Fredericksburg. He wrote to Mary:

  I am suffering with a bad cold as I told you, and was threatened, the doctors thought, with some malady which must be dreadful if it resembles its name, but which I have forgot.

  The doctors called it an inflammation of the heart sac. It was a very serious condition.

  April came; spring came; warm weather came; and with it came the Army of the Potomac. They crossed the Rappahannock above Fredericksburg, over 138,000 strong, and marched west then south. They came to the Rapidan River and began their crossing at Germanna Ford and Ely’s Ford. The roads from the fords led into the Wilderness, and by May 1st, they were concentrated in the largest clearing in that blighted wood. The only three roads in the Wilderness intersected there, and because of that the clearing with the one old house was called Chancellorsville.