Secret of Richmond Manor Read online

  “General Lee got mad? What did Pope do?” Jeff demanded, amazed.

  “Why, he said he was going to deal harshly with any Confederate sympathizers in the Shenandoah Valley. He’s going to treat civilians like spies, maybe even have them shot.”

  “Why, he can’t do that! Not civilians!”

  Tom shook his head. “Not much telling what a general will do. General Lee said Pope must be stopped. They said he was about as mad as he ever gets.” He looked over at the troops that were drilling out in the field. “We’re sure whittled down thin, Jeff. We lost so many men at Seven Days that we’re just not ready to fight a battle.”

  “Why, we can whip ’em, can’t we, Tom?”

  Tom ran his hand through his hair. There was a doubtful look in his eye. “We’re outnumbered. Always will be,” he murmured. “No matter how many men they lose, they’ve always got another man to put in his place. But every time we lose a man, it just leaves a gap. It’s gonna be a tough thing, Jeff.”

  Jeff had never for one moment considered that the South might lose, and it troubled him.

  Later that afternoon he was assigned with Charlie Bowers, a drummer-boy friend, to take a wagon into Richmond for supplies. Charlie was a cheerful, undersized young fellow of fourteen. He had tow-colored hair and bright blue eyes. Curly Henson, a big red-haired corporal, drove the wagon. He had been hard on Jeff at first but then had saved Jeff’s life in a battle, and he had become fond of both boys.

  They drove into the city, and the streets were filled with buggies and horses and men and women walking along busily. Richmond was the busiest town in the Confederacy. It was not only the heart of the government but the heart of a great deal of its industry.

  When Curly pulled up in front of the warehouse, he said, “I can load this wagon. You fellows go to the store and try to find me some chewing tobacco.” He gave them a dollar bill, adding, “Get yourself some candy, if you can find any.”

  The two of them grinned at the big man and left. As they were about to enter a store, Jeff stopped dead still, for Leah was coming out, a basket under her arm.

  * * *

  “Hello, Jeff.”

  “Why … hello, Leah.” There was an awkward silence, and Jeff said, “Everything … all right?”

  Leah knew immediately what he meant. “Oh, yes, everything’s fine, Jeff.” She looked at Charlie Bowers and knew she could not say much. “The problem we were talking about—it’s going to be all right.”

  It appeared Jeff hardly knew what to say to her and felt awkward. Finally he said abruptly, “Well, we’ve got to go. Good-bye, Leah.”

  She was disappointed. She had hoped that Jeff would be more ready to listen. Back at Richmond Manor she was met by her uncle. He held out an envelope and said, “Another invitation.”

  “Invitation to what?” Leah asked.

  “It’s Lucy Driscoll’s birthday. She sent a note especially for you.”

  Instantly Leah knew what had happened. “She didn’t do it because she wanted to. I bet her parents made her send it.”

  “Oh, don’t talk like that,” Uncle Silas said, his face showing surprise. “I think you ought to go. Not much fun for a young girl like you around here.”

  “I don’t want to, Uncle Silas.”

  “Is it because you don’t have anything to wear? I know that you felt bad last time, but you could make a new dress, if that’s what you want to do.”

  Leah felt tired and discouraged. The strain of the past days had worn on her. She hadn’t slept well and was constantly expecting someone to stumble upon Ezra. “I’m just tired,” she said. “And she doesn’t really want me to come.”

  “Well, it’s as you say.” Silas nodded. “Write her a note then. That no-account Rufus Prather’s been hanging around a lot. I expect he’s sweet on you.”

  “I don’t like him, Uncle Silas.”

  “He’s a lazy, shiftless boy. I don’t want him hanging around. I’ll tell him so the next time, but he’s handy for carrying letters. Write a note—we’ll send it to the Driscolls.”

  “All right. I’ll do that.”

  Leah found paper and pen and wrote a brief letter thanking the Driscolls for the invitation and using the excuse that her uncle still wasn’t feeling well and she wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving him.

  Later that afternoon she saw Rufus Prather about to drive past in a wagon. She ran out to the road, and he pulled up at once.

  “Why, howdy, Leah,” he said. “Come on, we’ll go for a ride.”

  “No, I can’t do that. Would you give this note to Mr. or Mrs. Driscoll, Rufus?”

  “Shore, I’ll do that.” Rufus stuck it carelessly into his pocket. “You coming to that birthday party, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Rufus nodded. “I don’t blame you. They’re too highfalutin, all those Driscolls. Now, me and you —we’re alike.”

  Leah gave him a half-angry, half-amused look. He was such a stupid boy that it would be hard to explain how exactly they were not alike. She handed him the dollar that Uncle Silas had given her and said, “There! That’s for delivering the note.”

  Later in the afternoon, Uncle Silas lay down to take a nap. After he had been asleep for some time, Leah thought it would be safe to go out and talk to Ezra. She closed the screen door very quietly. She had bought a half dozen apples and carried one with her.

  When she got to the barn, she found him waiting for her.

  “I was watching through the door and saw you coming,” he said.

  She held out the apple. “Here. I got a few of these in town. I ate one—they’re real good.”

  Ezra took the apple, polished it on his sleeve, and nodded. “Thank you. Nothing I like better than a good apple. You eat half of it.”

  “No, I’ve already had one. You go ahead, Ezra.”

  They sat down in the hay, and Ezra ate the apple very slowly, enjoying it.

  “You look better,” she said. “Your face has got a little color in it.”

  “All that good food I’ve been getting.” Ezra took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I figure it won’t be long before I’ll be off your hands.”

  Leah asked, “Have you been reading the Bible more?”

  “Sure have. Still don’t understand lots of it. But you know what? I feel good, Leah. Ever since we prayed, I feel like God’s just doing something for me.” A smile lighted his face.

  He’d be really a nice-looking boy, Leah thought, if he were well-fed. He had clean features and unusually good teeth, bright and even. His eyes were alert now, and there was a restfulness about him that she had not seen before.

  “I just feel like I’ve settled it all with God,” he said. “You know, I saw some fellows do that when I first went in the army. Had a service there, and some of them went. They came back and said they’d gotten converted. I didn’t even know what they were talking about.” He looked down at his feet. “Two of them got killed at Bull Run. Sure hope they’re all right.”

  “If they trusted in Jesus, they’re all right,” Leah said stoutly.

  They sat talking, mostly about God. Then Ezra got the Bible and began to point out Scriptures and ask her what they meant. They were so deeply engrossed in what they were doing that both of them leaped to their feet when a voice said, “Leah! What’s this?”

  “Uncle Silas!”

  Her uncle stood at the barn door. He had not been out-of-doors very much, and he was leaning heavily on a cane. His eyes were fixed on the young man with her.

  “Uncle Silas, this is Ezra Payne,” Leah said.

  Silas Carter studied the boy and asked quietly, “Escaped prisoner, are you, boy?”

  “Yes, sir. I was in Belle Isle ever since Bull Run.” He said quickly, “Don’t get mad at Miss Leah. I was about dead when she found me. If they’d taken me back, I’d have died for sure. I’m going back—I’m going to give myself up right away.”

  “He was so sick, Uncle Silas,” Leah said, “but he
’s better now. Please, you won’t give him away. I know you won’t!”

  “Well, I don’t know. It’s a serious thing to harbor an escaped prisoner,” Silas said. “We could all be in terrible trouble.”

  “That’s what I’ve told her, Mr. Carter,” Ezra said.

  “Yes, and he left once—he was trying to save us trouble—but he was so weak he couldn’t do it.”

  Leah went over and stood beside her uncle. She was almost as tall as he was. “I think the Lord is in it.”

  “The Lord? How do you mean that?”

  “Ezra got saved. He didn’t know anything about the Lord. We prayed together, and now he knows Jesus.”

  Uncle Silas looked at the boy and asked, “Is that right, son?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ezra said simply. “I never heard no preaching before, and I don’t know much, but I know ever since I asked God to forgive me that things have been … well … different somehow.”

  Silas Carter was silent, perhaps thinking about the possible difficulties that could arise. He asked suddenly, “Does Jeff know about this?”

  “Yes.” Leah nodded.

  “And he agreed not to tell, I suppose. That’s hard on him.”

  “I know it is, but he won’t tell, and it’s just for a few more days, Uncle Silas.”

  Silas thought hard. Then he said, “Well, if a man’s hurt and sick, I don’t guess it matters if he wears the blue or the gray.”

  “You’ll let him stay?” Leah asked, her eyes bright with hope.

  “Until he gets well, he can stay.”

  Ezra dropped his head. He said nothing for a moment, and when he lifted his eyes they were brimming with tears. “I never met people like you before, but I’m sure glad I have. No matter what happens, things are gonna be different with me from now on.”

  11

  A Friend Loves at All Times

  Jeff was awakened out of sound sleep by a rough hand on his shoulder.

  “Get up, Jeff! The regiment’s moving out—part of it anyway.” Tom was already dressed.

  Since becoming sergeant, Tom had been rough on his troops, and no less so on his own brother. At times Jeff thought Tom was even stricter on him than on anybody else. I guess he’s got to be, he thought, so he won’t show favoritism.

  He rolled out of his blankets and pulled his clothes on. It had been a warm night, and the east was already glowing with the rising of the sun.

  As Jeff put on his uniform, Sgt. Henry Mapes stopped by. He was tall and rangy, with black eyes and hair, and had seen considerable action. He had been a regular in the United States Army but left when his state seceded. “Don’t forget your drums,” he told the two boys, for Charlie Bowers too was dressing, even while blinking away sleep.

  “Where we going, Sarge?” Jeff asked.

  “We heard there was a breakthrough. Some of the Yankees coming in from the west—over by White Oaks Swamp bridge.”

  “Think it’ll be a big battle?” Charlie asked. His eyes were dull with sleep, and he yawned hugely. “It better be—to get me out of a sound sleep like I was having. I dreamed I was at the circus.”

  “Well, you might get a chance to see the elephant today, but I don’t know what else.”

  That was what the soldiers on both sides called seeing action—“going to see the elephant.”

  Mapes hurried away, and soon the boys were beating a tattoo on their drums to rout out the sleeping troops. Then the men ate a hastily prepared breakfast and marched out with Charlie and Jeff at their head, right behind the staff officers.

  “This won’t be a big fight,” Jeff said.

  “How do you know?” Charlie asked.

  “Because we’re not carrying extra rations. If it was going to be a big struggle, we’d get three days’ cooked rations. You know that, Charlie.”

  They left Richmond at a fast pace. Somewhere up ahead Jeff heard a cavalry troop thundering along the road, but it veered off to the west. They marched hard till noon, stopping only once to eat cold rations.

  As the men sat around resting, Tom took out a sheet of paper and a pencil and began to scribble.

  “Writin’ to your girl, are you, Sarge?” Curly Henson teased. The big redhead winked at Jeff. “Tell us about her, Jeff. Is she as pretty as that little gal I seen you with in town?”

  Jeff glanced at Tom, not knowing if he could take teasing or not, but Tom paid no heed. “It’s her sister, Sarah.”

  “Why, that’s a right pretty name.” Henson nodded. “I had a gal named Sarah once. Law, she was as pretty as a pair of red shoes with green strings. I sure would like to be going to a pie supper with my Sarah today.”

  “You won’t be going to a pie supper, I don’t reckon,” Tom looked up to say. “If we bump into Pope’s boys, it’ll be a right smart skirmish.”

  Henson shrugged. He was not a man who thought a great deal, and he returned to his former subject. “What about these two gals? How come you can get gals and the rest of us can’t?”

  Jeff bit off some hardtack. It was tough and hard, but he managed to get it down. “We’ve known ’em a long time, Curly,” he said. “Their farm was next to ours back in Kentucky. We all grew up together.”

  “Their family fightin’ for the Union?”

  “Yep, that’s right. Their brother Royal’s serving with McClellan. I guess he was somewhere in this last fight we had. Hope he didn’t get hurt.”

  Tom looked up from his writing again. “I hope so too. Royal Carter is the best friend I ever had.”

  Then the call came down the line from Captain Majors, “All right, get the men moving, Sergeant.”

  Jeff grabbed his drum and moved into position, and soon the company was on its way down the road.

  The action started before Jeff was ready for it. A scout came back with the information that the enemy was drawn up behind a line of trees just beyond a creek. “You can get ’em if you charge,” he said. “They’re not ready, I don’t think, but you’ll have to be quick.”

  Nelson Majors thought quickly. He had been watching the Union soldiers that he could see vaguely through the trees. They did seem to be unprepared. He made up his mind at once. “Private Majors, you and Private Bowers sound the charge! You sergeants, see that your men hold their fire until they’re in proper range! Spread out in a skirmish line!”

  Jeff’s blood began to rush through his veins, and his heart pounded as it always did. He began drumming the charge as loudly as he could. Charlie Bowers moved off to the other end of the line, and soon the men let out a wild yell and started across the field.

  Jeff stumbled along with them, trying to stay close to his father. In case there was a command, he wanted to be able to drum it out.

  As they ran, a man dropped just in front of him. It was Asa Hotchkiss, a farmer from Alabama. Jeff felt a moment’s grief, for he knew that Asa was planning to go home and get married when his enlistment ran out. He was relieved to see that the man didn’t seem to be hurt badly.

  Then the musket balls began to whistle, and out of the trees issued a cloud of black smoke as the Federals began firing.

  “Forward! Don’t let ’em get away!” Captain Majors cried out. He himself was right in the front. Jeff wished he would fall back a little, but his father had told him, “Officers have to lead from the front. You can’t lead from the rear!”

  Now, as Jeff stumbled over the broken ground and reached the creek, he saw the bluecoats backing up. He splashed across the stream, and just as he reached the other side, a Union soldier rose up and fired. Jeff felt his hat leave his head and knew that he had escaped death by inches. At the same time, the soldier uttered a cry, grabbed his stomach, and fell.

  These were the times Jeff hated. He ran on with the line of Confederate troops, and soon the enemy was routed.

  Jeff leaned against a tree, breathing hard, and Tom came by. “Are you all right?”

  “Just out of breath! How ‘bout you?”

  “Didn’t get a scratch, and Pa’s all right too. W
e lost some men, though.”

  To Jeff this was the saddest part of a battle. He began to wander over the battlefield, helping his comrades who had fallen. Some were wounded in a minor way and headed immediately back toward Richmond. Others had to be carried. Then Jeff came to the Union soldier who had missed his shot at him and saw that he was curled up and moaning softly.

  Carefully he put down his drum and approached. He wasn’t sure but that the soldier might have a pistol, but when he got there, he saw that the man’s hands were red and he wasn’t thinking about a weapon.

  “Sorry you got hit,” Jeff said, leaning over. “We’ll get you to a doctor.”

  The soldier looked up, and his eyes were wide with fright. “I’m going to die.” He gasped rather than spoke, and pain and fear twisted his face.

  “Don’t talk like that,” Jeff said. “You’ll make it.”

  “Are you the one that shot me?”

  “No, I’m a drummer boy. I don’t even carry a gun. Let me see how bad hurt you are.” He pulled the soldier’s hands away, and his heart sank. He’d been in enough battles to know what the chances were. The doctor said that if a soldier’s got a bullet in his belly, he’s a dead man.

  Nevertheless Jeff began to hustle. He found Tom and explained. “Help me carry this fellow back. We’ve got to get him to a doctor. He’s hurt bad.”

  Tom came and glanced down at the man and then at Jeff. Both knew that the boy had little chance. “All right,” Tom said. “The doctor’s got a tent set up over there. Come on, Billy Yank, we’ll get you fixed up!”

  The two brothers carried the moaning boy to the field hospital. When they got there and put him down, he took Jeff’s arm. “Don’t leave me to die,” he said. “Stay with me.”

  Jeff hesitated, but Tom said quickly, “That’s right. You stay with him, Jeff.”

  Jeff sat beside the soldier, and the Yankee asked his name.

  When Jeff told him, he said, “My name’s Josh Dawlings.”

  “Where you from, Josh?”

  “From Maine. I wish I was back there now. I wish I’d never left.” He moaned.