Love and War

by seeing or smelling the dead horses.

Late that night, he crouched in a grove and watched a troop of southbound cavalry pass. Jackets and kepis looked black in the starlight. Black translated to blue. Union riders were behind Confederate lines again.

Only one aspect of the incident gave him comfort. The Yankees still rode with what he jeeringly called their fortifications — burdensome extra blankets, tools, utensils — as much as seventy pounds of unnecessary gear. The weight was hard on a horse. Charles hoped the Yankees never learned the lesson.

He reached Chancellorsville, a few buildings and a crossroads unworthy of being called a village. Turning right onto the Orange Turnpike, he continued toward Fredericksburg through the Wilderness, an all but impassable forest of second-growth oak and pine entangled with vines. Even in bright sunlight, the place looked sinister.

Where the Wilderness straggled out, he cut to the northeast. The fragile good cheer generated by the weather left him. He was back in the war zone for fair.

The countryside swarmed with Confederate engineer companies, trains of supply wagons, six-horse artillery batteries, slow-moving herds of scrawny cattle. An officer demanded his pass, then asked whether he had seen any Union cavalry between here and Richmond. Charles said he had. The officer told him it was probably Stoneman, reported to be striking at communication lines to the capital.

Gray-clad stragglers wandered through the freshly turned fields, going where and doing what, God only knew. So many soldiers abroad didn't bode well for a woman living alone, even if the soldiers wore the right uniform. It was proven again when he came within sight of Barclay's Farm. A white-topped commissary wagon stood in the road, and two rough-looking teamsters were eying the house as Charles approached. He put his hand on his shotgun, and they decided to drive on.

As he rode into the dooryard, Boz threw down his ax, leaped over some split logs, and ran toward him. 'Hello, hello! Miss Augusta — Captain Charles is here.'

Boz sounded more than happy. He sounded relieved.

'Something's troubling you,' she said. 'What is it?' They lay side by side in the dark. They had supped and talked, hugged and kissed, bathed and made love. Now, instead of feeling a pleasant drowsiness, he was struggling in the web of his own thoughts. 'Where shall I start?' he asked.

'Wherever you want.'

'It's going badly, Gus. The whole damn war. Vicksburg's threatened — Grant's in charge there. Orry knew him at the Academy and in Mexico. He says the man's like a terrier with a bone. Won't let go even if the pieces choke him to death. Orry wouldn't say it to anyone else, but he thinks Grant will have Vicksburg by the autumn. Then there's Davis. Still coddling second-rate generals like Bragg. And the cavalry can't find enough horses, let alone the grain to feed them.'

'The farms around here are stripped bare. The war doesn't help anyone catch up, either. You plow an acre, ten minutes later a battery of artillery gallops across it, and you start over.'

'The superstitious boys say our luck's turned bad. Sharpsburg might have been a victory instead of a stand- off if the Yankees hadn't found those cigars wrapped in a copy of Lee's order. Courage doesn't count for much against bad luck — or the numbers the other side can muster.'

But Cooper had spoken of the numbers long ago, hadn't he? Warned of them. Charles shivered in the dark. She stroked his bare shoulder, soothing. 'I'd say those are all eminently respectable worries.'

'There's one more.'

'What is it?'

He rolled onto his side, able to see her only as a pale shape.

'You.'

'My darling, don't squander a single minute fretting about me.

I can take care of myself.' There was pride in the statement, and reassurance. But he heard anger, too.

'Well, I do fret. Can't sleep half the time, thinking of you stuck here by yourself.'

And that's why no man should let himself fall in love in wartime. The conviction lay like a rock inside him, unwanted, upsetting — and undeniable.

'That's foolish, Charles.'

'Hell it is. Hooker's sure to attack Fredericksburg — maybe within a few days. The Army of the Potomac could overrun the whole county.'

'Boz and Washington and I can —'

'Hold out against bluebellies who haven't seen a pretty woman for months? Come on.'

'You're being quarrelsome.'

'So are you. I have good reason. I can't stop worrying.'

'You could stop coming here, then you wouldn't have to worry at all.'

Cold and flat, the words fell between them. He flung himself out of bed, crossed his arms, furiously scratched his beard in vexation. She rose to her knees on the bed, touched his shoulder.

'Do you think I don't worry about you? Constantly? Sometimes I think I fell in love just when I shouldn't have — with a man I shouldn't have —'

'Then maybe I should stop coming here.'

'Is that what you want?'

A silence. Then he broke, spun, pulled her naked body up in his arms, hugging her and stroking her hair. 'God, no, Gus. I love you so much, sometimes it makes me want to cry for mercy.'

Trembling, they held each other, he standing beside the bed, she kneeling. Finally, the searing problem had been exposed. Sometimes I think I fell in love just when I shouldn't have — with a man I shouldn't have. She faced the constant threat of loss. He bore a constant concern, one that weighed him down like all the gear carried by the Yankee cavalry. Lord God, Charlie — Ab's voice — you forgotten why we're all here?

Sometimes he almost did. A lot of men did. For some the burden became too heavy; they put distant wives and sweethearts ahead of duty and deserted. He would never join that company, yet he did recognize that the cancer of worry was in him, too. He knew it while he clasped her body and kissed her clean, soft hair. 'Go to Richmond,' he pleaded.

She broke the embrace. 'Charles, this is my home. I'll not run away.'

'It's no admission of cowardice to go for a week or two. Until Hooker moves, and something's decided.'

'What if the Yankees came when I wasn't here? What if they looted this place or burned it? It's all I have.'

'They can loot it and burn it with you standing in the kitchen.'

'Richmond's too crowded. There is no place —'

'My cousin and his wife will take you in. Boz and Washington, too. I stopped to see Orry and Madeline on the way up from Sussex County. They don't have much room, but they'll share what they have.'

She sank back on her haunches, bringing her forearms across her breasts as if she were cold. 'It would be a great deal of trouble to pack and —'

'Gus, stop. You're a proud woman. Strong. I love that about you. But goddamn it —'

'I wish you wouldn't curse all the time.'

The soft words conveyed her anger as nothing had before. He took a breath and grasped the post at the foot of the bed to steady himself. '

'I'm sorry. But the point stands. Pride and strength and two nigras aren't enough to protect you against Joe Hooker's army. You need to go to Richmond, if not for your own sake, then for mine.'

'For your sake —?'

'That's right.'

'I see.'

'You take that tone, I'll sleep in the other room.'

'I think you'd better.'

Out he went, wrapped in a blanket, slamming the door.