Black Knights of the Hudson
Book I: Shadow of the Flags
By Beverly C. Gray
Published by Beverly C. Gray at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Beverly C. Gray
This eBook is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Author’s Note: This work of historical fiction is intended for mature audiences and contains adult language, graphic scenes of battle, and adult situations.
In loving memory of the Colonel and His Lady
Chapter 1
Virginia, July 1860
Half a lawn, half a lawn,
Half a lawn forward,
Here in the bosom of kin
Rides the bold grandson.
Timothy chuckled to himself. The scheme, concocted by himself, Fitzhugh Lee, and Harry Randolph, was a fitting start to his Army career. As he prepared to execute that plan, he continued to paraphrase Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade.
Family to right of him,
Family to left of him,
Family in front of him
Gathered and gossiped;
Faced with his trust,
Boldly he’ll ride and thrust,
Into the sea of kin,
Forward and through the dust,
Rides the bold grandson.
Fireflies vied with flickering lanterns as guests congregated on the wide expanse of lawn near the James River. Over three hundred family members and friends had gathered at Rose Hill to celebrate the sixtieth wedding anniversary of Timothy’s grandparents, John and Catherine Randolph. There were so many guests in attendance that the bulky, Georgian house was bursting with visitors from as far away as New Orleans. Neighboring estates accepted the overflow willingly as their contribution to the weeklong celebration. Smudges were going full strength to discourage the mosquitoes and chiggers while the Randolph servants assembled a buffet in a well-lighted area of the lawn.
Under the direction of Peter, the butler who had trained two generations of Randolph servants, the long table was laden with food. At a curt nod from the austere black man, two younger men carried out a magnificent tiered anniversary cake in the style popularized by the recent wedding of England’s Princess Victoria. Guests held their breath as the sweating men eased their precious burden onto the center of the table. Both were perspiring; more from fear of what Peter would say if they dropped the cake than from the physical effort required to lift it.
“Supper is ready, Miss Catherine,” announced Peter.
“Just a minute, Cousin Catherine,” Fitzhugh Lee, who had followed his uncle Robert E. Lee into the Army, bounced over to them with the high-spirits of a circus ringmaster. “Some of us have arranged a surprise for the anniversary couple. Cousin Catherine, Cousin John, Ladies and gentlemen. I give you the newest pride of the Cavalry, Lieutenant Timothy MacKendrick.”
Puzzled, the guests turned their attention to the top of the hill where Timothy was mounted upon his dainty bay mare, Firefly. The young officer lifted his hat to acknowledge his introduction and then rode down the slope in a controlled canter; straight at the magnificent cake. Frail John Randolph seemed the first to get an inkling that his grandson was not intending to stop. Others soon realized the young man’s intent and a tremendous chorus of “oohs and ahs” came from the ladies punctuated by a few “Good Lords” and “by damns” from the men. Peter stared in open-mouthed disbelief as Firefly sailed over cake and table.
Timothy, flushed with pride for his horse, bowed before his grandfather as if he was a king on a throne instead of an old gentleman in a wheel chair. “Happy anniversary, Sir.”
John’s eyes glinted although the stroke, which had marred his features, prevented his mouth from echoing his pleasure and robbed his voice of its former heartiness. “Scamp.”
“Happy anniversary, Grandmother.”
Catherine eyed Timothy with a bit less enthusiasm. “I suppose it could have been worse. You and that fool horse might have landed in the cake.”
Timothy shook his head. “Rose Hill thoroughbreds are the finest in Virginia or Maryland or anywhere. There was no chance that Firefly would miss that jump. Cousin Harry, Cousin Fitz, was that to your satisfaction?”
Lee banged Timothy enthusiastically on the shoulder and snickered at James MacKendrick, who was standing near Catherine. “What do you think of your gallant brother?”
James spat the remnants of his cigar onto the ground. He had bitten it in two when Timothy flew over the cake.
~~~
Colonel Lafayette Randolph accepted yet another jovial comment about his dashing nephew but kept an eye out for the three miscreants. Tickled as he was by the prank, which was something he might have attempted himself twenty odd years before, a stern chiding was in order. The actual deed did not concern him as much as the fact that his nephew had allowed himself to be dared into attempting it. Timothy, while prone to impulsive boyish scrapes at times, just did not possess the sort of devious mind that would have come up with that little tactic. Lafe also discounted his other nephew, Harry Randolph, as being too guileless for such business. No, this entire affair bore the imprints of Bob Lee’s nephew for Fitz Lee’s larks at West Point were still the talk of the Academy.
James MacKendrick joined Lafe; his lips compressed in fury under his trim mustache. “You are going to speak to Timothy.”
“I was thinking on it.”
James’ gray eyes narrowed and he brushed an impatient hand through his dark hair. “I should hope so! Good God, Lafe, he’s not a boy now. He’s an officer in the United States Army and...”
“I’m well aware of that fact, James. However, you should be able to remember the elation of changing the ‘Kaydet Gray’ for ‘Army Blue’ and putting on the gold bar for the first time. It's pure high spirits.”
“As a matter of fact, I do recall how it felt to graduate but it certainly did not compel me to jump a damned horse over a table filled with food!”
“No, but you’re a different man, James. Even when you were a boy you were a responsible...”
“Precisely,” James pounced on the word. “I was responsible which Timothy is not. Can you imagine what General Scott would have said to such an outrageous display?”
“Depending on the state of his gout, he would either have had apoplexy or hallooed the boy on. James, it’s different for Cavalry officers. They’re always more flamboyant than the rest of us and we always make allowances for them.”
“I won’t make allowances for Timothy. He is an officer now and he can damn well grow up!”
Lafe sighed as James stalked off. James’ sense of honor was matchless but he lacked tolerance for those who did not measure up to his own exacting standards.
Gareth MacKendrick and Lafayette Randolph had been roommates at West Point and the bonds of friendship sown in those four years had grown deep. Both were Southerners; Gareth from Charleston and Lafe from Virginia. When they graduated way back in ‘32, Gareth had married Lafe’s favorite sister, Phoebe. Lafe had returned the compliment and wed Gareth’s younger sister, Dorothea. Gareth was killed during the War with Mexico. Within the year, his widow died as well and left behind James and Timothy. Lafe and Dorothea had taken the two orphans and raised them as their own. While Timothy enjoyed hearing stories about his real parents, it was Dorothea who had seen him through his childhood falls and fevers while Lafe had administered praise and discipline with a strong, paternal hand. For Timothy, Lafe and Dorothea were his father and mother. James clung to the memory of his true parents and seemed to measure everything against that memory.
Merry voices interrupted Lafe’s ruminations. He stood with his hands on his hips as Timothy, Fitz, and Harry sauntered down the slope. Firefly had been pampered, as only two Cavalry officers could pamper a horse, and left to munch some well-deserved oats. Having seen to the mare’s comfort, the trio was on a mission to see about some supper. Like James, Timothy had entered West Point at sixteen and didn’t seem old enough to be wearing that dress blue uniform. Young Harry, just eighteen and out on a very special furlough, was getting ready to start his second year at the Virginia Military Institute.
Lee caught sight of the Colonel first. “Uh oh, better try an evasive maneuver, Boys.”
“Halt,” Lafe ordered as they prepared to break ranks and bolt.
Fresh out of West Point, Timothy snapped to attention with gratifying speed; followed a split second later by Harry.
Lafayette’s temper was famous and only Fitz Lee was slow to obey. “Oh, now, Cousin Lafe, why did you want to go and do that? You scared both these boys stiff with that bellow.”
Lafe fixed Lee with a steely eye. “I was under the impression that my eagles still outrank your bars, LIEUTENANT.”
Fitz braced immediately.
“Much better,” Lafe purred as the threesome dressed ranks. “Now then, whose idea was it to jump over the cake?”
Silence greeted him.
“Well?” Lafayette peered into each young face. He was not a small man but he had to tip his head back considerably to compensate for Timothy’s sky-raking six-foot three.
“Mine, Sir,” Timothy answered.
“YOURS!? But, I was sure that...I mean, dammit, Lee does have a reputation.”
Fitz grinned widely. “He’s a real joy, thought it up all by his lonesome.”
“No doubt with some encouragement from you. Very well, Harry, Fitz, you’re dismissed. Timothy, I want a word with you.”
“Can’t it wait, Lafe? I’m hungry!”
“Don’t worry, ‘Mothy,” Fitz called consolingly. “Harry and I will save you some vittles.”
Harry nodded solemnly. “A very small sum.”
“Was it really your idea?” Lafe inquired.
“We were admiring Firefly. She’s so beautiful, Lafe. I didn’t expect a present like her,” a lantern overhead turned Timothy’s thick light brown hair the color of old gold.
“You’ve worked hard these past few years and I wanted to give you something special to take to the Cavalry. Now, does this have anything to do with that stunt you pulled or are you trying to distract me?”
“Harry, Fitz, and I were admiring her and Fitz said it was a shame that it was too late to take her out and see how she jumped. Then Harry said that the moon was full tonight and I noticed all those lanterns. Well, one thing led to another and I suggested that I try her over the table. Fitz pointed out that a good Cavalryman never hesitates to show his mount to its best advantage and that it was just the kind of thing his friend Beauty would appreciate.”
“Beauty?”
“Lieutenant Stuart. He’s with the 1st Cavalry Dragoons too and Fitz said he'd write to him that I was a credit to the memory of my gallant father. Fitz is going to the Academy to teach Cavalry tactics, you know. That assignment, along with his service with the 2nd Cavalry in Texas, means his opinion will carry weight with another Cavalry officer.”
“My real concern is that you might have damaged the mare or yourself, Son, or collided with one of the guests.”
“Oh, that wasn’t likely. Didn’t you notice that Fitz and Harry kept a corridor clear for me?”
“Now that you mention it, I do seem to recall Lee shooing some people aside. However, you were still risking your idiotic neck.”
Timothy’s gray eyes sparkled with the confidence of youth. “No, I wouldn’t have tried it if I’d had any doubt that she could jump it. I had her over the hedge down by Craney Brook this morning and that’s nearly six feet.”
“I just want to say one thing more and then we’ll close this discussion. You did well at the Academy and got by with a minimum of demerits. I’m proud of you for curtailing your natural exuberance there but you’re going out to the frontier, Timothy, as an officer in the United States Army. Boyish escapades are all very good and well but out there, you run the real chance of getting killed or of getting your men killed. Don’t forget that you will be responsible for men’s lives.”
“I know. The old sergeant, who runs the stables at the Academy, gave me the best advice of anyone the day before graduation. He said a good second lieutenant, and one that’s apt to survive to become a first, keeps his mouth shut and listens to his senior non-commissioned officers.”
“I’m not sure that I agree with that entirely although there is a grain of truth to it. Granted, your non-commissioned officers are going to have the experience you lack but never forget that you are their commanding officer. Listen to them, by all means, but make your own decisions. You’re a fine man, Timothy, and you proved that by making it through one of the most difficult institutions in the country. Never, never let anyone, be he a subordinate or closest friend, make the decisions which are yours to make.”
“Such as Fitz Lee shaming me into jumping my horse over a table?”
“Exactly so,” Lafe grinned and tousled Timothy’s hair as if he was ten again instead of twenty.
“Can we go now, Lafe? I’m very hungry.”
Arms linked affectionately, the two blue-clad officers ambled over to the table.
Peter saw them coming and moved to bar Timothy’s approach. “You wait here, Mister Timothy. I’ll fetch your plate. I won’t let you anywhere near my table!”
~~~
Early the next morning, while his various kith and kin pursued their own entertainments, Timothy strolled over to Rose Hill’s kitchen to bribe the cook for a picnic basket. Myra, overseeing the preparations for the mountains of food necessary to feed so many people, was not pleased at being pestered; even by one who as a small boy had captivated her ample heart with his sunny disposition.
Like all the other servants at Rose Hill, Myra had been freed almost forty years before at the death of John Randolph’s father. The senior Randolph, following the example of George Wythe, had manumitted his slaves by the terms of his will. Rose Hill had suffered financially from the arrangement for the first ten years but the Randolphs bore it with stoic tolerance. They were not Abolitionists in the real sense of the word nor did they advocate the immediate freeing of other peoples’ slaves. The idea of freedom was a question of conscience and could not be imposed upon other citizens of the South. The Randolphs believed that slavery would eventually die a natural death as more Southerners realized that it was unnecessary in the long-term. Just as the African slave trade had outlived its usefulness and been outlawed, they were convinced that slavery itself would eventually be abolished. There was already discussion in the Virginia legislature regarding that very thing.
“What do you want, Mister Timothy?” Myra demanded.
“I was hoping that you could fix me a picnic basket.”
“I don’t have time.”
“Just a few crumbs and it won’t take you a minute or, you could give me the basket and I’ll fill it. Ow!" Timothy snatched back stinging fingers which had drifted a bit too close to one of Myra’s fresh cookies and thus into the range of a long wooden spoon.
“I heard what you did last night and I’m not wasting my time fixing a basket for you and those other trouble-makers.”
“I’m not taking Fitz and Harry on a picnic.”
“No?”
“I’m taking Dolly.”
Myra’s face broke into a wide smile. “In that case, I’ll fix you a basket, Mister Timothy. Come back in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, Myra.”
He raced up the stairs and entered a cheerful bedroom. “It’s all set. Myra is fixing us a basket.”
Dorothea MacKendrick Randolph glanced up from the sock she was darning for Lafe. “That is good of her, as busy as she must be.”
“She wasn’t going to at first because she figured it was for Fitz, Harry, and me. The minute she heard that it was for you, she agreed.”
“Are you sure that you want to go picnicking with your old Auntie instead of one of these lovely belles?”
Timothy put his arms around Dorothea. “I will be taking the loveliest belle here, Dolly. Besides, we haven’t seen each other for so long and I’ll be leaving for Kansas soon. There’s so much I want to tell you.”
Dorothea, who had been his confidant for most of his life, returned his hug. Timothy had been just five when his mother had brought her sons to Washington for a visit while Gareth went south with the Army to fight in Mexico. It had been love at first sight for both of them. She had no children of her own and, when his parents died, Timothy became her son in all but birth. She had always been so quick to show delight in his clothes, from his first long pants to his cadet gray.
“How handsome you look. I do believe you’re taller than James now and he always scraped the sky. You’re all grown up, Timothy. Hard to believe that you’re fair game to the very girls who complained about you teasing them a few short years ago. Why, I’m not worried about Indians at all. Seems to me your real peril is the regiment of belles here at Rose Hill. By the way, that was quite a prank you pulled last evening and your grandmother isn’t very pleased with you.”
“Neither was Peter. Did you see him at breakfast? He guarded the side board as if it was the Holy Grail.”
“‘Darling, you really shouldn’t make fun of Peter. It’s one thing to play pranks on Gerome. He helped raise you and he’s as apt to enjoy your nonsense as your Uncle Lafe. Peter is an old man and he doesn’t have the sense of humor that Gerome has. In all innocence, you might hurt his feelings dreadfully.”
“You’re right, Dolly, I’ll behave.”
“That’s my boy. Now, let’s get started, shall we? Lafe has gone off with your Uncle Clay to tour the plantation so he’ll be gone for hours.”
“Is James around?”
“He went with them.”
Aunt and nephew headed for a pleasant spot near the river where a stand of willow trees provided shade from the sultry summer sun. As the young man recounted his adventures at the Academy to his attentive aunt, he found himself listing all the things he loved best about Dorothea. Her seal brown hair had only a few silver threads running through it; making it hard to realize that she was in her mid-forties. Her eyes were the MacKendrick gray but in her case they held the softness of a summer mist. She had long, curving lashes that were so heavy they seemed to weigh her lids; giving her the appearance of a drowsy child. Timothy had never heard her raise her voice in emphasis and the cherishing she received from her devoted husband enhanced her inborn serenity. Tranquil as a calm sea at sunset, Dorothea was the center of her little family’s life. It was she who calmed the temperamental Lafayette and soothed James and Timothy during their boyhood peccadilloes.
Munching away on a piece of chicken, while he described the past year to her, Timothy ventured into the thing that had been troubling him since his arrival. “I didn’t realize that James’ wife was so young.”
“She’s seventeen. I was that age when I married Lafe.”
Timothy worshipped his elder brother but could still see the difference between Lafayette and James. A woman would have had nothing but tenderness with Lafe who was famous even amongst Virginians for his gallantry; and Virginians had raised gallantry to an art. Timothy was perceptive enough to realize that his brother might not have the patience to be quite so careful of a young bride’s sensibilities.
“James and Marietta seem quite happy together,” Dorothea continued.
“Yes, she was quite radiant when I met her the other day. I was hoping to spend some time with James last evening. I reckon he’s still busy being the happy bridegroom.”
They were almost finished when their picnic was disrupted by the arrival of pests.
Dorothea’s serene brow wrinkled slightly. “Ants I can deal with. However you two...”
Fitz and Harry had arrived on horseback, leading Firefly.
Timothy hesitated, torn between the desire to spend more time with Dorothea and a chance to ride his horse.
Dolly started to pack up the picnic basket. “Run along, Darling. I want to spend some time with Marietta, anyway. She’s my first chance at having a daughter, you know.”
Timothy gave his aunt a quick peck on the cheek and swung onto Firefly. The girth slipped and Timothy sprawled on the ground with one long leg thrown over the upended saddle. He eyed the innocent-looking Fitzhugh Lee. “Very funny.”
“Why ‘Mothy, what are you doing down there?”
Harry laughed so hard he very nearly joined his cousin on the ground. Dorothea dissolved into giggles.
Lee continued to regard Timothy from his lofty position atop his own mount. “Hurt your fan...self?”
Timothy untangled himself with as much dignity as he could muster and got to his feet. “Certainly not, you know as well as I do that Cavalrymen always bounce on landing.”
He got the saddle over Firefly’s back and fastened the girth while the mare nibbled at his hat. Her limpid eyes were fastened on her master as if she was a bit puzzled as to why her saddle had misbehaved. Before Harry or Fitz realized he was even aboard, Timothy tightened his knees and Firefly shot forward.
“Blast. I keep forgetting he actually knows one end of a horse from another. Come on, Harry.”
Harry guffawed as he followed after Lee.
~~~
Everyone said that it was the nicest ball they had ever attended. Two huge chandeliers illuminated the ballroom so that it sparkled as impressively as Versailles. Myriad lanterns turned the garden into a fairyland that beckoned to the young cavaliers and their fair ladies while notable families vied as to who had the loveliest daughter or most chivalrous son. The prank by Timothy, Fitz, and Harry on the first evening had gotten the anniversary celebration off to a fine start and the past five days had been marked with fun. This grand ball was the culmination of the festivities. Earlier that day, there had been a mock tournament in which the exuberant young men had strutted about in pasteboard armor and had charged each other with wooden lances. No one was seriously injured, although a few gallants had sustained bloody noses and bruises which required the instant solicitude of their fair ladies. Chivalry ruled the day as all tried to emulate the limpid language that was characteristic of Sir Walter Scott’s famous romances. The young women and girls had been in ecstasy over their sumptuous gowns and trailing veils of a bygone era and presented their silken scarves as favors to their chosen champions.
Several of these gentle damsels, now attired in pastel ball gowns draped over wide hoops, watched enviously as one of their number whirled by in the arms of the victor of the tournament. Each belle sighed as light from the twin chandeliers made the buttons on his dress blue uniform and the single gold bars on his broad shoulders sparkle. He was so tall, so gallant, so handsome!
Young men viewed the brand-new lieutenant and his rapturous partner with varying degrees of amusement, sourness, or open jealousy.
“Look at Sally Lee. She’s so wrapped up in MacKendrick, I’m surprised she hasn’t swoooooned on the spot,” Sally Lee’s intended grumbled into his punch cup. “What’s the matter with ‘em? You put a sword and brass buttons on a man and they immediately fall all over themselves.”
“Never mind, have some more punch. He can’t dance with every girl all night.”
Timothy, unaware of the ruffled feathers, escorted his partner back to the flock of girls and claimed a dance with his brother’s bride. In the past few days, he had formed a strong attachment to Marietta whose butterfly nature found a sympathetic echo in his own. She was an ideal sister. He guided her around the floor as the orchestra played one of Strauss’ cheerful polkas. “Are you enjoying the ball?”
“Oh yes, I adore balls. I am rather hot though,” she flicked her yellow fan open and waved it rapidly over her flushed face.
“Say no more,” Timothy steered her to the wide verandah doors.
~~~
Near midnight, James realized that he had not seen his bride in some time. A quick glance about the ballroom ascertained Timothy’s absence as well. James went in search of the missing pair and found them, arm-in-arm, rambling through the garden. James’ step quickened as they paused near the fountain. If Timothy dared to take her into his arms…it was obvious there was a mutual attraction between his dashing brother and impressionable wife.
“So, there he sat,” Timothy’s light, lilting baritone stopped him. “Covered from head to toe in thick Virginia mud. I can still see the expression on his face. James hasn’t liked horses since.”
“At least it explains why he won’t go riding with me. I thought maybe he didn’t like my company anymore,” Marietta smoothed a wrinkle in her soft yellow gown.
“Why Marietta, what a thing to say! Of course James likes your company! He loves you very dearly.”
“Really?” Marietta’s smile broke like the sun through a cloud. “It’s just that he spends so much time with the other gentlemen.”
“James hasn’t seen much of them lately. You know what the Army’s like. I reckon it has been pretty hard on you being thrown in with all this family business. Shall I say something to James for you?”
“Oh no, I don't want him bothered with this.”
“It isn’t any bother.”
James coughed to alert them to his presence and to stifle his unwarranted suspicion. “So it’s you, Timothy. I figured I’d have to call someone out.”
“I was just getting acquainted with my new sister. I was telling Marietta all about you and she was telling me about her escapades.”
Marietta’s curls danced as she shook her head at Timothy who did not notice.
“What escapades?”
“Climbing trees and so forth. Do you suppose there is any food left?” apparently unaware that he had given any secrets away, Timothy headed back to the ballroom.
Silence remained behind him as James gazed down at his little wife. Marietta refused to look at him but wound and unwound the long end of her sash.
“Marietta?”
She became more engrossed in the sash
“Marietta, look at me.”
When she still refused, James slipped a hand under her chin and tilted her head up so that her eyes were forced to meet his own. “Now what is this about escapades?”
“It was only a small tree, James. No, that isn’t true, it was a very big tree but no one saw me. It was at Saratoga Springs on our honeymoon and this little girl’s kitten had gotten stuck in the tree. She was crying, James, and there was no one else nearby so I had to go up after it,” her voice faltered as his jaw clenched.
James stifled the laughter before it could boom out of his lungs. While Timothy’s exploit with the cake was unforgivable, an innocent tomboy lark by his pretty young wife was another matter entirely. The silver moonlight glimmered in Marietta’s dark curls and her sweet little bosom peeped above the cluster of lace at the low-cut neck of her bodice. “You are adorable, Mrs. MacKendrick. Have I mentioned yet how lovely you look tonight?”
Marietta’s eyes widened. “Aren’t you going to scold me? Oh my!”
James’ mouth covered hers with crushing force.
“Figured you might be hungry too...uh, I can come back later,” Timothy grinned as Marietta backed away from her husband.
“No, I really should go back in. We’ve been out here ever so long!” face crimson, Marietta fled for the sanctuary of the ballroom.
“Your timing leaves much to be desired, Timothy,” James snapped.
Timothy offered James one of the plates he was carrying as a peace offering. “I’m sorry, James, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Would you like me to go after her? I could apologize.”
He looked so crestfallen that James could not maintain his irritation. “No, it isn’t your fault. Marietta is still a bit shy about being a wife.”
“I’m happy she’s a bit shy. This way, I can spend some time with you. We haven’t had a chance to talk at all,” Timothy declared.
James sat on a bench and stretched out his long legs. He lighted a cigar and considered his brother. Timothy was gazing dreamily about the garden; apparently reacquainting himself with the maze of roses that had been their favorite haunt on earlier visits. Once it had served as a dragon’s lair, another time it was Brandywine and, still another, Waterloo. The games were always Timothy’s with his elder brother cast in the role of the hero: King Arthur, the Marquis de Lafayette, the Duke of Wellington…whatever soldier caught his boyish admiration. James had indulged the youngster’s imagination and accepted the proffered adoration as his rightful homage.
“What are you doing out here anyway?” James remarked. “Aren’t you supposed to dance with all of the gentle damsels and choose the one that fits the glass slipper?”
“Am I?” Timothy draped an arm around the alabaster shoulders of a half-naked Aphrodite.
“That seems to be the general consensus of the young ladies.”
“Then they are going to be disappointed. I’ve just spent four years barricaded by rules so I’m not going to turn right around and fence myself in with a wife.”
“Wise man, at least have the sense to wait a year before committing yourself.”
“Why did you grow a mustache, James?”
“You ought to raise one yourself, Timothy.”
“Huhuh, remember, ‘no horse, no wife, no mustache’.”
“That’s just for cadets. Now that you’ve traded in ‘Kaydet Gray’ for those pretty gold bars, you can break all three of those little rules.”
“Just the first one, thanks. Isn’t Firefly beautiful? She’s got the nicest legs on her that I’ve ever seen and a mouth like a velvet glove.”
James only half-listened to his brother’s eager summary of the mare’s points. Yes, Timothy had grown a great deal in the last few years; bearing out the things that James had heard about his triumphs at West Point. As difficult as it was to come by promotions in the Army these days, the older man had been concerned that his charismatic younger brother might pose a threat to his own ambitions in the Army they both served. He loved the boy, for all that Timothy irritated him at times, and he did not relish being rivals. James was relieved to note that Timothy still had a vital, boyish quality so was unlikely to inspire a superior’s confidence. He relaxed as he realized that his brother would not pose a threat to his own military ambitions.
James put out the cigar and stood up. “I’m going to dance with Marietta. I’m sure that I can convince her current partner that I have a prior claim. By the way, I hear that you're joining the 1st Cavalry Dragoons.”
“I am indeed!”
“How many strings did Lafe have to pull?”
“I have no idea, but I’m glad he did.”
“Well, you always wanted it, success.”
~~~
As the first hour of the day chimed on the grandfather clock in the hall, the older couples drifted away and left the younger folk in exuberant possession of the ballroom. James took his wife’s arm and began to make his own goodnights.
Marietta was hesitant to leave the room that was filled with merriment. The kiss in the garden still rankled. Oh, how could he? Kiss me like that where anyone could see. Bad enough that he paws me in the privacy of our own room! Papa never kisses Mama that way in PUBLIC! He just gives her a little peck on the cheek. Even though we’re married, it doesn’t give James the right to treat me like...like, well, like a fancy woman!”
Normally, Marietta was as joyous as a sun-speckled butterfly. Her frivolous dark curls and enormous honey-brown eyes had made her a general favorite at Carlisle Barracks. Small, her eighteen-inch waist the envy of other girls, Marietta had been the belle of the Fort during her first heady season. Young officers had flocked to her father’s quarters and she had lapped up the attention like a purring kitten. At the last Christmas ball, she had met Lieutenant James MacKendrick. When the lieutenant had begun to pay court to her, Marietta fell head over heels in love with him. For his part, James was quite taken with the merry girl. She was pretty and came of good family. Her father, a colonel in the Engineers, had a number of contacts in the higher ranks that could be put to James’ own advantage. Marietta’s mother and father approved of the young officer who had been top of his class at West Point. During their giddy courtship, James had made her the center of his world. Then, after his almost chaste courtship, had come the wedding night and the shock over what a husband’s marital rights actually meant. At night, when James slipped into bed beside her, she still had to grit her teeth to hide her loathing. Marietta, typical of the flirtatious belles of her generation, knew all about the games before marriage but was woefully ignorant with regard to the reality of the bedchamber. James, wrongfully assuming that her coy wiles were evidence of a knowledge she did not possess, had entered into his husbandly prerogatives enthusiastically. Consequently, he did not woo as much as seek to conquer his new wife and did not realize that he was terrifying her. It did not occur to Marietta to mention her discomfort to her husband. Her mother, in the brief, confusing talk the night before her wedding, had stressed the point that James had certain rights to which she must submit. So, night after night, Marietta submitted to his passion and hated it more and more.
Later, as she lay in the possessive curve of James’ arms, she tried to ignore his intense lovemaking. He was even more demanding than usual; dominating her and pressing his tongue into her mouth so that Marietta found herself trembling. Dutifully following her mother’s advice, Marietta contemplated how she was going to decorate their quarters when they returned to Carlisle Barracks while she tried to ignore the strength of his thrusts.
I will not cry. I will not. I mustn’t let him see that I mind. I love him all the rest of the time so why does this have to be so awful?
~~~
After the successful re-conquest of his bride that was designed to obliterate from her mind all the gallants with whom she had danced that night, James stretched out beside her. A tiny sob pulsed from her lips. He propped himself on an elbow and was appalled to see that her eyes were closed tightly. Tears streaked her vivid little face. It had never occurred to James that she disliked his lovemaking. She had never said a word and, though he had noticed her lack of enthusiasm on previous occasions, he had simply assumed that it was because of her inexperience.
“Damn,” James said without heat. “Darling, why didn’t you tell me?”
Marietta exhaled with a tearful hiccup. “Mama says a woman is supposed to submit to her husband; that it’s her duty and...”
“Marietta. I like your mother but she had no business telling you such a thing. You are my wife, yes, and I do have certain rights. But it is hardly pleasurable to exercise them if you’re weeping.”
“I’m s...sorry, James. I’ll try to do better.”
“Now don’t cry…Marietta, stop that at once.”
She didn’t stop. In fact, she cried even harder. James was baffled for he had never hurt her intentionally. Marietta was now in such a state that she would not listen to him so, after another unsuccessful effort to quiet her, he admitted that the problem was beyond him. He left her face down across the bed, her small fists pounding the pillow, and hurried to Lafayette and Dorothea’s room. He was surprised to note that a light still shone from the crack under the door. Heartened by that evidence that his aunt and uncle were still awake, he tapped softly at the heavy oak door.
“This seems to be our night,” Lafe chuckled. “Timothy left only a few minutes ago.”
“Dolly, could you come see to Marietta? She’s crying fit to be tied and I can’t make her stop.”
“Of course I’ll come. Do you know why she’s crying?”
James turned an uncharacteristic crimson. “I didn’t know how she felt these past couple of weeks. I feel like a cad.”
“Stay here with Lafe while I go talk with her.”
Twenty minutes later Dorothea was back.
“Will she be all right?” James catapulted off the window seat as she closed the door.
“Of course, if you can remember that she is a woman and not a military objective.”
“What!? I’ve never brutalized her! I’ve always been gentle.”
“James, Darling, you are married to a very young wife. One who has been told all sorts of nonsense by a doting mama who probably does not love the doting papa.”
Belatedly, James realized that he had been too ardent with his bride and that he would have to start courting her all over again.
When he slipped into the bed beside her, Marietta’s crying jag had diminished to shaky sighs. “I’m sorry I was so babyish, James.”
“It was my fault. I should have realized sooner that I was rushing you. We’ll just take things more slowly in the future, hmm?”
For those few remaining hours before dawn, James held her in his arms; cuddling her and doing nothing more alarming than stealing an occasional kiss while she nestled like a drowsy kitten.
Chapter 2
Kansas, August 1860
Timothy breathed the heavy dust as he entered Fort Riley, home of the 1st Cavalry Dragoons. First Lieutenant James Ewell Brown Stuart ambled over to the newcomer. “Fitz Lee has a high regard for you, Lieutenant. I’ll be delighted to show you around.”
Timothy liked Fitz’s friend immediately, although he was a bit puzzled by Stuart’s Academy cognomen of “Beauty”. Stuart was far from that although he had brilliant blue eyes and an undeniable charm. While taking furtive glances at his new home, he tried to answer Stuart’s flood of questions.
“Yes, I’m a Virginian. Even though my Father came from Charleston, my Uncle Lafe Randolph raised me. You know, one of the Randolphs from Rose Hill on the James River? No, the Academy hasn’t slipped at all. It is still a fine institution. I don’t think it has changed much in the six years since your own graduation, Sir. No, I haven’t settled on the future Mrs. MacKendrick as yet. Yes, indeed, a good woman is hard to find. If it is no trouble, dinner with the Lieutenant and Mrs. Stuart will be most welco…Who is that sergeant over there? The one that’s starting at us?” blurted Timothy.
“Not us, you. That’s Command Sergeant Major Kurt Wolfenbuttle. The meanest, hardest riding soldier in the Army. He is the right hand of Major Howard and is the bane of officers and enlisted men alike.”
“Command Sergeant Major Wolfenbuttle! He served with my Father!”
“He and the Major have both been waiting for you,” Stuart paused so that the sergeant could join them.
Wolfenbuttle marched grandly past them. Timothy had grown up on stories about the German; stories written to Lafe by his lost father and later retold beside warm winter fires. It had not occurred to him that there were people with the dragoons who had known the father he barely remembered.
Stuart, his last three questions unanswered, poked his silent companion. “Inattention to superior officers is a very undesirable trait, Lieutenant.”
“Sorry,” Timothy started out of his reverie. “I just suddenly realized where I was. I’m finally with the 1st! When I was little, I had some tin soldiers and I called my favorite Captain Cooke. He was my Father’s friend back in the old days when Colonel Kearny commanded the 1st Dragoons.”
“Colonel Cooke is my Father-in-law.”
“Is he really? You mean he actually has children?”
“Some men do. I have some of my own.”
“Colonel Cooke’s been so much a part of the Cavalry that I can’t picture him existing apart from it or even off of a horse.”
“Young ‘Mothy, you have a severe case of hero worship,” Stuart used the younger man's West Point name without hesitation.
“‘Deed I do. St. George Cooke MADE the Cavalry.”
“He certainly had a lot of impact on it. There ain’t anyone quite like Flora’s Pa. We miss him around here.”
“You mean he isn’t with the 1st anymore?” Timothy couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“Nope, he took a detachment to the Northwest territories. Don’t fret, though. He’s bound to come back soon, maybe for Christmas with the family. Flora’s been pestering him and we’ll make sure you get to meet him.”
Several grizzled troopers lounged near the large wooden door that led to the Major’s office.
“Wal, what have we here? Some new blood from that place back East. What’s it called now? I recollect, West Point.”
“You’re plumb right. It must be from West Point. Uniform’s too new and fancy to have served anywhere in the WORKIN’ Army.”
Timothy faced the five loungers with some misgivings. He had never been a martinet but there were certain proprieties to be observed in the relations between officers and enlisted men. He had heard whispered scare stories about second lieutenants and their horrible experiences with new commands. I reckon these men are somehow testing me, but couldn’t they have let me unpack my kit first?
“My, my, don’t he look nice and soldierly. ‘Spose he can manage a horse?”
“Looks like he could talk a horse’s language, ‘sides, he’s got the right bloodlines for it. I seed his Pa ride a Comanch’ mare bareback all the way to Fort Leavenworth. Welcome to the 1st, Lieutenant. I reckon you don’t remember us; you was just a little tyke when your Ma took you back East. We were with Captain MacKendrick in D Company.”
The five men snapped to attention. Delighted, Timothy returned their salutes in his best West Point manner. Then, he smiled and offered his hand to each of them; a few happy minutes spent hearing their personal reminiscences about his father.
A gruff throat clearing put an end to the greetings. Command Sergeant Major Wolfenbuttle stood in the doorway.
“We’ll talk some more later, Sir.”
“Glad you’re with us, Sir.”
“See you, Sir.”
They filed out respectfully; only their broad grins revealing their pride and joy that MacKendrick’s son was with them at last.
Timothy faced the still-staring sergeant as vague memory stirred at the back of his mind of a huge laughing giant and heavy rain splashing about his knees. Timothy had ridden James’ pony. It was too big for him but he had accepted a dare from another child and had clambered onto the animal’s back. A clap of thunder scared it and it raced away; with the child clinging stubbornly to its mane. Then the pony shied violently and Timothy tumbled into a deep puddle.
Two huge hands plucked him from the muck and set him on massive shoulders. As he was carried, like a victorious emperor instead of a very muddy little boy, a trusted voice boomed, “Horse-soldiers always fall off, ja? Even your Papa falls off once or twice. We take you home now so Mama doesn’t worry.”
“You carried me home in the rain,” Timothy exclaimed to the giant who was now only a couple of inches taller.
“Ja, ja! You can remember this?” Command Sergeant Major Wolfenbuttle’s seamed face split into a wide grin.
“I’m so very glad to see you again, Sergeant Major!”
Wolfenbuttle turned from the room as a tear glinted in his eye.
“I look forward to speaking further with you, Sergeant Major,” Timothy called after him.
“That was a kind gesture, Lieutenant, saying that you remembered him,” observed Major Howard from his desk.
“But I do, Sir.”
“Still, it was kind of you to mention it to him. He worshipped Captain MacKendrick, as did we all.”
“I’m not sure what to say, Sir, I can’t really remember my Father,” my God, I didn’t know Father was such a hero to these men. I’m not sure that I’m even fit to join his old command much less measure up to those memories. Maybe I should have tried for the 2nd Cavalry instead of the 1st.
“He was a quiet man who inspired incredible loyalty from all of his men. He and Mrs. MacKendrick were very kind to a young lieutenant and I’ll never forget how pretty your Mother was. I was sorry to hear that she had died also. It was within a year of his death, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir, she caught some sort of fever.”
It was one of Timothy’s vivid childhood memories. He could still see his mother, wasted and white in the big bed, while he clung to Dorothea’s hand. He had seen so little of her that last year; she was always ill and he spent most of his time with his aunt and uncle.
“So pretty,” the Major repeated wistfully. “So, now you are here and raring to go.”
“In all honesty, Sir, I can’t wait.”
“Fine, fine, I’ve put you in D Company. Captain Clay is in command and you’ve also got a fine non-commissioned officer to help you get off on the right foot, Sergeant Wallace. He’s a bit of a character but you’ll get along. He joined us a few years ago.”
“Then he did not know my Father, Sir?”
Tom Howard smiled in genuine sympathy. “I made sure of that, Lieutenant. Clay never knew him either. A new command is hard enough without being compared to a dead legend, no matter how well-loved.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I imagine you’d like to find your quarters now.”
“Is there anything else, Sir?”
“No, no Lieutenant. We’ll wait until tomorrow to go over your duties and what I expect from my officers.”
Chapter 3
Pennsylvania, December 1860
Abraham Lincoln was elected in November. Tensions flared and the South, led by a vocal South Carolina, made certain declarations from which they could not back down. By December, the situation was deteriorating rapidly and many began to realize that the trouble was far more serious than the usual election rhetoric.
Heavy snow blanketed Carlisle Barracks on the 15th of December. As James made his way home, the obtuseness of the military mind astounded him. A crisis was developing and most of the higher-ranking officers would not or could not see it. Well, yes he could understand such stupidity in Colonel Abernathy. Marietta’s father was an affable, portly soul who would not recognize a potential disaster if it happened under his very nose. However, it was inconceivable that Major Buell, whom he had always considered an intelligent man, was unconcerned over the blazing rage into which Lincoln’s election had plunged the South. How did that black Republican ape obtain the Presidency anyway? It’s a sorry thing indeed when an uneducated prairie politician can sneak past the statesmen of the day into the White House!
James turned his disgruntled thoughts to something more pleasant…Marietta. When I get home, she’ll be in one of her soft, velvet gowns, perhaps the dark green. She’ll be sewing by the fire...umm...knitting. Her delicate white hands will make the needles sparkle in the firelight while her dark curls will shine like satin. I’ll gather her into my arms for a long embrace. Then we’ll have dinner…probably a roast…and retire early to our bedroom. I’ll hold her and cherish her and…
A very wet snowball slammed into his face while five loud voices claimed victory as six equally loud voices disputed the claim. James eyed the combatants with substantial misgivings as he recognized the Alabama drawl of one of the so-called victors. She wore a simple dark-blue wool dress and her hands were encased in bright-red mittens. A huge, soggy snowball was firmly grasped in one little hand while the other clung to the gate for support. Her curls were a sodden clump about her face. She looked at him with alarm and lost her precarious grip on the gate. She sat down in an obliging snowdrift.
“Why, James, I didn’t expect you until later,” Marietta tried to regain her rebellious feet that slid out from under her for the second time.
James extricated her from the deep snowdrift while the rest of the troops dispersed to their respective homes. Gravely, his disciplined face reflecting nothing, he escorted her into the house where the aroma of roasting chicken filled their quarters.
“Are you very angry with me, James?”
“Of course not, Honey, why would you think such a thing?”
“I know officers’ wives are supposed to be dignified all of the time, but when I heard those children having such a lovely snowball fight, I just couldn’t resist.”
“I think it is delightful that Mrs. MacKendrick can forget her dignity on occasion. However, if you’re going to make a habit of throwing snowballs, you’ll have to learn how to pack them better. Is something burning?”
“My chicken!” she emitted a little shriek and ran into the kitchen.
Wistfully, James followed her. The cozy evening he had envisioned was not going according to plan. Marietta flitted back into the room like a stray sunbeam and collided with him. His arms went firmly around her tiny waist.
“The chicken is just right. It isn’t burned a bit. I TOLD you I’d learn how to cook!”
“Where is Essie? Didn’t she cook dinner?”
“She is helping Mrs. Carleton today. They’re having a dinner party and Mrs. Carleton is still feeling weak from having her baby. So I lent her Mammy Essie. Now, let me go and I’ll get your dinner.”
“Essie isn’t here, hmm, and the chicken is just right?”
Marietta tried to wriggle loose. “It’s PERFECT.”
James’s arms formed a barrier around her.
“Do let me go or it will get cold.”
“I’ve always liked cold chicken,” he murmured against her hair. “It always seems just like a picnic when you get around to eating it.”
“Get around...you mean you want to eat later? James, what if Mammy Essie comes back while we’re...” his mouth on her lips stifled her question. “I suppose she won’t come home until late…Mrs. Carleton’s dinner parties ALWAYS go on forever. JAMES, aren’t we even going into the bedroom!? Ooo...well, perhaps it is cozier by the fire...”
~~~
Christmas of 1860 was strained and bleak. Part of the 1st Cavalry Dragoons had been dispatched to build a fort along the Arkansas. On New Year’s Day, the dreadful news arrived at Fort Wise with an exhausted rider. South Carolina had thrown down the gauntlet. On the 20th of December, the South Carolina legislature voted unanimously to dissolve her ties with the Union.
“But what does it all mean?” demanded Lieutenant Manton as the officers gathered to usher in the New Year with suitable good humor and liquid embellishment.
“It means that South Carolina has seceded,” snapped Captain Clay to the youngster from Vermont.
“But she CAN’T?”
“Why not?” demanded the Alabamian Clay.
“Such an act is illegal and against the Constitution.”
“Where does it say that?” Clay winked at Lieutenant Blyth who was from Texas.
“The President won’t let South Carolina get away with it.”
“What did you say, Lieutenant?”
“I said that the President won’t allow it. He’ll force the slave-holding scum to come crawling back.”
Clay lunged and his hands closed around Manton’s throat before anyone could intervene.
“Can’t you boys save that rough house for outside?” demanded Stuart.
Manton managed to break Clay’s stranglehold and was pummeling the Southern officer unmercifully. It was just what could be expected after the amount of alcohol they had consumed and Stuart, a teetotaler by virtue of a vow he had made to his mother, had no patience with such behavior. Timothy hovered at the side of an overturned chair. Three others had joined Clay and Manton’s fistfight. Stuart headed for the door.
“Come on, ‘Mothy, let’s leave these sodden idiots to their dubious pleasures.”
“Shouldn’t we stop them?” Timothy inquired, with a backward glance at the now-sizable brawl.
“Let ‘em beat each other black and blue. It’s their privilege to bring in the New Year anyway they see fit and it is not our concern.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Nope. South Carolina’s been spoiling for a fight for years and it’ll all blow over before spring, you’ll see,” Stuart ducked into his quarters and sprawled comfortably on his cot.
“They seemed angry to me, Beauty. If this can turn brother officers against each other…” Timothy slumped on the wooden chair near Stuart’s field desk.
“Come now, ‘Mothy. Stop fretting.”
“How serious is this secession business, Beauty?”
“Hard to say, but it depends on what the President does. He can try to force South Carolina back into the Union but he won’t get far. Most likely, he’ll give in to their demands to avert disunion.”
“Would he send troops down to force South Carolina?”
“Not likely. I say it’ll blow over just like that John Brown business did.”
“I reckon you’re right. I never did pay much attention to politics.”
Stuart stretched. “It won’t come to anything, Timothy. Tension between North and South has been boiling for years. We’ve weathered Harper’s Ferry, Dred Scott, and Bleeding Kansas. We’ll survive this little crisis in Charleston.”
~~~
Within four weeks, it was obvious that the secession of South Carolina was not just a “little crisis”. By February, six more states had followed her out of the Union. Officers from the renegades began to resign while Timothy watched the exodus with stark horror. Any chance at reconciliation had been destroyed by the flaming rhetoric that scalded both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line. Stuart’s optimism vanished when Alabama seceded. They returned to Fort Riley and, by April, it was obvious that Virginia and the rest of the Border States were in a terrible quandary. Through custom, family ties, and economic considerations, these States were bound, heart and soul, to their rebellious sisters. Yet the pride in belonging to the Union, as well as memories of Valley Forge and Yorktown, drove them to a nervous tendency to fence-sit. Things came to a head on the 14th of April when Fort Sumter surrendered to South Carolina. On the 15th, Abraham Lincoln called for the loyal States to provide volunteers to “...suppress combinations and cause the laws to be duly executed...”
Three days later, Timothy waited for the doom to come chattering over telegraph wires. For the first time in his life, he was alone and there was no one in whom he could confide. Major Howard, while a decent commander, was a New Englander and could not comprehend the dreadful wrenching of loyalties that Timothy faced. Stuart was absolutely no help at all for his only concern was Virginia’s fate. Where his state went, he planned to follow. No ifs, buts, or ands.
Timothy, while a Virginian by breeding, also shared his uncle’s dislike of slavery. I cannot conceive of going against the United States in order to preserve that hateful and demeaning institution. Slavery’s wrong and everyone knows it. If war comes, will West Pointers have to face each other on the field? Will they WANT to? He shuddered back to his own irreconcilable conflict. If Virginia leaves the Union too, I’ll be expected to leave with her. He glanced up to where the Stars and Stripes fluttered in the brisk breeze and watched the shadow it cast over the worried knot of soldiers standing by the telegrapher’s office.
Major Howard stopped beside him. “Has there been any word?”
“Not a thing, Sir, after that telegram about the President’s call for volunteers.”
That’s the worst. That call for 75,000 volunteers to preserve the Union. Virginia’s expected to provide 8,000 of those men to bring the erring States back into the fold. They’ll be fighting their own kin. How can the President even ask us to do that?
“These are dark days for all of us,” Howard remarked. “You know how much I thought of your Father, Timothy. If I can be of help...”
“Thank you, Sir, but I reckon this is one decision that I’ll have to make on my own.”
A rapid series of clacks from the telegraph shattered the heavy stillness. A long moment passed and then the clerk emerged from his stuffy little office.
Tom Howard scanned the telegraph and then read it aloud. “The Virginia Legislature has passed the Ordinance of Secession.”
Timothy’s face paled several shades whiter. He stared at the flag, closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and then, hands clenched at his side, trudged off in the direction of Stuart’s quarters.
“Damn,” swore Howard. “Damn those baboon-bottomed politicians who just cost the Army a brilliant officer.”
~~~
“Well?” Stuart met Timothy in the parlor; his small daughter in his arms.
“Virginia has seceded.”
“Has she, by God. Well, that decides it then,” Stuart handed little Flora to her mother who carried the child into the next room. “Flora and I are already packed. We planned to leave immediately once we heard although we can delay long enough for you to get your things.”
Timothy stood in the middle of the parlor; his world crumbled around his ears. “You said it was just a ‘little crisis’!”
“Well, I’ve been wrong before. Things are different now. Virginia’s seceded. That’s all that matters.”
Timothy stared at Stuart for a long moment while dizzy visions of West Point swirled around him. Tears filled his eyes.
“What is it, Timothy? What’s wrong?”
“I...I can’t. I CAN’T!” Timothy turned to the wall in anguish.
“Can’t? Can’t what? Make sense,” perplexed, Stuart tried to peer at the younger man’s face but Timothy resisted. “‘Mothy, tell me! What is wrong?”
“How can you be so calm about this?”
“Of course I’m calm!” Stuart’s voice raised several decibels. “But I’m not going to be much longer if you don’t cut out this nonsense.”
“I haven’t seceded.”
“What did you say?”
“I haven’t seceded.”
“Don’t joke, Timothy, Virginia needs all of her sons!”
“I haven’t made a decision yet.”
“You haven’t...MacKendrick! There is only one decision you can make! If you don’t, you’re a TRAITOR!”
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