“Uh huh.” He was still on guard, body tense as if waiting for something.
There was a soft, hesitant scratching at the door.
“Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep,” Travis called out. Footsteps faded down the hall. “Thought we might have a visitor, what with your screeching. But now that they’ve gone….”
The bed rocked as he shifted positions. She could sense him leaning over her. “I’ve a wonderful idea on how to get rid of such bad dreams,” he murmured into her neck, hands caressing skin that was still acutely sensitive.
“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed, pushing the nightmare behind her, which was for once incredibly easy to do, as her body was already responding once again to his touch.
She saw the glint of white teeth in the moonlight. “Yes, ma’am, I am. Remember, you’ve married an uncivilized Yankee, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with quite a lot of this sort of thing.”
18. Yellow Tavern
April 25 - May 14, 1864
Washington City; Richmond, VA; Stonewood Farm (near Dinwiddie Court House, VA)
A knock on the door brought Star up out of disturbing dreams.
“Trav? It’s half four.” Rob’s deep voice from the hall.
“Coming.”
It was quite dark and she’d been half asleep when they had ridden into the outskirts of Washington. Rob had gone ahead to bespeak a pair of rooms, then rejoined them near St. Alban’s Church on the Rockville Road.
“Sorry it took so long,” he’d said. “Practically had to wave a magic wand to find a place that had two decent rooms. Town is stuffed like a Christmas goose. I’ve never seen it this busy.”
They’d gone in and ordered a late supper, but no one had any appetite. Both brothers had to report for morning roll call with their regiment at Camp Stoneman, just outside the city, so Star bid Rob farewell while Samuel had a few last words with his younger son. Then they’d gone to their respective rooms in silence.
Now Star lay quiet, watching with heavy eyes and heart while Travis dragged himself from the bed and into his uniform. The light of his single candle summoned strange shadows from the predawn dark. They too had said their goodbyes before falling asleep.
“I don’t want to wake you, love,” he’d explained, wrapping his arms tight about her slender body, pulling her closer to himself.
She had tried to argue. “I’m as used to rising early as you are. I’ll get up when you do and see you off.”
“Please, Star, don’t fuss. Perhaps I’m being selfish; I don’t want to put myself through the agony of saying farewell to you twice. Let the last image I have of you be you sleeping peacefully, not in tears as now. Please?” he’d asked, kissing away the salty drops that ran silently down her cheeks.
She had acquiesced, curled deeper into his embrace, and stayed awake long into the night, listening to him breathe beside her.
Now in the darkness she waited, feigning sleep.
I must not cry, she told herself over and over as she fought the overwhelming urge to seize him and not let him return to the uncertainty of the battlefield. She heard him pick up his saddlebags, and then put them down again. The creak of floorboards by the bed, the warmth of his breath on her face as he knelt down beside her. He stroked a wayward curl from her brow, traced a line along her cheek, let his lips linger on hers.
“Fare well, a mhuirnín. May the Lord keep a close eye on you,” he whispered. Then he added with a hint of laughter. “Heaven knows you need all the looking after you can get.”
The floorboards protested again as he left her. The door squeaked open, and shut with a click like the hammer of a gun. Star turned her face into her pillow, longing to weep, but the tears, though they threatened, did not fall.
I am a soldier’s wife now, she thought. I will be strong.
Star strode through the camp, leading her borrowed chestnut towards where she had last seen Sam. Her father in law had found some old friends from the war in Mexico and spent much of his time talking with them, when he wasn’t sitting with her outside General Sheridan’s headquarters, waiting. It seemed that all she had done for the past fortnight was wait outside of offices or tents or commandeered farmhouses. So much time wasted; her temper was almost to the place of explosion. At least Sheridan had an excuse for not seeing them as the man was constantly on the move.
She caught her thoughts and reminded herself that she wasn’t being quite fair. General Grant had seen them as quickly as he could have, considering the circumstances. After waiting for hours and days outside an endless series of bureaucratic offices in Washington, just as Star was ready to leave, pass or no pass, they’d finally been allowed to head south towards Fredericksburg. Arriving late in the afternoon on the 5th, they’d presented themselves to General Grant’s staff, only to be promptly sent to the rear to wait as battle had been joined outside the city. She had thought to offer herself at the hospital tents as an extra set of hands, but instead Sam had spent most of the next two days holding those hands and keeping her sane as the dry woods of the Wilderness ignited around them. It had taken all the courage she had to keep from running screaming as the flames surged through the undergrowth, the hellish shrieks of burning men echoing in her ears. Oddly enough, the ensuing nightmares had not been of the flames, but of Will, bleeding to death in the cold March air.
As soon as the fighting ebbed, they had their pass and were moving southeast, following the Army of the Potomac’s cavalry down towards Richmond. Finding Sheridan’s headquarters had been fairly easy; tracking down Sheridan himself was a different matter altogether.
She spotted Sam perched on a half fallen rail fence with a couple of men in uniform and waved as he motioned her over with a grin.
“An unexpected treat. The Fourth Penn veterans should be coming down that road any time now. Heller here spotted their lead column about half an hour ago.”
Travis! A thrill of longing ran through her; her body ached for his touch. She saw Sam’s amused, perceptive look, and her face flamed red.
He made no comment, merely patted her arm and said, “Shall we head up the road a ways and wait for them?”
She nodded eagerly. Sam turned to his friends to say farewell. Star patted Foxfire’s silky bronze neck, her thoughts focused on Travis. To see him once again, if only for a few moments, before she had to cross the lines….
Then a wisp of conversation from the passing men drifted into her distracted mind. She swung about, the icy touch of fear upon her heart, and grabbed the trooper as he led his horse along.
“Pardon me, Sergeant…?”
He paused willingly enough, stepped out of line, tipped his hat. “Goodro, ma’am. First Vermont. How may I be of assistance?”
“Did I hear you say that General Stuart had been shot?”
A look of surprise crossed the Vermonter’s tanned face. “You did. The general went down yesterday near Yellow Tavern. Some of the men we’ve taken say it didn’t look good, that he’d been gut shot. They weren’t even sure if he made it to Richmond alive.”
Star felt her face drain of color.
Thankfully the sergeant’s attention was called for further up the column. He bowed quickly, “Your servant, ma’am,” he said as he mounted and trotted back the direction he had come.
She stood there for some minutes like a statue, only vaguely aware of Sam talking to her. My dreams…? Oh no, please, not the general too! Her next coherent thought was, “I’ve got to see him, at least say good bye.” But Travis! He was so close.
And here is where the pain begins, said a dispassionate voice in her head. If you wait for Travis, you will be too late. If you leave now, only Heaven knows when you will see your husband again.
Her hurt was almost physical, tearing her apart as if she were a worn cloth. She glanced up the road, saw in the distance another regiment working its way down the crowded lane. Somehow she knew it was the 4th Pennsylvania, and if she stayed she would not get to Richmond in time. Either way I’m cu
rsed. Cursed. Oh sir, I’m so sorry.
Her guilt decided her. “I’ve got to go,” she gasped when Sam touched her arm, pulling away from him and into Foxfire’s saddle. Brown eyes wide with bewilderment, he opened his mouth. She shook her head, silencing him. “Please, tell Travis I love him, and I’ll write as soon as I can.” Then she was gone, racing through the milling men like a madwoman.
“Starla!” His bellow followed her long after she was out of earshot, the long legged chestnut pounding out the miles down twisted, dusty roads towards Richmond.
“Hey Trav, what’s Da doing here?”
Travis glanced in the direction his brother had indicated and saw their father leaning up against an old fence. The slump of his shoulders made Travis uneasy. “Something’s wrong. He’s supposed to be with Star….”
Sam had spotted his sons and was limping hurriedly towards them. A nod from Rob, and Travis kneed Ginny towards him. Sam’s first words confirmed the fear in Travis’ gut.
“She’s gone,” his father said, voiced ragged. “We’d heard you were coming, so we were waiting here for you. She stopped some trooper, talked to him for maybe half a minute, and turned white as a sheet. I thought she was going to faint, but then she was in the saddle and riding as if her life depended on it.”
“How long ago? What direction? Did she say anything?”
“About twenty minutes. Thataway,” he pointed south. “And no, she didn’t say much. Just that she loved you and would write.”
Travis swung from his saddle, matching the hesitant stride. Despite the heat of the day, he was suddenly cold through.
“Sounds like the trooper told her something that made her run, but what?”
He felt, no, he knew Star would have waited for him unless time was of the essence. If it had been anyone other than a random soldier she had been talking to, he might have thought she had received more news on her sister.
Denver, Rob’s big black bay, was forcing his way back through the crowd like a fish against the current. The look on Rob’s face told Travis there was more news.
“General Stuart’s been shot. Probably mortal. They took him into Richmond yesterday.”
The pieces fell into place.
“Does Star know?” his father asked.
Travis’ eyes traveled down the way Star had flown, towards Richmond. “She knows,” he said, voice flat. There was no doubt but that was where she was heading.
Be safe, my little Rebel, he thought, and return to me quickly. I’m not sure you realize just how much of my heart you hold.
Foxfire was foam flecked and blowing hard by the time she spurred him down Broad Street and past the Capitol. It was easy enough to find where the ambulance had taken the general; everybody in the city knew that their laughing cavalier lay dying in his sister in law’s house, that the best Healers in the city could do nothing. The faltering gelding thundered onto Grace Street, but became bogged down in the mass of people gathered outside Dr. Brewer’s. Gray soldiers stationed between the red brick wall and the solemn crowd let her know that only a few select people were being allowed through.
So how do I get in? She dismounted and pushed her way to the nearest officer.
“Sir, would you please let General Stuart, or somebody from his staff, know that Starla Anderson is here?”
He looked her up and down, took in the windblown hair, the stricken face. For a moment it looked as if she too would be turned away, then he shrugged and walked towards the house.
“Wait here,” he threw over his shoulder.
She leaned against Foxfire’s sweaty flank, running a trembling hand through the tangled mane, then began to walk him back and forth, as much to release her own nervous energy as to cool him down. A lean, scarred corporal watched her from his post, slouching insolently against the wall.
“Don’t see how the Gen’ral will have much time for the likes of you, missy,” he remarked, spitting a stream of tobacco juice into the street.
“Miss Anderson!” Henry McClellan called from the doorway, beckoning her in. She handed Foxfire off to the suddenly respectful corporal.
She gripped McClellan’s sleeve as he led her down the darkened hall. “Henry, is it…?” She couldn’t finish.
Grief etched itself deeper into his somber features. For a minute the floor seemed to move under her feet, but she bit her lip hard and held herself straighter. I will not faint. I will be strong. The room was far too hot, and the overpowering scent of roses from the garden outside was dizzying. She felt more and more light headed as she wobbled over and knelt beside the bed.
“Sir?” she ventured, trying desperately to keep her voice from shaking. Across from her von Borcke, head bowed in grief, looked up in startled recognition.
“Miss Anderson.” The once hearty voice was thin, wracked with pain. Gut shot, Sergeant Goodro had said. “You look much better than the last time I saw you. How have you fared?”
“I have fared very well, sir. I was with Lieutenant Black’s family all this time. They took excellent care of me.”
“I would have expected no less from your Yankee … friend.” There was the hint of a twinkle in his blue eyes.
Despite the darkness in her heart, Star had to smile. Did everyone know but us? “My husband, sir. We were married last month.”
“Good. Someone has to look after you.”
His words pierced her like a knife. I’m unlucky. Everyone who has ever said they’d look after me is dead. Will was dead; the general was all but gone. Only Travis was left, and he was back on the frontlines again. Oh Lord, not him! Protect him, please!
Boots in the hall outside the sickroom. Officers, staff in from the battlefield. She backed away, retreating into the shadows, letting those of the inner circle speak with their fallen leader. She didn’t know how long she sat there in the half dark, arms wrapped around her legs, head resting on her knees. What she desperately wanted and needed was Travis, the haven of his arms.
“He’s asking for you,” someone said, looming large above her. She took the hand reaching out to her and scrambled to her feet.
“Well, Miss Star, this is farewell.”
“Oh, sir. Please. Let me stay.”
“No. I don’t want you to suffer through that again.” His face twisted in agony.
Her last memories of Will. Bleeding under her hands, body arching in pain, the lifeless hand in hers.
“Sir, is there naught I can do for you?”
He shook his head. “I am waiting.” A pause for breath. “For Flora.”
She understood. But he was wrong—there was something she could do. Focusing, she reached inside and then pushed a cloud of tiny blue sparks into the browns and reds surrounding him, forcing the colors to lighten slightly. Then she pulled on his pain, stiffening as it dissipated through her. He looked up at her in surprise.
“For Flora,” she said quietly, trying to hide her exhaustion.
“Thank you.”
The least I can do. My fault. Cursed. “Farewell, sir.”
She squeezed his hand one last time before she was led from the room. She shot a final look over her shoulder, saw the general propped up on pillows, surrounded by friends. He murmured something. A single voice, wavering, began to sing. Other joined in.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.”
At the door an aide spoke kindly to her. The general had insisted that she have an escort to wherever she needed to go.
I can’t return to the Union lines, she thought. If I did, I don’t think I would have the strength to leave again, and I must get to Danica. “Stonewood, the Lewis farm,” she answered dully. “Down the Boydton plank road towards Dinwiddie Courthouse. Just after the sawmill on Quaker Road.”
It was long past nightfall when they arrived at Stonewood, horses plodding wearily towards the faded gray house. Foxfire was limping; though he had said nothing, she suspected he had strained a ligament in her mad rush to Richmond. Remembering her manners, she turne
d to the two young troopers, boys really.
“There’s plenty of room if you need a place to rest.”
The elder bobbed his straw thatched head. “Thank you, ma’am, but no. We aim to get a few miles back towards the frontlines before morning. Just as soon as we make sure that your family is indeed here.”
She dismounted heavily, taking her saddlebags with her. The younger boy took Foxfire’s reins and headed towards the stable. She smiled her thanks at him. The porch steps boomed hollowly as she climbed them to the door. It inched open a crack before she could knock, and she found herself looking down the long barrel of a rifle. The gun dropped in an instant.
“Estella?”
“Hello, Leah. I’ve come to see Dani.”
“Who’s that with you?”
Star turned and waved at the dark figures standing in the moonlight. They waved back, turned their horses, and walked back towards the main road. “Just my escort from Richmond. Are you going to let me in?”
The door swung wider. “Of course. I take it you finally got Mother’s letter.”
A distracted nod. “Is Dani upstairs?”
“Yes. First door on the left. Mother’s with her. She’s still pretty ill. I think she’s been waiting for you.”
Starla barely heard her as she was already on the landing. The door was partially open, enough for her to look in before entering. By the light of a single lamp she could see her aunt sitting in a straight backed chair, and her sister, pale skin blending into pale linens, her tiny form barely visible above the blankets. Only her flaming hair, and the spiky orange aura of fever, could be seen clearly. Starla was immediately filled with remorse.
“Oh cariad,” she said softly, tossing her bags in a pile by the door and hurrying to Dani’s bedside. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
An Uncivilized Yankee Page 33
