Read No Less Than the Journey Online

Authors: E.V. Thompson

No Less Than the Journey (11 page)

The escort and coffin made good time and, when only a few miles from their destination, Aaron brought the troop to a halt in order to brush the dust of the journey from their uniforms and send a sergeant ahead to the Schuster home to inform its occupants of their imminent arrival with the body of a son of the house.

After inspecting the cavalrymen and supervising the placing of a Union flag over the coffin, Aaron took his place at the head of the cavalcade and they set off once more for the Schuster mansion, this time at a pace more in keeping with the occasion.

The mansion came into view when they were still at least a mile away. Surrounded by well-kept gardens, it was the most impressive building Wes had ever seen. Built of newly-whitewashed stone, it had a tall, pillared façade and a myriad of windows that mirrored the rays of the afternoon sun.

News of the death of the son of the house had been telegraphed from Vicksburg to the army garrison at Columbus and relayed to the family some days before, so the immediate shock had passed. However, the family, friends and household
still had their grief to cope with and tears ran down the cheeks of many of those, both black and white, who were lined up in silent grief outside the Schuster home when the cortege arrived. Among their number Wes was startled to see David Connolly! He was standing close to a pretty but tearful young girl and it was quite evident to Wes that he was concerned about her.

The captain of the US cavalry troop brought his column to a halt when the gun carriage was level with the entrance to the great house and Aaron dismounted and saluted ex Kentucky Senator Silas Schuster before shaking his hand and that of a young man who was so like Harrison that Wes knew immediately he had to be Senator Schuster’s only surviving son.

Wes dismounted, thankful to be out of the saddle of his unaccustomed mode of transport. Before he even had time to flex his aching muscles a black servant was on hand to take the horse from him, informing Wes that his saddle bags would be taken up to his room.

Without his horse, and having no part in the ceremonial transfer of the coffin from the gun carriage to the private chapel inside the house, Wes felt conspicuous and at a loss as to what he should do now.

He was rescued by David Connolly who hurried forward to greet him and shake him by the hand.

Grateful for the young man’s intervention, Wes expressed his surprise at meeting with him again, especially as so far from his own home.

‘I went to college with Harrison’s brother – his only surviving brother now,’ Connolly explained, ‘we became close friends and I met Harrison on a number of occasions. I didn’t know he had been killed and that his body was on board the
Missouri Belle
. My father knew, but didn’t think to tell me until
we arrived on a visit to my sister’s home in Tennessee. I turned right around and came here by train to offer my condolences to the family.’

Something about the manner in which David Connolly had explained his presence prompted Wes to ask, ‘Is there any particular reason why your father should have “forgotten” to tell you about Harrison?’

‘He and Senator Schuster fell out during the war. They were on the same side when it began, but my father changed his allegiance. He ended the war on the winning side, while Senator Schuster almost went under for staying loyal to the South. He managed to pull his plantation together again, but for a long time it looked as though it was the end of his political career – and my father tends to distance himself from those he considers to be among life’s “losers”.’

‘So what does he think about your friendship with the young lady you were comforting when we arrived … I presume she is a Schuster?’

Colouring up, David Connolly said, ‘My father knows nothing of Sophie. She is the youngest of the Schuster girls. There are five sisters and a brother between her and Harrison, but she absolutely adored him….’

Looking over Wes’s shoulder, he broke off his explanation to say, with evident relief, ‘… I think Brigadier Berryman wants to introduce you to Senator Schuster.’

The sudden change of subject took Wes by surprise and it was a moment before he realized that Connolly was referring to Aaron.

When he turned, Aaron was beckoning to him. Apologising to David Connolly for the interruption, he crossed to where the US Marshal stood with the head of the Schuster family.

When he reached them, Aaron said, ‘Senator, I would like to introduce you to an Englishman, Wesley Curnow. He and your
son did more than anyone else on board the
Missouri Belle
to rout the river pirates and, although it cannot bring Harrison back, it may give you and your family some small comfort to know that a bullet from Wes’s gun ended the life of the outlaw who shot him.’

Grasping Wes’s hand firmly, Silas Schuster said, ‘Bless you, sir. I, my wife and family are honoured by your presence here. We thank you most sincerely for avenging Harrison’s death and for accompanying him on this, his last journey home. You must regard our house as your home for as long as you wish to remain with us.’

Deeply touched by the grieving Senator’s words, Wes replied, ‘I’m the one who is honoured, Sir. Harrison was a brave man, I was privileged to know him.’

At that moment a woman’s voice called out to the Senator and releasing Wes’s hand, he said, ‘If you will excuse me for a while, I must accompany my wife and family to the chapel to say a prayer for Harrison. I will talk to you again later and introduce you to the rest of my family.’

To Aaron, he said, ‘I will send for the officer in command of your very smart cavalry to join us too. The troops will be billeted in the houses that were once occupied by senior plantation staff, and the horses cared for in the stables – I presume they will be remaining here overnight?’

‘They are here to provide a guard of honour for your son, Senator and will remain for the funeral service, which will no doubt take place as soon as is possible?’

‘The arrangements have all been made,’ Silas Schuster confirmed. Visibly emotional, he needed to compose himself before adding, ‘The minister needs only to be told when the funeral is to take place.’

With this, he turned away and made his way slowly, but with a weary dignity to where the Schuster family awaited him.

*

Some time later, when Wes went inside the Schuster house for the first time, he saw it was every bit as impressive as the exterior had promised, containing, as it did, artefacts and furniture that had been purchased from the cities in the eastern States of the country with little regard for expense.

He came to an awed halt in the great hall which was dominated by a grandiose, sweeping staircase and magnificent chandeliers and was still admiring it when he was joined by Aaron.

Aware that Wes was impressed by the opulence of his surroundings, Aaron said, ‘It’s certainly a great house, Wes, did you ever see one like it in England?’

‘I saw a few fine houses – but only from the outside. I never went in, so I can’t make a comparison.’

‘Well, I have been in one or two that might stand comparison, but I don’t think I’ve come across one that’s grander.’

At that moment Silas Schuster came from the direction of the chapel accompanied by a tall, blonde girl who was introduced to the two men as Emma, one of his many daughters.

Sympathising with her on the loss of her brother, Aaron concluded, ‘He is a sad loss to everyone, Miss Schuster. Harrison was a very brave man.’

‘You actually knew him?’ Expressing surprise, Emma added, ‘But you are a Union officer – and a very high ranking one. Harrison fought for the Confederacy.’

‘True,’ Aaron agreed, ‘and had the Confederacy possessed more men of the calibre of Harrison, the outcome of the war might well have been different. Fortunately, times have changed. When Harrison and I first met, only a few weeks ago,
the war and our army service had ended and I was – and still am, a United States Federal Marshal. We fought together on the same side, against the river pirates.’

Entering the conversation, Silas Schuster said to Aaron, ‘While we are on the subject of the late war … Harrison was captain of a company of Kentucky soldiers – Southern soldiers, of course. They suffered a great many casualties, but a number survived and are living in the vicinity. When they heard of Harrison’s death they approached me and requested that they be allowed to attend his funeral wearing their old uniforms and showing the Confederate flag. I agreed, not knowing then, of course, that there would be a guard of honour of
Union
soldiers. It means a lot to his old comrades … but the last thing I wish to do on such a sad occasion is to cause an unfortunate incident. I will accept your decision on the matter, Brigadier Berryman.’

Aaron pondered the tricky situation for some time before saying, thoughtfully, ‘I have no objection to men who served with Harrison attending his funeral wearing the uniform of an army that fought well and honourably for a cause in which they believed, Senator, but we are a united country now. Our country salutes only one flag – in life and in death – and that flag is the stars and stripes of the United States of America, whose soldiers are here to honour your son. He gave his life upholding the laws of that country – his country, and yours and mine too. That must be the only flag to be flown – and lowered – in his honour on the sad occasion of his funeral. However, I do understand the feelings of Harrison’s former colleagues. They wish to pay homage to a man who led them into battle on many occasions beneath the banner of the Confederacy. There can be no objection if his coffin were to be draped in the flag under which he fought, as a personal tribute to a brave man.’

When Aaron’s words had sunk in, Silas Schuster nodded his head in a gesture of acquiescence, ‘I am grateful to you, Brigadier Berryman. I am quite certain that will be satisfactory to everyone. You are an able diplomat as well as a distinguished soldier.’

That evening, with thirty-seven men and women gathered around a long table in the dining-room of the Schuster mansion, not even the sombre occasion which had brought them all together could diminish the sheer opulence of their surroundings.

The mansion had been built in the days when the Schuster family was recognized as one of the wealthiest and most influential in the whole of Kentucky.

The family had suffered grievously during the dark days of the civil war, but the house itself had been spared the depredations experienced by many great houses. The lands belonging to the Schuster family had suffered more, having until then relied entirely upon slave labour.

However, Silas Schuster had succeeded in adapting to the new order and was reviving the family fortunes so successfully that a visitor who had known the house in the past would have found very little that was different. The plates on the table were of finest china, the dishes gleaming silver and the room was lit by candles, burning in elegant chandeliers imported from Europe.

The excellent food was served by a small army of uniformed servants who, although no longer slaves, performed their duties with a servility that Wes found more than a little disconcerting.

He was also awed by the array of cutlery lined up on either side of his plate, being used to having to deal with, at most, one each of knife, fork and spoon to serve him for the whole meal.

Emma, the Schuster daughter whom he had briefly met earlier that day, was seated to his right and she quickly realized his predicament. Immediately a course was served she would pick up the appropriate cutlery, enabling Wes to follow suit without being aware of her discreet guidance.

She also engaged him in conversation, amply compensating him for a lack of communication with an elderly and deaf great-aunt of the Schuster family, seated to his left.

Emma appeared to be genuinely interested in England and had
heard
of Cornwall, although she confessed to having only the vaguest knowledge of English geography.

When he explained that Cornwall was a narrow peninsular, with a river separating it from the remainder of England for most of the border’s length, she asked, ‘Does that mean that most of Cornwall is surrounded by the sea?’

Wes confirmed that this was so, adding, ‘Cornwall is only a fraction the size of Kentucky and nowhere is very far from the coast. As a result the sea has always played a great part in Cornish life, even for miners like me. Tin and copper from Cornwall is shipped all over the world and some of the mines actually have workings that extend beneath the sea.’

‘How fascinating,’ Emma said, making her reply sound far more than a mere polite response, ‘I adore the sea, I could look at it for hours without ever being bored.’

When Wes commented that Kentucky was a great distance
from the coast, she explained, ‘When the war began papa sent all us girls to stay with an aunt who lived on the Gulf of Mexico, in Florida. We were there for more than four years and I have never forgotten the sight of dolphins leaping from the water and pelicans tumbling from the sky into the sea, it was wonderful! Are there dolphins and pelicans around the Cornish coast?’

Wes had never heard of either but, concealing his ignorance, he said, ‘The fishermen catch all kinds of fish and there are dozens of different birds, but I rarely got to the coast. The mining area where I lived and worked was about as far from the sea as is possible in Cornwall.’

‘Why did you leave and come to America?’

Emma seemed genuinely interested and Wes explained, ‘The price of tin and copper dropped so much that a great number of mines closed because they were losing money and miners left to find work wherever they could. Many came to America.’

Frowning, Emma said, ‘I can’t think of any mines around here, although I believe they dig for coal in East Kentucky. How did you and Harrison meet….’

Before Wes could reply he was dug violently in the ribs by an elbow belonging to the elderly woman seated on the other side of him.

When he turned to look at her, she demanded, ‘How many slaves did
your
family have before those robbers from up North took them away?’

The woman spoke so loudly that the question was heard along the whole length of the long table and for a shocked moment all conversation ceased.

The question took Wes by surprise, but he replied, ‘There are no slaves where I come from.’

Cupping a hand to her ear, the elderly woman said as
loudly as before, ‘Speak up and stop whispering. You did own slaves?’

Realizing that no matter how loudly he spoke the elderly woman would not hear, and acutely aware that everyone at the table was listening to the one-sided conversation, Wes shook his head, mouthing ‘No. I am an Englishman.’

Far from satisfying the ageing Schuster aunt, the mime enraged her.

‘No?
No
slaves? Who are you…? Are you an abolitionist? Who sat me next to an abolitionist?’

At that moment Olga Schuster, Senator Schuster’s wife, arrived on the scene. Signalling for Emma to help her, she gently eased the old woman from her seat and, ignoring her protests, said, ‘Come along, Aunt Maude, it is long past your bedtime. I fear the excitement of dining with so many people has quite tired you out.’

When the elderly aunt was supported between Emma and her mother, Olga Schuster spoke to one of the servants, ‘Go and find Mrs Flynn, she can put Aunt Maude to bed.’

Wes was aware that Mrs Flynn was the housekeeper and, as the old woman was assisted slowly from her place at the table, Olga Schuster turned to him and said, ‘Please accept my apologies for Aunt Maude’s unforgivable behaviour, Mr Curnow, the only excuse I can offer is that she is ninety-seven years of age and not always responsible for her actions.’

More amused than offended, Wes said, ‘No one aged ninety-seven needs to apologise for anything, Mrs Schuster. I am only sad her deafness prevented us from having a proper conversation. She must have had a fascinating life and seen a great many interesting happenings.’

As the three women passed around the head of the table, heading for the door, they passed one of the guests whose ruddy complexion owed more to strong drink than to
Kentucky sunshine and Emma overheard him say in a voice that carried much farther than was discreet, ‘Maude Schuster has never been backward in saying what others are thinking, especially about Yankees and their fellow travellers. Who is he anyway – and what’s he doing here?’

Emma had not questioned Wes’s reason for coming to the Schuster home, accepting that he was an English friend of Brigadier Berryman and she was angry that such a comment should be made about a guest in her father’s house. So too was her mother, but Olga Schuster
did
know why Wes was at the dinner in the house.

Bringing Aunt Maude and Emma to an abrupt halt she proceeded to enlighten the boorish speaker.

‘Wesley Curnow is neither a Yankee, nor a Northerner, Mr Kidd, he is a guest of the Schuster family … an honoured guest. You should make an opportunity to have a talk with him. I seem to remember that
you
too were once with Harrison when he was involved in a battle, so you will have something in common … or perhaps not!’

With this final enigmatic remark she continued on her way with Aunt Maude and Emma, leaving the indiscreet speaker uncomfortably aware of the smirks of the men around the table.

It was well known that when he had been
Lieutenant
Kidd, with Captain Harrison Schuster’s troop during the war, they had run into a Union army ambush, during the course of which Harrison had been wounded. Kidd had fled from the scene and ridden back to the main army carrying news of the ambush and of Harrison’s probable death.

The party that hurried off to verify his information returned – with Captain Harrison Schuster and his troop. They had stood their ground and eventually put the Union soldiers to flight.

It had taken Kidd a long time to live down his actions on that day and he did not care to be reminded of it.

Emma had listened to her mother’s castigation of the discourteous guest with great interest, but her curiosity concerned Wes’s part in the action in which her brother had been killed.

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