High Hearts

by Rita Mae Brown

  Christian, knowing the land like his own palm, said, “Colonel Vickers, this is it.”

  Stuart rode up from the rear of the column. He looked over the Chickahominy and twisted his beard. Banjo unconsciously imitated Stuart. “I am giving this river my bright regard.”

  “I say we swim for it.” Geneva crossed her arms.

  The general must have agreed with her because men that were strong swimmers pushed their horses into the water to swim with them, a few hanging on to their tails.

  Mars motioned for a handful of his men to follow him. They chopped down trees hoping to make a rough corduroy bridge, but when the trunks splashed into the water, they washed away like toothpicks.

  “Doswell, get this to General Lee.” Stuart handed Turner Doswell a message, and Doswell plunged into the torrent with his horse. The tangled banks on the other side made getting out difficult, but both man and horse managed. Turner shook off water, crawled into the saddle, and headed for Richmond, thirty-five miles distant.

  Stuart asked General Robert E. Lee to create a diversion on the Charles Town Road. If Stuart got his men on the other side of the Chickahominy, he could keep General Hooker and the Federals on the other side of the swamp.

  The sun began her majestic ascent while the troopers and their animals collapsed at Sycamore Springs. After trying everything, Stuart commanded the thirty-five men who’d gotten across the river to go downstream. The rest mounted up and headed for Forge Bridge where the Yankees were certain to appear on the road from Providence Forge to Charles City Courthouse.

  Forge Bridge leapt the Chickahominy, deceptively narrow and deep at this place, to an island in the middle of the river. From the south side of the island was a second bridge leading to the safety of dry land. Both bridges had been destroyed, but there was a swampy ford off the island if one could get to it.

  When they reached the bridge, only the abutments were standing. Videttes were posted, the artillery swung to face the road. An abandoned warehouse, a gift from the gods of chance, stood near the bridge. The men immediately ripped planks out of it. A skiff marooned on the bank was pushed into the water and used as an unsteady pontoon. The planks were laid from the abutment to the skiff and then from the other side of the skiff to the far abutment. The first troopers crossed, fighting to keep their balance as they held their saddles on their right arms and with the left, held the horses’ reins, urging them across.

  Geneva, working in the warehouse pulling off planks, said, “There’s another way. Let’s bring out the support beams and lay them from abutment to abutment, then nail the planks across. We’ll have a strong bridge, strong enough for the guns. What they’re doing out there now will take half the day. We’ll never get twelve hundred men and two heavy guns across in time.”

  Mars, also yanking out planks, said, “If the beams reach, it might work. If they don’t …”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  Within minutes, crews of strong-backed men feverishly bent to remove the main support beams without shortening them unnecessarily.

  Ten men, wavering under the weight, lifted the monster upon their shoulders and got it to the first abutment. Using the skiff, they slowly slid and coaxed the beam across. Every man held his breath.

  “Made it!” Banjo jumped in the air. “You’re magic, Jimmy Chatfield.”

  “No, I read Sumner’s engineering books.”

  The second timber came out from the warehouse. Once these main supports were across the Chickahominy, Vickers’s men pounded down the planks. Even Stuart removed his gilt encrusted jacket and hammered like a carpenter.

  Their entire time at Forge Bridge was three hours. Once men, horses, and the guns had crossed, Fitz Lee, the last man over, fired the bridge. As the flames began to eat at the morning’s hard work, the Federal cavalry galloped into view. They shot at Colonel Lee. He waved his hat to them and rejoined his men.

  Geneva now threaded her way across the island. The ford on the western side of the island was a bitch but within the realm of the possible. They even got the guns across. However, the trying succession of swamps bothered the one hundred sixty-five prisoners more than the cavalry. The prisoners went first, many of them two to a mule.

  “We’re on solid ground,” Banjo rejoiced, when his little roan’s hoofs touched the right bank of the Chickahominy.

  “Solid ground and twenty miles of the Federals’ left flank to ride through.” Mars laughed. “But, hell, we got this far.”

  General Stuart put Rooney Lee in charge. With one scout and one guide, Stuart moved on to Richmond. At Thomas Christian’s house he rested for two hours. From there he went to Charles City Courthouse to Judge Isaac Christian’s plantation. Another brief rest and then on to Rowland’s Mill where he stopped for a cup of coffee. By the next morning, June 15, he reported to General Lee, turned around, and returned to his men.

  JUNE 16, 1862

  Covered from head to toe with caked mud, Geneva, Mars, and Banjo rode their exhausted horses into Richmond. The column kept in good order. General Stuart led his men through city streets thronged with shouting, singing, crying citizens.

  Flowers crushed underfoot gave off a sweet, heavy scent. Women threw flowers, rice, and confetti. Young men looked on with pea-green envy; older ones looked on with pride.

  At the head of this column, Stuart threw back his head and started a song: “If you want to have a good time, ’Jine the cavalry.” The column picked it up, and soon the melody ricocheted off buildings and cobblestones.

  John Easten Cooke remarked to Stuart, “That was a tight place at the river, General. If the enemy had come down on us, you would have been compelled to have surrendered.”

  “No, one other course was left.”

  “What was that?” Cooke inquired.

  “To die game.”

  * * *

  The men were given two days’ leave. Mars led his detachment of twenty to his house. Kate, Lutie, and the other women, plus all of the wounded who could sit or stand, were waiting for him when he rode to the house. Franklin Street and Grace Street, mobbed with people, put up a cheer when they saw Mars.

  “Dismount.” The men obeyed. As Mars walked up the long steps of his house, the patients cheered. Mars saluted them. He noticed that a Yankee in their midst saluted also.

  Kate threw her arms around his neck. “Welcome home!” He kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll stay in the barn.”

  “Nonsense, you’ll stay in the house. The men can double up in the ladies’ rooms, and we’ll go up to the servants’ quarters.”

  Lutie didn’t recognize Geneva until she spoke. “Mother, it’s me and Banjo.”

  “Oh, my word. You two look like gingerbread men.”

  “Gentlemen, we’ll take our horses to the back, and we can clean up out there.” Mars led them behind the house.

  Lutie organized a washing brigade. The pumps in the stable brought up clean water. She delivered towels, soaps, scrubbing brushes, hair shampoos, and ointments. Rise and Hazel scoured the neighborhood for shirts and trousers that the men might wear until their uniforms were cleaned and repaired. Jeffrey Windsor checked everyone. Aside from bug bites, splinters, bruises, and small cuts, they were fine. He walked back to the house, his green sash swaying. “Let them sleep. By supper they’ll be as good as new.”

  Most of the men, once cleaned up, didn’t make it back into the house. They dropped onto horse blankets in the straw-filled stalls and slept like babies.

  Kate and Lutie, flying about, arranged a feast. Treasured coffee was brewed. Neighbors were invited. The wounded that could walk laid out damask napkins. Those still unable to move were carried into the massive dining room and put against the walls, propped up with pillows so that they might hear everything that happened. Kate invited Mrs. Reisman and Miss Roth as well as Bebe Austin. This was no time to be petty.

  That night fifty people sat down to dinner, not counting the men against the walls. After dinner, another seventy people pai
d their respects. Hundreds of bystanders crowded around the house, hoping for a glimpse of their heroes. Sin-Sin, voice booming, pressed the stable boys into service, and they passed punch among these people. The Vickerses’ popularity shot into the heavens after that.

  Kate procured a small orchestra at an exorbitant rate. The ballroom was packed with those guests invited for 10 P.M. General Stuart dropped in with his staff. Mercer Hackett was with him, and when he saw Di-Peachy at the harp, tears rolled down his face. He had no idea she was in Richmond. She couldn’t leave her post, so he told her he would call at eight in the morning. Geneva, as Jimmy, was finally introduced to Mercer. She could see that Mercer loved Di-Peachy, and she knew he was a good man. She was also happy to see Di-Peachy in love, but in her heart, she felt no good could come of it, and she hated herself for thinking that.

  Lutie, the belle of the ball, giggled when Geneva asked her to dance and they stepped all over one another’s toes. Banjo partnered Lutie as many times as was permissible. Her little curls shook with laughter, and her face turned up to his. “Lieutenant Cracker, I am not often in the arms of a hero.”

  “Mrs. Chatfield, it isn’t often that I have in my arms an angel put on earth.”

  Lutie blushed. “Thank you.” Her beautiful skirt, pale peach trimmed with maroon, billowed as he turned her. “I am so happy tonight, so very happy that I want to live forever!”

  A strange look passed over Banjo’s face. “My late wife said that to me the night we were married.”

  “What a strange coincidence,” Lutie said gently. “I hope I didn’t upset you.”

  “I want to live forever, too.” He smiled.

  Brigadier Hannibal Vickers entered the room. The music played on, but for a split second the revelers fell silent. Mars, in his dress uniform, excused himself and walked over to his father.

  “How good to see you, sir.”

  “I have come to salute a valiant officer.” Hannibal saluted his son, and the guests cheered. Poor Hannibal, hard as nails. This was as close as he could get to telling Mars he loved him.

  Around two in the morning the last of the excited guests left. Gunther Krutzer, in his blue uniform, approached Mars. He walked with a severe limp, and his left arm was heavily bandaged. He held out his right hand. “Colonel, I am happy to meet you. I wish you were my commander, and even more, I wish you were a Union man.”

  “Under the circumstances I’d say that was the most generous compliment I received tonight.” Mars squeezed his hand.

  Mars strolled through the rooms to see if any guests were stone drunk on the floor. Not a one. That was unusual. He heard laughter on the back porch and poked his head outside. Lutie, Banjo, Henley, and Geneva were having their after-party party.

  “Colonel, this is one of the most wonderful nights of my life, and I owe it to you.” Lutie radiated joy.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Chatfield. I was ably assisted by your son. In fact, it was he who suggested we use the beams of the warehouse, and that’s how we finally got the men over the Chickahominy River.”

  “I read Sumner’s books,” Geneva explained to Lutie.

  Lutie, her voice heavy with both sadness and rejoicing, said, “In death there is life, and in life, death. But in love, there is only life. We did love him, didn’t we?”

  JUNE 17, 1862

  The baby green shoots of a trumpet vine climbed up one side of the back porch. In another month the leaves would be large and bright green. By early August the brilliant flowers, shaped like orange trumpets, would festoon the porch along the right side.

  Sin-Sin boiled up “life everlasting,” also called rabbit tobacco, and was applying the plaster to Joseph Rutledge’s chest. His stump still oozed, though the bandages were changed daily and the wound washed. Slowly he was gaining strength.

  “Sin-Sin, do you think any girl will marry me now?”

  “They gonna knock one another out runnin’ to grab you.”

  He smiled weakly. “You’re full of flattery.”

  “Now you listen to me. ‘Men fall in love with they eyes, womens with they ears.’ ” Sin-Sin quoted Jennifer Fitzgerald. “You thinks about that. Lotta truth in old sayin’s. No good woman gonna push you out cause of yo’ arm. But you can’t be layin’ about like a king jes waitin’ for the girls to come to you. When you back on your feets, you go out there and you calls on those Richmond gals. And when they speak, listen. Quickest way to a woman’s heart is to listen. Doan let that gal try and throw a net over you with girl talk neither. You ask her ’bout ’portant things, and I promise you, you gonna be married ’fore this time next year.”

  “You really think so?” His earnest brown eyes sought hers.

  “I know so!”

  “Why are you putting this stuff all over me?” He itched underneath the hardening plaster.

  “Prevent pneumonia. When folks get colds or pneumonia, this is what you puts on them. So iffin’ I slaps this on you now, you safe as can be.”

  Less than convinced, Joseph said, “Does Colonel Windsor know about this?”

  “Colonel Windsor too busy to know about everything.”

  Joseph’s right eyebrow twitched upward. Before he could reply, a woman’s scream from behind the barn startled them. He started to rise.

  “Doan you dare get up!” She held her hand on his chest.

  Banjo, sleeping it off in the barn, jumped up. He glanced around. Everyone was gone except for a cowering stableboy, who wouldn’t go out on the back street where the commotion was. Banjo ducked his head in a bucket of water, shook himself alert, grabbed his Colt, and hurried outside.

  Di-Peachy, dress ripped on the shoulder, was pummeling Big Muler on his back. Muler had Mercer Hackett from behind by the throat. Mercer, a powerful man, was at a disadvantage because he was being attacked from the rear, plus he had a wooden leg. Muler brutally pushed his knee into Mercer’s bad leg. Banjo fired overhead. Muler loosened his grip for a fraction of a second, which allowed Mercer to shake free.

  Di-Peachy ran in front of Big Muler. “Don’t touch him! I love him! I’ll never love you!”

  Big Muler started to circle the two of them, ready to strike again at Mercer.

  “Di-Peachy, please get away from here.” Mercer pushed her toward Banjo, who with catlike reflexes grabbed her by the elbow.

  Muler pounced. He came at Mercer on his weak side, but the white man spun and deflected the blow. He couldn’t move fast on foot, but he could keep his balance. Muler was six feet eight inches. Mercer was barely six feet. Muler had the advantage of reach as well, but Mercer bobbed his head and most of the blows glanced off his shoulder. He ducked in and smashed the giant on the rib cage. Muler didn’t even grunt. Di-Peachy sobbed. Banjo forcibly held her.

  The two antagonists traded blows for fifteen minutes when suddenly Muler flung himself at Mercer’s legs and toppled him on the ground. Once down, Mercer couldn’t get up quickly. They rolled over and over, each one intent on killing the other one. Big Muler grabbed Mercer’s wrists and slowly bore his great weight down on Mercer. Mercer gave inch by inch, knowing the giant would have him soon enough.

  “Boys, that’s enough fun for now.” Banjo cocked back the hammer on his gun. “Come on, Big Muler, let him go.”

  Muler ignored Banjo.

  “I said to let him go!”

  Muler pressed down, finally pinning Mercer, then began to choke him.

  Bam! Fire spit out of the muzzle. Big Muler halted and looked at his left arm. Mercer with one mighty heave pushed him off. Di-Peachy ran to Mercer.

  “Doctor can fix that in a jiffy.” Banjo kept his gun pointed at Big Muler.

  Di-Peachy cried in Mercer’s arms. “Big Muler,” she said between her tears, “you can’t keep men away from me. I don’t belong to you. I never did.”

  He turned his back on her and walked into the barn.

  “Let him cool off,” Banjo advised. “You can talk to him later.”

  “I don’t think talking will do any good,” Mercer s
aid. “He’s killed two men already. Di-Peachy has told me everything.”

  “Let’s go up to the house and drink a little coffee. This will sort out.” Banjo wondered if Lutie knew that Di-Peachy was in love with Mercer. He could well understand Mercer being in love with Di-Peachy.

  After a light breakfast, Banjo went back to the barn to spruce up. He found Big Muler hanging from a cross beam. Unnerved, he swallowed and fetched his saber. He clambered up the ladder and cut him down. Then he went in and quietly informed Lutie.

  “We shall have to bury him,” Lutie said. “Big Muler didn’t have an evil heart, but when it came to Di-Peachy”—she paused—“he was quite insane.”

  Di-Peachy, upon hearing what Muler had done to himself, cried again. She was glad to be free of him, but she felt guilty for his misery. It was Kate Vickers who set her straight. “Never feel responsible for what men do to themselves over you. If you’ve been honest with them, you have nothing to worry about. If a man wants to hang himself over a beautiful face that never loved him, so be it.”

  As the unconsecrated burying ground was some distance from the house, Lutie read the lesson for the day over Muler’s body. Di-Peachy, Mercer, and Banjo stood with her. Geneva and Nash were still out on the town.

  The lesson was a hopeful one. Chapter 4 of the second book of Kings tells how Elisha laid himself on the body of a dead boy and breathed into his mouth. The boy came back to life. The New Testament, Acts 20, said that St. Paul revived a youth, Eutychus, who tactlessly died during one of his long sermons.

  After the brief service, Mars invited Mercer into his office and asked him how serious he was about Di-Peachy.

  “I intend to marry her. I’d marry her now, but she says we must wait until the war is over,” Mercer said.

  “I see.” Mars watched a jade-green hummingbird hover near the window, then dart away.

  “Big Muler was crazy.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” Mars flicked ashes into the huge crystal ashtray. “Corporal, what if our legislature repeals manumission when the war is over and makes it retroactive?”