ONE
City Point, Virginia
"Sir, General Sheridan is requesting you at once.”
The words broke Henry from his trance. He’d been thinking of the final night he’d had with Maggie…
“Happy now?” She’d asked angrily.
He watched the tears drip down onto her dress.
The familiar flash of anger in her eyes.
Eyes that shone in the moonlight from tears she’d shed...
For him. Under the veil of frustration, he saw in them what she tried to hide.
What she was unwilling to acknowledge. Or perhaps didn’t realize the truth herself yet.
Never had she been more beautiful to him than now.
Henry felt warmth flood his core as he saw the love evident in her eyes.
The weight of the world lifted from his shoulders.
He would come back. And when he did, no power on earth would separate them.
His own eyes began to fill with gratitude.
Thank you, God, for this woman.
Henry knew she was trying to figure out what he was thinking.
He’d be leaving tomorrow. Now was not the time to confess his full feelings for her.
He’d replied as truthfully as he could, without revealing the full depth of his emotions.
“You never have to hide how you are feeling from me. When you are sad, I am sad. When you are happy, I am happy.”
He wanted to push back the hair that had blown on her face, but he mustn’t touch her. He’d given his word and the last thing he wanted to do was cause her more emotional distress.
The morning he’d left, he’d taken in every inch of her face, determined to save it in his memory.
Her lashes had fluttered against the brightness of the morning dawn.
Her knuckles whitened as she clutched her hands over her arms. The pulse in her throat fluttered rapidly.
But her expression had been serene despite the inner turmoil physically evident.
Never had his vow been harder to keep. Her distress cut him in two.
Please watch over her, he prayed.
And he remembered how his heart had soared when she’d spoken his name.
Transported back to the present, Henry took a last sip of what could barely pass for coffee and poured the rest onto the ground and rose to follow the staff officer. As they wove through camp, Henry tried to settle his irritation.
Sheridan. What a joke.
Regarded as a war hero, those who really knew him recognized him for the pompous fool and tyrant that he really was.
Even after the months that had passed since Henry rejoined the company, the man continued to call on him, day and night.
It wasn’t uncommon for Sheridan to command him in the middle of the night to assess the troops.
He blamed Henry for the near-miss at Cedar Creek.
The man might’ve gotten a letter from Lincoln himself, but still, he wouldn’t let it go.
Therefore, he seemingly decided to plague Henry for the remainder of the war.
Stepping into the commander’s tent, Henry fully expected to have a farcical task awaiting him. Henry was shocked to find that it was standing room only. Including Major General Grant, there were a handful of other generals and over a dozen other officers. All conversation ceased at Henry’s arrival.
“Nice you could finally join us, Officer Farrow,” Sheridan sneered.
You may try to humiliate me by ensuring that you are late in summoning me, but it won’t work. Saying nothing, he bowed his head and moved from the tent opening to stand beside the other officers.
“Gentleman,” Grant’s voice of authority rang out. “Again, you all have been summoned here today to discuss the next move. I need not remind you all that this information does not leave this tent. Gather round and we shall begin.”
Nudging closer, Henry looked at the map spread on the oak table and to where Grant’s finger pointed. Five Forks.
“Rebel defenses are thinly stretched. They tried and failed to overcome us yesterday at Fort Stedman. According to our scouts, our victory was a deadly blow to them. The time is now to end this war. They are weak and we shall show no mercy. We secure the roads, opening the South Side Railroad for capture, and then we take Richmond.”
The gleam of victory shone in Sheridan’s eyes. It was no secret that he had hunted Lee’s army down and now had part of it cornered. General Grant might take the lead, but the mastermind of the plan was clearly Sheridan. Henry thought as much as he watched both Generals during the briefing.
“…It’ll be divided up into three points of assault. Merritt’s divisions will take Pickett’s front, Mackenzie will feign an attack on the left, exposing the gap between towards the east, and then Warren’ll attack at the rear,” Sheridan directed.
As the plan was mapped out, Henry became increasingly worried. Grant held Sheridan in high regard, but his temper and need for self-made glory placed the entire mission at risk.
Mid-brief, Grant received a message requiring his presence elsewhere and he instructed Sheridan to finish the briefing.
Sheridan’s mustache practically quivered.
Snapping his fingers to the staff officer, Sheridan had him pass out maps to each general and officer, directing them to their point of assault.
Henry unrolled his to see that he would be fighting under General Warren’s V Corps. Half of the infantry would march directly to Lee’s left flank, and the other half to the rear.
“Men,” Sheridan recalled their attention. “Know this—we will lead the army to victory. By God, I tell you that we will.”
Dismissed, everyone filed out.
William Johnson, a fellow officer and one whom Henry considered a friend, playfully nudged him in the side. “If ‘Little Phil’ swears it, then it must be true, right?”
Henry laughed, knowing how angry Sheridan would be if he overheard the men’s nickname for him. “One can only hope that this’ll be the last battle.”
“You say that every time. What’re you rushing home for? Think of all those medals you might have after this war. You won’t have to court any girl; you can just take your pick,” Johnson joked.
“And you say the same thing back, every time,” Henry quipped. “I told you—I don’t need my pick of the girls.”
“She must be something if you’ve already sworn off all others.”
Henry pictured Maggie, seeing her laughing with Abigail in the garden, trailing her fingers on the tall grass in the field as she walked with Elijah and Levi. “Something for sure.”
Elijah tried to talk Maggie out of it. So much so that he almost had her believing that this was another one of her foolish ideas.
But in her heart, she knew this was the only way.
If Abigail and Levi ever had a chance of making it back home, Henry was the answer.
Even if the war ended next week, they could still be stuck hundreds of miles away, without any means of navigating back.
“If thee is going, then I’m going too,” Elijah vowed.
Maggie tried to talk sense into him. “If you go, you won’t make it halfway before you’re forced to enlist. Exactly what your mother and father gave everything up to prevent. Abigail charged me with her household, and until you have a family of your own, you’re part of that household.”
Reluctantly coinciding, Elijah promised to at least help her prepare.
The next day, loaded with all the food and supplies the Browns could spare, Maggie and Elijah hiked back to the Howard farm.
She didn’t see the point of leaving from there rather than the Browns, but she didn’t argue. Elijah’s pride had been hurt enough. What was one more blister?
The house felt so empty inside. No fire called them in. The stove was cold, and the abscesses of Levi and Abigail were strongly felt.
While she gathered the last pieces of clothing, Elijah cleared debris from the top of the root cellar.
“Maggie,” Elijah called, coming back inside. “I’ve found something.” He dumped a canvas bag onto the kitchen table.
“Is that the dried meat?”
“No. I couldn’t see down in the cellar what it was. It was in the cache where the meat was supposed to be hidden.”
Maggie watched as he pulled out the contents.
A stack of maps, an army-issued pistol, a small gold ring, and…
a blanket? The gray confused her until Elijah unfolded it.
Henry’s uniform. She had always wondered what had happened to it, but assumed it was unsalvageable after their journey.
Evidently, that wasn’t the case. Abigail had carefully mended and washed it. The stitches were barely noticeable.
“This doesn’t make any sense. I heard Mother tell him that she had burned it—that it was too damaged for him to wear…” Elijah voiced aloud.
The same questions ran through Maggie’s head.
“…there’s something in the pocket,” Elijah said. Pulling it out, he held up a few folded bills. Fifty dollars. All that time, fifty dollars had been right under their nose.
“I’ve put funds by, just in case.” Henry’s words on the morning of his departure came flooding back to her. He’d implied that he’d given it to Abigail and Levi. How had it wound up in his uniform in the root cellar?
Before she could tell Elijah what she remembered, Elijah frowned. “And there’s something else in the bag. It must’ve been hidden underneath the coat…I don’t recognize it.”
Elijah might not have recognized it, but Maggie did. The last time she’d seen it, she had thrown it out of the loft during an argument with Abigail.
Her bible.
“Ackerman.” Elijah had opened the cover and read the inscription before Maggie could say a word. Taking a step back, he gestured to the table. “Maggie, what is all this?”
If Maggie’s bible was hidden in the bottom of the bag, Abigail must have recently packed it all away. Was she trying to tell her something? If so, what was it?
“I’m not exactly sure… Henry said he’d left some money, but the Bible had to be put in there by your mother—I haven’t seen it since the day she left to find you. The ring I cannot place at all.”