that accelerated the pace of everything around him. She breathed faster. Her thoughts raced. When he turned his attention to Annabelle, she felt caught in the beam of lamp light.
âWhere are our manners, gentlemen. Is this fair lady one of the emigrants in your care?â
Introductions followed. Annabelle forgot the names of the junior officers attending Sherman as soon as she heard them, and she expected similar treatment from the general. Instead, he made her the focus of conversation, speaking as if they were the only two in the room.
Though just in his mid-forties, Sherman looked older, the lines of his broad forehead and face deeply creased. His hazel eyes moved restlessly about the room, even when he spoke. The constant motion made him look nervous, though he commanded the conversation and everyone in it. âI see you are in mourning, madam. Let me express my deepest sympathies for your loss.â
Though perfectly mannered, the words failed to make their mark on Annabelle. âWith all respect, I question your sincerity, sir, as you played no small part in the cause of my grief.â
For a moment, it seemed as if all conversation in the room stopped. While the junior officers appeared horrified, she caught in a glance the tug at the side of Josey Angelâs mouth she now recognized as a smile. After struggling to keep her voice from quaking, Annabelle determined to hold her ground, setting her shoulders back and returning the generalâs unblinking gaze.
If her comment angered him, he disguised it well. His response was spoken so softly, the junior officers had to lean in to hear.
âWould you permit, my lady, that a man can feel sympathy for the consequences of actions dutifully performed under regrettable circumstances?â His pace of speech slowed, lacing his words with more sincerity, yet he still spoke too quickly to permit interruptions.
âWar has existed from the beginning. Even the Bible is full of it. Some men die, while others are forced to kill. It has always been so. And while the formerâs loss is complete, his suffering on Earth is done. For that, it is right we mourn. But we should not discount the latter, those for whom the suffering goes on even after triumphâs fifes are played.â
Sherman looked past Annabelle as he spoke, and she followed his gaze to Josey Angel. Their eyes met, then his flickered away, but in that moment she saw across hundreds of miles and as many days to the source of a shared grief. She shuddered, the shiver stiffening her spine. What could these men know of my grief? My husband. My brothers. My way of life. She lost all of these things. Sherman knew pain, too, but war also endowed the man with fame and a sense of purpose. The general took her silence as permission to continue, though it sounded to Annabelle as if he lectured his junior officers.
The conversation turned to the logistics of their journey, the opportunities to resupply at Fort Kearny and Fort Laramie, and the expectations of a peace treaty with the Indians. Sherman confessed his initial pessimism that the warlike Sioux would treat, but his latest report from Fort Laramieâs commander included news that all the tribes had agreed to talk. Annabelle interjected when he spoke of the additional forts the army intended to build along their route.
âWonât the Indians object to more forts on their lands?â she asked. âWouldnât that incite them to violence?â
A junior officer stepped forward to guide Sherman away. The general shrugged him off. âThe army canât guarantee the safety of every emigrant who crosses Indian lands, but I wouldnât send women and children into the territories if I werenât confident of what we can accomplish there.â He ran a hand through his hair, leaving disheveled, spiky, red tufts. âThe colonel and many of the officers charged with building the forts are accompanied by their families.
âWhere are our manners, gentlemen. Is this fair lady one of the emigrants in your care?â
Introductions followed. Annabelle forgot the names of the junior officers attending Sherman as soon as she heard them, and she expected similar treatment from the general. Instead, he made her the focus of conversation, speaking as if they were the only two in the room.
Though just in his mid-forties, Sherman looked older, the lines of his broad forehead and face deeply creased. His hazel eyes moved restlessly about the room, even when he spoke. The constant motion made him look nervous, though he commanded the conversation and everyone in it. âI see you are in mourning, madam. Let me express my deepest sympathies for your loss.â
Though perfectly mannered, the words failed to make their mark on Annabelle. âWith all respect, I question your sincerity, sir, as you played no small part in the cause of my grief.â
For a moment, it seemed as if all conversation in the room stopped. While the junior officers appeared horrified, she caught in a glance the tug at the side of Josey Angelâs mouth she now recognized as a smile. After struggling to keep her voice from quaking, Annabelle determined to hold her ground, setting her shoulders back and returning the generalâs unblinking gaze.
If her comment angered him, he disguised it well. His response was spoken so softly, the junior officers had to lean in to hear.
âWould you permit, my lady, that a man can feel sympathy for the consequences of actions dutifully performed under regrettable circumstances?â His pace of speech slowed, lacing his words with more sincerity, yet he still spoke too quickly to permit interruptions.
âWar has existed from the beginning. Even the Bible is full of it. Some men die, while others are forced to kill. It has always been so. And while the formerâs loss is complete, his suffering on Earth is done. For that, it is right we mourn. But we should not discount the latter, those for whom the suffering goes on even after triumphâs fifes are played.â
Sherman looked past Annabelle as he spoke, and she followed his gaze to Josey Angel. Their eyes met, then his flickered away, but in that moment she saw across hundreds of miles and as many days to the source of a shared grief. She shuddered, the shiver stiffening her spine. What could these men know of my grief? My husband. My brothers. My way of life. She lost all of these things. Sherman knew pain, too, but war also endowed the man with fame and a sense of purpose. The general took her silence as permission to continue, though it sounded to Annabelle as if he lectured his junior officers.
The conversation turned to the logistics of their journey, the opportunities to resupply at Fort Kearny and Fort Laramie, and the expectations of a peace treaty with the Indians. Sherman confessed his initial pessimism that the warlike Sioux would treat, but his latest report from Fort Laramieâs commander included news that all the tribes had agreed to talk. Annabelle interjected when he spoke of the additional forts the army intended to build along their route.
âWonât the Indians object to more forts on their lands?â she asked. âWouldnât that incite them to violence?â
A junior officer stepped forward to guide Sherman away. The general shrugged him off. âThe army canât guarantee the safety of every emigrant who crosses Indian lands, but I wouldnât send women and children into the territories if I werenât confident of what we can accomplish there.â He ran a hand through his hair, leaving disheveled, spiky, red tufts. âThe colonel and many of the officers charged with building the forts are accompanied by their families.
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