Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia

by Jessica James

Hunter stopped at a fallen tree and gazed out over the lake. Every color of the sunset’s spectacular display were reflected in the water before him, the deep hues even more brilliant than those in the sky above.

  Instead of noticing the flaming exhibit of glass and fire, he sighed deeply, placing one foot on the fallen timber and crossing his arms over his bent knee. Two swans lifted off the glassy surface, their reflections rippling across the water in a blurred, mystical effect as their mirrored wings and feathers merged with the vibrant colored sky.

  “Major?”

  The soft voice startled him. Hunter turned to find Andrea standing behind him with an envelope in her hand. He reflexively looked back toward the house at the distance she had walked to bring it to him.

  “A dispatch for you, sir. You appeared to be waiting for something important. A courier just brought it.”

  Hunter nodded, wondering how she had grown to know him so well. “You needn’t have walked all this way,” he said a little more coldly than he intended as he took the missive from her outstretched hand.

  Andrea did not seem to mind. She stood staring over his shoulder at the molten light of the setting sun casting soft hues of bronze and pewter over the water. “It was worth it.” She took a deep breath and gazed at the dark outline of the mountains in the distance. Clouds that had been puffy and white earlier, now shone pink and violet as if lit from within. But their bellies were slowly turning dark and gray as the last bit of light trickled out of the western sky.

  Hunter watched Andrea’s gaze drift over to a small rise that overlooked the pond, and then to the single tree that stood like a stoic guard. She turned back as if she’d forgotten his presence for a moment. “Daniel is … there?” she asked, motioning with her eyes.

  Hunter nodded, his thoughts moving to the lone tree and the single headstone beneath it.

  “I believe he’d be pleased.” Andrea’s gaze moved to the family burial grounds that lay some distance from where Daniel was interred. The spot where he rested was a lovely one with a bird’s-eye view of the estate.

  “You cared for him.” Hunter’s voice was low and husky.

  Andrea blinked repeatedly as if recalling the day Daniel’s life trickled out before her very eyes. “I was not acquainted with him for very long,” she said at length, “but a greater loss I have never known.”

  They both fell silent for a moment, and then Andrea spoke. “I trust it’s not bad news.” She nodded toward the unopened letter.

  Hunter turned the dispatch over and then back again. “I believe it may be.”

  “Would you like me to open it?”

  Hunter did not answer at first, then hesitantly handed her the envelope.

  The diminishing light made it difficult to read, forcing Andrea to turn the page toward the setting sun. Hunter watched her eyes sweep over the missive and knew the report was unpleasant.

  “It’s news of Stuart?” His voice cracked with anguish.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.” She took a deep, shaky breath as if feeling the weight of the news herself. “I’m afraid his wound was mortal. He died yesterday in Richmond.”

  She reached out and put her hand on Hunter’s arm. “There is honor in dying for one’s convictions, yet it seems an inconceivable loss. I’m sorry.”

  Hunter did not say anything. And now, neither did Andrea. Yet somehow, just as when Daniel had died, they found themselves in the embrace of each other’s arms, enclosed in a cloak of shadowy comfort.

  Andrea finally broke the spell. “I’m sure he is at peace,” she whispered to console him. “He fulfilled his duty to God and country.”

  Her words did little to ease Hunter’s deep sense of loss. He stiffened and drew away. “My dear, you are mistaken. God is nowhere to be found in this war.”

  Without another word, he stalked away into the darkness.

  Chapter 36

  “Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,

  that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

  – Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

  Major Hunter pushed his weary mount forward through the darkness, as eager as he’d ever been to see Hawthorne come into view after two weeks on the move.

  “Come on, Dixie,” he said, leaning down and patting his horse’s neck. “We’re heading toward a good night’s rest.”

  The animal, seeming to understand his words, picked up her pace when they were a mile away and soon cantered across the bridge to Hawthorne.

  At first glance the house appeared silent and dark, matching Hunter’s mood. But when he stopped in the front, he noticed a candle burned in a room on the second floor. Although well past midnight, that lone beam shining out of the darkness appeared like a warm, welcoming light.

  Turning his mount loose in the nearest paddock, Hunter glanced again at the window and saw the silhouette of Andrea sitting in the amber light with a book. The sight drew a smile to his lips. This was not the first time that solitary flame had greeted him after a long night’s ride.

  Finding his way through the dark house to the stairs, Hunter slowly ascended, his legs and body so weary he found himself holding onto the banister for support. He could hardly wait to take off his boots and fall into bed. Yet as he passed her room, with its door slightly ajar, he found himself knocking once and pushing it open. “Permission to enter Camp Defiance.”

  Andrea stared at him with a look of half welcome and half rebelliousness, which prodded him to continue his jesting. “Waiting up for me again, Miss Evans?” He tipped his hat back as he spoke.

  “You are doomed for disappointment, Major.” She lowered her eyes to her book. “I am reading.”

  Hunter laughed and strode into the room. “I’m beginning to think you believe it your responsibility to stand picket duty while I’m away. But if you can leave your post, you really ought to take a look outside.” Hunter nodded toward the window.

  “Oh my!” Andrea stood and stared at the full moon shining in through the door. “But it was cloudy earlier.”

  Hunter stepped forward and offered his arm to help her out to the balcony.

  “I always loved and dreaded a night such as this.” Andrea leaned forward over the railing as she stared up at the sky. “So beautiful and yet so dangerous.” The night breeze cast its magic, catching her robe and twirling it out behind her. She turned and looked at Hunter, causing him to quickly avert his gaze. In fact, he had been thinking the exact same thing—but not about the moon.

  “What a ga-lorious evening!” Andrea turned back to the fields and gazed at the horses silhouetted in the moonlight. The stone walls resembled dark rivers flowing through the fields, twisting and turning over the hills until they disappeared into the deep shadows. Fireflies flitted across the pastures like sparkles on an endless sea, their flashing golden globes illuminating even the shadows where moonlight failed to hit.

  “I would hardly call it evening. Do you never sleep?” Hunter pulled a chair from the shadows and helped her sit, then pulled a second one to the railing. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

  “I do not fear the darkness or the night,” she said, her voice suddenly somber and serious. “Just the dreams.”

  Before he could think of something to say, she nodded toward the field where his horse now lay in a patch of lush grass. “Looks like you’ve exhausted your mount.”

  “Covered a lot of ground in the past few days.” Hunter stretched out his long legs and propped his booted feet on the railing.

  Andrea gazed back at him, cocking her head to one side. “Yes, you look a bit tired yourself.”

  “Let’s just say it’s good to be home.” He took off his hat and rubbed his temples.

  “You take great risks being out on a night like this.” Andrea’s voice held a hint of concern. “It would appear you possess an unseemly appetite for battle if you dare to ride in the deathly light of a full moon.”

  Tipping his chair back on two legs, Hunter laughed softly. “It’s my duty t
o have an appetite for battle. As for the moon, I generally trust the clouds to be on my side—as they were tonight.”

  “You rely much on luck and chance, Commander.” Andrea draped the edge of her gown over her bare feet and propped them up on the banister beside his. “Surely it’s not your bravery and devotion alone that the salvation of the Confederate army depends.”

  Hunter shrugged. “I don’t go into battle with the slightest desire to come out alive unless I’ve won. My life is a small price to pay for Virginia.”

  “Do not speak like that,” Andrea scolded.

  Hunter sat his chair back down on all four legs and met Andrea’s gaze with a curious grin. “Ah, my dear, could it be you were worried about me?”

  Now it was Andrea’s turn to laugh. “Major, your arrogance is as astounding as your apparent good fortune at commanding the clouds. If you weren’t to return, it would be no concern of mine.”

  Hunter leaned over and put his hand on the arm of her chair, willing to forget his rank and status as an enemy officer tonight since she was so willing to ignore it. “Come now, Miss Evans. You wouldn’t miss me just a little?”

  Andrea looked into his eyes, a hint of humor illuminating her face. “I suppose I would miss your overbearing attitude, your stubborn pride, your inflexible—”

  “A-ha, despite our differing philosophies on war, it appears we have more in common than I thought.”

  His quick response apparently caught Andrea by surprise. She looked up at him with a straight face, but a smile tugged at her mouth. Hunter felt his heart thump in his chest as a feeling of serenity began to overcome him. Whether it was the moon or her mood, he did not know, but he suddenly had a desire for the night he had longed to end, to go on forever.

  The moon’s rays became partially shielded by a thin veil of clouds, then emerged again in even more brilliance. The leaves above them stirred in response, seeming to writhe with a sense of exhilaration at the emergence of the night star in its radiant splendor.

  “The odds are great against you.” Andrea’s voice sounded serious again.

  “I find that patriotism and determination generally make up for lack of numbers.” Hunter gazed out over the fields. “Just because the enemy is better armed doesn’t mean our resolve is any less. In fact,” he said, pausing to pull out his pipe, “I dare say the North may have overestimated its strength and underestimated our power.”

  Andrea crossed her arms and sank down deeper in her chair. “It seems a pity to engage in a war in which a soldier’s safest armor is his determination to fight.”

  Hunter lit the tobacco and leaned back in his chair. “Not just determination. We have cause and will.”

  “And we, strength and means.” Andrea leaned her chair back on two legs. “I suppose your resolve is commendable, if not your prudence. You dare to continue your campaign where your enemy is all around you.”

  Hunter put his head back and laughed. “My dear, it is my duty to be in closer contact with Washington than Richmond. I dare say I was within hailing distance of your Capitol this morning.”

  “We are close to the Union lines now?” Her voice was full of surprise.

  “We’re less than fifty miles from Washington. Much of the time we are within Yankee, I mean Union, lines.”

  Andrea nodded with a faraway look in her eye. Whether she was surprised at her proximity to Union encampments or not, he could not tell.

  Hunter leaned back and watched a smoke ring lift and hang in the air. When he glanced sideways, he found her staring at him. “Is something wrong?”

  “Just trying to figure you out,” Andrea said contemplatively.

  “And are you having any success?”

  “May I talk without restraint?”

  Hunter laughed loudly and majestically. “Miss Evans, you have shown me no hint toward possessing such a thing.”

  Andrea joined in with a laugh that sounded in perfect harmony with the music of the night.

  “Well first tell me, Miss Evans. Do you find the Northern gossip a faithful portrait of the powers I’m alleged to possess? What did you think of me as a foe?” Hunter leaned back contentedly in his chair, waiting for her reply as if he regarded her as an old acquaintance whose opinion he valued.

  “I understood you to be a dangerous opponent, due in part to the close bond you hold with your men.”

  “And would you not charge that as a fault to my character? Does it not seem unwise to become close to men you may potentially have to hurl at the enemy and to their deaths?”

  “I avow I never regarded it quite like that.” Andrea drew her brows together. “I thought of it more like a mother ferociously protecting her young.”

  Hunter put his head back and laughed heartily “My men would take great humor in the analogy. I must remember to tell them.” He grew serious again. “What else?”

  Andrea spoke quietly, and Hunter knew it was from the heart. “There was no one I respected more, nor wished to confront less.”

  He smiled. “Ah. I shall take that as a compliment.”

  “Richly deserved, no doubt. But only because of your seeming unquenchable thirst for blood.”

  Hunter looked over at her, surprised. “I am not bloodthirsty, I assure you. We are at war, Miss Evans. Therefore, any Yankee soldier who places a foot on our soil justly forfeits his life.” He stopped for a moment to re-light his pipe before continuing. “As Virginians, we would rather give up our lives than our honor or liberty.”

  “You speak like you believe bravery is exclusively restricted to the men of the Old Dominion. Do you think because I am a woman my loyalty to the Union is less than yours for Virginia? That honor means less to me?”

  “No.” Hunter stood and stretched, then sat on the railing where his feet had been. “I suppose your convictions are commendable, if not your loyalties.” He watched her stare musingly into the sky, seemingly trying to figure out how to end the conflict herself. “It’s too beautiful a night to be talking about war,” he said to get her attention.

  Andrea looked over at him and smiled. “On that point, I can agree.” Her eyes drifted back to the moon.

  “Yet still you are thinking of it. I can tell by your expression.”

  Andrea shrugged. “What else is there to talk about?”

  Hunter stared up at the heavens and then lowered his gaze to her. “How about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You puzzle me. You are a complete contradiction.”

  “The contradiction is only seeming. My convictions are firm.”

  “The latter is accepted, the former is not.” He laughed. “Let me assure you, young lady, you are a paradox in every sense of the word.”

  Andrea laughed half-heartedly at his words, as if to end his scrutiny, but he noticed the smile never quite reached her eyes. They held in their depths, as they always did, a solemn sadness that seemed reluctant to depart.

  He leaned closer. “Which tell the truth? Your lips or your eyes?”

  Andrea turned her head away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Your lips are smiling, but your eyes are not.” He chewed on the end of his pipe for a moment. “And I’m trying to decide who might be the real Andrea Evans.”

  “Do not waste your time,” she snapped, her gaze intent on the field below.

  “Why not? She may be someone I wish to know.”

  “I can assure you that is not the case. I’m not the type that makes good company. You of all people should know that by now, Major.”

  Hunter continued looking at her, trying to read down to the depths of her soul. “I do not presume to know you well, Miss Evans. But I believe …” He paused, unsure he should continue. “I believe that perhaps pain and despair have been a substantial part of your life, and to fight the world seems more practical to you now than to tolerate or endure.”

  He watched an unmistakable grief steal into her eyes. “There you have it, Major. My life in a sentence. Well done.”

 
Hunter’s heart thudded at the look. He leaned forward to touch her shoulder. “I didn’t wish to upset you, Miss Evans. Pray forgive me if I did.”

  Andrea continued staring skyward. “There is nothing in the truth to forgive. Suffice to say, I do what I do willingly. The reward is equal to the sacrifice.”

  “It seems an unreasonable sacrifice to me.”

  “Is it so unreasonable to believe in a cause, defend it, attempt to protect it, endeavor to preserve it, and—if necessary—die for it?”

  “As I said before, those are hardly choices required of a woman, nor sacrifices for which many yearn to make.”

  “I’m not the first to submit to the mysterious law of pain and sacrifice for deliverance from evil. Pray don’t give me the honor.”

  “But I know you’ve undergone great hardships,” Hunter said, knowing it was too late to stop now. “Great risks that were perhaps unnecessary.”

  Andrea stared over his shoulder with a faraway look as she absently rubbed her leg. “Be content to know I am justified in my actions.”

  “Frankly, I can see no justification for fighting against your birth land.”

  Hunter said the words without thinking, and wished he could take them back.

  Andrea cocked her head to one side. “Agreed. I was born in the United States.”

  Hunter frowned, hesitating to oppose her will. “You were born in the South.”

  “I don’t believe that geographic birthplace is reason to defend organized barbarism.” Andrea’s voice sounded a little unsteady now. “Until the South rebelled we were all one and the same, as we will be again. Our duty is to Union and flag, preserve the one and uphold the other.”

  “But surely you can agree that the right to use military force for the purpose of coercing a state to remain in the Union against its will finds no warrant in the Constitution.” Hunter inhaled deeply from his pipe, somewhat enjoying the way she dug in and defended her beliefs. “Secession involved no war.”

  “But you fired the first shot!”

  Hunter laughed. “That’s like saying I fired the first shot at an intruder who broke into my home.”