The Sentinels of Andersonville (18 page)

Of course,
he
didn’t connect these dots; that was Howard’s job, Howard the unappreciated.

He looked at his pocket watch. The F.A.P. meeting was two hours and change away. Was it time enough to assemble witnesses?

Howard smiled until his lip disappeared. “I believe we can make a few satisfactory arrangements, Mr. Lucerne. And yes, you will have it in writing. Now. Sit down, Mr. Lucerne, pull up a crate. You are one of the turnkeys. . . .”

O
N
J
ANUARY
19, 1861,
Georgia was the fifth state to secede from the Union. The date was considered a day of independence, and in ’62 and ’63 Americus had noted the occasion with speeches from local potentates and songs from the Americus Brass Band. This year, the date had passed unmarked. It was an odd thing to come to mind, Violet reflected, as she helped Mother plate the gingersnaps.

“How is Papa?” Violet asked carefully. Mother was in an unpredictable state. She either very much wanted to be asked her mind on things, or not at all. Starting out with Papa was a safe approach.

“He is preparing a speech, though I told him to make sure he had a prison bag prepared as well,” she said. She fanned the gingersnaps into a decorative pattern on a serving plate, didn’t like the result, and started over. Two more hurried attempts failed to produce satisfaction, and she gave up and pushed the plate to Violet.

“I saw him in his office. I think he was praying,” Violet admitted.

“I am
deeply
disappointed in this town,” Mother declared, lips trembling, earrings trembling. “To think that your father should be dragged down for
questioning
. I
de
clare, it is irreconcilable to reason.”

“Judge Tate stepped in, Mama. Nothing will happen to Papa with Judge Tate around.”

“Precisely! If something could happen to your papa
 
—your good, dear, devout, kind, Christian, upstanding papa
 
—what could happen to Judge
Tate
? Clara must think the very same! What is happening to this town?”

“I wish I’d never posted that handbill. I only wanted to help those miserable creatures.”

Mother’s hysteria instantly quelled. She seized Violet’s hand. “Violet, dear, your father and I are desperately proud. Not another thought.” She squeezed her hand. “At least Reverend Gillette is safe. That is a comfort. Goodness, what events. A kidnapping that wasn’t a kidnapping.”

Violet brightened. “Lily said that Mr. Runcorn heard he is forming a commission to look into the conditions at the prison. Does that not hearten?”

But anxiety returned. Mother put a hand to her cheek. “Ravinia Runcorn snubbed me at the post office. Snubbed! Did you ever think the day would come? Mrs. Norton Stiles, an object of scorn. I am
checkered
.” She shook her head, dazed. “What will come of this meeting? To think I was nervous about the Knitting Brigade!”

Lily popped her head around the corner. “Dance and Emery are here! Their sergeant gave them a pass!” She disappeared.

“Well, that is some comfort. They are soldiers. If things get ugly, they can do . . . soldier things. Go receive them, Violet. I will deal with these snaps.” She laid a decorative sprig of lavender on the plate, and surveyed the result. “
Something
will be pretty today.”

 
—

“Why are you so gloomy?” Dance said.

“Why are you so cheerful?” Violet smoothed her skirts in precise
movements. “My father brought in for questioning . . . Ravinia Runcorn, snubbing my mother. Our family is
never
snubbed. Nor do we snub. Except when it is deserved. And even then it is more of an
instructive
look. Purposeful. Meant to inspire corrective behavior.”

“Could you demonstrate?” Dance asked.

Violet did her best, snubbing a tree, until she realized he was laughing. She scowled.

Dance and Violet sat in chairs on the edge of the lawn near the drive. They were posted to welcome folks when they came. Emery lay spread-eagled on the ground in front of them, staring at the sky. A look of ineffable peace was upon him. He had acted like a man apart, from the moment she’d first seen him.

“Look at that sky,” he said dreamily.

Violet leaned forward on pretense of adjusting her shoe and sniffed. She did not smell whiskey. Well, he was from Alabama. Perhaps his behavior was usual for Alabama. She did not know many out-of-staters.

“Violet, what are you all fuss and feathers about?” Dance asked.

“Dance Pickett, what is wrong with you? How are you both in such a fine fettle? Do you not feel the tension in the air? It is as the Knitting Brigade. We did not know what to expect, and things
did
get ugly. Well
 
—not as much ugly as
uncomfortable
. And certainly
revelatory
. This is altogether different. Multiply yesterday by twenty.” She looked at Emery, and her voice lowered. “What of your . . .
plans
, Mr. Jones?
Our
plans. Have you devised any yet?”

“Oh, they’re comin’ on fine. I’m restin’ today. Appreciatin’ things. Tomorrow I will put all my faculties in it. Does anyone take time to notice the sky? There it is. There it has been all along. I am astounded.”

“Violet, here’s the truth,” Dance said. “We have a guest speaker coming later this evening. He was supposed to be at the Millard dance, but he has had a
revelatory
experience himself. He insisted on
being here, not there, and this is yet another thing to give me hope for this town. He said to us, ‘Why should I bother with them? They will not hear. I will go where I will be heard.’”

Violet began to feel better. “Who is he?”

“It is a surprise.” Dance took some gingersnaps out of his pocket and flipped one to Emery.

“Oh, just tell me.”

“I hope he tells about the corn bread and peas,” Emery said.

“If he doesn’t, I will. Violet, do not trouble your heart. Things will turn out right. They generally do.”

“I hope so.” She hesitated. “This is not the first time I have been . . . disillusioned.”

“Do tell,” said Emery.

“A man came to town with a poor Confederate soldier who had lost both his legs in the war. They were here to raise money for our boys at the Augusta Hospital for Confederate Soldiers. The man was a pitiful sight. Well, we had a benefit and raised a pile of cash and sent them on their way . . . and it turns out there
was
no Augusta Hospital for Confederate Soldiers.” She eyed the boys ruefully. “Guess who led the benefit.”

Emery and Dance laughed.

Warmth crept high in her cheeks. “It is
not
funny! My sisters and I went to each and every business in Americus for a pledge of support. I was
adamant
that they should participate and show themselves as true Southern patriots by modeling Christian kindness.”

Dance howled and slapped his knee.

“Oh, stop! We had a picnic, a dance,
and
an auction. Do you know how much money those good people raised? Over a thousand dollars! One thousand twenty-four dollars and nineteen cents.” She pounded her leg with her fist. “Those
despicable
thieves! And
I
gave them the money
 
—with great ceremony! Stop laughing this instant,
Dance Pickett. I couldn’t show my face in town for a week. Oh, I’d like to hunt them down. Legs or no legs!”

Dance wiped tears and gave Emery a push with his boot. “Do you see why I adore this girl? I thought this day couldn’t get better.”

“I do not like amusing you!” Violet sat and fumed, until anxiety made her forget about Dance. “Will anyone trust me enough to come?”

Dance sobered. “Violet, what has it to do with you? It has to do with those prisoners.”

“Someone’s comin’ tonight they
will
trust,” Emery said, lips twitching. He still looked as expansive as if he had done the world an enormous favor and was basking in the glory of it.

“I insist you tell me.”

“You’ll see very soon.”

“Say, I wish to know more of your . . . friend,” Violet said. “The one in the
 
—you know where. What’s he like?”

“Well, if it didn’t swell the head of the man sittin’ next to you, I’d say he was like him. He’s steady. Makes me laugh. Comfortable to be around. Has a philosophical bent.”

Dance flipped him a gingersnap. “Every time you say something I like, you’ll get another.”

“What did you see in him?” Violet asked.

“What did I see in him?” Emery held the cookie, concentrating for the right words, studying the sky. “Give me a minute. This is a quality question.”

He was a handsome young man, Violet reflected. Lily had told the family one evening
 
—after she had laid down her romance novel
 
—that Emery was possessed of “unfettered grace.” Posey told Lily she was on dangerous ground and instructed her to redirect her affections for her own good.

“I saw things I liked,” Emery mused. “I saw things I knew, in that standoff. I recognized him.” He smiled and bit the cookie.

“And you plan to get him back to hearth and home,” Violet said wistfully. “To his wife and his children, his farm and his dogs.”

Emery finished the gingersnap. “Lew read me some of his letters. I got to know his family. I feel
 
—” Emery shifted a little, as if the next part were a little more than he cared to tell.

“You feel what?” Violet prompted, leaning a fraction closer.

Grudgingly, he said, “Protective.” Dance flipped him a gingersnap, and he threw it back at him.

Violet smoothed her dress. “Papa is preparing an inaugural speech for the society. Are you boys going to say anything, as founding members? I have a few notes, myself.”

“Emery’s got something to say,” said Dance.

“I got something to say if it needs being said.”

“You are fearless,” Dance said, and flipped him another gingersnap. This one he ate.

“I intend to sit this one out, however, as one is coming whose sandals I am not fit to unloose. If he said what he did to Winder, what do you imagine he will say to others?” Emery chuckled. “To think, the worst thing I ever did turned out to be the best.”

“What
are
you talking about?”

But the answer would have to wait. Lily came hurrying over from behind a tree where she had posted herself to spy a little sooner the ones who came.

“The Bigelows are coming!” she reported. “Hettie Dixon! Constance Greer, even though she
said
she’d be at the Millards’!” Then she said, “Violet, you won’t believe it
 
—the
Runcorns
are coming! I’ve got to tell Mama!” She ran off.

“Oh no,” Violet said. She realized she’d clutched Dance’s arm, and let go. “They may have come to be indignant. It
is
an indignation meeting . . .”

“Steady now, Violet,” said Dance mildly.

Do you see why I adore this girl?
he had said. Why did men have to bandy about important words? Why couldn’t he say,
Do you see why I
admire
this girl?
or,
Do you see why I
enjoy the company
of this girl?

But all frivolous thought fell away, for marching up the drive with her potential powers of snub at the zenith was Ravinia Runcorn. The three rose and waited to greet her.

She approached . . . she approached . . . she laid glittering eyes on Violet for one cold, piercing instant . . . and swept past without a word.

Violet’s welcome died on her tongue. Silas Runcorn, sweating and carrying two picnic chairs, nodded to them with a “How do,” and followed his wife.

“Snubbed,” said Violet, stupefied.

“Violet, you have enjoyed the center of polite society since birth,” Dance said. She looked to see if he was mocking her, but he had something else to say. He took her hand and, before she could blush, kissed it. “I would rather have you here, on the unpleasant outskirts, where things are not safe. This is where you can do something. It suits you.”

He released her hand, brushed gingersnap crumbs from his vest, and went off to greet someone.

 
—

“‘All we ask is to be left alone,’” said Dr. Stiles. “I wrestled with several ways to open this meeting. Jeff Davis’s words leapt to mind, those as he spoke to our Confederate congress. Didn’t those words just blaze through the South, setting fields afire like Samson’s foxes? All we ask is to be left alone.”

He looked over the crowd. Some stood near the trees; most sat on blankets or chairs. There were a few unfamiliar faces, but most he knew. Some of Polly’s family was here
 
—Grandpa Wrassey and her brother, Charles. Some were military, posted in Americus or
Andersonville. There were a few business owners, a few community leaders, a few of his patients. One fellow he knew to be a writer for the
Macon Telegraph
. Unfortunate, that. He had a piece to read from the
Telegraph
, and it took no nerve until he saw the man.

Lily had informed him that forty-seven people were present. He owned to himself that the number was disheartening for a good-sized town with a war-swelled population, even with a dance going on. He wondered if Violet and the boys felt the same. But he determined that from the moment of his first footfall out of the study he would not judge the ones who did not come. It was tangled up in that, all the problems of Andersonville Prison, the judging of other human beings; Norton Stiles, before God, would not be part of it.

“Most of you know me, but for those who don’t, I am Dr. Norton Stiles. I am over thirty and have practiced medicine for over seven years.” He smiled wryly. “That means I have qualified for exemption from military duty.” A mild chuckle rolled across the crowd. “Like many of you, I volunteered my services for the war effort. I serve once a week at the Federal hospital. Let it be known I applied to work at the Confederate hospital in the town of Andersonville. But they had an abundance of doctors there, and my application was rejected. A colleague persuaded me to help at the stockade. Now some of you know Captain Wirz, the commandant of the prison.” He paused to allow for the murmur of general disapproval.

“That foul-mouthed old Hessian,” one of them muttered.

“Well, I have something in common with Captain Wirz,” said Dr. Stiles. “He will not allow his family to go near the prison stockade. He has his reasons, and I had mine. As for myself, I was wrong.”

He glanced at Violet.

“I was wrong to keep silent with them, and I was wrong to keep silent with you. Look at us. We are not many, are we? I wish there were more, for I would tell what I have in my heart for this town,
and it is not rancor and it is not judgment. It is something closer to love, for I dearly love this town. My wife and I settled here over twenty years ago, when it was just scratching out an existence. How we have grown. The churches, the schools, the businesses. The town square, with our lovely water oaks
 
—I sponsored one of those trees and planted it myself.