A mile or so back in the woods they find an old cabin. From the looks of the animal skins hanging on some wooden poles outside Luke guesses, the man of the house must be a trapper.
“Let me go in first, we don’t know what’s inside,” Luke says pulling the .44 Colt from its holster. Using its barrel he cautiously pushes open the door and the sunlight illuminates the interior of a small room, smelling of dampness, mold and death. Before the War Luke would have laughed at the thought of death having a smell, but now it was as recognizable as the scent of the pine trees outside.
“Hello! Hello, is anyone in here?”
As his eyes became used to the darkness, he could see more details – he was standing next to a small pot-bellied stove, a little wooden table with three chairs was over in the corner. In the other corner was an old iron bedstead and he could make out the outline of three bodies on the bed.
“Mother, you two stay outside. There are three bodies in the bed.”
“Move aside Luke, let me have a look at them.”
Speaking softly, “Mother, I believe they are all dead!”
Disregarding Luke Malinda marches in and straight over to the bed. Luke is partially right, there are three people in the bed alright, but two were not dead. They were alive, barely. The third, a young boy in his teens was indeed dead.
“Luke, run out to my horse and look in the saddlebag. Bring me the bottle of quinine pills. These folks have typhoid!”
“Oh, that’s bad, we had plenty of fellers with that ‘swamp fever’ in the Army. Most of ’em didn’t make it tho’.”
“Well, Luke this girl’s folks are going to live if you and I have anything to say about it. First, we need to get some fresh air in this cabin, and get it cleaned up.” Turning to the girl, “What’s your name Miss?”
“Ma’am I’m Susan, Susan B. Anthony, but before we start cleaning do you have anything to eat. I haven’t eaten in two days! I have been gone for two weeks. I know it sounds funny to you all, but I was visiting my aunt Lucy Stone, we’ve been working on woman’s suffrage at the Women’s Right Convention, and when I returned I found them this way, I didn’t know what to do. I thought Ma’ma, Pa and Johnny were all dead!”
“Lands sake child, I have some hardtack and bacon in my saddlebag that was leftover from breakfast. Luke get this pretty girl something to eat.”
Malinda explains to Luke they must first get the mother and father’s temperature down. They are burning up with fever. They wet the bed sheets and open all the windows and the door. She says they must be force-fed water and juices, it is imperative they have liquids to counteract dehydration. All foods and water must be boiled and hands washed thoroughly before drinking or eating. Poor hygiene and sorry sanitary practices contribute to the spread of typhoid.
While Malinda and Susan tend to Susan’s Ma and Pa, Luke prepared a grave outside and buried Johnny.
A couple of days pass and the Anthony’s appear to be improving, at least their fevers do not seem as high as before. Malinda and Luke have searched for berries along the swamp, crushed apples and pears for the juice. The juices have helped considerably.
A week goes by and Mrs. Anthony is strong enough to sit up in bed. She cannot stop telling Malinda and Luke had much she appreciates all they have done. She knows she, her husband and daughter are alive because of the good heartedness of the Scarburgs. She tells there is no way she can repay their kindness; although she is heartsick for the loss of her son Johnny.
Another week and Mr. Joseph Anthony is up and sitting on the side of the bed. He is strong enough to drink liquids without being spoon-fed. One afternoon Luke and Joe sit on the porch and the talk turns to the War. Luke tells of Pickett’s Charge on that final day at Gettysburg and the lost of his brother Matthew as they tried to climb the split-rail fence on the Emmetsburg Road.
Joseph, a Yankee was also at Gettysburg. He tells Luke after the battle his unit the 69th Pennsylvania was detailed to check the dead and tend the wounded on the battlefield. His particular unit was assigned the area around the Emmetsburg Road’s in particular the rail fence. He remembered a young lad with blonde hair wounded through the left leg. At the time, he thought the wounded Rebel was dead, but he noticed a slight movement. A number of townspeople of Gettysburg came out onto the battlefield and offered assistance, to both the Rebs and Union alike. He remembered they picked up this wounded Confederate and began to place him into a Union ambulance, but he would not go, he kept asking for something; finally, they realized he wanted the black feather sticking in his cap. They retrieved his cap from the ground with its black ostrich plume and he seemed satisfied, they then sped him away.
“Mother! Did you hear that, Joe was assigned to administer to the wounded at Gettysburg – he remembers Matthew! Matthew was alive at the time the battle was over.”
For the next couple of weeks Malinda and Luke remained with the Anthonys until they were out of danger. One morning bright and early Luke said to Joe, “Joe it has been a pleasure meeting you. I truly appreciate your concern for our wounded at Gettysburg, the information on brother Matthew is invaluable.”
“No sir, it is I who should be thankful – thankful for you and your mother and the time you spent getting us back upon our feet, and I especially thank you for seeing to it that my son Johnny had a decent Christian burial.”
Mounting their horses, Luke looks to Susan, “Madam you remind me a lot of my mother here. She is a headstrong woman who believes a woman is as good as a man, and in a lot of cases – better. Miss Susan, you both are right. Mother told me once that some day women would get to vote – Miss Anthony if anyone could get women that vote I’ll be darned if I don’t think it will be you! I wish you well in that endeavor.”
The so longs and good lucks are passed about as Malinda and Luke head their horses once again for Pennsylvania. Turning in his saddle as they ride away Luke comments, “Mother, now there’s a woman that you’ll hear things from one of these days!”
Chapter Fifty-Four
HOMECOMING
Back on the road to Gettysburg Malinda and Luke both know they have to make up some time. Although it was for a good cause, their rescue of the Anthony family had delayed them for over a month. Malinda is beginning to think they will be fortunate to return to Scarlett before Christmas.
The road down the Shenandoah Valley has been good and the families they meet along the way have been cordial and friendly. There isn’t too many nights they have to camp, most families offer them food and shelter for the night. Malinda is grateful for these small amenities, she hates to sleep on the ground; although, she had rather die than admit that fact to Luke.
The length of the days is beginning to shorten and the leaves in northern Virginia have already begun to turn to brilliant brown, reds and yellows. Malinda is amazed at the panoramic scenes she views lining the sides of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Picturesque? She thought the sight of this fall foliage belongs on a postcard. The days are lazy and peaceful it is a perfect fall.
How sudden tranquility can change! They have traveled to within a few miles of Winchester, Virginia when they round a curve in the road only to be met by a band of armed men. These men have the road ahead blocked.
Slowly riding up to the first man standing in the middle of the road Luke asks, “Sir, what is the meaning of this? Step out of our way!”
“Not before you pay the toll,” answered the obvious highwayman.
Luke pats his .44 with his hand and says again, “Move or I will pay the toll with this.”
“That Colt of yours only got six shells Mister. I don’t believe you can kill all of us.”
“Your right there friend, but six of you won’t be around to count noses to see who is left!”
Stepping from the rear of the group is a well-dressed outlaw. Well-dressed if compared to the other rabble standing in the road. “Hold on there! We don’t want no trouble, just pay your toll and be on your way. We call it War retribution for the South.
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sp; “So, you fellers are Southern men? Who did you ride with?”
“Sir, we is all loyal Virginians, we fought to the very end with our leader General Robert E. Lee.”
“Bobby Lee huh? I guess you fellers didn’t hear he surrendered at Appomattox? The War’s over.”
“Yeah, it might be over for him, but it ain’t over for us. It won’t never be over for us - the true Sons of the Confederacy.”
“Well, you boys ever heard of Jefferson Davis?”
“Jefferson Davis? You don’t mean the head of our government President Jefferson Davis? Darn right, if ’n he hadn’t of got caught we’d move to Mexico and still be fightin’ them Yankees. Now give us your money!”
“Hold on there, let me reach inside my coat pocket, I have something I would like you to see,” Luke said holstering his pistol.
“All right, but you take it slow. You pull out a firearm and I’m aimin’ to kill you right here and now.”
Luke reached inside his coat and withdrew the note written by Jefferson Davis granting him safe passage. He handed it to the closest bandit.
This outlaw turned and handed it to the man who seemed in charge, “Here Sergeant you knows I can’t read.”
The Sergeant unfolds the scrap of paper and reads, “Why, this here is writ on official Confederate paper and signed by President Jefferson Davis hisself. It says fer us to allow free passage to this here man Luke Scarburg. Well, I never...”
“Think that’s good enough for you gentlemen, you Sons of the Confederacy?” Luke said mocking the title ‘Sons of the Confederacy.’
“It shore is Mister Scarburg, we’re sorry to have troubled you. You may proceed, and good-luck to you both.”
Riding out of sight of the bandits Malinda questions Luke, “Son, where in the world did you get that note from Jefferson Davis?”
“Ah, Mother, it’s a long story.”
From Winchester, Virginia they travel up the road to Charlestown, West Virginia. From Charlestown it was only a two-day ride to Frederick, Maryland. From Frederick, it is less than forty miles to Gettysburg. As they pass by Frederick Luke says to his mother, “We’ll be in Gettysburg in two or three days.”
“Son, I can hardly wait. Do you believe Mr. Anthony was telling the truth about seeing Matthew at the rail fence?”
“Mother, why would he have a reason to lie to us? Yes, I think he saw Matthew, and Matt was alive at that time. The question is: what happened to him later?”
Chapter Fifty-Five
GETTYSBURG REVISITED
They approach Gettysburg from the south on the Emmitsburg Road. In the distance, Malinda can see the outline of houses that constitute Gettysburg proper.
Luke rides silently, looking at the landscape. His mind is flooded with visions of those three horrible days in July 1863. About a mile or two is the town; he knows Devil’s Den is nearby. Off to his right he sees the first small hill – Little Round Top.
Slowing his horse he says, “Mother, we are approaching Little Round Top,” Pointing with his index finger, “It is that slight hill off to our right. There is a creek, Plum Run, at the foot and slightly towards us is the area with the rocks known as Devil’s Den.”
“Hurry Luke, hurry, I must see those large boulders where your father was wounded.”
Luke led the way through the tall grass where two years earlier stood the field of corn that the 48th had charged through and emerged upon Devil’s Den. The ground was still littered with the debris of the battle. Luke saw a canteen; his horse stepped across a broken Springfield musket, there laid a forage cap almost rotten. Cartridge cases and other gear were everywhere. What is that? Oh, a knapsack still attached to a bedroll. He sees a white bone sticking out of the ground, was it human? He doesn’t know, but he makes special attention to steer Malinda away from it.
In a few minutes, a grotesque assortment of huge rocks and boulders startles Malinda. She had heard Luke tell about the size of the rocks, but seeing them in person is a shock. They really are as big as he had described.
“Luke, show me the rock where you found Robert.”
“Come on Mother, it is just a little farther, here on our right. I believe I see the boulder where Matthew and I propped him up.”
Moving in closer, Malinda got off her horse and walked toward the huge stone. Each step, as she draws closer, becomes slower and slower. She feels she is approaching a gravesite. A couple of more steps and she faces the cold, grey boulder. “Luke,” she says, “what are these marking on this rock? I see where some of the stone has knocked away, but I do not believe a bullet could make these marks, they appear as letters!”
“Let me get closer Mother. On yes, that chunk out of the rock was the bullet that caused the wound to my head I suppose, and these... these... are blood stains!” Catching himself, “Oh, but those must be mine, you know I was bleeding so.” He did not want his mother to think the blood was his fathers. “Mother, I do believe you are correct, the markings are faded, you know it has been over two years since this battle, but I believe I can make out what they read:
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“Luke, did your father write those letters?”
“I do not know Mother, at least he didn’t while I was here. The only thing he said to me was some words I could not understand, and he wanted a Bible.”
“You suppose these letters were what you could not understand? Could he have written them after you left to seek medical help?”
“I suppose that is possible, but Matthew would have seen him write them, but wait, we haven’t spoken to Matthew have we?”
Malinda was down on her hands and knees looking through the grass at the base of the rock. “Mother, what are you searching for?”
“Nothing, anything, everything, I don’t know Luke just something to tell me Robert is alive.”
“Mother, I tried to tell you back at Scarlett that this was a fruitless endeavor. There is nothing here for us to find, we will never find Father or Matthew.”
“I disagree Luke, take me to the spot where Matthew was wounded.”
Back on the Emmitsburg Road the two head toward Gettysburg. A mile or so later Luke stops. “It is here Mother. Matthew was hit right behind that fence on the left that bounds this road.” Pointing to Cemetery Ridge on his right, “That hill Mother with its corpse of trees was our objective. You see that short stone fence on the hill that is where I was captured.”
Malinda looks to her right at Cemetery Ridge and back to her left to the woods at Seminary Ridge, “Luke! She said startled, “Are you telling me you all had to run from those woods to this split-rail fence, out here in in the open?”
“No Mother, we had to charge from those woods to your left all the way to that stone fence up yonder on that hill to the right, and to make matters worse we had to crawl across that rail-fence as the Yankees were laying volley upon volley of musket and cannon fire upon us!”
“My oh my, how did any of you all survive?”
“Sorry to say Mother, a lot of our boys didn’t, including perhaps Matthew. After I had been captured at that rock fence, I looked back across this field and all I could see were hundreds and thousands of our grey-clad boys lying mangled, mutilated and dying as far as the eye could see.”
Malinda walked over to the split-rail fence. She could see bullet holes and splintered wood all around. Bloodstains abound on the wooden railings. She could see in her mind’s eye her beautiful, blond haired boy, scared, possibly crying trying to crawl over this obstacle. Small as it is today, it must have seemed an insurmountable object as the bullets whizzed through the air. If he died was he alone? Was he frightened? Was there anyone to hold his hand? These are the thoughts of a sorrowful mother.
From out of nowhere a shout was heard, “Excuse me!” It was the voice of a young lady walking down the road from the direction of Gettysburg. She yells again, “Excuse me! Are you folks looking for someone?” As she drew closer, Malinda could see she was but a young girl probably now much out of her ‘teens.
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“Why yes, my son. We have come from South Carolina hoping we might find his grave or maybe we could find out what happened to him. We never received word whether he lived or died.”
“Yes I know,” said the girl, “I have lived in Gettysburg all my life and was here during those awful days in July of ’63. Those days I will never forget. For weeks on end, the people of Gettysburg buried the dead from this place – I still cannot bring myself to say the word battlefield – it was a slaughter, a field of slaughter. Excuse me... I get so emotional sometimes remembered those young men, kids really, both from the North and from the South, but folks like yourselves are all the time coming here trying to find out about one of their loved ones. Sometimes it is a son, another time it is a father or they are looking for a husband, regardless it is someone they loved and has never returned home to them. Who is it you seek? Yank or Reb?”
Tears ran down Malinda’s cheek as she heard the girl speak of the savagery that occurred at this place, “My son Matthew was with the South, we have never heard a word from him. I have always hoped he was alive but after coming to this place and seeing where all the death and carnage that took place I am beginning to lose all hope.”
“I’m sorry, but many of the boys are buried in common graves, they are not identified! It is impossible to tell who is buried in them holes. I tended many wounded boys that terrible July, some of them I remember others I have forgotten. What was your son’s name?”
Luke answered, “His name was Matthew.”
“Oh my, Matthew, I cannot begin to tell you how many boys with the name Matthew that I helped. Is there anything else that might help me remember?”
“We met a man coming up from South Carolina who said his unit was one of the Pennsylvania units that...”
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