The Night Riders
of Harpers Ferry

Kathleen Ernst

Preview

That evening I had to report to Colonel Davis.  After tending to Cinder I found the colonel in the abandoned house on High Street where he and some other officers were staying.  It struck me odd to see saddlebags and boots and sabers in what had once been the sitting room, and maps tacked to the walls where pictures might have hung once.

"Hargreave!  I was beginning to wonder if you'd run into trouble," Colonel Davis greeted me.  He was a handsome man, about thirty years old, with a beard and mustache I admired.  I noticed he didn't in particular look worried.  I tried to believe that was because he had faith in me.

"Not any real trouble, sir.  I did the drawings you wanted."

"Good!  Let's see."

I handed him my sketches.  He cleared the dining room table to spread them out.  "Corliss!" he called.  "Come and take a look."

Major Corliss commanded a squadron of the Rhode Island Cavalry.  We called his troopers the "college cavaliers," because most of them were three-month volunteers from Dartmouth College in New Hampshire or Norwich University in Vermont.  I suspect, though, we also called them that to stiff up our own confidence.  We New Yorkers were pretty green, as cavalrymen, and it was nice to find some greener than ourselves.

When Major Corliss came into the room, Colonel Davis introduced me.  "I found Private Hargreave down by the river junction last week, making a sharp drawing," he explained.  "I decided to put his abilities to work for us.  He's been getting a look at the terrain on the Maryland side.  Show him what you've got, Hargreave."

I tried not to show how proud I was at being singled out, and having two officers waiting for my report!  "Well, sirs, this shows Sandy Hook, below the junction.  You had wondered about that reputed ford, but the rapids...  here... would make it impossible.  This next one shows the road up to Maryland Heights.  Not the one the Army uses, but the old track the townfolk still use--"

"That looks like a forty-five percent grade," Corliss frowned.  "The topo maps don't show it to be that severe."

"Well, sir, this is accurate.  I think the problem is your map."  I bent over it. "This shows only the main road.  But the charcoal crews have cut their own traces all over the ridge.  Rough, but passable.  There's one here... and another here."  With my finger, I traced a number of tracks giving access to the steep cliffs of Maryland Heights, and the long ridge known as Elk Ridge which extended north from the heights.

We went on from there.  It got dark, and an aide brought a couple of oil lamps.  Major Corliss lit a cigar and offered one to the colonel, who declined in favor of his pipe.  I liked being there, being listened to, smelling the tobacco smoke and talking important war business.  Me!  Solomon Hargreave, the skinny boy from New York who never was much use to anybody, who never fit in.  Maybe, I thought as we finished, I'll be a credit to the cavalry after all.

The Colonel Davis asked me another question.  "What detained you, Hargreave?  You didn't run into any bushwhackers, did you?"

I was tempted to lie.  The Southern irregulars, mostly stayed on the Virginia side of the Potomac, harassing any Yankees they could find and stealing from Union sympathizers.  But lately they'd been making bolder raids into Maryland.  I longed to say, "Yes, Colonel, but I dispatched them right quick.  Killed three of them and sent the rest running for their lives--"

But my mama didn't raise a liar.  "No, sir," I said with regret, then added reluctantly, "I saw a girl fall into the river.  I pulled her out, and seeing as how she was soaked and all, I took her home.  Then her mama pressed me into staying for supper..."  I trailed off, seeing the two men exchange an amused look.  "I'm sorry, sir."

"No need, Hargreave," the colonel said tolerantly.  He leaned back in his chair and propped his boots on the table, crossing his ankles.  "It's hard to protest a girl's mama.  You haven't had much adventure yet.  Might as well find some romance.  What's your young lady friend's name?"

The colonel had gotten the wrong idea, that was sure.  But I didn't know how to get out of answering.  "Mahalia Sutter, sir."

The name got more of a reaction than I expected.  The amusement disappeared from his face, and the front legs of his chair banged back on the floor.  "Sutter?"

"Yes sir."

The colonel looked at Major Corliss.  "Augustus, do you suppose...?"

Corliss shrugged, looking interested, and Colonel Davis looked back to me.  "Is this young lady's father a lockkeeper?"

I couldn't imagine why he wanted to know.  "He was sir, but he's dead.  Mahalia--the young lady--mostly tends it now."  Then I burst out, "But I promised not to tell that, sir!  The family needs the job, and the company doesn't know Mr. Sutter's dead."

"I'm not interested in the young lady's father, I'm interested in her brother.  Did she happen to mention her brother to you?  Corbin Sutter?"

"The name came up, sir."  I hesitated, then dared ask, "What is this about, Colonel?"

"Hargreave, we've had reports about a Reb guerilla named Corbin Sutter."

"A raider?" I stammered, like a schoolboy.  "I got the idea he was regular cavalry."  We Yankee horsemen offered the Reb cavalry grudging respect, because they could ride like nobody's business.  But the bushwhackers were little more than thieves.

"From what civilians have told us, he's the leader of a band of riders.  They call themselves the Loudon County Scouts--"

"The Loudon County Scouts!"

"You've heard of them."

"Well, yes sir, all the boys have.  A fellow in the blacksmith's shop, he said they shot in the windows of Unionists at night.  And there's this Negro woman, she sells pies, she said they were like ghosts, disappearing so fast a body couldn't see it."  The old woman also said the Scouts could riders circles around us if we were on the edge of a cliff.  I didn't figure I should repeat that to these two officers.

Colonel Davis grunted.  "They've earned a reputation.  They've stayed mostly in Virginia, but Corbin and a few of the others have homes in Maryland--"

"Had, you mean?" Major Corliss interrupted.

"That's the question."  The colonel looked me square in the eye.  "Hargreave, we've had reports indicating that Corbin Sutter was killed in a skirmish last week.  What did you hear at the Sutter place?"

I took in that news and tried hard to remember things rightly.  "He wasn't discussed in much detail, sir.  His mama said something about not expecting him tonight, though."  I didn't feel a need to mention I'd borrowed Corbin Sutter's clothes.  Not just a Confederate cavalryman, but leader of a gang of partisans!

"Think hard, Hargreave," Corliss pressed.  "It's important."

I rubbed my forehead, trying to understand.

"The boy is something of a local hero, among the Reb sympathizers," Colonel Davis explained.  "Those raiders have been hard on us.  It would be good for our side's morale to know Corbin Sutter is gone.  It's in the Secessionists' best interests to maintain otherwise as long as  possible, even if he is dead.  Do you recall any other hints?  Was the family in mourning?"

Now, that was a particularly good question.  In my sights, none of those Sutter women acted normal that afternoon.  But grieving a new-lost son?  Who could tell?  "I don't know, sir," I allowed after a long moment, when the only sound in the room was a pesky moth battering at the lamp.  "I mean, there was no black crepe on the door, or anything.  Best as I recollect, the only thing said was that he wasn't expected that night.  And his sister told me he had crossed the river.  But nothing else."

Colonel Davis got up abruptly and fetched a bottle from the sideboard.  I hoped he was going to offer me some, but he only poured two glasses.  After pushing one toward Major Corliss, he ran a hand through his hair.  "I tell you what, Augustus," he said.  "Jeb Stuart's cavalry has made a mockery of the Union.  There's not much I can do about that.  But I'll be damned if I'll let some local rabble make a mockery of me and my troops."

Those dire words sounded so queer spoken in Colonel Davis's soft Southern drawl that I felt a shiver skitter along my backbone.  I got the feeling he had forgotten me, standing silent in the shadows.  I held my tongue, wanting to hear more.

But the mounted provost guard clattered by the window on patrol, and the mood was broken.  "Hargreave."

"Yes sir?"

"Are you welcome to return to the Sutter house?"

Welcome by who?  Mahalia?  Or her mother?  "Well, her mama did say to call again."  I didn't add that her mama was not quite right in the head.

"I want you to do something for me.  Go back there.  Visit again.  Learn what you can about Corbin Sutter.  Will you do that?"

Well, I don't mind saying I had mixed feelings about that.  "You mean... to spy?"