Songs of the Shenandoah

by Michael K. Reynolds

  “Da.” Grace had made her way to the other side of the bed and was now resting her head against his bare chest. Soon both she and Ashlyn were on their knees at Seamus’s side and the three of them were in a sobbing embrace.

  Davin became overwhelmed himself and lifted his hand to his face. He had never really believed this would be possible. And now that this euphoric scene was unfolding before him, tremendous relief came upon him, followed by a dizzying swoon. He fell back against the wall, and the room started to spin.

  Muriel was lifting him under his arms, her concerned eyes just inches from his. “You need rest, Davin . . . and something to eat.”

  The large bowl of corn-and-bacon soup and the drinks of water had rejuvenated Davin. And almost as soon as he regained his senses, he remembered the present danger and was a soldier once again.

  He was alone outside, peering into the darkness beyond the front porch railing, with his rifle tucked under his arm. A summer breeze rose up every so often among the corn husks, causing them to bend and appear as dark shifting figures under the star-filled sky.

  His military training taught him to appreciate the loud boasts of the katydids and crickets and those other creeping evening dwellers. It was a sudden turn to dead quiet he was listening for, because it would be the harbinger of approaching boots.

  A noise behind him snared his attention and he saw through the window that Jacob was getting his ankle tended to by Muriel, who unlike him never seemed to have tired from the journey. He turned back, but after a few minutes the front door opened behind him.

  Davin wanted to be bitter. He wanted to hate her. But he couldn’t muster the emotion. Maybe he was too exhausted to care. Perhaps he was distracted by the greater danger lurking somewhere out there.

  Muriel came alongside him while she wrapped a scarf around her neck and then crossed her arms as if to squeeze off the evening chill. They stood silently together, looking out into the same darkness.

  She spoke with a quiet voice that sounded almost like an apology. “I can’t explain it in any other way than a miracle, but it seems like your brother is going make it through this. It was as if seeing Ashlyn’s face brought him back to life.”

  “That is . . . good to hear.” He didn’t feel comfortable cheering on any news she had to share, but what else could he say? Was this all part of her skill? To bewitch him once again?

  “Do you believe that two people can be that much in love?” Muriel looked heavenward. “So much so that their very lives depended on one another?”

  Davin turned and glared. “If they trusted one another.”

  She dropped her head. “I deserve that . . . and more.” Muriel put her hand on his arm, but he shook it off. “Oh please, Davin, Let us not end things this way. We have so little time left together.”

  “Are you leaving?” This thought disturbed him. He meant to punish her with his words, but he wasn’t ready to see her go.

  “Me? No. I am in no danger. It is you who are leaving.”

  He was surprised at this for a moment, but then understood by looking into her deep, mysterious eyes. “You saw we were being followed.”

  “Yes.” She put her hand on his shoulder, and this time he surrendered to her touch. “There was nothing we could do to shake them. At least that wouldn’t have endangered our chances of getting your brother back in time.”

  “I thought they had let us be out of respect for your uncle, the legendary slave catcher.” The words were more accusatory than he intended.

  “They knew my uncle was dead. But he had many friends, and a few even more feared than him. I am sure they followed to see if I was working with anyone else. No. The bounty on a runaway slave and a Union spy will attract more vultures than these.”

  “Now I am the spy?”

  “So strange how it all depends on the ground we stand on, the flag we wave. Isn’t that so, Davin? We cross a border, an invisible line, and all of the deeds we committed, the murders, the lies, the betrayals—they are forgotten and forgiven because once again we are patriots.”

  “I will never forgive you. No matter where these feet stand.” What was he saying? He didn’t mean it, but there was a reaction he was seeking. What was it?

  Something came over Muriel’s face. Her resolve returned and a sudden distance came between them. He regretted what he said, his tone, but he couldn’t get himself to say it.

  “You may hate me, Davin, and for this I cannot blame you.” Muriel stepped back. “But the facts are that I am home, on friendly ground now. It is you who are in great danger.”

  “I just can’t leave Seamus.” But it was Muriel he didn’t want to leave. Did he despise her or love her? What was happening to him?

  “Davin. You must listen. If you can’t protect yourself for the sake of your family and those who care for you and love you, then at least think of Jacob, who has risked so much on your behalf. Both of you need to return to northern soil.”

  He squinted. A light was approaching in the distance, and before long he saw it was lantern dangling on the front of a wagon. Muriel wasn’t alarmed. “You know about this?” he asked.

  “I told Ashlyn we were being followed. And that you and Jacob needed to leave right away. She sent one of her servants to fetch someone. Someone she said would be able to help you.”

  “What about you?”

  “I won’t leave your brother’s side. He will either get better . . . or . . . I already promised Ashlyn. This is my gift to you. Whether you’re willing to accept it or not. It is all . . . all I have left to give.”

  This was all happening so fast. But Muriel was right. Not only was it dangerous for Jacob and him to be here, but the longer he tarried, the more risk Davin brought to everyone in the house. He needed to leave immediately.

  But what about his brother? Davin had so much to tell him, and now he wouldn’t get the chance.

  And what about Muriel? Was this how it would all end between them? Yes. Because he felt it deeply and it was confirmed in her eyes.

  He would never see her again.

  Chapter 49

  The Outpost

  The burlap sack tied over Davin’s head made him want to scratch, something he couldn’t do with his hands tied with heavy twine.

  He could see obscurely through the pores of the sack and knew it was dark outside, that they had traveled far, and the last stretch of the journey had climbed to a higher elevation based on the angle of the wagon.

  With his vision limited, his other senses were enhanced and he could hear the playful taunts and laughter of men, and someone playing, or more accurately tinkering, with an out-of-tune banjo. He could smell pine resin, a campfire burning, and venison being roasted.

  He felt a tug and then was guided out the back of the wagon. “Is this really necessary?”

  “They kill men for knowing the whereabouts of this place, son,” Fletch said. “This is me doing you a favor, and not even for you, but your brother. So give thanks and shut your yapper.”

  Davin stood for a few moments, taking in the chill air, and then he felt the presence of another beside him and he knew it was Jacob. They were being tied together.

  “What is this place?” Davin asked, hoping Fletch was close enough to hear him.

  “This is a place that don’t exist.”

  He was pulled forward and tried to slow the pace since Jacob’s ankle would be throbbing with pain. “Are you all right, friend?” He received no answer.

  “What do you have there, Fletch?” The unfamiliar voice was gruff and raspy. “That don’t look like no shine and that is depressin’ me some.”

  Through the filtered vision of his sack, Davin saw the flickering light of what seemed to be more than a dozen fires, and he could see better than surely his caretaker would have wanted. Shadowy shapes of men gathered around tables, some eating and others playing car
ds. A few others gathered around the pits, with their hands reaching over the flames and passing bottles among themselves. Their entrance into the campsite drew the attention of most of them.

  “You dealin’ Negroes now, Fletch?” shouted a voice in the distance.

  “Or bawdry women?” Heckling laughter and whistles broke out. “I’ll give you two bales for ’em.”

  “Judson,” shouted Fletch. “A word with you.”

  Catcalls and hisses came next. “Jud ain’t got nothin’ for you.”

  Davin felt the tug on his elbow and they were being led away from the fires. Then they were joined by another man who sounded young.

  “What you got thar, Fletch?”

  “I got a Yankee and a fugitive here.”

  “That right? They ain’t puttin’ up much of a fight, knowing they’s about to be hung.”

  “There won’t be no hanging.”

  “Whatcha gonna do, then?” Judson spat out something.

  “I ain’t doing nothing. You gonna take them.”

  “That so? And whereabouts I takin’ ’em. I’m gonna claim bounty?”

  “No. You’re gonna run them.”

  “Wha? I ain’t dumpin’ them up north. Why that’s just good fish back in the river.”

  “You do this and I’m clearin’ your debt.”

  “You ain’t lyin’ are you, Fletch? All of it? Why? What’s these fellers to you anyway? What ain’t you tellin’?”

  “Two favors paid. One to a man who risked his life to save my son. And the other to Roy Perkins’s niece.”

  “Nah? That redhead girl? With her knowin’ it was some Negro boy who slit her uncle’s throat? Now I knows you lying.”

  Fletch lunged and there was a grunt. “You gonna call me a liar? Or you gonna clear your owings with me?”

  Jud coughed and bent over and spit. “Now come on, Fletch. Why you go and choke me? Made me swallow this tobacky. All right. I take ’em first at dawn.”

  “No,” Fletch said. “With all of these runaway soldiers here, I don’t think it would be safe for our boys here to stay overnight. Either of them die, and you still owe me full and proper.”

  “All right then.” Jud reached over and grabbed the rope that bound Davin to Jacob. “I’ll load them up while you fetch me one of those Shenandoah Shines. I know you ain’t come here without things to swap and I’ve got the need for courage. ’Cause I got me a long, dangerous run ahead.”

  Still covered with hoods and bound with twine, Davin and Jacob were placed under bales of cotton, which Davin could tell by the smell and the fibers brushing against his face. Then they were covered with some type of tarp, because it became completely dark, and he worried whether he and Jacob would suffocate under all of this.

  They lay on the cold, splintered wood of the wagon, and despite the discomfort and the bounce of the trail, it didn’t take long for Davin to drift to sleep, catching up for being nearly a week’s short.

  When he awoke, he worried about Seamus and his family. Should he have warned them about Muriel? That she couldn’t be trusted?

  Or could she? Maybe they were all rebels now. Seamus. Ashlyn. All of them. And he was the outsider. The one who was the enemy. The drunkenness of his lack of sleep made him queasy and his mind strayed to dark thoughts. Had this all been for naught? Hopelessness swamped him.

  But then he fell asleep again. At some point, he remembered waking and hearing the sound of a deep voice singing softly. It was a spiritual hymn, one he didn’t recognize, but Davin could tell it was full of reverence and joy.

  He listened to Jacob’s voice and found it soothing, soaking it in for a long time before speaking. “Jacob?”

  “Yessum?”

  “How can you sing? When we lie here in bondage?”

  The man laughed. “My chains? They was cut long ago and for all times. I ain’t get my freedom from no man. And no man can take it from me.”

  Then Jacob sang again, accompanied by the rattle of the wagon wheels and the chorus of the night.

  Chapter 50

  The Retreat

  “Woah!” The horses protested the abrupt halt. “Will y’all take a look at dat there? Ne’er seen so many with tails between their legs.”

  How was Davin expected to see anything having been crammed in the back of this wagon with his head covered for more than a day? They had only stopped once to get drinks of water and to relieve themselves, but that was about ten minutes of the entire journey.

  So when he felt the weight of the cotton bales being lifted around him, it was as if he were being released from a dark prison cell.

  “Wait there and just so there’s no foolin’, the both of yous should know this is a shotgun.” Davin felt his forehead being jabbed with an object, which definitely could be the barrel of a gun, and he closed his eyes for fear they would be gouged.

  He lay still as he heard grunts coming from Judson, who seemed to be wrestling with Jacob. Then there was a thud and a groan.

  “All right, Yankee boy. You climb yerself out now. You get yer wings back.” Davin felt another poke at his head. He sat up and wiggled his way toward the end of the wagon where he was grasped by a strong hand that flung him to the ground.

  “Get up, boy.” Davin was lifted again and now was being led. “Right here now. That’ll give you a proper view of Dixie’s finest. I best be gettin’ on myself. Those Johnny Rebs will be in a foul mood.”

  Davin’s hood was swept off his head and he blinked to defend against the bright sun. His hands were still bound, and a rope tethered him to a tall oak.

  He was surprised to see the face of his captor—blond scraggly hair, with rounded cheeks and a paunch belly. The kind of man he could easily lick and would love to have the opportunity.

  “Those be eyes of hatred. You best be savin’ that for those fellers.” He pointed down to the valley far below, where there was blurring movement. Davin blinked again and could see it was a great army, tens of thousands perhaps, making their way up the slope.

  “I’s give you maybe twenty minutes or so, ’for the wholes of General Lee’s army passes by here. After gettin’ whooped by y’all, I s’pose they’ll find pleasure in takin’ their grief out on you, boy.”

  He tossed a knife on the ground, which Davin recognized as his own. “There’s your good fortune. That get me time to be gone and you to be on your way. But you best be gettin’ to it or you’ll be Yankee stew.”

  The man returned to the wagon with the cotton lying beside it. Sitting upright, with his neck tied by a rope, was Jacob who sat there with vacant eyes.

  “What are doing with him?” Davin shouted, as Judson loaded up the bales again. “He was supposed to be freed with me.”

  Judson continued his work, shut the back gate, clamped the bolt, and then dusted his hands. “Ain’t lettin’ no Negro free. I got me some honor.”

  He climbed on the driver’s seat and lifted the reins. “Now don’t kill any of our rebel boys, or I ne’er sleep sound again.” Judson tipped his hat, and with a jolt the two horses lifted dust in the air and disappeared around the bend.

  “Jacob!” Davin shook his head. How could he betray the man who saved his brother’s life?

  He glanced in the other direction, down the valley, and although it didn’t look as if Lee’s retreating army had moved much, there would be scouts all over the area. He was probably already out of time. How terrible it would be to go through all of this, only to get captured and hung by the army he helped defeat ten days earlier?

  Davin shimmied down, picked up the knife, and then propped it between his ankles. It didn’t take too long for him to cut his hands free, and then shortly thereafter he severed the rope holding him to the tree.

  But there was little chance of catching up with the wagon taking Jacob away.

  Still, he tried. He ran along the trai
l until it broke into three directions. He had no way of knowing which path to choose or of catching them on foot.

  Then he heard the sound of horses coming behind him, and he scuttled into a thick grove of trees. Davin watched as two of Lee’s cavalrymen passed by, and then in sadness and anger, Davin headed north.

  “So, Private Hanley, you want to explain to me why I shouldn’t have you court-martialed for desertion?” The captain had a jigger of whiskey on the table next to him as he sized up Davin.

  “Oh yes.” Davin reached into his pant pocket and unfolded a soiled and worn piece of paper. “It’s right here.”

  The captain eyed him suspiciously as he unfolded it. Then he read it out loud. “A fifteen-day leave. Signed by . . . General Joseph Hooker himself. How about that.” He lifted the glass, gave Davin a curt nod, and emptied it in one swig. “According to this, son, you’ve got a few days left to spare.”

  “Yes, sir. But I am ready to serve.”

  The captain smiled and twisted the waxed tip of his black mustache. “I believe you might serve us best by cleaning yourself up, son. You are a mess.”

  Davin nodded and started to walk away but then turned. “Sir?”

  “Yes, Private.”

  “I would like to report . . .” He paused for a moment. Did he really want to do this? This would certainly be the end. But for the past couple of days as he traveled by foot, his rage about what happened to Jacob had been festering in his every thought. Yes. He had a cause now. And there was an enemy.

  The captain leaned forward. “What is it, son?”

  Davin straightened. “I would like to report the whereabouts of a Confederate spy.”

  Chapter 51

  Healing

  “And what kind of patient has the young man been?” Pastor Asa entered the house with his usual cheer and bluster.

  “Are you here to visit the invalid?” Seamus sat in front of the fireplace. He placed his Bible down on the table beside him.