Shenandoah. A story of Sheridan's great ride

Front matter

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT

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Preface

The author acknowledges his indebtedness to Watts Phillips, Esq., for many salient features used in these pages ; also to George E. Pond, formerly associate editor of the Army and Navy Journal for military information derived from his excellent work “The Shenandoah Valley in 1864. ** The brief descriptions of the battles of Winchester and Cedar Creek were largely made up from the published narratives of eyewitnesses, and their accuracy will readily be conceded by surviving veterans who were present on those memorable occasions, where victory was achieved only through baptism by blood and the heroic energy and military skill of General Philip Sheridan.

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Contents

V

CHAPTER XXII.

PAGE.

Chapter I

SHOWS A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST, AND INTRODUCES UPON THE SCENE AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.

It was the night of the 12th of July, 1864. A violent thunderstorm was sweeping up the Valley of the Shenandoah. The dusty turnpike leading into the town of Strasburg was soon transformed into a tract of slush and waterpools. The dripping trees, that bordered the road at intervals, tossed their rustling limbs in wild and helpless confusion under the pelting blasts that tore their way through the blackness of the night.

On the outskirts of the town, the lights of which could be seen winking mistily in the distance, stood a quaint, old-fashioned building that marked an era beyond the recollection of the oldest inhabitant. This ancient edifice squatted in gloomy solitude upon the edge of the highway not far from the railroad crossing. It offered an unresisting mark to the full p’ay of the wind. The driving gusts smote the building fronc and rear with a savage glee that knew no restraint. They played at hide-and-seek around the corners and under the eaves, and thundered at the barred windows, and upon the great sunken doorway for admission. Two large bulging windows flanked the entrance. The glass panes were small and badly cracked with age and adverse acquaintanceship with the elements. The rain cut furrows athwart the dust and grime of years, through

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which gleams of light squinted rather than flashed upon the water-soaked roadw T ay. An obscure sign above the entrance conveyed the doubtful information that “groceries” were to be had within.

On the present occasion the old building housed a small but curiously assorted group of visitors. The larger part were regular customers who dropped in nightly to sample the stock of “wet groceries” partitioned off at the rear end of the store.

The most important person present was Job Hendricks, overseer of the Anderson homestead near by — a hard-featured man of forty, whose distinguishing trait was a stubborn hatred for everything that savored of Yankeeism. He was discussing the latest war news with the last arrival — an ill-conditioned fellow in rebel gray, whose faded uniform showed him to be a non-commissioned officer.

Perhaps a dozen others, chiefly small farmers and their white help, were perched about on barrels and boxes, fairly wedged into the smallest possible space, not unlike packed sardines ; while three or four tattered and dirty-looking army stragglers hung over the limited counter that served for the bar, in attitudes suggestive of the need of material support for their embarrassed extremities.

The prevailing stimulant dispensed by a shock-headed youth was whisky, generally raw, a three-finger measure to the dose. As the symposium grew apace this corner of the store became hazy with the smoke of bad cigars and still viler pipes, till the low ceiling grew to resemble an inverted plain obscured by a lead -colored fog.

“Early should be before Washington by this time — the defeat of Wallace’s forces at Monocacy on Saturday cleared away the last obstacle, ’ ’ said Job Hendricks, knocking the ashes from his cigar.

“Wal!” said the Confederate officer, “I reckon that’s about ther size of it. ’ ’

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“Then,” said the overseer grimly, “he’s in position to strike a blow that’ll shake Yankeedom to the core.”

“I calculate Early’s ther man for ther job. ,r

“No fear of that, my friend,” said Hendricks, “but you must bear in mind that Grant has probably by this time thrown troops into the city to strengthen the defenses. ’ ’

‘ ‘ That would weaken his army before Richmond, ’ ’ said the officer.

“Very true,” continued the overseer; “that’s precisely the object aimed at by Lee when he planned this Maryland invasion. Early’s campaign through the Valley, assisted by Ewell’s operations in Pennsylvania and Maryland, is merely a ruse, in my opinion, to frighten and weaken Grant. ’ ’

“Wal, now you put it that way, I kinder guess you’re more’n half right. ”

“Lee was obliged to make a diversion of some kind, because of the strategic operations of the army of the Potomac, which are gradually hemming him in round our capital. When Grant left his position on the Cliickahominy, ten miles from Richmond, and pushed across the country to the James River, it became possible for him to besiege the city, or to force its evacuation, or for Lee to attack him. The movement nearly cost us the great stronghold lying between Grant’s new base and Richmond. The timely arrival of reinforcements alone saved Lee, but left him still the choice of two evils. If he kept ahead of the Yankee army, holding the Petersburg line secure, Grant was sure to walk in between him and Richmond, with the city at his mercy. If Lee kept between Grant and Richmond, the Yankee general had it in his power to cut off the Southern States’ communication, the only source , of supplies now left, as the Valley of Virginia is in the hands of the enemy. To save both Petersburg and Richmond, Lee’s only course was to attack Grant in his trenches. Therefore this movement into the North was laid out to per-

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plex the Yankee general, since even the fall of Richmond would scarcely compensate for the capture of Washington by Early. That would be a national calamity to the North, and I think ruin Grant’s reputation as a general. The question is, what move has he made in this crisis? Will it result in relaxing his hold on Lee and Richmond, or has he chanced the defense of Washington to militia and raw recruits?”

A tremendous clap of thunder directly overhead caused a momentary cessation in the general conversation. For a brief interval even the wind seemed cowered into silence, then the rain came down in a perfect deluge.

“A dashed unpleasant night,” said the Confederate officer, striking a match on a box of candles, and bringing the flame to the bowl of his freshly filled pipe.

A draught of air extinguished the light. The military man looked around the barricade of grocery sundries into the store proper. A stockily built man of medium height was in the act of shutting the door.

“Curse the rain!” muttered the new arrival, standing irresolutely near the entrance, and glancing about covertly from under the slouching brim of his felt hat, which fairly dripped with moisture. His garments, rough in texture, clung to his person after a sodden fashion.

“There ain’t much change in the old rookery,” he continued. “Looks just the same as when I stepped out three years ago. I’ll bet I ain’t been missed. I s’pose the old girl thinks I’m dead — wishes I was, no doubt. Ho, ho ! Sorry to undeceive her — she ain’t a bad one — but I make it a point always to look after number one — that’s myself. ”

He looked positively sardonical as he slouched up to the counter. His face, where it showed above the short, bushy beard, looked lean and cadaverous. A black bit of cardboard shaded one of his eyes, and a dirty strip of courtplaster extended from his chin halfway up his right cheek.

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“What do you want?” said the shock-headed boy, craning his neck around the partition.

“Where’s the missus?” said the disreputable-looking stranger.

“The missus !” exclaimed the youth ; “what do you want with her?”

“What the devil is that your business, sonny? She is in the house, ain’t she?”

“Yes,” returned the lad doggedly.

“Well and good. I want to see her, my pippin. Not — here — d’ye mind. You go back and tell her an old friend,” the speaker grinned, “is in the store, and is coming in to see her, and I’ll follow you. What are you staring at, eh? I don’t look just up to the mark, do I? You mustn’t judge a book by the cover, sonny. The rain has taken all the polish off me. So run along ; you don’t know how glad she’ll be to see me.”

The lad paused irresolutely.

“You’ve got a name, hain’t you?” he blurted out.

“Ho, ho!” exclaimed the stranger derisively, coming closer; “I’m sorry I didn’t bring my cardcase with me, so I could do the thing proper. Never you mind, sonny, just you do as I tell you, or — ” his manner changed to a sudden fierceness, “you’ll wish you had. ”

The shock -headed youth shrunk away before the unsavory visitor, not a little alarmed to find him close at his heels. The stranger paid no attention to the group of customers within the back enclosure. He kept his face averted and quickly followed the boy through the rear door which opened into a short hall leading to the living rooms occupied by Mrs. Margaret Sikes.

Mrs. Sikes was laying the table for tea in the sitting-room — which was the pink of neatness — off the hall. She was a pleasant-featured little woman of thirty, with a healthy glow on her cheeks, but, strangely enough, silver strands plainly visible in her tightly combed black hair.

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There was an indescribable look in her dark, beautiful eyes, that would set one speculating upon the peculiarity of their expression. Some people had been heard to call them ghostly eyes. In good truth they were not far amiss — an incomprehensible something haunted their liquid depths, like the Imp in the Bottle, and its impalpable presence was forever looking out.

The gossips of the neighborhood, and indeed all who were acquainted which Mrs. Sikes’ immediate past, settled the problem to their satisfaction by ascribing the good woman’s weird feature to the disastrous conclusion of her unfortunate marriage, for Gideon Sikes, her husband, after an unsatisfactory career in the vicinity, was finally arrested on suspicion of burglarizing the Anderson homestead. At his trial the evidence adduced was sufficient to ensure his conviction, and he was sentenced to ten years’ sequestration within the walls of the State penitentiary. Some six months afterward it was rumored that he had escaped, and later on a neighbor, home on furlough, asserted that it was believed he had gone into the army. Everybody argued, however, that Mrs. Sikes was well rid of him.

There was one person, however, who found Margaret’s - peculiarity unfathomable. This was Stella, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of the late Major Ray, mistress, since her father’s death, and her marriage to Colonel Anderson about two years since, to the adjoining Ray- Anderson estates.

Margaret before her ill-starred marriage had for years been Stella Ray’s confidential companion and maid. A strong bond of affection grew and cemented between the two women. They were almost like sisters, and only in public was the line drawn that distinguished the mistress from the social inferior. That Stella intuitively disliked Gideon Sikes, and opposed the marriage, was a fact ; but she never allowed the event to estrange herself from Margaret. She set up Sikes in the general store business in the old building at the corner of the Ray estate, and befriended the couple in many ways, and was especially kind and sisterly to Margaret when her worthless husband enmeshed himself in the clutches of the law.

Stella first remarked the curious change in Margaret’s manner, and that queer expression of the eyes, soon after her own marriage to Colonel Anderson — a marriage in which she gave her hand, but alas ! not her heart ! that was buried in the grave with her first and only love — Robert Graham.

Her husband was the richest man in that section of the country, almost in the State, and his family one of the proudest and most aristocratic in Virginia. He had been attracted by her beauty and vivacity, and though old enough to have been her father, the connection, in a worldly point of view, was considered most desirable by her family.

Major Ray, a veteran of the Mexican War, had once been a wealthy man ; but financial reverses overtook him late in life, until at the time of Robert Graham’s courtship with his daughter Stella, he had little left but the family estate, which adjoined the Anderson homestead, and that was involved to a considerable extent, Colonel Anderson holding a mortgage upon the property for more than half its value.

With the breaking out of the Rebellion, Robert Graham, Stella’s accepted suitor, and Col. Ashley Anderson went to the front — the one as captain of a New York company, the other in command of a Virginia regiment.

Singularly enough both were desperately wounded at Bull Run. The colonel was brought home and recovered, though not sufficiently to allow him to ever resume active service. Captain Graham was taken prisQner, sent to a Richmond hospital, and soon after was reported dead.

Time passed, and the colonel, debarred from the sterner duties of war, and finding the field of love effectually clear

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of his successful rival, ventured to press his suit with the fair Stella. He was kindly hut quietly repulsed, but did not give up the hope of ultimately succeeding in winning his lovely neighbor.

One year elapsed. Major Ray’s misfortunes culminated in a financial crisis that induced that gentleman to bring such pressure to bear upon his daughter’s love and paternal devotion, looking toward her union with Colonel Anderson, that the girl, feeling assured of the death of the man to whom she had been betrothed, at last yielded to circumstances and became the colonel’s wife. But he knew that her hand, not her heart, passed to him with the transaction. Enamored as the old Confederate officer was with the lady of his choice, he felt content to bind the bargain, relying on time to smooth the way to the love he might not immediately command. So Stella became an envied bride. She made the colonel a good, faithful wife, in all that her heart could accede, and the proud husband was satisfied.

Mrs. Sikes, having arranged the table to her satisfaction, stood a moment at the window. Drawing the chintz curtains she peered out upon the night. The lightning that momentarily cut a zigzag pathway across the inky firmament, and the sharp peals of thunder that seemed to rend the succeeding darkness into shreds, had no terrors for her.

“ How like m J dream of last night,” she said to herself, “but the fac e—that face is missing. Father of Heaven, what does this portend ! After these years can he return ? If living, dare he return here f No, no, it cannot be ! This fancy of mine is but the visionary birth of my unquiet brain. Do I not suffer enough without that new presentiment of evil? Oh, Stella, Stella, if you only knew-only guessed how I betrayed your confidence, you would spurn me as a creature devoid of the faintest gratitude. Fatal weakness that bribed my conscience only to awaken a lifelong remorse ! The letter is still there she mechanically

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pointed to a drawer in the old-fashioned mahogany dresser. “Why have I not destroyed it? Yet I dare not— oh, heaven, I dare not !’’

An agonized shudder passed over the woman, while she clung to the window like a reed swayed by the wind. In a moment, however, she recovered herself with a desperate sort of energy that showed the strength of her will-pow T er. Her face was calm again, and no one to look at her would have surmised that anything out of the ordinary had, during the last few moments, stirred her woman’s soul to its very depths.

At this juncture the shock-headed youth made his appearance at the door.

“What is it, Joe?” she inquired.

“Please, mum, some one to see you,” said the youth.

“Somebody to see me, Joe?”

“Yes, mum.”

“Very well,” she answered quietly.

“Come, sonny, just you move out of the way. I’ll introduce myself, ’ ’ said a voice in the entry.

Margaret Sikes suddenly pressed her hand to her heart. Her face paled to the color of marble. She stood as one transfixed.

The shock-headed youth vanished, and his place was taken by the form of the disreputable visitor.

“Good-evening, Mrs. Sikes. I ain’t the picture of prosperity, am I,” said the man, in low, mocking tones. “But I hope the patted calf awaits the returned prodigal. I see you hain’t forgotten me.”

“Gideon!”

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Chapter II. Husband And Wife

‘ ‘ Sh ) Not so loud. Some one might hear you, ’ ’ said the man cautiously. “It’s always well to be on the safe side,” and he shut the door. “It’s a weakness I have. There, don’t look so frightened, old girl. I ain’t going to eat you —though, ’ ’ and he glanced significantly at the spread table, “I don’t object to a mild sort of banquet, for I hain’t had a mouthful since daybreak. ’ ’

This is dreadful, ’ ’ said the woman, in a hoarse whisper. Of course it is, ’ ’ assented Gideon Sikes, seating himself, bedraggled as he was, and removing his hat with the greatest nonchalance. “It’s uncommonly dreadful, as you say, to tramp the woods and the byways without a bite, or something inviting in the way of drink. ”

“How— dare — you come back here ?”

“Oh, come now, I like that, after all these months I’ve been away serving my country,” said the man, with a brutal grm. “What ought a good husband do when a hard-hearted combination of circumstances has torn him from the arms of his dutiful wife? Why get back to the family hearth at the first opportunity. Ain’t you going to give me a kiss, eh?”

No!” cried the unfortunate wife, with a look of disgust.

Oh, well, I ain’t particular to a shade,” said Mr. Sikes complacently. “You’ve got a fire in the kitchen, I guess.

I 11 go m there and dry off. I s’pose you don’t mind getting me a glass-a stiff one, d’ye mind-of whisky from

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the store. My insides feel sort of gone like. Whether you’re glad to see me or not, I’m your husband, Mrs. Sikes, and don’t you overlook that fact.”

“Yes,” said Margaret mournfully, “you are my husband. Would to heaven I could deny the connection ! I was mad when I became your wife. Some devil prompted the infatuation that ended in making me your slave. When you were taken from me — a convicted thief — the disgrace of it all bowed my head in shame ; but your absence brought relief to my heart, and now — an escaped felon — you have dared to come back, to renew a misery that time had dulled, yet could not wholly remove. Changed though you are, even to my eyes, you cannot hope to escape recognition in this neighborhood. Some one will raise the hue and cry. You will be dragged hence to endure the sentence your ingenuity evaded. How can you expect me to account for your presence in this place?”

“How?” broke in Mr. Sikes impatiently, “why nothing is easier. I’m your brother, Samuel Gregson, of the Sixth Alabama, wounded at the battle of the Wilderness, and I’ve been discharged from the service. It’s quite simple.”

“Then you mean to make me party to this criminal deceit?” said Margaret.

“Why not. I’m your husband, ain’t I? Well, it’s your duty to stand between me and the unfortunate circumstances over which I have no control. ”

“Heaven help me !” she said.

‘ ‘ Heaven helps them that help themselves, ’ ’ said Mr. Sikes irreverently. “So now, that the matter is settled, I’ll take it as a dutiful act on your part if you will just trot out the whisky I asked for. ’ ’

Margaret, who seemed quite helpless and cowed in the presence of her worthless husband, made a movement to obey.

“You’d better bring a bottle of the stuff while you’re about it, ” said Mr. Sikes placidly, “I’m that chilled and

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tuckered out it’ll take mor’n one glass to get up a healthy action.”

‘ ‘ Very well, ’ ’ she said simply.

“And look here,” said Sikes suddenly, and almost fiercely, “be careful how you act, d’ye mind? If you’re questioned, remember it’s your brother, whom you haven’t seen since you were knee-high to a grasshopper. I’m changed enough, I feel it, to chance recognition. This beard is as good as a disguise. Besides, I guess more ’n half the folks hereabouts believe G-id Sikes dead. Oh, I’m safe enough, except, ’ ’ here he paused and looked meaningly at his wife, ‘ ‘ you took it into your head to betray me. ’ ’

“To betray you? I, your wife !” exclaimed Margaret, bursting into tears.

“Wife!”

Gideon Sikes seized her hand and held it up to the light.

“Yes, here’s the marriage ring, right enough, which I placed on this finger four years ago. Well, you women are queer things; in your place I’d have slipped it off, just as I slipped off the iron one at the penitentiary when the chance offered. There, no more tears, old girl. Perhaps I was a bit harsh with you ; but when a man’s been through what I have, his disposition is apt to suffer. ’ ’

Without a word Margaret left the room. Gideon followed her with his eyes. The moment he heard the door of the passage connecting with the store close behind her, he sprang to his feet, and advanced with a quick, stealthy tread to the mahogany dresser, the top drawer of which he tried with his knuckles.

“When I looked in the window, half an hour ago, I saw her put something in here. Fast as a church door, ’ ’ he said, after trying in vain to open it. “Never mind,” he continued, with a cunning laugh and a covert glance at the door, “it’s the task of genius to overcome obstacles.”

He drew from his trousers pocket a small bunch of skeleton keys.

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“These,” he said, shaking them, “are the birds that have whistled open a stronger cage than this. ’ ’

After two or three attempts he unlocked the drawer and pulled it open.

‘ ‘ What a precious lot of knickknacks women do keep about. I never could see the use of such trash. What’s this? A letter addressed to Miss Stella Ray? Must have dropped in here by accident. I’ll just put it on top where my dutiful wife won’t forget it. Oh !’’ he exclaimed, with a low whistle, ‘ ‘ Just as I thought. Quite a nest egg to be sure. All in gold, and gold is dreadful scarce. It was good of her to save these yellow boys against the return of her own true love. ’ ’

Mr. Sikes transferred Margaret’s little hoard of savings to his pocket.

“I won’t touch the bright quarter with the bit of s’iled ribbon, ’ ’ he said ; “ I gave that to the old girl a year before we were married. What curious creatures women are ! Just to think, she’s kept that by her all these years, though all the time I’m sure she was hoping, p’raps praying, that the giver might never again darken her door. It does make a man feel just a bit queer — it reminds one of old times. Ah!’’ he exclaimed, suddenly closing the drawer. “Justin time. ’’

He turned his back to the dresser, and seemed to be meditatively regarding the supper-table as Margaret re-entered the room with a bottle and a glass.

“I’ve brought you a bottle of Jamaica rum,’’ she said quietly, placing it upon the table. ‘ ‘ The stock of whisky is low, and the customers seem to prefer it to anything else. I thought you wouldn’t mind the difference.’’

‘ ‘ All right, Maggie, ’ ’ he said suavely.

She started at the old familiar address, the blood flew into her face for an instant, and her eyes seemed to melt. Then, like the fading of a bright gleam of sunlight, the feeling was gone.

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“There’s a fire in the kitchen, yon had better ”

“Warm up, eh? All right, old girl, in a minute.”

He uncorked the bottle of spirits, half filled the tumbler, and after holding it up to the light of the lamp like a connoisseur, he drank it without a wink.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “that goes right to the spot. It puts new life into one. Now, if you’d just put a bite on the table while I dry otf a bit, I’m sure we’ll get on nicely. ’ ’

He walked into the little rear room, where the stove was, and stood with his back to the fire, just as though the world and he were on the easiest of terms, and no such thing as an outraged justice existed to threaten his repose. Not a word was spoken while Margaret prepared the tea, and when everything was ready she called him.

Gideon helped himself abundantly, and ate like a man breaking a long fast, as indeed he was.

“I call this a right royal spread,” he said at length, with his mouth full ;■ “I’ve supported sinking nature on less, many a time ; and now for a little confidential chat between man and wife, you know : what’s been going on since I’ve been away?”

“Going on!” mechanically repeated Margaret, speaking like one awaking from a reverie. She had made but a pretence of sipping her tea.

“Why the world hasn’t stood still, I suppose. How many of the neighbors have gone to the front, and— stayed there?”

“Nearly all of the able-bodied men around here enlisted. A few returned at intervals,” she said sadly. “Many more will never return. War is a sad thing for the family left at home. ’ ’

‘ ‘ Of course, ’ ’ acquiesced Mr. Sikes, without, however, any display of feelipg. “How’s Major Ray?”

‘ ‘ Dead, ’ ’ replied Margaret softly.

“You don’t mean that? And Miss Stella Ray, what’s become of her?”

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‘ ‘ Miss -Stella Ray exists no longer, ’ ’ Margaret said coldly.

“What ! you don’t mean she’s gone and died too?”

“Miss Stella is now Mrs. Ashley Anderson.”

“You — don’t — say,” said Gideon, emitting a low whistle. “Why I thought she gave him the mitten long ago.”

“It was one of those marriages where the estates are closer together than the hearts, ’ ’ said Margaret, with a sigh.

‘ ‘ I see, ’ ’ said Mr. Sikes, nodding his head sagaciously.

“A man forgets a heap of things in three years — but I’ve not forgotten the colonel — no, nor what I owe him.”

‘ What do you mean?” exclaimed Margaret, regarding her husband apprehensively, for his words covered an implied threat.

“What do I mean, eh? It may have served your interests to forget and forgive. That’s like a woman. But it would be strange if I forgot that it was he who hounded me down ; who in his capacity of justice of the peace held me for trial, and whose evidence sent me to the penitentiary. No — curse him ! — I haven’t forgotten, and p’raps that’s one reason I’ve ventured back. No man ever did me an injury on whom I didn’t seek to get square. ”

“Gideon!” said his wife, regarding him fixedly, “you wouldn’t dare ”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said mockingly. “Well, you wait and see. ’ ’

“Gideon Sikes,” exclaimed Margaret, rising from the table, “if you make the slightest attempt to injure Colonel Anderson — the husband of Stella, my truest and only friend —I’ll have you dragged from this house like a dog. I’ll expose you, yes, if I die for it.”

Gideon for a moment regarded his wife in sheer amazement.

Chapter III. ‘ ‘ You Have Broken My Heart. ’ ’

“ So, ” SAID Mr. Sikes, recovering himself, and giving vent to a smothered imprecation. “Yon mean that, do yon?”

“As God is my jndge!” said Margaret solemnly.

“Well,” said Gideon, after a panse, dnring which his manner changed to a careless indifference, I didn’t think it of yon. ’ ’

“What have yon ever been to me since onr marriage? In what respect have you sought to hold the heart yon won?” with a sob. ‘ ‘ In what have I ever failed in my duty to yon, who have been unresponsive, as a faithful, true wife. Yon cannot— dare not accuse me. With shame I still ac- * knowledge yon my husband, yet I cannot wholly forget that you did feel a bit fond of me once, probably as much so as your low, unmanly nature was capable of exhibiting. That solitary memory, still green in my heart, bids me shield you from the world, even with my life ; but have a care — there is a limit even to my forbearance. That limit is reached when you aim at my darling Stella’s peace of mind, however indirectly. These are not idle words, Gideon Sikes. I pray to heaven you will heed them. ’ ’