15

i n mid-october, while men more religious than i were still trying to reconcile why god

had dealt the south the powerful wound of antietam four weeks earlier, i met a man with a

different tale of theft. after an afternoon foraging for sassafras bark, pine needles for brewing

tinctures, and chicken-of-the-woods mushrooms, i rested contentedly with my back against a

broad loblolly pine. my overflowing haversack lay by my knee on the edge of a wood near

kearneysville. too soon, i’d have to leave the fragrant forest and head back to camp. every now

and then, i thought i heard the cluck of a wild turkey hen, perhaps gathering her chicks. a hand

to my brow, i searched the hedgerow edging the field in hopes of a bird for dinner. that was

good enough reason to linger where i was.

not long after, sounds of heavy breathing and twigs snapping startled me. a cavalry horse

was tracking nearby through the underbrush, and a bulging sack twisted around the saddle’s

horn revealed the rider and i had been on the same quest. the man and his piebald mare lazily

glided through tunnels of dappled light until they caught sight of me. the fellow drew back on

the reins, rested his hand on his pistol, and demanded, “hey, are you a reb?”

i quickly recited my name and company to put him at ease.

“julie edwards, from williamsburg,” he said as he drew near.

he was no more than my age, but he sported the shiny sword of a cavalry posting. i stood to

stroke the horse’s mane, thinking how fine it must be to have four legs to carry you foraging

rather than two exhausted and mostly shoeless feet. he leaned down to pat her neck. “this is

lucky. you won’t find a better soldier anywhere.” after we shared disbelief about the antietam

rout, he asked about my company’s losses and inquired about our commander. i assured him

captain paxton was in good health.

jeb stuart was his commander, and julie told me about a maneuver with that daredevil across

the potomac river to maryland several weeks earlier. he had been ordered to join a thousand

other cavalry soldiers for the five-day expedition.

“what good could come out of being on the northern side of the potomac at this time?” i

asked.

“horses. the army was desperate for more after antietam. there was no other choice but to

go back into maryland. there are certainly no horses left in virginia!”

i stifled the memory of the thousands of dead animals scattered on the field in september and

instead asked, “the locals weren’t hostile?”

“no sir, people were so scared that they just stood by, jaws hanging. we could pilfer

anything we pleased, as long as we got out of there quickly afterward.”

he described how a mass of animals followed from town to town. the horses swelled out

down the road in a choking cloud of dust that hid everything in their wake.

his eyes sparkled and his voice rose an octave. “you should have seen it. the lanes and

roads were cluttered with empty four-horse wagons and carts after those animals were stolen, or

confiscated, if you prefer. you can bet no horse was safe in its pasture, either.” he said that

farmers could only stare in shock at the receding rumps after he and the other troops had visited.

i’d heard rumors about the raids, but julie’s account reminded me that yanks could be doing the

same around our farm. they always retaliated in kind, and both sides were running out of

horses. a shadow fell across my mind, and i had trouble following his words for a few minutes.

but then julie came to the heart of his story. his regiment had approached a small farm with

a neat clapboard house and fresh manure in the barnyard. the captain waved his brimmed hat in

the air as a signal to soldiers behind and galloped up to the weathered-board building. julie and

the other soldiers waited in the lane with their stamping and snorting charges. the captain made

a show of jumping down from his horse and then he thrust back the broad barn door. “we could

see him prowling through the vacant stalls. just as he waved his hat to signal there was nothing

there, he whirled around. a horse had snorted once, then twice, somewhere inside,” julie said.

the captain pushed the barn door all the way open and motioned for julie and the others to join

him. another snort sounded from behind hay bales stacked to the stall’s ceiling. “we hurled hay

on the ground until a chestnut flank came into view. someone had hidden the mare behind a

false wall of bales.” the barn dust set everyone to sneezing, but julie saw through a crack in the

siding a young woman tearing toward the barn. he moved closer to the boards for a clearer

view.

“she was hollering and shrieking, wavy brown hair and skirts flying behind her. i couldn’t

help but notice how pretty she was. she yelled at us to wait. she charged right across the ankle-

high filth between the fence and the stable door, she was so panicked.” she gasped out a plea to

leave the horse, saying the captain must surely have enough mounts. she waved her hand toward

the crowd of them in her barn lane. if he took her mare lucy, she wouldn’t be able to go for

supplies or to fetch a doctor for her baby suffering from croup. what would she do if he became

feverish? holding her hands out in supplication, she begged all of us to have mercy on a woman

alone, a woman forced to fend for herself.

“i was sorely tempted to plead on her behalf, but it wasn’t my place to argue with a higher

officer. i just kept my mouth shut.” julie said. he looked away. “the captain sneered at her,

passed the reins of his steed to me and leaped astride her chestnut mare. the woman stumbled

back as he shoved her aside with his well-polished boot and started slowly down the driveway

mounted on her lucy.” hooves splattered her dress with mud as she tagged after, begging us to

spare her horse.

“here’s the part i can’t forget.” julie still couldn’t look at me but told how the captain pulled

back on his reins and then turned slowly in the saddle. he smiled and beckoned to the woman.

“i wondered at the sudden expression of hope that brightened her delicate pink face,” he said.

“her eyes glowed with relief, but when she drew alongside, the captain whipped the horse

forward and sped a little way down the road. that’s when i understood he was playing a cruel

game. she’d never see that horse again.” he said she again ran after, her face dripping with tears

and sweat. wisps of hair were glued to her forehead when the captain slowed and stopped again.

he waited for her to catch up. by this time, she struggled for each breath. he and the rest

laughed heartily at her distress.

“did you laugh? what were you doing all of that time?” i asked.

“i guess i protested, but pretty weakly. it didn’t make any difference, though.” again and

again, the captain taunted the woman. julie could hear her racking sobs from where he sat on his

horse. finally, bored with the game, the captain trotted off, while the stolen mare strained to

look back at its abject mistress.

his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “i last saw the woman limply braced against a fence

post on the side of the road. she’d chased after us at least two miles and was completely spent.

her bodice was splotched with sweat, her head was bowed, and her hands hung limply by her

side. i couldn’t look her in the eyes as i rode past. it’s been weeks, but i still spend nights

wondering how that woman and her baby are getting by without that horse. and how long they

will survive.”

i scuffed at a patch of spongy moss with the toe of my shoe as julie waited for my reaction. it

was tough to find the right response. “don’t be so hard on yourself,” i finally said. he gave me a

rueful glance as he leaned forward in his stirrups and geed lucky forward. i watched as he and

the horse disappeared over the hill.

even though my scavenging trip had been a success, julie’s words haunted me every step of

the way back to camp. all of us were stained by the war. it wasn’t clear to me we could ever be

free of it. i’d like to have told sam, to have heard his thoughts about julie’s story, and that made

me miss him even more.