When This Cruel War Is Over (18 page)
Read When This Cruel War Is Over Online
Authors: Thomas Fleming
A shaken Haldeman surrendered his gun to Janet. She waved Pompey into the room and shut the door. Another prod from Adam produced Burbridge's order to throw the cavalrymen's guns into the Ohio under Pompey's supervision.
“When you come back, Pomp, I want you to pick the three best horses from their supply and bring them around to the front of the house. You and I and General Burbridge will need them for a trip we'll soon be taking. Tell your sister Missy to pack as much grub as we can carry in your knapsack and mine.”
“Yes sir, Colonel,” Pompey said, his sharp-featured black face impassive. Janet wondered if he had been hoping Adam would be caught so he could accept Burbridge's promise of freedom. She could not blame Pompey for the feeling. In spite of it, he had remained loyal. So had the other servants. Didn't that prove something?
“Get going, Colonel. You've got twenty minutes,” Adam said.
“You won't get away. We'll have a thousand men on your trail in two hours,” Haldeman said.
“Better not if you want General Burbridge back in one piece,” Adam said.
Haldeman and Pompey departed. They could hear Haldeman shouting orders downstairs. Adam shoved Burbridge into a chair and grinned cheerfully at Janet and Amelia. “Don't worry, Mother. Everything will go beautifully,” he said.
Janet realized she was still holding Colonel Haldeman's pistol. “What shall I do with this?” she asked.
“Maybe you ought to keep it and ride off with me. I begin to think you'd make a first-rate soldier,” Adam said.
“I wish I could,” Janet said.
She stared dazedly at this bearded giant. Could he possibly know what she had been thinking and feeling while he was in the window seat? What did it mean? Was she in love with two men?
In less than twenty minutes, Pompey returned with Colonel Haldeman. “All them guns is at de bottom of de ribber,” Pompey said. “I got de horses ready and Missy done loaded us with eats.”
“Good,” Adam said. “Now, Colonel Haldeman, where are your men?”
“On the lawn.”
“Get them around to the slave quarters. I don't want anyone near enough to throw a rock or a stick and try to rush us. If I see a move from any direction, General Burbridge better start saying his prayers.”
They watched from the window while Haldeman formed his 100 troopers into a column and marched them off the lawn to the slave quarters, a quarter of a mile from the main house.
Adam tucked General Burbridge's gun into the waistband of his trousers and gave Haldeman's gun to Pompey. He kissed his mother on the cheek and turned to Janet. “Maybe it's just as well Pompey didn't deliver
my letter. Tell a certain person I apologize for my atrocious conduct last night,” he said.
my letter. Tell a certain person I apologize for my atrocious conduct last night,” he said.
He swept her against him and kissed her as if he knew his new power over her. Janet did not return the kiss but she did not resist it either. She was in a daze. She felt as if her mind, her self, were splitting into fragments.
“We'll pray for you,” Amelia said.
“Thanks, Mother.”
With Burbridge in the lead, the muzzle of Adam's gun against his back, they departed. Janet and Amelia watched them ride down the drive and disappear among the trees lining the river road.
“Adam's magnificent!” Janet said.
Amelia Jameson did not respond to this praise of her son. “They have a way to retaliate,” she said in a leaden voice. “Robin will be drafted now, for certain.”
“You can hire a substitute.”
“I doubt if his father will pay the money. He wants Robin to join Adamâbut I won't stand for it. He'd be dead in a week.”
Janet said nothing. She was too absorbed in her own dilemma to offer Amelia any sympathy. “You don't understand. You're too young,” Amelia said. “A mother loves all her sons. A woman lovesâcan loveâmany different men.”
Into the bedroom rushed an old black woman in a near frenzy. Janet recognized her as Aunt Rachel, the mother of Adam's body servant, Pompey. Her breath came in gasps; her mouth worked spasmodically; she clawed at her face. “Oh, Mistress!” she cried, sinking to her knees in front of Amelia Jameson. “It's all my fault. I tole Pompey and he tole me tâfess to you and I wouldn' get whipped, but he wouldn' promise nothin' for that scamp Lucy.”
“What in the world are you talking about, Rachel?” Amelia asked.
“Them letters that Miz Janet writes to Colonel Adam.
I done read them for Lucy and she must've tole them Union soldiers and that's why they come here and like to catch him and Pompey. I felt so awful, Mistress, I had to tell somebody. You won't whip me, will you, Mistress? You won't let Masser whip me? Lucy said it wouldn' mean no harm to Miz Janet it would jus' help get h'sister Maybelle back from that whorehouse down de river where she's liable to kill h'self.”
I done read them for Lucy and she must've tole them Union soldiers and that's why they come here and like to catch him and Pompey. I felt so awful, Mistress, I had to tell somebody. You won't whip me, will you, Mistress? You won't let Masser whip me? Lucy said it wouldn' mean no harm to Miz Janet it would jus' help get h'sister Maybelle back from that whorehouse down de river where she's liable to kill h'self.”
Aunt Rachel flung herself facedown on the carpet and wept and wept and wept.
It can't be true
, Janet thought. The words reverberated in her head like the crash of a pistol.
It can't be true.
It can't be true
, Janet thought. The words reverberated in her head like the crash of a pistol.
It can't be true.
Is SHE STILL HALF IN love with Adam Jameson? If so does that oath you swore last night mean anything? As oaths go, it did not mean very much in the first place. You had no trouble adjusting your conscience to swearing allegiance to a Southern version of liberty. It's more or less the basic credo of the Democratic Party, to which you already belong by birth, blood and conviction.
These thoughts paraded through Paul Stapleton's head as he sat at a table in Hopemont's oak-paneled library listening to Gabriel Todd describe the routes that the various county brigades of the Sons of Liberty were planning to take for their march on Indianapolis. He made random notes but he was not paying serious attention to Colonel Todd. He kept seeing the expression on Janet's face as she watched Adam Jameson stumble down the hall to Hopemont's front door. Jealousy mingled with an unnerving realization that the Sons of Liberty were a far more serious conspiracy than he had imagined. The confidence with which Gabriel Todd was reeling off the number of recruits on the enlistment books of each brigade was impressive. Adam Jameson had an electrifying impact on the colonels of the George Rogers Clark Brigade. After he left they had talked in awed tones of their admiration for him and the confidence his presence would give their amateur soldiers.
The sound of hoofbeats on Hopemont's drive brought Paul to the window. Instead of Janet, it was one of his black troopers from Keyport. He handed Paul a message from Henry Gentry:
General Carrington has arrived.
He wants to complete the court-martials as soon as possible. He is in an extremely unpleasant frame of mind. Please return immediately.
General Carrington has arrived.
He wants to complete the court-martials as soon as possible. He is in an extremely unpleasant frame of mind. Please return immediately.
Paul showed the message to Colonel Todd, who agreed he had no alternative to a rapid departure. “I hope you can come back without delay. We have a great deal to discuss,” he said.
Paul assured him he would do his best to return swiftly. He packed his small valise, strapped it on his saddle and rode down the hot dusty river road to the steam ferry across the Ohio. He caught the clumsy boat just as it was leaving the Kentucky shore. Within an hour he was at he Grange. Gentry met him in the hall and led him into the front parlor, where General Henry Carrington was pacing the room, indifferent to the magnificent view of the river. Two submissive-looking staff officers sat on a love seat, along with a shaggy-haired civilian in a dirty white suit.
Gentry introduced Paul and they shook hands. The officers were both colonels, the first a gray-haired heavy-jawed man named Slocum, the second a short rotund redhead named Brewer; the civilian was named Dawesâa reporter from the Indianapolis
Journal
, the state's chief Republican newspaper.
Journal
, the state's chief Republican newspaper.
General Carrington's lean bony face was decorated at the chin by a scraggly black beard. His torso was similarly lean. He emanated a foxy quality, especially around the eyes. He looked like a man who knew what it was to be both predator and quarry.
Carrington got to the point immediately. “Your jaw-breaking Negro sergeant has created a serious political problem at the worst possible time,” he said. “Governor Morton's extremely upset about it.”
“He was provoked by an extremely insulting song, General,” Paul replied.
“Colonel Gentry told me all about it in his report. I don't think the song alters the case one whit. We're going to court-martial him and give him the maximum
sentence permitted by military law. Then we're going to court-martial that deserter you caught on Independence Day and shoot him in the courthouse square. The two things will communicate the sort of message the Democrats need to hear. The Union will protect them from unruly blacks. But the war is a fight to the finish, and we won't tolerate anyone who takes an oath of loyalty to the Confederacy.”
sentence permitted by military law. Then we're going to court-martial that deserter you caught on Independence Day and shoot him in the courthouse square. The two things will communicate the sort of message the Democrats need to hear. The Union will protect them from unruly blacks. But the war is a fight to the finish, and we won't tolerate anyone who takes an oath of loyalty to the Confederacy.”
Paul glanced at Colonel Gentry. As the senior officer in Keyport, it was up to him to disagree with the general. Paul had tried to defend Sergeant Washington; an officer was obliged to support one of his men if he thought he was being treated unjustly. But the general had the last wordâunless the colonel wanted to contest it.
Gentry fussed with his empty sleeve, which he had pinned across the chest of his uniform. “General,” he said, “if I may speak informally, I think you're all wet.”
Carrington's beard bristled. The staff officers gazed at Gentry with astonishment, although Paul caught a glimpse of covert agreement on Colonel Brewer's ruddy face. Reporter Dawes was equally amazed but he did not reach for his pad and pencil. He was not here to tell a story of Republican dissension.
“Punishing Sergeant Washington sends the wrong message to the Democratsâthat they can insult Negroes to their faces with impunity,” Gentry said. “That will only lead to more broken jaws and maybe some broken heads on both sides. As for shooting a pathetic dimwit like Private Garner, it's likely to make him a martyr to Republican ruthlessness.”
This was a different Gentry from the mild-mannered slightly pathetic cripple of Paul's recent acquaintance. General Carrington, clearly not used to hearing contrary opinions from lower-ranking officers, was nonplussed.
“Colonel Gentry,” Carrington said. “I'm not here to solicit your opinions! I'm issuing orders, not subjects for debate.”
Gentry tugged at his empty sleeve, as if it was a reminder that he had nothing to lose by continuing the argument. He had no hope of further promotion in the U.S. Army.
“Sergeant Washington's military record is impeccable. He's played a vital part in capturing over one hundred deserters in the past four months. More than any other unit in Indiana.”
“You have more to catch,” Carrington snapped. “Down here on the Ohio, four-fifths of your so-called citizens are disaffected traitorous Democrats. It's hardly surprising that their sons cut and run.”
“All the more reason not to give their brothers and fathers an excuse to start an insurrection by announcing that we're going to shoot every runaway we catch. I've told you about the Sons of Liberty, General. I think they represent a serious threat to Lincoln, the war effort and the nation's future.”
“Colonel Gentry, I repeat, I'm not interested in your opinion!” General Carrington snapped. “Everything I hear through my agents testifies to the incompetence, the almost criminal passivity, you're displaying in this military district. You allow Democrats to slander the government and the army, to undermine, to conspireâ”
“Who are your agents, General? Isn't a man entitled to confront his accusers?” Gentry asked.
“I wouldn't trust you or anyone else with their names,” Carrington said.
“GeneralâI'm trying to tell you something your agents don't tell you. Your policies aren't working. By my count, you've smashed up and closed down thirty Democratic newspapers in Indiana. You've got at least three hundred political prisoners in your Indianapolis bastille, all Democrats held on spurious charges, with no hope of release thanks to the suspension of habeas corpus. To what end? The Democrats are more rebellious,
more hostile to the war than ever. You're turned a difficult situation into a gigantic mess!”
more hostile to the war than ever. You're turned a difficult situation into a gigantic mess!”
Carrington's irritation escalated to fury. “Be careful, Colonel. Your friendship with the president doesn't render you immune to retaliation.”
He wheeled on Paul, who was listening to this exchange with growing disgust. It confirmed everything he had heard about Republican contempt for the Bill of Rights from Gabriel Todd two nights ago. “I take it you agree with Colonel Gentry, Major Stapleton?”
“On the whole, yes,” Paul said.
Carrington glowered. “I know who you are and who your father the
senator
wasâand who your brother, the much-wounded major general, is. I'm impressed by none of these things. A professional soldier tainted by family ties to the Democratic Party had better give unquestioning support to the government's policyâif he wants to retain any hope of future promotion in the U.S. Army.”
senator
wasâand who your brother, the much-wounded major general, is. I'm impressed by none of these things. A professional soldier tainted by family ties to the Democratic Party had better give unquestioning support to the government's policyâif he wants to retain any hope of future promotion in the U.S. Army.”
“General Carrington,” Paul said. “I resent that remark
extremely
. On behalf of myself and my father and my brother. There's no family in this country who has given the Union stronger support.”
extremely
. On behalf of myself and my father and my brother. There's no family in this country who has given the Union stronger support.”
Up until now
, the Gettysburg wound whispered.
, the Gettysburg wound whispered.
Carrington pulled on his gloves. His two aides stood up, both looking somewhat embarrassed by the general's performance. “I expect to see you at the courthouse this afternoon at three P.M. with both prisoners. I want both men convicted by five o'clock.”
The general stalked out to his horse, trailed by his colonels and the reporter. Paul stared after him, shaking his head. “I'llâbeâdamned,” he said.
“That son of a bitch is a walking, talking explanation for a lot of the hatred loose in Indiana,” Gentry said. “Last year, when the Democrats held a state convention in Indianapolis, he unleashed a regiment of troops on
them. He put a dozen men in the hospital and the rest fled the city by horse, foot and train.”
them. He put a dozen men in the hospital and the rest fled the city by horse, foot and train.”
“Has he seen any action?” Paul asked.
Gentry shook his head. “He went from a desk in Washington to a desk in Indianapolis. Last summer, when Morgan's cavalry crossed the river, Carrington rushed here with twenty-five hundred men. He sat in this very parlor and got drunk while Morgan rode east into Ohio. At nightfall Carrington marched west, into Illinois.”
Gentry realized Paul was staring at him with something close to amazement. He was revealing more about the way the Republicans were operating in Indiana than a visiting Democrat should know.
“I've become exasperated with idiots who think Americans can be intimidated by arresting them and smashing up their newspapers,” Gentry said.
“What a shame you can't convince General Carrington of that,” Paul said. “Maybe he's encouraged by the Union commander in Kentucky, General Burbridge. He apparently thinks the same way.”
“I know,” Gentry said mournfully. He waited a strategic moment and asked, “How was your visit to Hopemont?”
“Relaxing,” Paul said. “Colonel Todd and his wife are very hospitable people.”
“Did you meet anyone else at the house?” Gentry asked.
Paul said nothing.
Gentry waited another strategic moment. Paul had no doubt the colonel could see reluctance in his wary eyes, on his tightening mouth. But Gentry could not know the reluctance mingled with the memory of the expression on Janet Todd's face as she looked at Adam Jameson. Major Stapleton was asking himself if his betrayal was motivated by the clarion call of duty, honor, country or jealousy of that headstrong behemoth.
“I have other sources of information, Major,” Gentry said in a low hurried voice, glancing over his shoulder to make sure other members of the household were not approaching. “I've been told that Rogers Jameson and four colonels from the Sons of Liberty's Daviess County brigade were dinner guestsâand you were joined by Colonel Adam Jameson of Morgan's cavalry.”
“If you know so much already, Colonel, why are you asking me for information?” Paul snapped.
“I presume you learned a good deal from an evening with these gentlemen.”
“Actually I learned very little,” Paul said. “Beyond the rough estimate of their numbersâfifty thousand. Their organization is extremely haphazard. That figure could be off by ten or twenty thousand either way.”
“Did they mention a date?” Gentry asked. “That's what we need to know. The date of the uprising.”
“They don't seem to have settled on one yet.”
A lie. Or at least an avoidance of the truthâby refusing to mention the August 29th date the Confederate government recommended. Was that a violation of his West Point oath? A betrayal of duty, honor, country? Or was it only a delaying tactic, to give him time to make sure Janet belonged to himâand he had the opportunity to extricate her from this doomed drama before merciless men like General Carrington and his Kentucky counterpart, General Burbridge, took charge of the situation?
Yes yes yes. A delaying tactic. The idea gave Paul time to breathe, to think. Henry Gentry's glum expression suggested he knew he was getting less than the truth. “Hadn't we better get the prisoners ready for the court-martials?” Paul said.
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