by Ginny Dye
Chapter Eighteen
Matthew was more than ready to go home; actually, he was ready to go anywhere other than where he was. He didn’t think he could stand one more minute in the Shenandoah Valley. He stared off at the plumes of smoke clouding the horizon for as far as he could see; overhead those black and white pillars of burning buildings and fields pointed down to heartache.
Peter rode up next to him. “You wouldn’t think there was anything left to burn,” he said heavily.
“You said you believed it would take total destruction,” Matthew said bitterly. “I believe it has been accomplished.”
“Not this,” Peter protested. “I don’t think I understood what it meant… I know it’s necessary to destroy the food supply for the Confederate army, but not whole farms… not homes…” He lapsed into brooding silence. After a long moment he added, “The haunted eyes of those women and children will be with me as long as I live.”
“You mean you don’t think thousands of women and children should be left without a home or any food for the winter?” Matthew snapped sarcastically, and then turned to his friend. “I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “I know it bothers you as much as it bothers me.”
“I feel sickened every day I ride out to cover it,” Peter said wearily. “How many ways can I describe the massive devastation of what used to be one of the most beautiful, lush valleys in the United States?”
“Readers in the North are eating it up,” Matthew sighed. “It’s just more proof we’re winning the war - that right is on our side.”
“You don’t agree?”
“This war quit being about being right a long time ago. Now it’s about nothing more than bull-headed stubbornness. Why doesn’t President Davis accept that the Confederacy doesn’t stand a chance and stop all the destruction and suffering?” Matthew gritted his teeth and stared off toward Richmond.
“Does Davis still hope Lincoln will be defeated?” Peter asked with disbelief. “I believe in hope, but I’m afraid Davis is living in a fantasy land. The election is just a few days away. There is not a chance McClellan can beat Lincoln.”
“The entire South has been living in the fantasy they may somehow get out of this war as an independent nation. By hanging on, they guarantee more destruction, dead soldiers, and destroyed lives.”
“They’re also afraid of what comes after,” Peter observed. “As horrible as this is, at least they feel they know how to fight. What about when it’s over? They never considered defeat, so they surely have no idea how to live in it.”
Matthew nodded thoughtfully and then looked up when he heard a call. “They’re waiting for me,” he said.
“You’re going with another raiding party?” Peter asked.
“Editor’s orders,” Matthew snapped. He shook his head. “I wish I could just quit caring… just become numb to the whole thing.”
“No, you don’t,” Peter replied quietly. “It’s when you quit caring that you have something to worry about. It was your passion and carin;, your refusal to give up, that got us out of Libby Prison.”
“And it almost killed me,” Matthew said.
“But it didn’t,” Peter shot back. “You lived. You helped many others live. Look for ways to make a difference, Matthew. You’ll find them – even here.”
Matthew gazed at his friend for a long minute, took a deep breath, and nodded his head. “You’re right. I hate that you’re right… but you’re right.”
Moments later he cantered off on horseback to join a raiding party.
Robert lifted his head when his commanding officer rode up to his campsite.
“Good morning, Captain Borden.”
“Good morning, Colonel Cartland.” Robert nodded toward the fire and decided to play the politeness game even though he couldn’t feel one good thing about the day. “Care for some coffee?”
“No, thank you. General Early has received word from Richmond. He is leaving a skeleton force here in the Valley. The rest of his troops, including you and your men, are to return to Richmond and join Lee’s defenses at Petersburg.”
Robert nodded. He had been waiting for the order. “When do we leave?”
“Not for a week.” The colonel moved a little closer, glancing over at Robert’s men.
Robert stood and walked over to stand next to the officer’s bay gelding. “Is there something else, sir?” he asked quietly.
“Not much will happen for the next week. General Early thought you might have business in the area,” his voice trailed off meaningfully.
Robert scowled, thinking of the empty fields at Oak Meadows. “I’m afraid I have nothing left to have business with,” he snapped.
“There are raiding parties out,” the colonel said slowly.
“And I’m to do something about them?” Robert asked bitterly.
“If it were my home, I would want to know,” Colonel Cartland replied, his eyes saying he understood Robert’s angry frustration. “Not knowing is sometimes worse than knowing.”
Robert nodded slowly. He had watched the plumes of smoke spoiling the horizon all week long. He’d also thought of his mother constantly, but with Winchester once again in Federal hands there was nothing he could do.
“Is your place still standing?” Colonel Cartland asked.
“It was a few weeks ago, sir.”
“You might stay lucky, Captain. There’s only one way to know, though.”
Robert realized the colonel was right. “I’ll go alone. I know these woods, and I’ll attract less attention.”
Colonel Cartland nodded and nudged his gelding forward.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck to you.”
Matthew was sick at heart when the raiding party he was with turned down yet another tree-lined drive. Chimneys in the distance said there was another target waiting to be fired.
“This will be the fourth one today, Captain!” one of the men yelled as he spurred his horse forward. “We’re showing them Rebels they might as well give up!”
“I’ll take the barn,” another hollered. “The hay makes them burn hot and fast!”
Matthew gazed after the soldiers as they dashed off, whooping and hollering, but then followed them resolutely, groaning when he saw a tight cluster of people standing on the porch. As he got closer, he identified a woman that must be the mother to the four young children clutching at her dress and gazing fearfully at the soldiers racing toward their barn.
“What are they gonna do, Mama?” a little boy cried, his blue eyes wide with fright below a mop of red hair.
Matthew’s heart caught – that little boy could have been him twenty years ago.
The woman hushed him, pulled the children tighter behind her, and stepped forward. “May I help you, gentlemen?” Her cultured, calm voice couldn’t hide the panic in her eyes.
Captain Hill rode forward and tipped his hat. It seemed to Matthew that the man wasn’t getting much joy from his mission – certainly not as much as his men were. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’re going to have to move on. Your farm is now the property of the Federal government of the United States of America.”
“And where do you suggest I go with my four children?” she asked quietly, clasping her hands tightly in front of her; bright eyes peering around from either side of her.
“I don’t know, ma’am,” Captain Hill responded gruffly. “I’m under orders to burn every place I find.”
“Then I’m terribly sorry you found my place,” the woman replied, a catch in her brave voice.
As Matthew gazed at the commanding officer, he was suddenly certain Captain Hill was sorry, too. He remembered hearing the captain had four small children. Surely he must be putting his wife in this woman’s position. Matthew saw him open his mouth, but then close it again in hesitation.
“We’ll have the barn burning in no time,” one of the soldiers yelled. “It’s got a load of hay and grain in it.”
“I don’t reckon they�
�ll be needing it since we’ll be taking their cattle!” another chortled as he rode forward, leading three cows by their ropes.
“Mama, they can’t have Sadie!” a little girl screamed, dashing out from around her mother before the woman could stop her. She ran down the steps and raced toward the cows. “Sadie! Sadie!”
“Matilda!” the mother cried. “You get back here, right now!”
Matthew swung off his horse and grabbed the little girl up before she reached the soldier.
“Let me go, mister,” Matilda screamed, her blue eyes bright with tears and terror beneath golden curls. “They can’t have my Sadie!”
Matthew held her tightly, tipping her chin up as he forced her to look at him. “Matilda,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, but there is nothing you can do.” He glanced at the porch and saw the white-faced mother grasping the rest of her children. He tried to reassure her with his eyes that he wouldn’t hurt her daughter. “Your mama is real scared for you right now. The best thing you can do is go back to her. I promise you I’ll look after Sadie.”
Tears poured down Matilda’s face as she stared at him with desperation. “You promise you’ll look after Sadie?” she whispered brokenly. “She’s a real good cow. She gives us the best milk I ever had.” She gulped. “I sit in the hay and talk to her every day. She’s my friend…”
Tears stung Matthew’s eyes as his throat thickened. “I promise,” he said tenderly.
Matilda suddenly leaned back in his arms and stared up at him. “You don’t seem like a real bad man. How come you’re doing this to us?”
Matthew had no answer for her. “I’m sorry, Matilda,” he whispered again as he handed her to his mother.
Captain Hill sighed as he watched flames shoot from the barn, sparks flying up and catching the breeze, swirling in a crazy dance. Within minutes the roar of burning hay drowned out every other noise.
“Ma’am, you have to get your children out of the house,” he yelled.
“But, where…?” Numbed confusion replaced fear on the woman’s face as she herded the children under the shade of a tree away from the house. The children, terrified, screamed as they watched their farm go up in flames.
Their screaming died to stunned whimpers when the soldiers spurred forward and used their torches to set fire to the house. Within moments roaring flames were accompanied by crashing glass.
The soldiers laughed and cheered as their horses galloped in circles, with the men setting fire to the outbuildings and the chicken coop.
Matthew clinched his jaw as he stared at the shattered family huddled beside the tree. He could only pray the woman had food stored away in a cellar that would help them get through the winter; though he already knew in his heart that starvation was a distinct likelihood for them.
“We’re done here,” Captain Hill snapped.
Matthew turned and stared at him. “How do you stand it?”
Captain Hill stared back at him defiantly before his shoulders slumped. “I just want this war to end. Over and over, I’m told breaking the spirit of the South will make it happen.” He shook his head and turned away.
“Let’s go, men,” he called, cantering back down the way they had come.
Matthew turned for a final look at the family. The woman was gazing right at him, her eyes saying she knew what he was feeling. He smiled sadly, lifted his hand in a final wave, and followed the raiding party down the road.
It no longer mattered what the Enquirer wanted. He was leaving the Shenandoah tomorrow and heading for Philadelphia. He could not watch one more family be destroyed.
Matthew rode side-by-side with Captain Hill as they moved down the dusty road. A late Indian summer had yielded to a sharp northern wind that made him grateful for his thick coat. The sun was barely skimming the tops of the trees as they headed back to camp.
“Hey, Captain,” a soldier yelled. “There’s a road up here on the left. I’m going to ride down it and see if I find us another place. I figure we got some daylight left.”
Minutes later, the soldier came galloping back. “I knew it, Captain!” he yelled triumphantly. “There’s another place back here. From the looks of the drive, it must be pretty fancy.”
“I don’t know,” Captain Hill replied with a frown. “It’s getting late. I think we’ve done enough for today.”
“It won’t take us long, sir,” another soldier chimed in. “I hear we might be moving on from here pretty soon. I reckon we want to do as much for the cause as we can, sir.”
Captain Hill nodded reluctantly. “Go on, then.” He leaned forward and urged his horse into a gallop.
Matthew had no choice but to follow. He gazed around in admiration as he rode down the drive, noted the carefully built fencing, and looked in awe at the splendor of the oak trees lining the drive. The fields were empty, but the tall, swaying grass spoke of high quality.
As their raiding party broke out into the clearing, Matthew almost groaned when he saw the sprawling white house. Another beautiful symbol of the South was about to be destroyed.
Two women were standing on the porch when he rode up, their faces set with defiance.
Matthew got there in time to hear Captain Hill tell the ladies they had to evacuate the home.
“We most certainly will not,” one of the women snapped, holding tight to the hand of the older woman beside her. “We have nowhere to go.” She drew herself up to stand erect. “You are on private property, and I demand you leave,” she said imperiously, her blue eyes startlingly bright beneath the salt and pepper hair pulled back in an elegant bun. She looked to be in her late forties, though the strain of the war had etched lines around her eyes.
The soldiers waiting behind Captain Hill laughed.
“You must not be aware that the entire Shenandoah Valley is now under the control of the United States government,” one yelled.
“I’m aware you men have been burning and destroying the only world I’ve ever known,” the woman snapped. “You will not destroy my home.”
Matthew leaned forward suddenly and fixed his eyes on the woman. Why did he feel he should know her? He was certain he had never seen her before, but there was something so familiar…
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Captain Hill repeated. “You have to go,” he said firmly.
“Oak Meadows has been here for fifty years,” the woman snapped. “I most certainly will not leave it for you to destroy. I’ve already run to Winchester, but you ran us out of there. My sister and I have nowhere else to go.”
Matthew gasped, suddenly realizing the woman on the porch was Robert’s mother. Oak Meadows! Captain Hill heard Matthew’s gasp and turned to look at him with questioning eyes.
Matthew’s mind raced as he thought through the options available to him.
Robert had ridden hard all day and now made his way through the woods north of the house. It would bring him out above the house where he could look down from a sheltered position. Granite wove his way through the trees, the wind creating a dance of red and gold leaves that swirled around them. How could so much beauty exist in the midst of such destruction?
Robert could see the beauty, but he just couldn’t feel it. All day long he had passed by smoldering barns and homes, the air rank with acrid smoke. Several times he had almost run into raiding parties; only his intimate knowledge of the area had saved him.
He reached down to pat Granite’s neck. “At least my mother isn’t here,” he murmured. “It would kill her to watch anything happen to Oak Meadows. It has been her life for so long. Even without the horses, at least she will have something to come back to if they don’t destroy it.”
He moved the last hundred yards in silence, swung down, tied Granite to a limb, and then edged forward where he could see down on the house.
And groaned.
Robert watched as a party of Union soldiers cantered around his yard, and then gasped when he saw two women standing on the porch. “Mother,” he whispered, clenching his fists. “Why did
you come back?”
Even as he whispered the question, he was sure she had fled Winchester in terror and had come back to the only place she knew. His mind and heart burned with helplessness. The only thing he would accomplish by riding down to her was death or capture – neither of which would help her.
Images of what he had seen all day flashed through his seething mind. He knew what was about to happen.
Matthew fought to think clearly as the captain looked at him. He finally decided an honest appeal was his only solution. “I know the man who owns this plantation,” Matthew admitted. “Robert Borden saved my life five months ago.”
Mrs. Borden gasped and stepped forward. “You know my Robert?”
Matthew turned to look at her. “Yes, ma’am. Your son is a fine man and a good friend.”
One of the soldiers scowled at him. “I heard Oak Meadows was owned by a captain in the Confederate army.”
Matthew bit back his groan. He was hoping that fact wouldn’t come to light.
“Is that true, Matthew?” Captain Hill snapped.
“Yes,” Matthew admitted reluctantly, his eyes meeting the captain’s squarely, “but he also risked everything to help me escape Libby Prison last winter.”
“I heard about that escape,” Captain Hill said slowly and then looked at Matthew more closely. “I also heard it was a journalist fellow that was largely responsible for helping so many of our officers escape. That man chose to live down in Rat Hole while he helped dig the tunnel. I also heard it was the stories he wrote after the escape that helped get the prisoner exchange moving again. Was that you?”
Matthew nodded, praying it would make a difference.
“That don’t matter none!” one of the soldiers yelled. “So what if this here journalist fellow knows the Rebel who owns this plantation. It’s our job to destroy it!”
Robert, looking down from his perch, caught the soldier’s words as he yelled. Matthew?
