Wild, Beautiful, and Free(88)

Chapter 19


In the early morning I awoke and wrote a letter to Mother B. I told her I was resigning my position so I could check on my family, if they were still alive. This was in Louisiana, I wrote, but I didn’t tell her where. I didn’t want her to have the burden of trying to conceal my location if she was questioned. I packed a bag and fashioned a sling for it from the cloth of my apron so I could wear it across my body. I put the pistol in my pocket and tied on my bonnet.

As I made my way down the road, I passed the porch of the house where some of the generals kept their headquarters. I caught the scent of a cigar and realized General Grant was sitting up there out of my line of sight. He’d never spoken to me before, so I thought I could walk on without his notice. But he called out to me in a calm, matter-of-fact way.

“Miss Bébinn.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You appear to be on the verge of a journey.”

“Yes, sir.”

“May I ask where you’re going?”

I looked up and could see him leaning on the front rail, his hat pushed back on his head.

“Sir, I grew up in Louisiana.” I hesitated. I hadn’t said these words complete, out loud, to anyone. “My papa owned a great plantation. My half sister is still there, I think. I haven’t been home since I was sold away a few years back. I want to find her.” A sob rose in the back of my throat, but I stood firm. “I want to go home.”

He knocked a bit of ash from his cigar onto the ground in front of the porch. “Is that wise? The surrender is still new. You may come upon rebels who don’t know about it.”

“I figured I’d take the road our men built out that way. I’m hoping our soldiers might be more plentiful in the area than rebels right now.”

He nodded. “Come in, Miss Bébinn. I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Yes, sir.” I went up the steps, but I wasn’t happy about it. It was clear he wasn’t going to let me go. I had to figure out how to convince him or, failing that, devise a different plan for slipping away.

In his study, the general tapped cigar ash into a tin plate and sat himself on the edge of his desk. “You’re right about that. There are probably more Louisiana men here and in Tennessee than there are in Louisiana right now. But that don’t make it safe.”

I shifted on my feet. “I still aim to go, sir.”

He nodded and seemed to study me. “How long have you been nursing for the army, Miss Bébinn?”

“About two years.”

“Have you received any pay?”

I shook my head. “No, sir. But I haven’t wanted for anything. I was glad to have food, shelter. And I was grateful for the work.”

“You’ve tended a lot of wounded, I’m sure.”

“Yes, sir, but I can’t count them all. So many.”

“Do you know any of them in particular, I mean someone you’re comfortable with?”

“I used to teach some of the men to read. Lieutenant Walter Stone was one of my students. He’s a good man.”

The general called out to one of his assistants, and a young man entered.

“Go find Lieutenant Stone and bring him here. Tell him to bring two good mounts.”

The man left.

“Do you ride?”

After all I’d been through? Seemed I could handle a horse. “I can manage it,” I said.

“I’m going to send you on your way, but I’m going to ask Lieutenant Stone to go with you. Consider the horse your pay.”

“Oh my Lord,” I gasped, stunned. “Thank you, General. Thank you so much.”

When Walter arrived, the general explained his mission. Then he led us into another room and showed us a large map.

“These places”—he pointed to a series of red triangles—“are where you’ll find Union camps. I suggest a stepping-stone approach. Make your way little by little, camp by camp, until you reach your destination.” He and Walter mapped out the route, which would begin with us ferrying down the Mississippi.

“Godspeed,” General Grant said when the horses were properly loaded with supplies and we were ready to go. “The United States Army thanks you for your service.”

I shook his hand and smiled. Never before had I felt such gratitude. I was happy that Walter Stone would go with me, happy that I wouldn’t have to navigate the journey alone. And Walter didn’t question any of it, like crossing miles of strange territory with me was just an everyday matter. He even seemed eager for it.

“Come on, Miss Bébinn,” he said, grinning. “We best get going.”

Walter and I began making our way out of the camp, headed toward the river. We trotted the horses, so we were going neither fast nor slow. I noticed Walter kept his sidearm close. Every so often I placed a hand on my own pistol. I was determined to stay watchful for both of us.

We ferried south down the Mississippi for half a day before disembarking with our horses on the Louisiana side. I rode in wonder, thrilled to be on this land again. I felt hope for the first time in months as we arrived at a camp. More often I was whispering the litany to myself.

Belle Neuve

Baton Bleu

Siana Grove

Chance Voir

Belle Verde