Page 54 of Under the Tulip Tree
“What about you? You gonna marry up with Sam?”
The thought of such a thing scared me to death. Not because I didn’t care for Sam. I did. Somehow, he’d wormed his way into my life, and it saddened me to imagine freedom without him. But everything I’d ever loved had been taken away from me. I worried if I let my heart open up and truly allow love for Sam to grow, something terrible would happen to him.
I shrugged and turned away. “He’s a good man, but I don’t know that I’m the marryin’ kind.” I stood, ending the conversation. “I’m going for a walk.”
I wandered over to the soldier camp, thinking I’d sort the officers’ laundry and prepare for work on the morrow. If the battle wasn’t going to commence anytime soon, the men would need clean clothes.
A commotion caught my attention. I joined a group of people watching as four dirt-caked men wearing Confederate gray were marched at gunpoint toward a wagon.
“What’s going on?” I asked the woman beside me.
“The Federals captured some prisoners.”
The men wore defeat on their pale, thin faces. I noticed two of them were barefoot even though December was upon us. For just a moment, a hint of sympathy swept through me. I’d heard rumors about Camp Chase, the Union prison up north. As one might expect, prisoners of war weren’t treated kindly. But these men being loaded into the wagon had chosen to fight for the Confederate cause. Were they slave owners? Had they been cruel masters like the man who’d owned Nell or like the Halls, who’d left me with a crippled hand and no family?
My sympathy evaporated.
Some of the folks nearby spat at the wagon when it passed, and I found myself joining in. Let the devil have those men, I thought. They deserved no better than what they’d given.
I attempted to reclaim my normal routine over the next three days while we waited. Nell volunteered to help me with the officers’ washing, and I was grateful for the company. The report of guns could be heard throughout the sunny days from skirmishes fought in the south, and we learned several men had been wounded and were taken to a hospital in town. We still hadn’t heard from Illa, and her absence troubled me. I gathered enough courage to ask one of the officers if Illa could get through the Confederate line if she tried to reach Nashville, but he thought it highly unlikely. The Rebs wouldn’t let anyone sympathetic to the Federals—woman orotherwise—cross their line.
On Thursday we awoke to a bitter wind blowing in from the north. Despite the change in temperature, cannons continued to roar and the pop of gunshots echoed until dark. The next day brought a sleeting rain that eventually turned to snow. Nell and I hunkered down in the tent most of the day, shivering and wrapped in thin blankets. When we did venture out, it was to huddle over one of the many campfires dotting the land. I recognized wooden fences and even bits of furniture being used for fuel. With most all the trees long felled for breastworks and forts, precious little remained to provide warmth in such frigid weather.
Tempers flared under the hard conditions. Residents of the contraband camp as well as the hundreds of soldiers wereill-prepared for such intense cold. Arguments broke out over which blanket belonged to whom or who let the fire die down. With so many mouths to feed, food was rationed. I took the gold coins I’d buried beneath my cot and went to town, despite the ever-present fear of gunfire. I found a baker I remembered from my days working for Mr. Waters. The man had always been kind toward me, and I trusted him to be honest now since I’d never bought anything with my own money. He traded two coins for a loaf of bread and some salted meat he’d managed to keep out of the hands of the soldiers. I thanked him and hurried back to camp, surprised by how many men in blue uniforms I passed on my way. I supposed many of them had never been to Nashville and were determined to see the sights in spite of the imminent battle. Rumor had it the cannons weren’t the only thing booming. The city’s saloons and brothels saw steady business with the influx of soldiers.
Two more days went by with little change in activities. We began to wonder if there would ever be a battle, or if the two sides would continue to simply hold their ground. The waiting wore on our nerves inside the contraband camp, but the soldiers seemed to take it in stride. After nearly four years of war, they’d surely seen their share of waiting.
Each day I searched for Sam, but each day I was disappointed. I hoped he was staying warm and dry. The air still held a heavy chill by Sunday afternoon, but folks seemed to settle in for a day of rest. Even the guns had grown blessedly quiet, giving us a much-needed respite from the relentless fear of war.
I decided to walk to the fort and take a look around. Sam felt we’d be safe there once the fighting began, but I’d never stepped foot behind the high limestone walls. It seemed best to acquaint myself with the layout before things grew dire.
I climbed up the hill to the sally port, the only entrance into the great fort. The wooden gates were closed, and without Sam or Illa to accompany me, I didn’t have the courage to approach the guardhouse. I walked the perimeter of the huge wall instead, scouting the best place for Nell and me to hide when the shooting started.
Atop Saint Cloud Hill, the view from the fort held beauty despite the impending battle. The whole country surrounding the city, on both sides of the river, looked like one big tented field. Thousands of cheerful campfires sent smoke into the clear sky, offering warmth and comfort, belying the uncertainty of the soldiers’ tomorrows.
To the north, the Cumberland River teemed with war vessels and ships, their masts waving in the cold breeze. Hills, barren and stripped of trees, dotted the horizon in all directions. I saw the newly finished capitol building gleaming in the sunshine, strong and sure. To the south, a half mile across Franklin Pike, Fort Casino buzzed with activity. I couldn’t make out details, but I imagined their artillery looked similar to that of Fort Negley.
Out of breath, I stopped and leaned against the high wall. I hadn’t taken much time to consider the fort all these years, despite living in its shadow, but I marveled now at the workmanship. I’d witnessed men, two at a time, hauling thesethick limestone blocks up the hill, where they were laid out in such a way folks referred to it as an enormous star. Although I couldn’t see it now, I knew a tall wooden stockade and towers occupied the center. Should the enemy breach the walls, the stockade would act as the last defense for the men inside. Soldiers stationed high above me manned cannons at the ready while others served as lookouts and guards.
A flapping sound drew my attention. I looked up and saw a large flag hoisted high on a pole, snapping in the stiff breeze, declaring to the world this was Union territory that would not be easily taken. As I stared up at the Stars and Stripes, I couldn’t help but hope it’d still be flying once the fighting was over. A shiver ran through me, and I refused to even consider what it would mean to have the fort taken by Confederates.
I headed back down the hill, satisfied Nell and I could find adequate shelter on the north side of the fort if and when the battle began. A group of young soldiers came toward me, chatting and laughing. Since I was the one who didn’t belong, I stepped off the path to let them pass.
“Ma’am.” The fellow at the back of the group tipped his soldier hat politely as he passed me.
I noticed something shiny fall to the ground, but he kept walking, unaware. I went over and picked up a brass button, stamped with the emblem of the Union Army.
“Sir,” I called. He turned, and I held up the button, identical to the dozens I’d sewed onto the officers’ coats the past two years. “I believe this fell off your uniform.”
He looked at his coat, surprise on his face. When heapproached, he said, “I thank you, ma’am. I’ve been meaning to mend that loose button ever since we got off the boat.”
I handed it to him and waited for him to turn away.
“I’m Albert Underwood, with the Ninth Indiana Light Artillery.” He indicated his companions further up the hill. “We thought we’d take a look around the fort.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.” For some reason, I thought about this boy’s mama and what she might say to him if she knew he’d face the enemy soon. “You take care of yourself when the fighting starts.”
Appreciation filled his youthful face. “I will, ma’am.”
