Flavian West, by S. Jonathan Baker

Flavian West

by S. Jonathan Baker

one

"Well, lookey here."

The two soldiers clad in blue crept up behind the speaker, looking around him to the placid scene beyond: a garden party beside a large graceful plantation dwelling. A dozen gaily dressed southern gentlemen stood around while their ladies sat on blankets on the grass. Dark-skinned servants were coming and going from the stately house. The muffled words and laughter could barely be heard from this distance.

"I think the Major would be pleased to stay over here a day or two."

One eyed the ladies lolled on the grass. "And I'd like to sample some of that old fashioned Southern charm."

The other rubbed his crotch. "Or maybe liberate some of them fine darkies."

The others laughed. "Pappy, ain't you done enough liberating by now?"

"Hell, no, lads, I'm on a mission – from the President hisself – to free all the slaves in the South."

"One at a time?"

A shrug. "Whatever it takes."

"Well, we'd best get back to the Cap'en an' tell him about it. Looks like a right nice place to layover. C'mon."

Pappy was the last to tear his eyes away from the tableau, still thinking of his mission. They quietly made their way back to the unit.

"Cap'en Morgan, sir!" His salute was smart, the Captain's casual.

"Yes, Sergeant Donnelly?"

"We've found a place for the Major to set up his headquarters, sir."

"Oh? And where is that, lads?"

Private Mathers answered. "Just a small piece up the road, sir."

Pappy winked as they turning away. "Or several small pieces, if you will."

Soon the word came down the line that they were moving. Grunts and groans could be heard among the troop but Pappy hummed a disjointed tune.

"Hey, Sarge," Mathers whispered.

"What?"

"What's that Pappy's singing?"

The Sargeant tilted his head a moment to listen then shook his head. "Can't make it out. Just mumblings from his own head, I s'pose."

Mathers turned to look at Pappy. He knew the man was named Zeke but why they called him Pappy, he had no clue. Well, it could be the look of his face, rather sunken as he only had three teeth remaining in his head – how the man could chew was a right mystery – but he couldn't be more'n thirty.

"Let's move, fellows!" The Sargeant's voice brought him out of his thoughts and he rolled up his pack and headed for the roadway.

The march to the plantation they had seen was not very long although the path along the road was longer than their venture through the woods had been. Still, either he or Conklin had to poke Pappy in the ribs to keep him from singing too loud. The tramping feet of more than a hundred feet covered most of the mumblings coming from his direction but he got carried away by his thoughts on occasion.

Soon they approached a large gateway, squared gray stone posts supporting a wrought iron arch with the letters painted a glossy black.

"'Flavian West'," the Major read. "I didn't think such literacy would likely in this area." He grunted, then turned in his saddle. "Captain Morgan."

The Captain pulled his horse up alongside his commander.

The Major pointed toward the house seen between the trees some quarter mile along the house path leading from the gate, smoke rising slowly from one of the two chimneys. "Take three or four fellows and inform the inhabitants of our needs. We will only need to avail their hospitality until we hear from General Sherman. Tell them that."

"Yes, sir." He turned to the troop. "Donnelly!"

"Sir!" Donnelly trotted forward from his position at the head of the troops. "Yes, sir?"

"Grab a couple of men and let's see who's home."

"Yes, sir!" Donnelly came back to his troop and pointed to Mathers. "You," his eyes passed over Pappy, "you and you." He indicated Gates and Harker. "Come with me, boys." The three stepped out of the line and followed the Sargeant. Pappy's singing could still be heard.

Stepping from the dirty, weed-lined roadway, onto the house path was like stepping into another world. Mathers no longer felt the hot sun as a cool breeze met them under the shade of the trees lining the path. Even the tiredness in his muscles seemed to ease a bit as they marched the short distance to the large home.

Donnelly fell in beside Mathers. "I thought you said there was a party going on?"

"Yes, sir, there was." Now the house seemed strangely quiet. The sounds of the earlier party had vanished. No movement could be seen in the building as they approached. And there was usually people rushing around, probably hiding their valuables on the army's appearance.

He continued watching the windows to see if he saw any sign of movement. Even as they reached the porch, he saw none. The Captain dismounted. He and the Sargeant headed for the door. Their boots echoed loudly after they climbed the six stones steps and stepped onto the white wooden porch.

The Sargeant strode to the door and knocked firmly while the Captain stood to one side, brushing down his tunic to make himself presentable.

The other three stood at the foot of the steps, Mathers fidgeting. The strange quiet had raised the small hairs on his neck. He glanced sideways to Gates and Harker. Their unease was evidence as well.

After a few moments, Sargeant Donnelly turned to the Captain and shrugged. Then he called down to Mathers. "You sure there were people here?"

Mathers gulped. "Yes, twenty or thirty people, sir."

The Sarge muttered under his breath and raised his fist to the door again. The noise was quite loud this time, reverberating like cannon shots through the house. Mathers could hear it coming back to them from the several rooms of the dwelling.

After a few moments, tired of waiting for a response, the gloved hand turned the handle and pushed the door open. "Hallo!" The Sargeant waited a moment for a response, but the hollow sound of the building assured them of its vacancy. He turned and nodded to the Captain. "After you, sir."

They stepped into the house, each covered in goosebumps.

Pristine hardwood floors lay before them and Mathers was suddenly very conscious of the dirt and dust on his boots. The Captain marched straight along the wide hallway toward the back of the house. The Sargeant motioned for the three to search the rooms.

While the Sarge and Gates started upstairs, Harker went left into what appeared to be a parlor and Mathers went to the right and entered the dining room. The table was set with a white cloth, silver candleholders set in the center spaced along the length. Dark wooden cabinets held the china and glasses, arranged neatly, its glass doors wiped clean.

Beyond that room was a small pantry, in shadows but not large enough to hide many people, and then the kitchen. This room was as spotless as the others and showed no sign that there had been any preparations for the festivities he saw on the lawn a short time before.

The grate in the fireplace was even clean. No wood or ash covered the bricks. He shivered. As bright and sunny as the room appeared, it seemed rather gloomy, forlorn.

Quickly he passed through to a small sitting room, its three chairs empty, and back out into the rear of the main hallway.

"Anything, Mathers?"

The Captain's voice, coming from the back porch gave him a start. "Uh, no, sir. It looks like no one's here."

The Captain raised his arm toward the lawn. "Nor here, either. If people had been laying on this grass, I should imagine there would be some sign. What do you see?"

Mathers leaned out the door. The lawn looked neat and trim, but untouched. No blade seemed to have been bent under the weight of any female reclining on a blanket. "Nothing, sir."

"And this is where you saw a party?"

"Yes, sir. But others saw it as well."

He turned away. "Yes, so I hear."

Boots could be heard descending the stair. The pair returned to the hallway to receive the news from upstairs. "Well?" asked Captain Morgan.

"Nothing, sir." Donnelly looked at Gates. "We searched all the bedrooms…"

"And the slave quarters in the attic, too… sir." Gates interrupted.

"… and we encountered no one." Sarge finished.

"Most bizarre!" The Captain surveyed his men. "And where was the fire just before we came up the roadway?" Faces stared blankly back at him. "The Major and I distinctly saw smoke coming from a chimney in the house. So I want to know where the fire was."

Mathers shook his head. "There weren't any fire in the kitchen, sir. The grate was empty."

"Same thing in the drawing room," Harker said. "Looked like there hadn't been a fire in months."

The Captain stared off reflecting while the others looked nervously from one to the other. "Well, I don't know where these inhabitants went off to," he said after a few moments, "but seeing how they have vacated the premises, I can see no one to object to our staying here a few days."

Sarge nodded. "Okay, fellows, let's go."

They returned to the porch and the road leading away from the house. As they marched, Mathers felt the goosebumps slowly dissipate. He glanced back over his shoulder at the house. Was it the house that seemed so eerie or simply the fact that it was empty when it most certainly should not have been?

Donnelly was walking alongside the Captain's horse and they were talking.

"Have a few men search the barn – though I did not see any livestock around the place – and have them poke around in the woods. Maybe they all fled into hiding when they saw our approach."

"Yes, sir."

Well, that's one explanation, thought Mathers. But if the Captain had seen the condition of the kitchen he would not be so quick to think they had rapidly departed. It looked like a day or two had passed since he first set eyes on the place, rather than one short hour.

Except that the place was even too clean for it to have been even a day. There was no dust in the house at all. Then he thought, but for the dust we left as we marched through the place.