Preview #5: Lee Goes North (Patreon)

I meant for this to be fresh writing, but I just ran out of time. It took me forever to get that erotic scene for Preview #4 drafted.

One of my uncompleted novel projects is an alternate history in which Colonel Robert E. Lee, US Army, is still commanding the Department of Texas during the secession crisis. (In actual history he was replaced by the regular department commander, General David Twiggs, and was ordered to report to Washington just as Texas's secession convention ordered a statewide referendum on secession. He passed through San Antonio just as militiamen under Ben McCulloch took San Antonio and forced Twiggs to surrender all federal forces in the state, but he was allowed to leave anyway- and everyone knows the rest.)

Multiple sources state that Lee would have resisted with force any attempt such as McCulloch's to capture federal forces or the arsenal at San Antonio, and the book (if I ever finish it) is about how that would most likely play out. 

Here's a snippet from what currently exists. Lee isn't in it; the main viewpoint character is Charles Anderson, a notable Unionist and friend of Lee's who, in our history, ended up breaking out of a Texas prison in 1861 after unionists were forced to leave or be imprisoned. He later became a Union colonel and, briefly, a state governor, but is only a footnote in history today, mainly as a secondhand source of information on Lee's mindset at the time of secession. One of the other characters, James Newcomb, ran a unionist paper until the Knights of the Golden Circle (the Klan before there was a Klan) burned it down and forced him to flee. After serving as a scout for the Unionist California Brigade during the war, he returned to San Antonio and founded another newspaper... which is San Antonio's daily newspaper today.

All the things described in the scene are historically accurate- yes, most of the elections naming delegates to Texas's secession convention were blatantly rigged by threat of violence. Yes, most Union sentiment in the South was lukewarm at best, and few unionists were willing to risk all they possessed to resist what seemed like an irresistible tide- especially since most of them, like the secessionists, were also supporters and defenders of slavery and stark opponents of the entire Republican Party program.

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January 5, 1861

San Antonio, TX

“Well, here’s our own Kentucky colonel!”

Anderson walked into the Caldwell store, noting that the usual Saturday gang was gathered around the counter; Caldwell himself behind the counter, Dr. Edwards in a corner playing checkers with another customer, and James Newcomb slumped on a barrel, looking both angry and dejected.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time to linger, friends,” Anderson said, ignoring the greeting. “Drilling the company is taking up so much of my time of late.”

“What’s the point?” Caldwell groused. “The fix is in. Tuesday Wilcox and his cronies will get elected to that secession convention, and there’s nothing we can do about that.”

“Young Newcomb went to Castroville day before last for their election,” Edwards supplied. 

“They wouldn’t even let me through the door!” Newcomb shouted. “There was a whole company of Knights of the Golden   Circle guarding the building, checking off names. They told me flat that only true Southerners- read that secessionists- would even be allowed into the building to vote!”

“Well, did you take that for an answer?” Anderson asked.

“Of course not. I snuck around by the back and listened at a window. They didn’t even go through the pretense of holding a vote! They simply named the two secessionist candidates by acclimation! There wasn’t any registration, any due process- nothing at all!”

“I can’t say as I’m surprised in the least,” Anderson said. “We knew this was going to happen. The Knights have determined to rig the convention and turn out a declaration of secession. Our only real hope is to defeat it when it goes before the people in a proper election.”

“That’s the thing,” Caldwell said. “The Castroville convention was run by the county clerk. The Bexar County clerk is running the election on Tuesday- and did you notice election judges have only been named in secessionist precincts? The Knights will do the same thing in the ratification election. It’ll all be rigged. And then your companies will be dissolved, if they don’t just fall apart as people resign.”

Anderson didn’t want to say anything to that. People were already leaving his two companies. One or two of them had mentioned threats by the Knights of the Golden Circle- threats against not just themselves but their families. He’d actually gone to Major Story after hearing the second such story and pointed out that, whatever gentlemen might feel about one another’s political views, it was wrong to extend such arguments to the opponent’s wife and children. Story had agreed and promised to look into the matter, but the damage had already been done.

Fortunately few silences lasted long while James Newcomb was in the same room. “I don’t go along with the notion that there’s nothing we can do,” he snapped. “They can ignore the laws for their illegal convention. But when the vote comes to the people, they’ll have to follow the laws then! And in any legal election, we have a fair fight- if we don’t surrender at the start!”

“Mr. Newcomb,” Edwards rasped, “what do you intend to do should the people vote in favor of secession?”

“Keep fighting until they vote to reverse it,” Newcomb snapped. “I refuse to be intimidated or discouraged. I stand by the Union until the day I die. And if they run me out of town for fighting against this secessionist conspiracy, I shall return in the front ranks of the army they send to take Texas back by force.”

Dr. Edwards shook his head. “That’s fine for you, James,” he said. “You’ve never cared what other people think about you. You’ve never had to. And you’re still young enough that, if you wanted, you could start again fresh somewhere else. But I’m old- old and sick. I wrecked my health in studies, and I’ve never recovered it. I came to Texas too late to beat the consumption, and now to leave Texas would mean my death. If Texas secedes, I shall have no choice but to accept it and go along.”

“It’s the same thing with me,” Caldwell said. “Everything I have is tied up here- my home, this store, everything. As it is I’m losing customers to the other general stores, especially Vance. If I kept fighting after the battle is lost, I’d only destroy myself.

“And Dr. Edwards and I are fairly well off. Most of the Union men in this town- I mean, those who aren’t Germans or Yankees or co-operationists- most of us aren’t nearly so well off. Everything we have is here. If a Union man tried to stick it out, his life wouldn’t be worth living- and if they leave to go North, they’ll leave without a dollar in their pockets. I’m sorry, Mr. Newcomb, but if you tilt at windmills like Quixote, you’ll find yourself standing alone- except for those with nothing to lose at all.”

“And another thing,” Edwards pointed out. “I think we all agree that Lincoln and the black Republicans won’t tolerate secession. There’ll be a war. Once shots start being fired, it won’t just be a political debate anymore. If you publish a newspaper supporting the government that’s sending troops to invade Texas, that’s sedition. Treason, some will call it. And you’ll be easier to hit with a bullet than the Yankee troops- a closer target. Think seriously about it, James.”

“I have thought about it, Dr. Edwards,” Newcomb said. “I’ve thought long and hard about it. And I believe that the breaking of the United  States would be the worst catastrophe possible- not just for Texas or for this nation, but for all mankind. We are the only free republic worthy of the name in the entire world, gentlemen, and I refuse to tolerate the notion that it can be broken up just because a few men are offended that they lost an election.”

Anderson listened with a sinking heart. Newcomb was hurting his cause. The irony was, the two older men had moved to Texas from elsewhere; Newcomb had been born here in San Antonio. Yet Newcomb was willing to leave his home town- or burn it down, come to that- rather than acquiesce in secession. The two older, more conservative men weren’t willing to take it that far, and Anderson understood why. 

But unlike these men, Anderson’s bridges had been burned behind him- from the moment he had given that speech. They were printing the thing in Washington City now. He had received letters of congratulation from Northern Democrats for the moderation of his arguments, for the clear logic behind them. That was cold comfort when put against the casual threats and warnings the Knights were giving him not less than once every other day, now. 

The secessionists had already marked him as an enemy. That made it easier for him to become one. 

“I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” he said, breaking the discussion before Newcomb could burn any bridges of his own. “I’m afraid I have to take Mr. Caldwell from you for a bit while he fills my order. And then I’m back to the ranch. Mr. Newcomb, perhaps you could come with me? If you’re determined to stand and fight, you may find yourself wanting a good fast horse. I happen to have quite a few for you to look at, if you’d be so inclined.”