The Better Angels of Our Nature (33 page)

The Sunken Road was really no more than an old eroded wagon trail running through the center of heavily wooded areas on both sides, now known to the soldiers engaged in that Union position on the Sunday as the “Hornet’s Nest.” Some grayback, it was said, had told his comrades, “It’s a hornet’s nest in there—” and thus the name had stuck.

Here on the afternoon of the sixth, men of General Prentiss’s division had hunkered down in the shallow trench to make a last stand. Here the Illinois politician who had fought with Grant over rank and swore he would never serve under a drunkard had redeemed his reputation, even as his call to cease fire had sounded, and he had surrendered himself and what remained of his command: half the men he had started out with that fateful day.

It was said the place was now haunted. Of course there were ghosts. They existed as tenuously as ghosts can be said to exist. Ghosts were merely memories. There were ghosts in every place that armies clashed. But Shiloh was special. Soldiers felt these ghosts, these memories, were close by on a warm spring day as they drilled, or as night was falling in camp. In the plaintive notes of a harmonica or in the poignant words of a favorite song. When they marched, a glance over the shoulder would reveal their ghostly comrades in the ranks, as if reluctant to be left behind. Yes, ghosts would always cling to Shiloh, to the Sunken Road and the Hornet’s Nest, to Bloody Pond and to all those other places where men had breathed their last, as long as their comrades, their families, remembered.

This night Jesse had ridden out into the darkness of the Hornet’s Nest looking not for ethereal beings, but for a young man with iron in his soul and a steely heart. As she walked Sable down the wagon road from the west she saw the tall, slender figure dismounted up ahead, his horse tied to the half-destroyed fence rail running alongside Duncan Field. She saw the glint of the scabbard that hung from the belt around his narrow waist, as it caught the silver moonlight, saw him remove his hat and bow his head in an attitude of prayer. She waited until he lifted his head once more, then she put her mount into a trot. As the officer turned to watch her approach, he wiped negligently at his eyes with the back of his hand and came to meet her, his hat still in his hands.

“Jesse…” he said with a frown and a nervous laugh.

“Lieutenant Hapeman said I would find you here, sir,” she explained. “I’m
so sorry
about General Wallace.” For the newly promoted commander of the Second Division it had been a short war. He’d died on Thursday night.

He nodded. “Thank you.” His smile was sad and gentle. “He was like a father to me. Ever since I enlisted at Bird’s Point. He was the first colonel of the Eleventh.” The Vermonter’s eyes filled with tears. “When the last breath went out of Will’s body, the words you spoke to me at the hospital were all I could think of—
love does not end with death.
”

“You have the consolation of knowing that General Wallace’s adoring wife was with him at the end. They were together at the moment of his passing—her beloved face was the last thing he saw.”

“What more can a man ask? God must surely have brought Anne to the landing that day.”

“Captain Van Allen told me you went to the general to protest his treatment of me.”

Ransom lowered his gaze.

“Thank you, sir.” Jesse’s smile was rueful. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“No, you didn’t, not at all. When he told me I was—” He punctuated the statement with a foreshortened laugh and his frown deepened. “Well, I was relieved.” He raised his intense gaze to her face. “Except he made you sound like the daughter of Satan.” They both laughed then. “I went to the hospital this afternoon looking for you.” He stroked her horse’s neck as he spoke. “Dr. Cartwright said you had gone to the landing with some wounded. I rode down there, but I must have missed you again.”

“Yes sir.” The surgeon had said nothing about the colonel’s visit. “Are you well, sir? How is your wound?” she asked anxiously because his face in the threads of moonlight touching the scant branches was deathly pale and he had a drawn look about the eyes and mouth that gave the impression of a man combatting pain. “I sent you a note thanking you for the knife—look, I’m wearing it.”

“A Bowie knife.” He straightened his shoulders, raised his firm chin. He
was
embarrassed, despite his denial to the contrary. “It now seems a most unlikely gift.”

“Oh no, sir, it’s wonderful. I’ll treasure it.”

He nodded uncertainly. He’d always been strong and self-determined, a man with great ambition and ability, all his young life, and now since the war he had proved himself a courageous and natural commander, who’d gathered his men together in battle to protect and lead them at the expense of his own safety; he had the wounds to prove it. But this young woman dressed as a soldier—well, this was disconcerting. He held her arm as she dismounted. Her smile flickered. He nodded, answered her smile with one of his own, he knew what she was thinking. An officer did not help an orderly off his horse. Some drastic readjustment of his thinking was called for. His deep-set emotional eyes passed over her red-gold curls as she removed her kepi and pushed it into her saddlebag. Her hair was a beautiful color in the moonlight, like amber. He cleared his throat.

“Is Jesse your real name?” He laughed again, and shook his handsome head. “That’s the least important of a hundred questions I’ve kept inside my head to ask you.” He walked to the fence and stared out at the field beyond, now so silent but for the always present buzzing of insects. He shivered with a sudden chill, though the night was warm. Jesse joined him. “I come out here to look at the place where Will fell,” he said quietly. “I stand here and think of my dear noble friend.”

“You will meet him again, sir.”

He nodded, gazing off again into the distance. Watching that grief-stricken, boyish face now, it was almost impossible to conjure up the distorted blood-soaked features of the man Jesse had seen slashing away at the cowards in Jones Field.

“Why do you call me
sir
now, when you called me Thomas at the hospital?” he asked.

“You’re a colonel and I’m a corporal. In the hospital it was different. I could be more informal, sir.”

“A colonel and a corporal?” He looked at her. “Ah yes—” He began to walk and Jesse followed.

“It was around here,” he said. “Will rode out into the very center of the firestorm. They say the opposing lines were only one hundred fifty yards apart, the Rebel infantry closing to within seventy paces. The place the men now call ‘Hell’s Hollow.’ Cyrus was with him. He pointed out the approaching Rebels, Will rose in his saddle for a better view, and the ball struck him. He always called me ‘
his particular friend.
’”

A few yards ahead two leg bones protruded from the earth, already bleached by the sun, and a skull nestled in the grass. Inside those sightless eye sockets worms writhed and slithered.

“I’ve heard soldiers say they are prepared to die if only they know they will receive a decent Christian burial. What would we say to
these
men?” the Vermonter said bitterly.

“That no matter what horrors befall the flesh, the soul is immortal,” Jesse replied. “The soul flies to heaven. The spirit never dies.” After a moment’s silence she said, “Oh sir, I’m sorry your beloved Eleventh lost so many men. Lieutenant Hapeman said there’s even talk of disbanding the regiment and absorbing the men into other commands. What will you do if that happens?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to wait and see.” He wiped his eyes. “Both McClernand and Grant have recommended me for a brigadier generalship, which means I’d get a brigade. Perhaps I’ll be able to take my old Eleventh along with me, what remains of it. When I think of the men of the Eleventh who have died—I wonder if any of us will ever be the same again, if our country will ever be the same again. Shall we sit down?” He pointed to a fallen log. When they were seated he said, “Sherman said tell no one about you, we don’t want those newspaper hounds sniffing out
this
story. I would be a laughingstock and it would do
your
career no good at all.” He turned to face her. “Those questions I want to ask you, Jesse, I don’t know where to begin. What are you doing here? Where do you come from? Why are you here? Does your family know what you’re doing?”

“I have no other family but the general, Dr. Cartwright, Jakob, you—”

“You’re completely alone in the world?” Anguish drew the Vermonter’s slender brows into a frown.

“No, I’m not alone. I just told you.” She smiled meaningfully into his face.

He responded with a hesitant smile of his own. “How recklessly you behaved, and with what courage! I’m torn between disapproval and admiration. I personally have never heard of such a thing, and I doubt if anyone else has. An overabundance of patriotism and love of the Union cannot explain
any female
risking life and limb to go into battle. Your nursing skills would have earned you a place at any general hospital back at the North. If you wish to nurse our wounded men, why didn’t you join one of the agencies and come here in a dress and bonnet like the other ladies of the Sanitary or Christian Commissions? Why go through this complicated and dangerous charade? Now you’ll be sent away. What will you do? Will you go home? You must have a home; you must have come from
somewhere
. Will you return there? Now that Sherman has discovered your secret, you cannot remain; you know that as well as I do.”

“You said you had a hundred questions, but you didn’t say you would ask them all at once!”

“Jesse, I am not meaning to be humorous. Whatever possessed you to pass yourself off as a soldier? Admit now that we have met the situation has changed. Admit of my anxiety for you. You must return home immediately.”

Jesse stared at him. “I don’t understand, sir. How has my meeting you changed my situation?”

Something flickered in Ransom’s eyes. “If…if those who…were concerned for you…” He was choosing his words carefully now, like picking his way through melting ice. “…for your safety—believed you should discontinue this charade, then you would go home, wouldn’t you?”

Jesse got to her feet as she said, “I have every intention of remaining. Besides, those who care for me, sir, are here. Why would I wish to leave all my friends?”

“Sherman clearly has other ideas.” Ransom called after her as she walked off down the shadowy road. “He’ll not permit you to remain here a moment longer than he has to.” He caught up with her. “Will you give me your address? I shall write you whenever I can and you must give me your word you will write to me. When I have a furlough I’ll visit you.”

“You already have my address.” She looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and irritation. “Corporal Jesse Davis, care of General Sherman’s headquarters, Fifth Division, wherever can be found the Army of the Tennessee.”

“Jesse, this is no joke.”

“
I’m
not meaning to be humorous.”

“You are sweet and innocent, you don’t know Sherman, he is the most uncharitable of men. He refused to allow Colonel Dickey to go to his dying son-in-law. He is hardly liable to take pity on a poor orphan girl who has shown him up for a fool, even one who has proved her worth and loyalty to the Union. Oh, you’ll be going home soon, you may count on it.”

“Would you care to make a small wager, sir?”

Ransom looked at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. A gentleman does not wager with a female. Besides, you would lose.”

“Then you have nothing to fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said indignantly.

“Prove it. Five dollars, sir?”

“I would deem it a great favor if you stopped calling me
sir
and, I told you, a gentleman does not make a wager with a female.”

“Okay, we’ll make it a gentleman’s wager,” Jesse suggested with a broad grin. “If I win, you have to give me fencing lessons. Lieutenant Bennett told me you were the best fencer in the whole of Norwich Academy. Agree, sir, or risk being branded a coward!” she challenged, leaping back to wield an imaginary foil and laughing at his shocked expression. “Or let us shake on it.” She thrust her hand toward him.

Ransom hesitated a moment before throwing his handsome head back and giving himself up to unrestrained laughter. “You are unbelievable—you are incorrigible—just a moment.” His laughter ceased. “What reward do I get if you lose, which you most certainly will.”

“I won’t lose.” Jesse climbed onto the fence and looked at him.

He leaned on the fence beside her and emboldened by her tender smile he said, “A kiss. If you lose, my reward will be a kiss.”

Jesse laughed. Then stopped. She frowned her confusion. “A kiss?” Her slender red brows dipped and then rose.

“Oh Jesse, I am fooling,” Ransom said, with a casual jerk of his head. “Forgive me.” He walked off toward the horses so she wouldn’t see his face.

“I think I’ll be a fast learner,” Jesse said, jumping off the rail and lunging forward in the motions of a cut and thrust. “Don’t you? I’m very fast on my feet and not at all clumsy.
En garde!
” she cried, her left arm in an arc above her head and her right once more holding the imaginary foil. The Vermonter turned around and positioned her arm more correctly. “When shall the lessons begin, do you think?” she demanded to know. “As soon as possible?”