crookeder than Jackson ever wanted to be, too. But he'd found a way out of a situation from which the general-in- chief would have been too stubborn to retreat unaided. He deserved credit for that.
'Very well, then.' Jackson gave him credit by proceeding from the point of their disagreement as if he had in fact agreed. 'Recognizing that we cannot hope to conquer the United States, how are we to secure victory over them?'
'By demonstrating to them that they cannot hope to conquer us,' President Longstreet answered. 'The way you ran them out of Winchester was first-rate, General. That is how we won the War of Secession, after all.'
'Our armies were in Pennsylvania when we won the War of Secession,' Jackson pointed out.
'True,' Longstreet said, 'but we were compelled to invade their territory then, for they had gained several lodgments in ours: along the Carolina coast, in Virginia, and in the west. That is not the case now. Our navy is far more able to defend our shores than was so then, and we have our allies to assist us. We stand in firm control on our side of the Potomac, and have punished Washington for the effrontery of the United States. And Kentucky and the line of the Ohio River are now ours, where we had to gain that line by force of arms during the previous war. The United States have not got the initiative, nor shall they gain it.'
'Hard to be assured of that while we stand on the defensive,' Jackson said.
Longstreet shrugged his broad shoulders. 'Modern weaponry favors the defensive, at least on land. Having seen the fighting at first hand, do you deny it?'
'No, sir,' Jackson said. 'Harder now to break a strongly held defensive position than it was in the War of Secession, and it wasn't easy then. As my written report states, a bare regiment of entrenched Yankees fought manfully against my brigade south of Kernstown, though eventually being overcome by superior force.'
'Well, then,' Longstreet said, as if everything were settled, 'is it not more profitable to strike where we and our allies are strong, as in the recent bombardments of U.S. towns on the shores of the Great Lakes, and to let the Yankees beat their heads against the wall coming at us?'
'But the trouble is-' Jackson realized he could not oppose the president of the Confederate States with anything resembling a logical argument. He gave him an emotional one instead: 'The trouble is, Your Excellency, I want to hit them a good lick.'
'That should not be impossible, even standing on the defensive.' Longstreet looked over to the map again. 'As you no doubt know, they appear to be massing troops in Indiana opposite Louisville. Would it make you happy if I sent you to Kentucky to supervise the defense of the city?'
Jackson knew Longstreet was offering him a bribe. If he did as the president desired, he would in essence forfeit the right to express his disagrement with present Confederate policy- especially as he would be an instrument of making that policy succeed. Longstreet was a subtle man, but not so subtle as to be able to disguise what he was about here. Understanding what Longstreet was about, though, did not make Jackson able to resist the temptation set before him. Leaning forward in his chair, he said, 'Yes, Mr. President!'
Major Horatio Sellers came up to Jeb Stuart while the general commanding the Military District of the Trans-Mississippi was engaged in the unmilitary but nevertheless important task of making sure no scorpions had crawled into his boots during the night. Once satisfied on that score, Stuart said, 'And what can I do for you this morning, Major?'
Sellers' heavy features were not made for expressing joy under the best of circumstances. Since traveling along the border between So-nora and New Mexico Territory was hardly the best of circumstances, Stuart supposed his aide-de-camp could hardly be blamed for looking grim. Sellers said, 'Sir, how far are we going to trust these Apache devils, anyhow? I keep having the feeling that one fine morning we're going to wake up with our throats cut, if you know what I mean.'
'I may,' Stuart answered. 'I just may. But before I answer that, let me ask you a few questions of my own.' Since he was the general, the major inclined his head in agreement. Stuart began: 'Are these Apache devils the best guides and scouts we could have, or not?'
'Oh, yes, sir,' Sellers said. 'Not a doubt about that. They know every cactus in this whole damn desert by its first name. They know where the Yankees are, where they were, and where they'll turn up day after tomorrow. If I hadn't seen it so often by now, I wouldn't believe it. It's almost uncanny, like a nigger gris-gris woman down in New Orleans.'
'If Geronimo understood that, he'd thank you for it-from everything I've been able to figure out, he's as much a medicine man as a chief,' Stuart said. 'It's neither here nor there, though.' The general paused to pull on one of his scorpion-free boots before continuing the catechism: 'Do these Apache devils hate the Yankees and the Mexicans both?'
'I hope to spit, they do,' Major Sellers exclaimed. 'Can't say I much blame 'em, either, if you look at things from their side of the mirror. The only reason they can't figure out which bunch to hate worse is that the damnyankees and the Mexicans have both been doing their damnedest to massacre 'em.'
'Which means they've got good, solid reasons to be loyal to the Confederate States, doesn't it, Major?' Stuart said.
'When you put it like that, yes, sir, I suppose it does.' Major Sellers neither looked nor sounded happy. 'The only thing I hope, sir, is that we don't end up sorry we ever trusted them.'
Jeb Stuart was pulling on the other boot when his aide-de-camp said that. He stopped with it halfway up his calf. Both eyebrows rose. 'Good God, Major, you'd have to send me to an idiots' asylum if I trusted them once they were out of my sight. They're as dangerous as
… as scorpions.' He finished putting on the boot. 'If they weren't, how could so few of them have given so many U.S. soldiers and so many Mexicans so much trouble for so long?'
'Sir?' Now Sellers wore a new expression: confusion. 'In that case, why have we given them all Tredegars?'
'So they can shoot them at the Yankees, of course,' Stuart replied. 'They will do that. As you said yourself, they have good reason to do that.'
'Well, yes, sir,' Major Sellers said. 'But once Sonora is ours, won't they find reasons to shoot them at us?'
'I hope not. I hope that, once Sonora is ours, they'll go shoot up New Mexico when they're feeling frisky,' Stuart said. 'But it's a chance I'm willing to take, for now. If they decided to start raiding our supply line instead of working with us, life could get lively faster than we really wanted, couldn't it?'
He watched Sellers think that over. He watched Sellers look as unhappy as he had while making the same consideration. 'Sir, we need that railroad from El Paso,' his aide-de-camp said.
'So we do,' Stuart said. 'Unfortunately, it's not built yet. If the war with the United States isn't over by the time it is built, things will have gone a great deal worse than I hope. Once the war is over and the railroad built, I expect we'll be able to deal with any trouble a few hundred redskins cause. Until then, we'll use them to our best advantage. Since that's also to their advantage, I don't see how they can fail to make us useful tools for the time being.'
His aide-de-camp's face cleared. 'Well, that's all right, then,' Major Sellers said with some relief. 'As long as you're thinking of them as cat's-paws and not as genuine allies, everything's fine. After all, sir, it's not as if they're white men.'
'No, it's not,' Stuart agreed. 'Of course, even if we are white men, that doesn't stop our allies from using us as cat's-paws against the USA. After all, it's not as if we were Europeans.'
That sailed past Horatio Sellers. Sellers was a detail man, which made him a devil of an aide-de-camp. He wasn't so good at fitting details inside the frame of a larger picture. Some aides-de-camp used their posts at the side of high-ranking officers to gain high rank themselves. Sellers would likely be a major till he retired, if he lived to retirement.
Every man is good at — and good for — something, Stuart thought. Without Major Sellers, the thin Confederate force operating on the U.S. border would have been far less effective than it was. Without him, too, Stuart would have overlooked any number of things to worry about, some of which probably would have proved important. If Horatio Sellers didn't think something was worth worrying about, it wasn't.
Stuart pulled aside the tent flap and went outside. The day was bright and clear and hot. But for occasional storms that blew up from the south, every summer's day hereabouts was bright and clear and hot. Stuart thought he could see forever. Water seemed to shimmer in the middle distance. He'd warned his men about chasing
