The River Ends Here: A Story of the Civil War

By Deacon Ray O'Kelly

Freedom and opportunity have always been dear to the hearts of Americans. So it was for Caleb McCabe, son of a famous Virginia military family. Although he abhorred slavery, he was disarmed when the radical abolitionist John Brown attacked the federal armory at Harpers Ferry. Having witnessed Browns hanging, Caleb and others concluded that more abolitionists would exert their demands over the Southern states. On April 15, when President Lincoln ordered Virginia to supply troops to take up arms against the South Carolina secessionists who fired on Fort Sumter, he and other Virginians found it a hard pill to swallow. On April 17, the Virginia Convention voted to secede. Accepting a commission with the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia, Lieutenant McCabe would change everything. His marriage, his attitudes toward war, and his mental state would be tested more than he could ever have imagined and more than most men could ever be expected to withstand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490886350

Deacon Ray O'Kelly

Deacon Ray was a journalist, poet, lyricist, and business writer, and now has penned his first novel. He brings together his writing skills coupled with his knowledge of Civil War history in Virginia. Between college and graduate school, he joined the United States Army. His training in combat arms as an officer in the Vietnam War has given him a unique perspective not only in the art of war but also the horrors that war creates. He was surprised to discover that the tactical military decisions in Vietnam closely paralleled the same types of challenges faced by military leaders in the American Civil War. After graduate school in history at the University of Richmond, he became a professional salesman, representing several large pharmaceutical companies. Here he studied human behavior and marketing techniques. Living in and around Richmond, Virginia for over thirty years, he came in close contact with the history of the Confederate States of America. Reading extensively and visiting nearby battlefields helped him understand the challenges and choices of both Union and Confederate generals. He credits his former history professors from the University of Richmond Graduate School with encouragement to pursue his Civil War novel. He and his wife live in Indian Land, South Carolina, and belong to Forest Hill Church in Charlotte, North Carolina.

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Chapter 1

March 4, 1844

EARLY MORNING

Scattered beams of sunlight pierced through the window reaching the face of six-year-old Caleb McCabe. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was blade marks left from a workman’s hatchet. The large hand-hewn wooden roof joists displayed the effects of time with splits.

Not knowing where he was at first, the boy recognized a distinct odor — a unique mixture of aged pine oil and old wool blankets — he could assign to the smell to only one place. Its Railey Hill! I’m in my own bedroom in the attic. With a loud outburst, he joyfully said, Daddy comes home today!

Jumping out of his nightshirt and quickly dressing, he bounded down the stairs, almost falling through the staircase door into the kitchen. There was his family patiently waiting for him and amused now by his sudden appearance. Seated around the breakfast table were his mother, Virginia, his 16-year-old brother, John III, whom everyone called Trey, and his 17-year-old sister, Catherine Cecilia, whom everyone called Cassie.

Good morning, Cal! Virginia proclaimed with a loving smile.

Morning Mama, Cal replied, immediately asking about his hero. When is father getting home?

As I told you last night, she reassured him. He wrote that he’ll be arriving here at 7:10 aboard the Richmond and Danville.

That’s if the cows don’t knock it off the tracks! Trey interjected, giving Caleb a teasing wink.

Without hesitation Caleb exclaimed. No cow can stop a train … at least one that carries Father.

Sit quietly, both of you, and let’s prepare to say the blessing, Virginia calmly demanded, while looking at the two.

In short order, a breakfast of sugar-cured ham, eggs and cornbread biscuits disappeared. Soon the McCabes heard the shrill sounds of a distant train whistle, alerting all that the 7:10 was only minutes away from Coalfield Station at village of Midlothian.

With the horses quickly hitched up, Virginia said, Trey, you take your horse while Cassie, Caleb and I ride in the carriage.

Off the family went down a lane leading in the direction of the Methodist Meeting Church. Quickly reaching Midlothian Turnpike they followed the road in the direction of Salisbury and Coalfield Station. When they arrived, Virginia had them quickly lined up by age. Caleb stood first and was so anxious that his feet appeared to be dancing in place. At a respectful distance behind the McCabes were several local businessmen and farmers, who were looking to ship their cargoes to southwestern Virginia, plus the owner of the general store, Mr. Jewett. Besides waiting to receive coffee, hardware and other merchandise Mr. Jewett was waiting to exchange mailbags.

Shrieks of the train’s whistle grew louder, almost deafening, as the iron behemoth burst into view. Winding west from Richmond, the railroad bed rose gradually to its highest point since leaving the James River as it reached Coalfield Station. With each thrust of its pistons, it seemed to be straining to move forward. Punctuating its arrival, a loud clanging bell chimed gloriously while puffs of white and gray smoke, with bright sparks of coal soot, shot high into the air — giving the approaching train the appearance of some mythical, fire-eating dragon.

Partially obscured by clouds of vanishing white steam, the figure of a passenger began to take shape. Soot-covered and smiling through the steam appeared a man of great stature and presence, who appeared bigger than life to an adoring youngest son — Colonel John McCabe.

Dropping his bags just in time he caught Caleb, who flew like a hawk into his father’s outreached arms. From as far away as Texas it had been six weeks since he left Midlothian on this latest business trip. With Caleb around his neck, Colonel McCabe began celebrating the reunion by passing out hugs and kisses.

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Caleb tried to imagine what his father felt. He could already envision coming home by way of Richmond and like his father being greeted by his future family.

Daddy, Caleb said, let me get your bags.

Son, I think those bags are heavier than you … I appreciate your offer, but let me lift them into the carriage. Not listening, Caleb grabbed the bigger of the two bags and struggled until Trey jumped in and helped him.

Thank you boys, the Colonel said as the bags were placed in the carriage.

You’re welcome, Daddy, said Caleb. Can I sit on the front seat with you, Daddy?

Cal, that spot is reserved for your Mother. That’s the spot for my Ginny.

Virginia said, Oh John, it’s so good to have you back, as he lifted her to the front seat. Sounding infinitely thankful, she continued, We all have missed you so much!

Through moistened eyes the Colonel looked over to his wife and playfully replied, Bet I’ve missed you more.

COLONEL WILLIAM JOHN MCCABE, JR.

At well over six feet tall, the colonel was easily distinguishable in a crowd. He was often honored with pleasantries by passersby as a well-respected member of the community. Without the same level of distinction as the first families of Virginia, like the Carters, the Randolphs, the Byrds, or the Nelsons, the McCabe family name was associated with Virginia’s war heroes. Woven into the rich fabric of Virginia patriotism, the colonel was a second generation McCabe. While he fought in the war of 1812, his father, John McCabe, Sr., was known for his military service during the Revolution.

Colonel William John McCabe Jr. inherited Railey Hill, the family home and coal mining business that his father established late in the eighteenth century. Other mining neighbors included ancestors whose heritage could be traced to French Huguenot settlers. They came into the area in the early 1700s and inhabited Manakin, an area abandoned by the Monacan Indians on the James River west of Richmond.

All together, mining families included the names of Wooldridge, Trabue, DuVal, Heath, Salles and Ammonette. This coal became a principle source for the foundries and forges of Richmond, propelling the capital city of Richmond into an iron-manufacturing center. Coal from these mines also warmed homes as far away as New York and served to heat the White House for President Thomas Jefferson.

Railey Hill homestead established by John McCabe, Sr. was part of a 103-acre estate called Railey Coal Pits. Located fourteen miles from Richmond, it stood on Falling Creek Hill just west above Falling Creek, a normally shallow and slow-moving tributary to the James River. The building was a two-story colonial, with two doors of ornately designed heavy Italian casings. Inside, above the fireplace surrounded by a Federal mantel, hung a large mirror; tilting downward. The mirror served to help ladies straighten their hats or for men to size themselves up. As the saying went, a mirror never lies.

After the war, Colonel John McCabe, Jr., developed a good business relationship and friendship with the owners of several iron furnaces in Richmond. He eventually became employed by the Tredegar Iron Works as principle contract sales agent. Representing the company, he traveled throughout the country, writing orders from Boston to Biloxi, from New York to New Orleans.

The colonel’s reputation as a Virginia patriot began when he served as a volunteer with the Virginia Militia. His Virginia Corp was called upon to join with that of Maryland fighting against the British at Baltimore in 1812. Later, he was on business in New Orleans, in 1815, when he volunteered to fight with Andrew Jackson’s ragtag militia of pirates, businessmen, Indians and Creoles helping save the City of New Orleans from a strong British invasion force. Like many veterans who served in the Second War with England, a mystique surrounded the colonel, as did the status of those veterans who fought in the Revolutionary War against England.

While his reputation preceded him, it was his personal charisma that caused strangers to take notice. When first meeting John McCabe, Jr., people commented that they felt they had known him all their lives. In social settings, he was known to question them about their lives while not giving them time to ask much about his. Also, he had a remarkable talent for remembering names, impressing many he met for a second time.

The most prominent and memorable feature of Colonel John McCabe, Jr., were his eyes. Everyone the colonel met received a memorably warm smile coupled with an inviting but penetrating look. He always provided a strong handshake, buckling the knees of many men he met. He carried himself with the dignity of a prominent Virginia gentleman, humble and modest. He was a man’s man and to young Caleb he was the most ideal man on earth.

MOTHER

Virginia Haxall McCabe was slender and petite, with jet-black hair. Except for Sundays, she wore plain dresses. Sparse on make-up, she would wear rouge and lipstick on special occasions, such as birthday parties, major holidays or when attending public gatherings, such as benefit balls.

She was shy and generally quiet but had strong personal opinions on a variety of topics, and was one of a few women who not only commented on politics but voiced her opinion on the topic. She was well educated and placed a high value on learning. A very compassionate lady, she had great sway over John and proved to be very powerful in getting her way. Never correcting any of John’s decisions publicly, he was known to reverse himself after speaking with her.

Virginia had not been raised in a country setting like the colonel. She was used to all of the conveniences of city life, having lived in both Manchester and Richmond City proper until she married John. Her father, the late Jefferson Blackwell Haxall, was a successful businessman and exerted great influence over decisions made by local political leaders. It was rumored he owned enough of the city politicians to get his way with anything that mattered to him, from the care of the city streets to care for the poor. He was in favor of economic growth, having a hand in the development and maintenance of port facilities, which contributed to the financial success of his mills, from which he shipped grains to as far away as Rio de Janeiro and Portugal.

As a young girl, Virginia was given the finest of everything. Making frequent shopping trips with her mother and sister Inez, the trio traveled by coach to Baltimore, or rail to Norfolk and by ship to Charleston. There was no cost spared when it came to providing for the Haxall sisters. On one trip back to Richmond from Savannah, mother and daughter traveled on a contract ship bringing coffee from Rio. The ship was diverted to Charleston and eventually sailed right up the James River and home to Richmond.

Most things were within Virginia’s reach, including a good education. She attended a day school in Richmond and later went to North Carolina, where, in 1814, she attended Salem Female Academy in Salem, North Carolina where she intended to receive a college degree.

Virginia met John McCabe at a cotillion in Richmond two years after she began college. It wasn’t long after that before he was calling on her regularly, often unannounced, at her Richmond home. When she returned to Salem, in her junior year, John McCabe missed her by one hour. He left her a letter that he requested her family to forward. She reportedly wrote, I am not the least bit interested in him, as he is a bit unrefined. I find him a little too festive with his remarks, and while he is charming, I think it ‘charming to a fault’. Although he was a recent war hero, she was not sure of his true character since he’d been seen with some of the veterans who smoked, drank and reportedly gambled heavily.

She wrote:

Dear Mother,

If John returns, please do not encourage him to write me again and please be sure to tell him when he appears that I do not take visitors here at the Academy. I’m afraid he will follow me all the way down here. I find he is very stubborn and to an extent, crude in his manners. Also, he will not take no for an answer.

Your loving daughter who misses you dearly,

Ginny

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John must not have received any directive. During her first month back in Salem he appeared at the college and was reported as waiting to meet her in the first floor parlor. That evening, just before the curfew, the couple sat in the rose garden. It seems that either the words from John or the sweet aromas of the roses softened her opinion of him to the point that she accepted his proposal for marriage. They formally engaged at Christmas of her senior year. In June of 1825, two weeks following her graduation, Virginia Haxall became Mrs. Virginia McCabe.

After their wedding, they established their home on John’s family property at Railey Hill. Living in the Chesterfield countryside was a challenge for Virginia, who was used to the conveniences of city life. Were it not for her devotion to and love for John, she would not have agreed to live there.

Virginia established a day school at her home. Soon, she had students coming from around Chesterfield to attend her classes. When the student population grew to a dozen, she held classes in the nearby Methodist Meeting Church. Three of her prize students were her own children, Catherine, Trey and Caleb. Although not all three were under her instruction at the same time, she managed to have all three well read and educated by the time they graduated.

Virginia was also an independent thinker. She had several reservations about the way the government was handling national affairs and, if asked, readily gave her opinion. Versed in the politics of Washington, she had applauded limiting importation of slaves into the United States after 1808. She was deeply religious and was one of the driving forces behind the formation of the Methodist Meeting Church on a branch of Midlothian Turnpike near Coalfield Rail Station.

While living in the country, she had less time to spend on society teas and dinners in Richmond. She took the time to learn the cooking arts, which for her was a new experience. She refused John’s offer to purchase a slave to prepare meals. When the colonel began to travel on business for Tredegar Iron Works, he delegated his mining duties to a foreman. Soon thereafter, Virginia became the principal cook for all his workers. This helped their business. The colonel was able to hire unmarried men at lower wages by providing all their meals. Learning to cook on a large scale, Virginia soon had John build a cookhouse behind the home. It was not large but could handle enough pots to feed seventy-five hungry men at each meal.

CALEB HAXALL MCCABE

He was born on March 24th 1838, the third and youngest child born to John and Virginia McCabe. He came late to the marriage of John and Virginia; she was forty-one when he was born, John was fifty-one. Caleb’s parents both had Scottish and Irish ancestry. His great grandparents on his mother’s side, the Haxalls, came to America in the seventeenth century and established themselves as merchants in the Norfolk area off the Chesapeake Bay, between the Elizabeth and James Rivers. Members of either side of the family had some dark features, and others had blond and red hair with lighter skin complexions. Caleb got the lighter features with blond hair and dark green eyes.

Because of his age, Caleb had a hard time relating to his brother and sister, except as older siblings who loved him and whom he loved. His age proved to be an advantage, as he was treated like a pet by both his brother and sister. Caleb was thus born to be spoiled, and others did their part to see it happen.

Between scolding and temporary punishment, Virginia McCabe loved to smother her second son Caleb with oodles of love. She had done the same to Trey, but since Trey was eleven years older than Cal, he didn’t seem to get the same treatment when he erred. Even before Trey went off to West Point, Cal was given privileges that Trey never had. In fact, when John Senior was away on business, she allowed Cal to roam about as if he were a young adult, with few curfews and even fewer restrictions. This was, for Caleb, the best of all worlds. He had all the confidence of a young George Washington, with the independence and the freedom of an unsupervised orphan — allowed to roam about at will without the responsibility of first checking with his mother before embarking on an adventure.

SPOILED

Reports of Cal’s misbehavior were apparently shielded from his father. Once, following a misadventure, John McCabe returned from a long business trip with a gift. There being no reports of mischief from his mother, Cal was gifted with a small, wild pony his father had bought in Norfolk as his packet stopped to refuel before heading up the James River to the Port of Richmond. Cal was so taken by the great prize he could hardly contain himself, and pledged privately to his mother that, if allowed to ride it, he would not stray farther than their front yard.

Cal learned early how to manipulate his mother into agreeing to most activities that might have threatened receiving the wrath of his father. Virginia truly wanted to please her youngest, turning a blind eye to his misbehavior. Perhaps because of this lax treatment, Caleb began to develop a selfishness that could and would land him in opposition to a world where give and take is the order of the day.

Given freedoms not usually accorded to other boys his age, his self-confidence expanded, so did his leadership skills. And with his freedom to roam about at his leisure, he proved to those around him that he had special privileges other boys didn’t have. As those around him grew confident in him, he was not only included the inner circles of all boys he met, he usually was allowed to assume a leadership position. However, most of his personal opinions he held within, keeping those thoughts to himself, offending no one.

As a student he showed a keen interest in history, in particular, Virginia history. Of the great passions that Caleb developed, the most prominent was his passion for his native state. He admired the part Virginia played in the birth of his country and considered it as the highest level of civilized man the world had yet discovered. His main teacher, his mother, found that he was especially good at remembering people, dates, and events, and the importance of all three. He knew the names of all the presidents of the United States could recite the preamble to the U.S. Constitution and knew key parts of the Declaration of Independence.

With a keen interest in Southern history, he was well aware of the Virginians who played prominent roles in the founding of the United States. He took every opportunity he could to visit historical sites in Virginia. In many instances, based on the fame of his father, he and his family were welcome at many of the homes of prominent Virginia families. This included the homes and plantations of wealthy planters, noted and retired political leaders, and businessmen who had substantial wealth in the cities of Richmond, Lynchburg, Norfolk, Fredericksburg, or Alexandria.

Another of his passions included his view of manhood. He viewed it as being a test of talent and endurance. Endurance and the manly arts of self-defense were embodied in military history, and he developed as an excellent student of military strategy and tactics. He was versed on the exploits of Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, Hannibal, and Napoleon. He prided himself on his knowledge of war. Much of this initial interest came from deep respect for his father and his record of heroic service to Virginia and the fledgling United States.

CALEB AND THE COLONEL

Virginia had delayed Caleb from traveling into Richmond with the colonel on shopping trips. With steady coaxing during his father’s last business trip, Caleb overcame his mother’s objections and she relented. In his seventh year, Caleb finally went with his father by wagon on one of his shopping trips. They traveled from Midlothian into Richmond by way of the Midlothian Turnpike, a toll road, thirteen miles to Manchester and crossed the James River into Richmond.

It was in this year his father began to scale back his long distance business trips and spend more time at home. One of the more eventful trips to Richmond started like all the rest. First, upon getting to the market district, they hitched the horses and wagon in a central location and walked from one shop to another. Caleb started out being carried in his father’s wicker basket. He was swung about while he both hid and peered out on the world like a pirate looking for the next place to plunder. Finally, as he made friends with canning bottles, nails and a tool or two, he climbed out to follow his father around.

The last stop took them up Broad Street to Church Hill, where his father made what seemed to be a mystery stop. Hitched to a post outside of what his father called a tavern, Cal was asked to wait in the wagon. For a time he watched as men came and went. They seemed to be happier when they left than when they arrived. When his father emerged, Cal asked, What does that round sign say, Daddy?

That sign? asked his father, pointing up. That says, ‘The Globe Inn’.

What else does it say?

That is a slogan. It says, ‘Help a scuffler through the world’.

What is a scuffler?

A scuffler is a brawler, a person who likes to fist fight.

Is that the scuffler’s head sticking outside of the globe and are those his feet sticking out the bottom of the world?

The colonel looked up as if discovering it for the first time and chuckled at the sight. Yes, it is.

What’s in there, Daddy?

Just a place where men, older men like myself, meet on business … and have a drink … a drink which is too strong for young people, little boys like yourself.

What kind of drink, Daddy?

Something they call whiskey … It will burn your throat!

If it burns, then why do you drink it?

Well … it’s kind of a good burn. So, move over and let’s head back.

Chapter 2

March 24, 1846

PUBLIC BEATING

In the spring, the Colonel took Cal with him into Richmond. Completing shopping the same routine, as always, included a stop at the Globe. Cal waited patiently. From the Globe, the colonel drove the wagon toward Mayo’s Bridge to return home. Turning down 15th Street past Lumpkin’s Jail, they witnessed a beating being measured out on a young Negro man. Seeing Robert Lumpkin, proprietor of Lumpkin’s Slave Jail, beating a defenseless Negro caused an infuriated John McCabe to bring his wagon to an abrupt halt. There in public view, Mr. Lumpkin, a well-known man of low public standing, appeared to be taking out some frustration on a Negro boy who looked to be about seventeen years old.

Without hesitation, John McCabe announced, Takes a real man to be whipping an unarmed person who is chained to a post.

Responding as he turned around, Lumpkin said, Naw, this one deserves it … he had it coming! Looking around Lumpkin saw who he was talking with. Well … good day, Colonel.

No one deserves a beating like that! barked McCabe.

Pausing, surveying the expression on the face of the new visitor, Lumpkin chose his words carefully. Pointing at the slave with a wound whip in hand while forcing a confident smile up to Colonel McCabe, Lumpkin said, Colonel, you bein’ a businessman like myself, you knows how to secure your investments. And I’m only trying to secure mine.

As the sun beat down, a hat shielded half of Lumpkin’s face, hiding one darkened side while the light revealed the other side of a pockmarked face. Both sides appeared as Lumpkin lifted the brim of his hat, trying to get a better view of his visitors. When he did, Caleb could see that the face was distorted into a cynical smile. If looks alone were reason to separate people into categories, Lumpkin could have been considered other-worldly — possessed. In front of the McCabes stood the very despicable, notorious, barely tolerated and possibly least respected citizen in all of Richmond.

Robert Lumpkin was a slave trader, renter of local slave labor for others and a slave owner with a short fuse who was known to ship Negroes south if they sassed him or gave him a look he didn’t like. He was known to abuse his Negroes, and if it were not for the rents he was able to obtain from local factories, he would not have been allowed by owners to handle their slaves. He was known to hold small slave auctions, mete out punishment to uppity or misbehaving slaves, and would also hold slaves in his jail before the heavily scheduled sales at Dickinson & Hill’s auction house on 14th Street.

As Lumpkin talked Cal watched while his father’s face displaying increasing irritation. With every word, it seemed that Colonel McCabe was building steam before bursting at the seams. Finally reaching the boiling point, his father blurted out, First Lumpkin, I’m not a businessman like you — I don’t destroy my investments. And secondly, I would never whip a horse like that, let alone another person.

In a polite but sparring fashion, Lumpkin responded, This here ain’t no horse and he ain’t no person. This here’s a slave and he don’t know his place and how he should act. But don’t they all? Lumpkin immediately began laughing.

Following that comment it appeared that Lumpkin expected the colonel to laugh or agree. But Lumpkin immediately saw he’d miscalculated as the eyes of the colonel narrowed in contempt. Just as it appeared that John McCabe was about to explode with another tongue-lashing comment, the expressions of disapproval evaporated as he tried a new tactic. Composing his posture, clearing his throat and speaking in a soothing voice, the colonel said, You might try honey next time.

Honey … Colonel?

Yes, honey … offer him a reward for doin’ what you want. Then he’ll be happy to do what you want and you’ll both be happy … problem solved.

Robert Lumpkin paused as he seemed to digest the colonel’s latest comment. After a tilt of his head, a leading eye closely surveyed the expression on the colonel’s face. Next he looked at the Negro and then back at the colonel as he began to nod his head in a gesture of agreement. Lumpkin knew that John McCabe was well regarded around Richmond and his opinions carried a lot of weight in the business community. He wisely surmised that if he were to agree with the colonel and accept this new manner of looking at this situation, he might get less resistance. Further, he knew the colonel was a good friend and business partner with Mr. Anderson, President of Tredegar, where he had a brisk slave rental business.

In a crafty change of direction, Lumpkin straightened up his crooked back and expanded like a pumped up balloon. Then, in an almost apologetic fashion, he said, Colonel, you have a good point there and although this fellow deserves a further beatin’, I think I can apply your idea to him and many others … yes, yours is a very good idea — the more I think about it! I thank the Colonel and I hope that you and the boy have a good day.

In a show of truce, Lumpkin unshackled the Negro directly, went to the water bucket and ladled out a full supply of water and quickly handed it to the exhausted boy. Lumpkin turned again to the two passersby and smiled as the Negro hurriedly drank the water, which went streaming out both sides of the ladle and in his haste poured most of the contents down his chest. But even as he drank, he was looking up at the colonel with blank expressions of apparent wonderment and unspoken thanks.

John McCabe straightened up in his seat and urged his horses forward, Get up — yeah! he called out as he slapped the reins against the rumps of his horses. On they went a piece before Caleb heard his father murmur something in a low voice that seemed intended not to be heard by anyone. Cal, however, could hear his father distinctly say, With people like that, abolitionists are justified in what they say about slavery. With men like that, I could be opposed to slavery altogether!

What does abolitionist mean Daddy?

Startled at his son’s discovery, he responded, Oh, that … it’s a person that does not want slavery son.

Are you an abolitionist?

Not altogether, but if I find a few more men like Mr. Lumpkin, I could become one in a hurry!

That was good — what you did back there, Daddy.

"It was all I could do son, short of crackin’ open Lumpkin’s head. Unfortunately, he had every slaveholder’s right under the current laws to do what he was doing. So, rather than challenge him, in which case he might give that poor Negro an even harder time … well, I thought trying to take that other approach might help ease it up on that poor fellow, and if it helped others, then that is just icing on the cake. But knowing Lumpkin, I have doubts he could understand any thing civil like that.

Slavery is not a good thing. It defies the laws of peace, human justice and freedom. But the problem is, exclusive of the more industrial areas in the South, the whole economic system here is based on slavery. Folks have invested a lot of money on slaves and the Union won’t pay to buy their freedom. If the South has to give up their slaves it will hurt everyone and cause a depression that might last a hundred years. Unfortunately, you and Trey will probably have to face that future. I don’t like slavery but we depend on it, which is really our misfortune! the colonel concluded.

Mr. Lumpkin seemed to agree with you. Maybe he’ll do better after what you said.

Son, you’ll find that it take all kinds of people to make up this world — just try and steer clear of bad characters, people who don’t care if they inflict pain on others. Also, know that people will judge you by the people you’re associated with, so steer clear of bad people. After all, a good reputation is one of your most valuable possessions.

Yes, Sir, I want a good repetition, Cal responded.

"That’s reputation son, what people think of you when you’re not around."

Yes, Sir.

Let’s get home to see your mother.

Can’t we stop by Auntie Bugg’s house first, Daddy?

Oh, thanks. That reminds me — your mother wants your aunt to have that package in the back.

Heading up to Franklin Street, the two traveled to Auntie Bugg’s home. Fortunately for them, she was just leaving when they arrived.

Good afternoon, Inez, the colonel called out.

Looking out to the road, Auntie Bugg said in a surprised voice, Oh, gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?

Just a package from Virginia, said John.

Would you like to come in? Inez asked.

No, we’re headed back home.

Inez came up to the wagon while gesturing to Cal with open arms, saying, Can your Aunt have a big hug?

Cal jumped out of the seat with the package from his mother and got a smothering hug from his plump, well-attired Auntie Bugg.

I’ve missed you, Auntie Bugg, Cal said as he looked up at the round, beaming face of his aunt.

And I’ve missed you, Precious, she said.

Well, thank you, men … I’ll just put this inside.

We won’t hold you up any longer, Inez, said the colonel.

Cal watched as she went behind her gate and waved to them until they were out of sight, as they turned the corner, heading down 7th Street and home.

AUNTIE BUGG

Much of what seemed to be Caleb’s confident nature could not have been possible were it not for his dear Aunt Inez Haxall, sister to his mother. She did everything she could to spoil him to death and treat him the like the young prince she thought he was. Anything Caleb did was, in her mind, wonderful. Any small boyhood discretion she ignored. Cal, to her, was the most perfect young boy ever born.

Better known as Auntie Bugg to the McCabe children, Inez Haxall could be found attending most of the important social events in Richmond. Socials were her raison d’être. She mastered the ability to remember all names and inject them into social conversation at the proper juncture. Her presence at these social occasions was to connect and expand her influence in the upper rung of Richmond society. Her high-pitched voice and determination to use it were her trademarks.

Such a sight, dressed in full crinoline skirts, she appeared as a carousel, whirling about at dizzying speed. She had a round face, with a round chin but a smile that could delight any sour apple. With rouge so thick she might have been mistaken for an actress who wanted the back-row audience to see that she had cheekbones.

Her list of friends was extensive. It included everyone from the wife of the mayor of Richmond to the wives of former presidents. She knew ladies in and out of politics, and many of the wives of merchants and bankers. It was no surprise to Cal that she was friends with Judy Benjamin, who was the best friend of the outspoken and independently opinionated Varina Davis, wife to Jefferson Davis, who at the time was Secretary of War for the newly elected president of the United States Senate, Franklin Pierce.

Cal knew his aunt was kind with a heart of gold. She loved other people as demonstrated by her leadership in raising money for charities. Cal enjoyed her company, not because she spoiled him but because he found her warm, funny, entertaining, delightful. Cal knew her to be an optimist. She was prone to gossip but served more as a relay station then a leveler of animus toward anyone. The life of any party, Inez seemed to create a festive atmosphere at any social occasion she attended.

She never married but once received the special attention of a sea captain, her senior by twenty odd years. It didn’t hurt her feelings that he carried a hearing horn, smiling at her any time she spoke, including the times he failed to employ his listening device. He died after a sudden illness; Cal was told she cried harder at his funeral than any show of grief in people’s memory. The day after the service, she returned to her usual talkative self and never mentioned the captain again.

Chapter 3

February 1847

RICHMOND SLAVE MARKET

A full moon peered between rib-like patterns of alternating white and gray clouds. A damp and freezing air met all who were stirring about Richmond. All those imprisoned were exposed to the elements. Nature was not discriminating between those who were heavily clothed and those who were not.

Jubilation Francis’s joints ached from his day labor, which rewarded his owners with rent. Without the aid of a blanket, he sat huddled shivering in the corner of his cell. With only the clothes on his back to buffer him from the cold, he began rocking back and forth,