July 5th 1863
Buford was exhausted, his shoulder wound still ached as if there was more shrapnel embedded deep inside. It had been a long muggy ride as the 1st Cavalry Division snipped at the heels of the retreating Confederate army. His two brigades were weary, spent. He ordered the two brigades to stop and they settled into the small town in Maryland called Frederick for the night. A slight breeze cooled Buford's face as he sat on a chair outside his tent, smoking his old pipe. Earlier in the day, Brigadier General Wesley Merritt arrived with Buford's third brigade. Merritt's regulars join in the search around town, looking to refit the brigades with horses and supplies. After the town was search, Sergeant Wilmington had brought forth a civilian carrying passes from both General Lee and Longstreet. Buford had simply said to hang him and be done with it turning his attention back to reading his papers. It didn't take long and Sergeant Wilmington was back, this time with his lunch. Buford just sighed and looked over at Myles Keogh as he shuffled his feet from side to side. The young captain was becoming frustrated with the sergeant. The man was becoming a nuance, taking over his job.
Buck Wilmington smiled at Keogh as he carefully placed the dinner plate with beans and a little corn in front of Buford and unfolded the napkin. Placing the fork next to the plate, Buck started to move forward so that he could tuck the napkin under his General's chin but stopped at the look in Buford's eyes daring him to try. Buford's eyes turn the color of coal, as Keogh turned and glared at the red faced Wilmington. The laughter in Keogh's eyes slipped out of his lips in a form of a deep cough. Raising his hands in defeat, Keogh rolled his eyes and walked away before Buford had a chance to start yelling.
Lowering his head, to hide his embarrassment, Buck dropped the napkin in Buford's lap. The old man, for that is what Buford's men called him, even if he was only thirty-seven, just didn't understand that Buck was just trying to keep his promise to Lieutenant Larabee. Only just meeting the lieutenant, Buck felt the tug of friendship form between the two, and refused to let the man down. Buck hadn't given up hope that the lieutenant would be found. All morning the two brigades had stumbled across Union soldiers escaping the fleeing Confederate army. Buck turned around at the sound of some approaching men and moved to stand at Buford's right, his hand resting on the butt of his revolver.
Colonel Gamble prowled towards Buford, slapping his hat against his breeches, releasing a cloud of dust in the air. His eyes twinkled at the sight of Wilmington standing guard over Buford; the old man deserved it. Keogh must be having a fit, Gamble thought. The three brigades couldn't afford to lose their general, not now, not after what they all had been through in the last few months. "General, Sir. I'm afraid we found another spy." Gamble pointed over to the tall, dark haired man surround by a couple of his 8th Illinois soldiers. "Found him asking questions around town. Funny thing, Sir, he was only asking the civilians about Thomas's brigade. We searched him, General Sir, and under that large ugly coat of his is a Confederate officer's uniform, a captain. Keeps repeating that its very important that he talks to you."
"Colonel, we don't have time for this, hang him from that tree." Buford said. He was in a foul mood and pointed over to the tall oak tree in the courtyard to the right.
As if he knew that his brigade was being talk about, Thomas Devin galloped into view. Tilting his head up, John Buford shook his head in amazement for some how Devin had found another gray horse. Coming to a halt, Devin jumped down off the horse and stalked towards him. "Devin," Buford said to the rouse Colonel.
"Sir, the pickets are deployed and we picked up a few more of our boys wandering the countryside. Two of the escaping men are from my brigade, and there was an major with them, one of Cutler's commanders." Devin moved closer to Buford, so that only he could hear what he was about to say, his voice low and hard. "Buford, this major said that there was a rumor going around the prisoners that the Rebel had caught the Blue Ghost at Gettysburg." Both men knew that was not true. The Ghost was down in Louisiana, near the Mississippi line in Vicksburg with General Grant. Devin's eyes were full of sorrow as he said, "My boys, McKenna and Danielson, said they were captured with Christopher. He was alive as of three days ago. John, you know who they will turn him over too." The moisture in Buford's eyes betrayed his entire emotions as his rigid expression softened for the first time in days. "Damn Shellburne's black soul to hell," Devin hissed under his breath, before saying, "Sir, we need to discover if the devil is in the area."
Devin felt Gamble gripped his shoulder and both turned and gave a momentary glance over by the oak tree where a few minutes before, Buford had ordered the spy to be hung. Buford frowned, and he followed their fixed glare. Standing, Buford advance toward the tree with the two colonels moving fast to keep up.
Goree was worried, what if Longstreet was wrong about Buford, as they tied the rope around his neck. He was pulled around and his leg lifted as two Union soldiers struggled to get his foot in the stirrup. Well, he wasn't going to help the two imbeciles, and he let his foot slip out. The two soldiers started to argue on how to get him up on the horse and hang the man, when Buford stepped in view. Waving the soldiers off, Buford turned and faced Goree. The two men stood a foot apart. Buford looked over the frail man. The Confederate captain didn't look like he had eaten in days, and his long dark hair was matted as were his long sideburns.
The young Texan stood at attention as the four men surrounded him. He knew the man puffing the pipe was Buford, the clean- shaven colonel was Devin. A trooper had pointed him out earlier. The other colonel had to be Gamble. The fourth was too young to be any importance, however when the sergeant grabbed the rope around Goree neck, the Texan thought to himself, well, maybe not the least. A fifth, a captain, hustled over.
"Where is he?" Wilmington asked in an ill-tempered growl. At the same time his hands tighten the rope around the captain's neck.
"Sergeant Wilmington, he can't answer you if he can't breathe," Buford stated.
"Yes, Sir," Wilmington reluctantly let go of the rope.
"Now, Sir, your name?" Buford asked.
"Captain Goree at your service, Sir." His Texas drawl deepened, for he was nervous and feared that Buford wouldn't catch on. "General James Longstreet's Aide, Sir." His fears heighten when Buford stepped right up into his face and glared into his eyes, searching.
"Where and when?" Buford asked with the foresight that he was famous for.
"Sir?" Both colonels asked as at the same time. Only Sergeant Wilmington kept silent. A slow grin spread across the sergeant's face as he realized what was going to happen. He turned and ran to get the horses.
It was midnight before Buford and the three men accompanying him, made it too the small meadow, five miles behind the Confederate Army's main body, just north of Harpers Ferry. Raindrops fell from the sky, soaking the men's uniforms, leaving them cold and weary. They were off the main road, riding through the trees. The mud was making it hard for the horses to travel any faster. Finally Buford stopped and pulled his field glasses out of their pouch, to scan the far trees for any movement. Behind him, Wilmington held the reins of Captain Goree's horse and behind him was Keogh, and bringing up the rear, against Buford's wishes, was Devin. Buford almost had a revolt on his hands, as all three colonels, haggled, pleaded and debated who was to go. It had turned into a free-for-all with Devin coming out on top. It took all of Merritt's willpower to hold the three brigades back from following after Buford.
It only took a moment for Buford to spot the signal; they were at the rendezvous point. The group of men slowly made their way around to the signal.
Causally, Buck wrapped a white cloth around a stick and waved it in the air. A white cloth was waved back. Buford's black gelding sidestepped closer to Buck and Buford grabbed the stick, with Devin following. The two men leisurely proceeded to enter the camp. Buck gave Keogh a strange look, then both men settled down with Goree between them and they waited.
Longstreet waited, covered in darkness as the two men on the horses enter the camp. The two Union soldiers sat tall in their saddles not moving. Longstreet slowly made out which one was Buford when he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe, taking a puff. Longstreet stepped out from under the tree, moving closer to the fire. A shadow moved to stand to his left. Another shadow moved to stand to his right, just behind the tree line. "John," Longstreet called out.
"Pete," Buford answered sliding off his horse, Devin doing the same. "May I introduce, Colonel Thomas Devin." Devin tilted his head, not moving from his horse's side. Buford's dark eyes looked past Longstreet, waiting.
"Sir." Longstreet acknowledged. "John, you know George," He gestured with his left hand as Pickett moved to stand in the light. "Behind me is Major Francis, one of John Hood's boys." Longstreet waved to his right. However, the major didn't move forward. Longstreet looked past the Union men, to where the three men waiting off in the bushes. "Captain Goree?" Longstreet asked.
"Christopher?" Buford asked in return, his eyes never leaving the spot next to the major. His eyes followed the major as he bent to his knee by a dark bundle lying on the ground. "Christopher," Buford whispered, making his way past the two Confederate men, moved toward the bundle. He bent down next to the major and placed his hand on the trembling body wrapped tightly in the blanket. Devin waved to the men waiting with Goree to move forward. The three moved in. Buck and Keogh stop next to the horses, behind Devin. Goree continued forward and rode his horse past the fire. When he reached the other side he stopped the horse and slid off the saddle to stand behind Longstreet. All the men were quiet, as Buford checked Christopher over. "He's running a fever," Buford said. His eyes drilled into Longstreet after seeing the dark bruises around the boy's neck.
"Take him and go…. Shellburne is not far behind." Longstreet told him, his voice low, embarrassed. Buford's eyes turn hard, holding his temper, from lashing out. Now wasn't the time to talk about betrayal, lost love or what could have been. Or, more importantly, forgiveness. John didn't have the right to grant Longstreet forgiveness. Longstreet had broken his vow he made as a Cadet at the Point; turned his back on his county, his friends, their pact of brotherhood and honor.
Buford turned his back on Longstreet and moved to gather Christopher in his arms. With help from the major, they moved him over to Buck's horse. They waited as the sergeant jumped off his mare. It took all three to get Christopher on the horse, and then Buck slipped into the saddle as Buford and the major led Christopher forward. Once on the mare, Buck wrapped his left arm around Christopher's waist, holding him in place. The major bowed to Buford and then he moved back into the shadows. Devin mounted his own horse waiting for Buford. They had to leave soon while it was still dark to give them cover.
"John," Longstreet call over, Buford stopped and turned around to listen. "Tell Tyrone, Shellburne killed Elena. I know it now; saw it in the devil's eyes. I'm sorry, I should have believe him."
"God willing, you will be able to tell him yourself Pete after the war is over," Buford said, releasing his anger toward the big man as he mounted his horse. "Take care, Pete," he called back over his shoulder. The group slowly moved off towards the North heading back towards Union lines and home.
