Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [210]
Lee nodded. “Perhaps. He may yet be planning a move toward Gordonsville, move around below us, cut us off from Richmond. We must not forget about General Sedgwick, on the river. He shows no signs of moving, but that could change.”
Lee turned, motioned to Taylor, who stood beside the fire, and the young man came close, handed Lee a rolled-up paper, which Lee spread on the box. It was a map, faint pencil lines on wrinkled paper, and Jackson leaned closer, tried to focus in the dim light.
Lee pointed to the Rappahannock, to a point above them, said, “They are anchored against the river, up here. Their line is continuous, down below Chancellorsville, then curves along . . . here.”
Jackson nodded. “Yes, we observed that . . . their lines curve around these open clearings . . . then toward the west.”
“Then what, General? Do you know where their right flank is, where they are anchored to the west?”
Jackson stared at the map, said quietly, a small defeat, “No. Not yet.”
“We must know that, General. If he begins to march in that direction, he could threaten our flank, or be gone toward Gordonsville before we can react.”
Jackson shook his head. “If he moves, it will be north, across the river. . . .”
Horses came at a fast gallop on the road, and both men turned, saw a small squad of cavalry and the tall dark plume on Stuart’s hat.
Stuart jumped from his horse, moved quickly toward where the men sat, removed the hat with the usual flair, said, “General, may I be allowed to join your meeting?”
Lee smiled slightly, nodded, and Stuart looked around for his own box to sit on, saw nothing, then moved around, away from the fire, so as not to block the light, and leaned over the map.
“General, I have some interesting news.”
Jackson leaned his head back, tried to see Stuart from under the cap, said, “They are digging in.”
Stuart looked at him, nodded, “Oh, yes, sir, they are digging in. But that’s not the interesting part.” He looked at Lee, put his finger on the map. “Out here, to the west . . . along the turnpike here . . . their right flank is completely exposed. It’s the one place where they are not digging in. Clearly, they do not expect any pressure there. Their flank is completely in the air.”
Lee glanced at Jackson, leaned closer to the map, said, “Who is on their flank?”
“The Eleventh Corps, Oliver Howard.”
Lee continued to look at the map, reached a hand out. “Are there any roads, down this way, below the turnpike?”
Stuart began to move now, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes, sir, indeed there are. Good roads.” He pointed. “That’s Catherine’s Furnace, and there’s a road . . . wait . . .” He pulled a stub of a pencil from his pocket, drew a ragged line. “Here, there’s a road, over this way.”
Jackson said, “Then we will hit them there. We can move around their flank.” He looked up at Lee. “And they will have nowhere to go but back across the river . . . or we will destroy them.”
Lee nodded, said, “Those roads . . . they are too close to their lines, they will observe any movement. We must find another road, farther down. Do we have someone here, someone we can trust, who knows the area?”
Jackson abruptly stood, stepped toward the fire, to a small group of men who straightened as he approached. “Mr. Pendleton, find Chaplain Lacy.”
There was a voice, a small sound, and a man moved closer to the fire, said, “Begging your pardon, General, but I am here, sir.”
Jackson turned, moved back toward the map and Lacy followed, shyly. Jackson said, “General, this is my chaplain, the Reverend Tucker Lacy. He has family in this area, sir.”
Lee stood, offered a hand, and Lacy hesitated, then reached out, took it with a gentle grasp. Lee sat down again, looked at the map, said, “Reverend, it would be very helpful if you could find us a safe route around the enemy.”
Lacy leaned over slightly, said, “Well, sir, I’m sorry . . . I’m not that familiar with the back roads . . . but . . . there.” He pointed to the spot marked Catherine’s Furnace. “I know a family, the Wellfords. I would