Chapter 20: Trouble

It had been dark for some time. Fireflies flickered in the smoky gloom when General Jubal Early sent for Kyd Douglas. With former vice-president Breckinridge and John B. Gordon, Early had been discussing the long, hot campaign. In a month they had accomplished most of General Lee's basic purposes. Crops were being harvested in the Shenandoah Valley. Hundreds of horses and tons of supplies were on their way to Richmond. They had not suffered very many casualties, perhaps a thousand, but many of those men were listed as "missing" and would wander back just as they had wandered away. It was, they decided, time to go before Union forces trapped their small army on the wrong side of the Potomac. It had to rain sometime, and the river would rise and the fords would become difficult.

General Gordon fingered his silky goatee as Early told his aide of the decision. He had already sent gallopers to recall Bradley Johnson, put his unused guns and ambulance wagons on the road, and given Rodes and Ramseur their marching orders. General Early leaned back in his chair and sipped the last of Mr. Blair's claret. He stretched. "Major," he said to his aide, "we haven't taken Washington, but we scared Abe Lincoln like hell."

"Yes, General," answered Douglas, trying to hold back his almost ever-present smile, "but this afternoon when that Yankee line moved out against us, I think some other people were as scared as Hade's brimstone."

"How about that, General?" Breckinridge asked the army's disappointed commander.

"It's true," Early answered with a chuckle, "but it won't appear in any history books." Douglas poured himself a drink and sat on the edge of the hunt board table that dominated the room.

"Now Major," said Early, with a wink at the others, "I've got a nasty piece of work for you."

"Why do Marylanders get all the consarned dirty jobs in this here army?" Kyd Douglas asked in mock anger.

"We are all getting out of here tonight," Early went on. "Soon as we can disengage and manage it quietly. Let's hope that Horatio Wright won't set out after us in the dark. Douglas, you are to stay here with about two hundred muskets and a few officers as a rear guard. Pick the men you want. Build some fires and move around. Be seen. Make some noise. Take a few shots at 'em, but don't stir 'em up too much. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. How long do you want us to stay?"

"Oh, at least till midnight." Early cut himself another chew of tobacco. "I'll send some cavalry to cover you." He smiled at Major Douglas. "If I remember."

"How about the wounded?" Douglas asked.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid we'll just have to leave some of them, but they'll be out the road a'ways. I'll see to them."

Early stood and took Douglas by the hand. "My boy," he said, "we are powerful lucky. Like you, when I saw that blue line move out toward our lines, I thought it was all over. I thought, how'd you say it, that we'd gone up. But we got away with it. Just give me a few hours, and we'll beat 'em to the river. It's very low, and there's lot of places to cross."

And that was how it went.

Well past midnight, Kyd Douglas's fast-stepping men and a troop of screening cavalry were almost three miles northwest of Fort Stevens when one of the riders pointed out bright, flickering flames far behind them. A large house in Silver Spring was on fire.

Charles Wainder felt a bit better when he awoke early on Wednesday morning. He also felt angry and hungry. He was lying on a bed in a room he did not recognize. His head hurt and his mouth tasted awful. The day before he had regained consciousness four times. The third time he came to his senses, he had hobbled around the barn until he kicked a horse trough in the gloom. He splashed away the scum and used his cupped hands to drink his fill. He remembered working on his knots, but he did not recall passing out.

The next time he awoke he managed to get his feet untied and drink some more water. He discovered some eggs in the hen house and ate those. Then he was sawing away at the rope on his wrists against the edge of a plow when he felt suddenly dizzy and quickly sat down. The feeling that the barn was moving like a gently rocking boat quickly passed.

When the cavalryman finished freeing himself, he stumbled to the deserted farmhouse and found some food. Worn out by his efforts, he fell across Mr. French's bed and was immediately asleep.

Now he listened to the barnyard noises made by scratching chickens and an unhappy, unmilked cow. He lurched to his feet and went looking for a gun.

Seth awoke on Wednesday morning to the smell of coffee and frying meat. He briefly wondered if all armies smelled the same, an aromatic mixture of horse sweat, unwashed men, black powder, tobacco smoke, ground coffee and hot grease. All around him the men of the Sixth Corps were busy at their morning chores; airing tents, folding up their bedrolls and washing their socks.

Seth stretched and rubbed his aching shoulders and sore thighs. He went looking for Jefferson McKenzie and found him on the floor of the barracks that was now a hospital. He was curled between two beds and sound asleep. Seth covered him with a thin blanket and left him there. He used the fort's sinks and then wandered toward the smell of cooking fires.

One of General McCook's aides spotted him and called the boy over to share some hard biscuits, fried ham and black coffee. Seth accepted eagerly and wolfed down the food.

"What happened last night?" Seth asked between bites. "It's so quiet."

"Them Rebs jus' plain skedaddled," said the young lieutenant, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Slunk away. Gone. Whole kit and kaboodle."

"An' nobody chased 'em or nothing?"

"Not far as I know," the officer said. "Course, I don't know very far. I hear they found a bunch a'wounded out by a toll booth and a smokin' mess that used to be Mr. Montgomery Blair's house, and that's about all. They are plum gone." He forked another piece of browned ham onto a biscuit and handed it to the boy. They ate in silence for a while.

"Is it all right for Jefferson and me to go on home then?"

"Cain't see why not. Early's probably clean out'a the state by now, halfway to Richmond. We're jus' waitin' for orders. Gen'l Wright's mad as a hornet, again or still. He'll either end up chasin' Early or headin' back for Petersburg to take it out on Robert Lee. I don't think Wright cares which way they go. He jus' cain't stand waitin'. My general, the brave McCook, he's all smiles this mornin' and claimin' the victory."

Seth swallowed his last bite and washed it down with sweetened coffee. He put a few biscuits in his pockets, said a quick thank you, and went back to rouse the still-sleeping Jefferson in the barracks that smelled of acid. They left Fort Stevens along the route they had followed the day before, on foot. It took the best part of two hours to get back to Tennallytown, and edgy Home Guard sentries stopped them several times. Seth was not sure whether it was his new hat, Jefferson's size, or the pass signed by General Hardin that got them through.

At Fort Reno they found Ben and the old wagon both in good shape. Someone had even greased the axles. They hitched up and headed north on the well-worn Pike, the ancient rolling road. No one stopped them, asked any questions or even waved good-bye. As they neared the District Line they heard, over the creaks of the wagon wheels, someone calling for them. Jefferson pulled up in a bit of shade near a mile stone and along came Mr. French in his high-wheeled, one-horse buggy.

"Well, well," said Caroline's father, "what have you two been up to?"

Seth and Jefferson looked at each other and then broke into laughter when they both tried to talk at the same time. It took a while, but they finally convinced Mr. French that they were telling the truth.