No mistaking the man’s politics.
After everyone climbed out of the Mule, Ray Vitale shook hands with B.J. and Tyler, then bowed to me.
“I’ll be back in a week to finalize those battle plans, B.J.,” he said.
“That’d be fine.”
Vitale saluted B.J. “The Union forever.”
“The South shall rise again.”
“They don’t call it the “Lost Cause’ for nothing. Be seeing you.”
After he drove off, I said, “Do you always say things like that to each other?”
“Aw, there’s plenty of back-and-forth that goes on. Besides, the Union guys are jealous of us.”
“Why?”
He looked surprised at the question. “Because everyone wants to be a Confederate, that’s why. We’re gentlemen. The whole ‘romance of the South’ thing. Who wants to play the role of a Yankee? That’s why there’s always more of us at these events.”
“Seriously?”
B.J. nodded. “Thanks for being a good sport. I know Ray’s a little tough to take.”
“Far be it from me to criticize.”
B.J. grinned and then turned solemn. “When we were out there talking alone, he told me a few things. Both his wife and daughter were alcoholics. Wife died awhile back and he doesn’t know where his daughter is.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I had no idea.”
“Then a couple of years ago he nearly lost his business and almost had to declare bankruptcy. Says he trusted someone he shouldn’t have. He’s still dealing with it.” He shook his head. “That’s why he probably seemed bitter.”
“At least now I know why.”
B.J. pulled his key ring out of his pocket. It looked like he had enough keys on it to open every store in a major shopping mall. “Need a ride home, Tyler?”
“I’ve got my car. Thanks, anyway.”
“I guess I’ll get going, then. Emma will have dinner waiting. I’ll be in touch to go over the logistics, once we sort out the tactical matters,” he said. “I almost forgot. The Virginia Fiddlers are coming.”
“The who?”
“You don’t know the Fiddlers?” He searched the ring and plucked out what was presumably his car key. “Lordy, child. They’re probably the best Civil War camp string band around. Made a couple of CDs. Been in a movie or two. They’re famous. They’ll be a huge draw for the spectators, plus they’ll be playing for the camp dance Saturday night.”
“You have a dance?”
He smiled. “Highlight of the weekend for all the women and the young people. Right, Tyler?”
Tyler reddened. “Yes, sir.”
“You ought to plan to stop by, Lucie. Bring that winemaker of yours. I’m afraid we’ve got our rules about not participating unless you’re dressed in period clothes, but seeing as you’re hosting us we’d love to have you come along and see what it’s all about,” B.J. said.
Now it was my turn to blush. The last place in the world I could imagine bringing Quinn was an old-fashioned dance where a Civil War string band provided the music.
“Sure. Yes. Thanks.”
B.J. studied me. “I mean it. You bring him now, hear? By the way, I know you didn’t want to talk about this in front of Ray, but I ran into Junie St. Pierre over at the hospital this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
“Sounds like they’re going great guns trying to identify those remains. Must have been a huge surprise for you to find that unmarked grave out there after all these years. Some unknown person buried on your land.”
“Like Ball’s Bluff,” Tyler said.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“The cemetery at Ball’s Bluff. Twenty-five graves. No one knows who’s buried in twenty-four of them.”
“That was different, son,” B.J. said. “People knew the bodies were there. They just didn’t get to them for a while.”
He saw me staring. “You don’t know the story, Lucie?”
I shook my head, glad to divert the conversation from the body on my land. “Nope.”
“It took some time before the Union bodies were buried after the battle. The original graves were shallow, so eventually rain and the other elements exposed them again. It was only a matter of time before the animals who used the place as a grazing field found the remains. Chewing on bones and the like.”
Like Bruja had done. “How gruesome,” I said.
“If you’ve never been to Ball’s Bluff, you ought to see it before the reenactment,” Tyler said.
“I know I should. I’m embarrassed I haven’t ever visited it.”
“You and lots of other folks,” B.J. said. “Plenty of people living around here don’t know anything about the battle or have any idea the cemetery’s right there at the edge of the Potomac. It’s a pretty little park now. Real peaceful.”
“Come on, B.J., it’s haunted,” Tyler said. “It’s not peaceful at all.”
“Rubbish.” He waved an arm at Tyler and kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t believe him. But go see it.”
After B.J. left, I said to Tyler, “What are you talking about?”
“All those scattered bones,” he said. “When the army finally built a proper cemetery after the war, they filled the twenty-five coffins with the body parts of fifty-four soldiers, since no one was still…intact.”
“You mean, random body parts in the same coffin?”
“Yup.” He sounded cheerful. “Except for one guy. James Allen. But based on the number of casualties, it’s a known fact that there were more soldiers out there whose remains never made it inside the cemetery. Their ghosts still haunt the place.”
“Hogwash.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I swear to God. People see lights, like candles, in the woods after dark. And tree branches shake when there’s no breeze. Some of the sheriff’s deputies who get assigned to patrol the area don’t like it because they’ve seen things, too.”
A light breeze blew up. I found myself glancing at the villa to see if there were unexplained lights shining in the windows.
Tyler followed my gaze. “I’m not making this up.”
“There’s got to be a rational explanation,” I said. “I agree with B.J.”
Though I, too, had heard stories about Mosby sightings. Folks who swore they’d seen the Gray Ghost on moonless nights returning to look for Union soldiers. Some even said he haunted our ruins, and Eli had teased me about it when I was a kid.
“Suit yourself.” Tyler grinned. “Want to visit the place at dusk? We could see who’s right.”
“Are you trying to spook me?”
“Maybe.”
He walked me over to my car, which I’d left in the lot, and I slid into the front seat.
“I wonder if the spirit of whoever was buried out by the vineyard is still wandering around,” he said. “No one knows who it is, and whoever killed him got away with it. That would be reason enough to still roam the earth, don’t you think?”
“You really are trying to spook me.”
He smiled again and got in his car. “Nah. It’s a good ghost story, though, isn’t it?”
Tyler pulled out first and I followed him down Sycamore Lane. At the split in the road, he went right and I went left. I watched his brake lights in my rearview mirror until they disappeared around a turn. The road felt odd and exposed without the sheltering branches of the old sycamore. My headlights caught stacked piles of wood moved off to one side.
Tyler was right. Whoever had lain out there in that field was an unknown soul. If he had been murdered, his killer had never been brought to justice.
I drove back to my still-dark, quiet house. That thought alone was enough to haunt me.
