My Vicksburg (6 page)

"Landon, I don't understand. Isn't it Robert's place to decide what to do? I mean, is he your prisoner or something?"

"You're too wise for your age, you know that?"

I pouted. The shells were exploding overhead regularly now. One was especially loud and close and I ducked, instinctively. Just then Andy came down the steps and sought Landon out.

"Mister Landon. Suh?"

"Yes, Andy, over here."

He had two pillows and two blankets in one arm and a basket of fried chicken and biscuits in the other. "Clothilda, she say you all shud eat, then catch some shut-eye if 'n you can wif those shells screamin' out there. They won't stop till noon."

"Thank you, Andy." Landon took the pillows and blankets and threw one of each at me. "Clothilda's orders," he said. "Here, take some food. And then get some sleep."

"Mister Landon, suh?" Andy was still standing there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I gots a favor to axe you."

"Have at it, Andy."

"Well, the other day when I wuz washin' Mr. Robert he wuz tellin' me how he wants to go home. Only he gots no money to travel. I wuz thinkin', suh, if'n it be okay wif you an' your mama, if'n I hire myself out to dig a cave. There's a gentleman I know who will pay up to fifty dollars to get himself a cave dug proper like. I could do it in
my spare time and give the money to Robert, suh. If'n it be okay wif you."

Landon was silent for a moment, taking it in. "Confederate money?" he asked. "Or Yankee dollars?"

"Why, Confederate, I 'spect," Andy told him.

Landon sighed. "Confederate paper is sixty cents to the Yankee dollar, but it's still sound," Landon said. "If you're willing to do it, Andy, go right ahead. I'll clear it with my mother. Now I have a favor to ask you."

"Yessuh."

"I'm dying for a cup of coffee, Andy."

"Bring it right quick, suh."

"Me, too?" I begged. "Please, Landon, Ma lets me have it."

He said all right and Andy went back upstairs to fetch it.

That coffee was wonderful, hot and sweet, and I must admit that the fried chicken and biscuits tasted like angel food. We ate in pleasant comradeship. Then I settled myself under my blanket and closed my eyes.

"You still awake?" Landon asked.

"Yes."

"You hear that from Andy? It means Robert is planning on going home."

"Well, what else did you think he was planning on?"

He closed his eyes for a minute, like he was praying. "Claire Louise, sit up. I have to talk to you," he said.

"Landon," I whined, "five minutes ago you told me to go to sleep. And now you tell me—"

"
Claire Louise, shut your mouth and listen to me!
"

I sat up. "Not if you talk to me like that, I won't."

He sighed heavily. He gathered himself in. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, but I need somebody to listen. I just got done talking to Dr. Balfour about Robert, and he gave me his professional physician's opinion of what I
had
to do to save my army career and my reputation as a doctor. As well as my family name. I know he's right, but I still can't bear to think about it. I've become friends with Robert. Did you hear that? I don't even know his last name. He won't tell me, and yet I've become friends with him. And now, if I listen to Balfour, and my own conscience, I have to turn him in."

I listened, respectfully. He was going on like he would never stop. Like somebody had loosened something in him. He was pouring out his heart. To me.

"What did he do?" I whispered.

"Do? Yes, there is that, too, isn't there. As well as the fact that he deserted. All right, I'm going to tell you, Claire Louise. But you must swear to me that you'll never tell another soul."

I swore. He nodded his head, accepting my word. And then he told me.

"Do you remember the battle of Antietam? Last fall?"

"Yes. We lost it."

"Well, Robert is the reason the South lost it."

I looked at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses.

"Did you ever hear of Lee's lost Order Number 191?"

I searched my memory. "I recollect Pa talking about it. Reading about it in the
Citizen.
'"

"Last September ninth Lee wrote an order," he explained. "In it were the details of the march of his army, which had all but disappeared behind the Blue Ridge Mountains during its invasion of the North. The Yankees never knew where he was. And Bobby Lee wanted the orders to be circulated to his division commanders. They were given out to staff officers to be delivered to those commanders.

"One of those officers was Robert. He told Lee his courier delivered the order to Hill. But to his disgrace, if you will, Hill never signed for it. Robert had no signature.

"Nobody did. The order was lost. Four days later it was in Union hands."

I gasped. "How did it get there?"

"Good question. The Confederate bigwigs are still investigating. All they know is that the order was found by a private named Mitchell of the 27th Indiana in an envelope containing three cigars wrapped in a piece of paper. The piece of paper was the orders. The 27th Indiana was encamped on a former Confederate campground."

I found myself shaking. I drew my blanket closer. "But what of Robert?"

"He told me that piece of paper dropped out of his pocket before he could give it to his courier. This takes his
courier off the hook because Hill never signed for the order. It all goes back to Robert, but they can't prove anything. But it's the result of it all that matters.

"Lincoln's General McCellan was able to make an immediate strike at Lee's army because of the intelligence he got from that piece of paper. Four days later we had the battle of Antietam because of it. England pulled back on any promises of aid to the South because of the loss at Antietam. And I have on my hands a severely depressed and confused and guilty Robert because of it. And that's why Dr. Balfour says I should turn him in."

Silence between us then. My head whirred. "And what will you do?"

"I don't know, Claire Louise. I have a week to have a crisis of conscience. I want to aid him in getting home. I know I should walk over to brigade headquarters this day and tell General Pemberton that I have him. Either way I'm in hell."

I crawled out from under my blanket and over to him and gave him a hug. "I'll help you, whatever you do," I said.

He hugged me back. "I can't drag my family into this. When I met him, he was a wounded Confederate soldier who'd fought in a minor skirmish to do something decent. I was honor bound to do something for him. I'm still not sure he won't lose that arm."

He released me. "Hey, the shelling's stopped. It must be noon. Let's get home," he said.

I giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"You said home. And we are home," I told him. "I want to go upstairs and get a pillowcase full of clean clothes for me and Mama. Can I?"

He said yes. He also said he wanted to give me something. So he came upstairs and while I gathered clothes for myself and Mama and James, he stuffed his whole set of Dickens into a pillowcase. As well as some of his childhood books, for James.

"For you to read," he said of the Dickens, "during those terrible times when the shells are falling. These books will get you through. I promise."

When we got home that afternoon, things were in chaos. No, the shelling hadn't started again, not yet, but Mama was at the dining table, seated across from James, and both were crying.

Easter stood by, near tears herself, and Robert was in back of Easter, unable to stand on his own two feet but holding onto a kitchen cupboard and trying to soothe the lot of them.

"I can take care of it, ma'am," he was saying to Mama.

"No, no, Robert. Landon said I was not to allow you out of the house."

"But a snake on the roof." Robert was saying.

I followed Landon in. He set down his pillowcase of books. "Who's got a snake on the roof?" he asked. "Ma? What's wrong? Why are you crying? James? Did you get hurt?"

James would not look at him.

"Well, somebody tell me what's going on here," Lan-don said irritably. "It can't be as bad as what's going on out there."

"There's a snake on one of the posts of the roof," Robert told him. "I wanted to go out and kill it, but your mother here won't allow me outside. Says she's going according to your orders."

"She is. You can scarce stand," Landon said. "How can you battle a snake?"

"It isn't only that," Robert reported. "It seems that your little brother here has been playing with your matches and started a small fire."

Sure enough, there on the table were the remnants of a small fire. The day's copy of the
Daily Citizen,
which was the only newspaper now being printed in Vicksburg, and printed on the back of old wallpaper at that, was singed around the edges. It looked as if it had been on fire and then that fire hastily put out. Around it were several of Landon's large glue and phosphorous matches, which I knew he had cautioned James never to touch.

Landon took it all in. He stepped forward, closer to James, who was still sobbing quietly. "You did this, did you?" His voice was stern, not kind.

"I didn't ... mean ... to." James hiccuped.

"What do you mean you didn't mean to?" Landon asked.

James didn't answer. He kept his eyes downcast. This was not his Landon talking to him now, this was someone else, someone who frightened him.

"Look," Landon said, "I think you better go into your room and sit there and think on what you've done. And
I'll be in later and we'll talk about it. You hear? Go on, now."

James didn't move. "But I wanted ... I wanted to see you kill the snake," he all but wailed.

In an instant Landon picked James up off the chair, set him firmly on the ground, and gave him a small spank on the bottom and a shove toward the hall. "Go and do as I say," he ordered.

James ran. Landon then walked Robert back to his room, and they were in there a few minutes. I heard low talking. I supposed Robert had his fever again. But when Landon came back out into the kitchen he said nothing about Robert. All he said was, "Stop crying, Mama, everything will be all right."

"No, there's more, Landon, there's more."

"All right, have at it. Might as well, Mama."

"Well, you know how I give Easter five dollars and send her to market every morning to see what she can find in the way of meat?"

"If you're going to tell me there isn't any more meat in the marketplace, Mama, I've already been apprised of that fact. Clothilda, at home, wants permission to kill the last turkey. Says it's old and it's tough, but at least it's not mule meat. Can I tell her yes?"

Mama nodded, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. Landon leaned over her, pushing back the strands of blonde hair that had escaped from her rolled-back hairdo. "C'mon, Ma," he said, "I need some moral support, too."

"Easter saw that they had not only mule meat
hanging there, but rats," Mama said. "Oh, Landon, what's my town come to?"

He sighed and said nothing. "Did you get a letter from Pa today?"

"No. The Confederate dispatch rider came through but there was nothing from your pa. Only this, from Dr. Balfour." She gave him one piece of paper on which was scrawled a note. He read it carefully and handed it to me.

"Ma and I will discuss it," he told me, "but you ought to have a say in it, since it concerns you. Think about it and let me know tomorrow."

I took the note and scanned it quickly. Dr. Balfour was asking my mother's and Landon's permission to allow me to come to the hospital twice a week and write letters home for the brave boys who needed them written. I was good at the task, Dr. Balfour wrote, and sympathetic with the young men without being disheartening.

I looked up from my reading. They were both eyeing me.

"Don't do it if you don't want to," Mama advised.

"Being around the sick and dying can steal your soul right from under you," Landon said.

I nodded and said nothing. Landon told Easter there was still some time before the shelling started, and anyway he knew the nigras knew their way around town so's they wouldn't get hit, so could she please go to our home and tell Clothilda to kill that turkey and bring it home so Easter could cook it for supper?

Easter left.

"Now," Landon said, "let's go and kill ourselves a snake."

It was wrapped around the upright roof support post, and by now a small crowd had gathered. Landon urged them back a ways in case it attacked, for it was surely poisonous. Then he unsheathed his sword and with that terrible and beautiful instrument poked at the head of the snake to annoy it. Behind us the crowd
ooh
ed and
aah.
ed

It was very fat must have been very long because it had itself wrapped around that support post at least four or five times.

Now it was watching Landon, fastening its yellow-green eyes upon him, opening its devil's mouth so its tongue could flicker in and out. Landon did more poking with that sword of his and, angry at being disturbed, the snake fought back. It unwrapped itself two or three turns from that support post and slithered down the roof of the cave toward Landon.

Everyone gave a low moan.

Then Landon went at it. The snake responded with back-and-forth thrusts of about two feet of itself, finally got tired, lost balance, and slipped to the earth at Landon's feet.

Quick as a firefly, Landon thrust his sword and cut its head off. I thought I was going to throw up. The snake was still moving. Now
I
was crying.

A man, a fellow cave dweller, came up to Landon, waited for him to sheath his sword, and shook his hand.
"I'm Oldfield from down ways a bit. Glad you're with us. All these people knew what to do, but they wanted to see their own major in action."

"Won't be with you all long," Landon addressed them quietly, "so I'd suggest you all learn to do it yourselves. And I'm not a major. Just a captain. If you see another snake just keep the people away from it and go and fetch one of your soldiers I see wandering about. You'll be all right."