“You’ve made your point, Urilla,” he snapped. “You can stay with me. We’ll be returning to the Army of Virginia soon, and when we do, I’ll take you home to your father’s plantation.”
She stepped toward him but hesitated when she looked into his eyes. “It’s for the best.”
He shook his head. “No, Urilla. It’s blackmail. And I’m not going to forget it.”
It was Urilla’s turn to be shocked. “You’re making too much of this.”
“You made it what it is. Marrying you was a mistake. I see that now.” He picked up his hat and hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Urilla stared at the closed door for a moment, then stamped her foot angrily. “I’ll show you, General Van Buskirk.” She began packing.
September 7, 1863
Harrison, Tennessee
The train began to slow and some passengers got up to begin gathering their possessions in anticipation of their arrival at Harrison.
“All passengers keep your seats,” the conductor called as he walked quickly down the aisle. “All passengers please keep your seats. There’ll be a slight delay before we arrive at the station in Harrison.”
With a good deal of grumbling, those who were standing sat back down.
Urilla looked out the window and saw a column of men in blue uniforms waiting beside the tracks.
“What is it, Mama?” Jefferson asked.
“Nothing.” Urilla put her arm around the child. “If the Yankee soldiers ask you any questions you’re not to answer. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Sensing her fear, he moved nearer to her. “I want Papa.”
“Hush, now.” She watched as the train drew to a halt and the Union soldiers spread out to board each car.
“I liked it with Papa,” Jefferson said. “It’s safe with Papa.”
“Remember what I said,” she whispered.
A captain and two enlisted men who were armed with rifles began making their way slowly down the aisle looking at each passenger. When the captain reached Urilla, he stopped. “Good day, Mrs. Van Buskirk. Please come with me.”
“You’ve made a mistake,” she said. “My name is Murray.”
“Is this your son, Mrs. Murray?” the captain asked.
Urilla hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”
The captain smiled at the boy. “What’s your name, little man?”
“Jefferson Davis Van Buskirk,” the child replied. “My Papa’s a soldier.”
“Yes,” the captain said. “I know he is. And you have several uncles who’re soldiers too. They want to meet you. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” Jefferson agreed. “Is Papa with them?”
“Not at the moment, but we’re hoping that he will be very soon.”
September 9, 1863
Chattanooga, Tennessee
Union General William S. Rosecrans crossed the room to the telegrapher’s desk. “To General Halleck, War Department. Chattanooga is ours without a struggle and East Tennessee is free.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Rosecrans turned to walk back to the gaggle of generals clustered around his desk, his glance fell upon the scowling face of General George Thomas. “You disapprove of my message, General Thomas?”
“Chattanooga is indeed ours, sir,” Thomas replied. “But declaring victory of all eastern Tennessee might be more than a bit premature.”
“Nonsense,” Rosecrans shot back. “Bragg is completely demoralized and falling back toward Atlanta. We shall pursue and destroy him.”
“If I may, sir,” Thomas persisted. “Our forces are too widely dispersed to undertake a concentrated attack.”
“I don’t agree,” Rosecrans said, as he took position behind his desk. “General Crittenden will pursue Bragg.”
Crittenden nodded assent.
“General McCook will cross Lookout Mountain through Winston’s Gap to break Bragg’s supply line at Resaca, Georgia,” Rosecrans ordered.
“Yes, sir,” McCook said.
“You, General Thomas,” Rosecrans pointed, “will advance toward Lafayette as ordered.”
“Very well, sir,” Thomas replied. “But…” He stopped as Quincy Van Buskirk squeezed his arm, then he nodded. “Yes, sir. We will advance.” He pulled free of Quincy’s grip and walked out the door into the road with Quincy right behind him.
“Arguing with Rosecrans is suicidal,” Quincy hissed. “The man ignores orders from the President. If you push him he’ll just relieve you of your command.”
“Bragg knows how fractured we are and he wants us to attack him,” Thomas snarled. “He doesn’t have the numbers to defeat our whole army but he can whip us corps by corps.”
“I can cross McLemore’s Cove, march through Dug Gap in Pigeon Mountain and get to Lafayette before Bragg’s ready,” Quincy said.
“What’s to prevent Bragg from sending his own troops after you through Dug Gap?”
“We’ll fell trees behind us.”
“That’ll just slow him down and you’ll still be in a box, facing Bragg on two fronts with nowhere to retreat.”
“I only have to hold until Crittenden catches up to us.”
“Crittenden’s column is going to be twelve hours behind you and strung out over miles.”
“I can hold the valley until he gets there.”
Thomas sighed. “Very well. I don’t suppose that there’re any other choices.”
September 10, 1863
Davis’s Crossroads, Georgia
The sun was an orange ball on the eastern horizon. Quincy’s forty-six-hundred-man division had encountered only minimal resistance from Confederate skirmishers and had successfully taken up a defensive formation at the mouth of the cove. “Bragg’s sending Polk’s division at our left flank,” Quincy said. “Thomas Hindman’s in command. His skirmishers will be engaging us soon.” Quincy drew a line in the dirt to show Hindman’s line of march. “Bragg’s also ordered Cleburne’s division from Lafayette toward our front.” He drew another line. “The good news is that our scouts haven’t reported any movement from Cleburne.”
“Sir?” A colonel raised his hand.
“Yes.” Quincy pointed at the colonel.”
“We’ve received a report from Lafayette that Confederate General Cleburne is sick in bed.”
“That should buy us some time,” Quincy replied. “Hindman’s more politician than soldier, and after his defeat at Prairie Grove, his military career’s in question. He’ll be rattled when Cleburne doesn’t join him and very cautious as a result.” Quincy searched the faces of his officers. “All we have to do is hold this position until Baird’s division gets here tonight. Can we do that?”
“Yes, sir,” the men replied in unison.
“Good. Now move all your men to defend the left flank. We want to meet Hindman with massive resistance to make him question our size.”
September 10, 1863
Lafayette, Tennessee
General Braxton Bragg was livid. “I am not calling off this operation, General Hill. I don’t care if Cleburne’s on his death bed. Load him in an ambulance and get his division moving now.”
“Sir,” Hill replied calmly. “Dug Gap’s been blocked by felled timber.”
“Of course it has,” Bragg bellowed. “Hindman’s stopped four miles from Van Buskirk’s position. He’s only engaged his skirmishers.”
“Sir,” one of the aides said. “Two divisions of General Buckner’s corps are encamped near Lee and Gordon’s Mill. They can reinforce General Hindman well before sundown.”
“Make it so,” Bragg replied.
September 11, 1863
Davis’s Crossroads, Georgia
Union General Absalom Baird dismounted, walked to the campfire and shook hands with General Quincy Van Buskirk. “Sorry we’re late.”
“You’re just in time,” Quincy said.
“What’s the situation?”
“Last evening we were facing three divisions. That’ll be four
as soon as Cleburne’s engineers can clear the timber we felled in Dug Gap.”
“How many men did you lose yesterday?”
“Six.”
“Six? Only six?”
Quincy nodded. “For some inexplicable reason, Hindman only sent a few skirmishers toward us and didn’t attack with his main body.”
Baird looked toward the false dawn. “Bragg’s not going to allow him to do that again. When the sun comes up we’re going to be hit from three fronts.”
Quincy shrugged his shoulders. “The last orders from Rosecrans were to hold this position at all cost.”
“This position is of no value. Holding it is pointless.”
“You’re the ranking officer,” Quincy said. “What are your orders?”
Baird looked at the eastern horizon again. “Withdraw your division through Stevens Gap and rejoin General Thomas’s main body on the Lafayette Road. We’ll be right behind you.” He mounted his horse. “See you in Chattanooga.”
Quincy saluted him and watched him ride out, then, with a grin on his face, he ordered the bugler to blow Officer’s Call.
~
“How could they possibly get away?” General Bragg shouted. “You had them in a box and outnumbered by four to one.”
“Van Buskirk was reinforced by Baird’s division,” Hill argued.
“Oh, that explains it,” Bragg said sarcastically. “You only had them outnumbered by two to one.”
“Hindman began his artillery barrage at dawn and Cleburne launched his attack when he heard the guns,” Hill said doggedly. “It was just as planned.”
“The plan was to destroy Van Buskirk.”
Hill didn’t answer.
“Where did they go?”
“Through Stevens Gap to rejoin Thomas on the Lafayette Road.”
“Dare I ask why we didn’t pursue?”
“Baird’s cavalry is acting as rear guard. They’re dug in at the mouth of Stevens Gap and armed with repeating rifles. Pushing them back through the gap would be very costly. And, if we could actually break through, we’d run right into Thomas’s whole corps.”
Bragg threw his pen across the room. “You’ve squandered an opportunity to significantly weaken Rosecrans. Now we’ll have to move back toward Chattanooga and engage his main body.”
September 13, 1863
Murfreesboro, Tennessee
Major General Gordon Granger climbed onto the train and made his way to the hospital car. “Where’s General Van Buskirk?”
“At the rear of the car, on the right,” a medic replied.
“How bad is he?”
“I really couldn’t say, sir.”
Granger made his way down the aisle, nodding at wounded men as he went. When he reached Quincy Van Buskirk, he smiled. “You look better than I expected.”
“So far so good,” Quincy replied. “The doctors think that the surgeons at Milliken’s Bend can save my leg. If I get there fast enough.”
“The train will be pulling out as soon as your cousin’s wife and her guard detail are aboard. You heard that she’d been caught, hadn’t you?”
“Yes, I heard that they caught Urilla, but not what’s to be done about her child.”
“A nurse is caring for him at the moment. He’ll be delivered to your mother at Milliken’s Bend.”
“Is my mother there already?” Quincy asked.
“Yes. She says that after your surgery she’ll take him to his grandmother in Texas.”
“Will they hang her? Urilla?”
Granger shrugged. “I don’t know. In deference to your family, Grant will push for leniency, but ultimately, a court will decide.” At the sound of the train whistle, he bent to look out the window. “I’d better get off.” He gave Quincy his hand. “Godspeed.”
“Thank you.”
September 15, 1863
Milliken’s Bend, Louisiana
Anna led her grandnephew Jefferson up the stairs of the Bayou Bend Hotel by the hand, then she turned left at the landing and proceeded down the hall to where two armed soldiers were guarding a hotel room door. “General Grant gave me permission to bring the prisoner’s child to visit her,” she said, looking from one man to the other.
The guards exchanged a questioning glance and a shrug.
“He also said that I could bring her a change of clothes.” Anna held up the carpet bag she was carrying toward the younger of the two guards. “Do you want to search it?”
“Umm,” the guard looked questioningly at his partner.
“Do you have something in writing from General Grant, Ma’am?” the other guard asked.
Anna looked perplexed. “No. I’m sorry. I thought you’d recognize me.”
“I do,” the man replied. “We do. But you see, our orders are to let nobody in or out.”
Anna thought a moment. “Do you know my son? General Quincy Van Buskirk?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“If he wanted access to the prisoner, would you deny him?”
“Of course not, ma’am.”
“What if another officer, one that you didn’t know, wanted to see the prisoner? Would you require something in writing before you’d permit him entry?”
“No, ma’am. But…”
“I really don’t understand why you’d let a strange officer in and refuse me,” Anna said, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
The older guard looked at the younger. “What do you think?”
“Let her in,” the other guard said with a shrug.
“Very well, ma’am.” The first guard opened the door and stepped back.
“Thank you.” Anna pushed Jefferson into the room, followed him and closed the door.
Jefferson ran into Urilla’s arms.
Anna waited for the emotional scene to play out, then signaled Urilla with a finger to her lips. “I brought you some clothes,” she said loudly, and put the carpet bag on the bed. “You had better try them on.”
Urilla gave her a baffled look and shook her head.
Anna opened the door a crack. “Mrs. Van Buskirk will be changing her clothes. Will you give her some privacy for a few minutes, please?”
“Yes, ma’am,” came the reply.
Anna closed the door and stepped up to whisper in Urilla’s ear. “There are men’s clothes and cork blacking in the bottom of the bag. Disguise yourself as a black man and be ready at midnight. Someone will come to your window and take you across the roofs.”
“Take me where?” Urilla hissed.
“To meet Johnny. It’s best that you don’t know exactly where, in case you get caught.”
“Where will Johnny take me?”
“Back to your father’s plantation in Richmond, I suppose. Anywhere else is too dangerous now.”
“And Jefferson? Are you getting him out?”
Anna shook her head. “He’ll have to stay with me until the war’s over.”
Urilla caught her breath. “I can’t go then.”
“You must or you’ll be executed.”
“I don’t believe that the United States would kill a woman.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Anna whispered angrily. “If they catch either of us we’ll be hanged or shot by a firing squad.”
“Either of us? Why you?”
“Helping you escape is treason,” Anna said.
“Treason?”
“Yes. Treason. That’s why you mustn’t tell anyone that I’m involved. Not your father, not Johnny, not anyone.”
“If Johnny’s meeting me, how can it be that he doesn’t know that you’re involved?” Urilla asked.
“I’ve paid mercenaries to deliver you to him.”
“Are they trustworthy?”
“We can only hope so.”
Urilla gulped.
“Now hide the disguise and say your goodbyes to your son. Don’t tell him anything that might jeopardize your escape. He’ll repeat whatever you say to anyone that asks him.”
~
Quincy Van B
uskirk was propped up on pillows with Ulysses S. Grant on his right, William T. Sherman on his left and, his uncle, Robert Van Buskirk, standing at the foot of his bed. “General Thomas advised General Rosecrans not to pursue Bragg, but Rosecrans ignored him,” Quincy was saying. “Unless our forces are consolidated immediately, Bragg will destroy each unit, one by one.”
Robert looked at Grant. “It’s time for a showdown, Sam. Secretary Stanton and the President need to give you overall command.”
Grant shook his head. “That can’t be done by telegraph, Professor. It’ll have to wait until I can meet with the Secretary.” He thought a moment. “But maybe if you talked to Rosecrans…”
“Me?” Robert blustered. “I’ve no influence with the man and, quite frankly, I cannot abide his constant pandering to the press.”
“You’ve got the reputation as the best tactician in the army,” Grant said calmly.
“We all know that’s a myth,” Robert argued.
“Maybe it is and maybe it’s not, but that’s not the point,” Grant said, showing some annoyance. “Rosecrans knows that he’s in trouble and he simply has to listen to your advice.”
“Sam’s right,” Sherman said. “You need to go and convince Rosecrans to consolidate before it’s too late.”
“And soon,” Quincy said.
September 17, 1863
Nottingham, England
The weather had turned cold early, and William de Iturbide, Duke de Padilla, was enjoying a book and the fire in his library when his butler came into the room. “Yes, what is it, Avery?” he asked in an annoyed tone.
“Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but there is a man at the entrance who claims to be your brother John.”
It took William a moment to absorb this. “John? Does he look like me?”
The butler hesitated. “The man is badly scarred, my lord.”
“Scarred?”
“Burned, my lord. Dreadfully. He has almost no face.”
“Go ask if I ever called him John. If he says that I always called him Jack, show him in. And be sure that I see you before I see him when you open the door.”
Freedom (Gone For Soldiers) Page 12
