Sharyn Mccrumb_Elizabeth MacPherson_07 by MacPherson's Lament

wasn’t used for government business. I think that the Phillips family played host to some minor Confederate officials. People named—” He peeked at his card. “Miss Dabney wrote this out for me in case you turned out to be a history buff. Umm … here it is. A Mr. Micajah Clark, a Mr. Semple, and the postmaster general, a Mr. Reagan. Wonder if he’s any relation?”
    â€œI think not,” said Huff, looking singularly unamused. Bill got the impression, though, that there had been a flash of recognition in his cold eyes at the recital of that list of names.
    They finished their tour in the antiquated kitchen, but John Huff did not seem dismayed by the lack of modern appliances or the fadedlinoleum and drab green walls. “It’s a big room,” Bill said lamely. “It has possibilities.”
    â€œSo does garbage,” muttered Nathan Kimball to himself.
    â€œI’ve seen enough,” John Huff announced. “I’ll be staying in town a few days. Perhaps you could recommend a hotel?”
    â€œSure,” said Bill. “There’s the Stratford Inn, the Best Western on Highway 58—”
    â€œNever mind. We’ll look in the phone book. As I was saying, Kimball and I will be staying a few days. If at the end of that time we find that everything checks out—the appraisal, the survey, and so on—then I’ll make your clients an offer for the house.”
    â€œDid I mention their terms?” asked Bill, waiting for the deal to come crashing down as he spoke. “I’m afraid they’re rather eccentric about business matters. They don’t seem to trust banks. It’s probably the result of having lived through the Depression, don’t you think? Anyhow, they don’t want to be bothered with financing.”
    â€œI understand. If the details all check out, I’ll be prepared to offer them a cashier’s check for the full amount. I will, of course, expect a discount for cash.”
    â€œI’ll tell them,” Bill promised. “I expect you’ll be meeting them at closing, so if there’s anything else you’d like to know about the house, perhaps you can ask them then.”
    John Huff nodded. “Well, there is one thing. Do you happen to know if there are any secret passages in the house?”

    One day he is there and smiling.
    The next he is gone as if he had taken fernseed
    And walked invisible so through the Union lines.
    You will not find that smile in a Northern prison
    Though you seek from now till Doomsday.
    â€” STEPHEN VINCENT BENÉT,
John Brown’s Body,
Book 8

    WASHINGTON, GEORGIA– MAY 5, 1865
    G ABRIEL H AWKS WAS now a lieutenant in the army, but the honor of the field promotion paled somewhat when he considered how little competition remained for a position in the ranks of Confederate officers. After Lee surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox Courthouse on Palm Sunday, President Davis and the Confederate government had left Danville by train and proceeded to Greensboro, North Carolina, to confer with General Joseph E. Johnston and General P. G. Beauregard about the fate of the Cause.
    Most of the lower ranks felt no need to wait for further advice about the outcome of the war. They were deserting from the train at every station, leaving their posts and their comrades, and slipping away to lose themselves in the tide of fugitives heading for home. Gabriel couldn’tsay that he blamed them. How could anyone doubt that the war was lost in the face of the evidence of his own eyes? One of the soldiers who had been in the cabinet car was telling it all over about how he saw the secretary of the navy and the adjutant general passing a tin cup of coffee back and forth, for want of utensils, while the secretary of state himself was dipping his dinner out of a haversack of hard-boiled eggs. The soldier said they bore it all cheerfully, even joking about these sorry