Free Songs of the Shenandoah by Michael K. Reynolds Page B

and headed home, trying to convince herself of those very same words.

Chapter 10
    Bull Run
    Prince William County, Virginia
    July 1861

    In the distance, the rockets flared with brilliant flashes, accompanied by rising plumes of black smoke. Far away as well were the muffled sounds of explosions, musket shots, bugle calls, and the screams and shouts of men.
    But as Clare and Owen approached in their bouncing wagon toward the ridge where most of the journalists had gathered to view the battle, what they saw was more remarkable than the fighting itself.
    For several miles along the way, they had passed what seemed to be the entirety of the Washington elite, all of whom had come to take in the spectacle of war as if they were attending a foxhunt.
    On either sides of the road, they were strewn out on blankets and chairs, pouring from bottles of champagne and wine and snacking on sandwiches, bread, and cheese.
    â€œHad I known how pleasurable these battle assignments were, I would have petitioned Andrew for this job years ago.” Owen guided his wagon off of the road and around a black carriage that had gotten stuck in the mud.
    â€œI believe that is Ben Jones over there.” Clare pointed to a ledge where a gathering of men and women stood, dressed more for a presidential ball than the first major conflict of the war.
    As they got down from the wagon and walked over to where others were standing, Clare could understand why this particular location was chosen by the other reporters. The ledge overlooked the broad territory surrounding the Manassas River.
    â€œAre those soldiers?” Clare’s heart started to pound as she realized the movement of the terrain below was actually many thousands of soldiers exchanging blows. They must have been a good mile away from the confrontation, too far to see the actual hideous details of battle, but the evil of war penetrated through her bones. Maybe this was a big mistake for her to be here.
    What a strange juxtaposition it was to see the merry gathering nearby her! Picnicking and cavorting while their sons were dying in the distance.
    â€œOver there.” Owen pointed to an area at the end of the ridge where several men were drawing on easels. “At least some of them are working.”
    They moved their way through the crowd, overhearing conversations splattered with gossip and drunken laughter.
    As they approached, they saw the Daily ’s former war correspondent in an earnest conversation with several other distinguished-looking men. Ben Jones was tall and gaunt, with neatly combed and oiled hair, parted at the center. When they were just a few steps away, Ben glanced over and his eyes broadened. He excused himself from the conversation and came over and greeted Owen with a handshake.
    â€œI promise, I was intending on removing that piece of gum from under the desk.” He nodded to Clare.
    Her first impulse was to be angry at the man. Andrew had been good to him and deserved more of a notice than he received. At the same time though, she couldn’t be too harsh on those employees who had left the Daily . Their financial difficulties were not well concealed, and if others had an opportunity to have a more reliable income, how could she fault them for leaving?
    Ben nodded over toward their wagon, which had two bales of hay in the back and a tired-looking horse up front. “It’s good to see that Andrew provided his new correspondents with such fine transportation.”
    â€œAnd it’s good as well to see such excellent reporting coming from the Times .” Clare always appreciated Ben’s wit. “We always wondered how they fashioned such quality stories. Now we know.”
    A gasp came from the crowd, and many of the conversations halted and some moved closer to the ledge to see what was happening below.
    Ben nodded in the direction of the illustrators and they started moving over. “Apparently, this quaint little rebellion