As they rode, she noted that although Dustin was keeping an eye on Brent, he was staying close to her.
He was also watching everyone riding with them—and the forest around them, as well.
Soon, they reached the open ground that led to the stream and the bluff that forded it, where they usually camped. The rocks created an overhang that had been useful whenever they were surprised by rain. Tonight, however, promised to be beautiful.
They pitched the tents, the work going well, everyone helping. Sean now seemed subdued; he looked over his shoulder frequently—and kept close to the others. Aaron sent the boys to gather wood for the fire. They used the camping area often and had a fire site ready. It was on clean, swept soil and surrounded by rocks to prevent the fire from spreading.
Within forty minutes of their arrival, the tents were pitched and the fire was blazing. Aaron quickly had coffee going, while Mariah and Mason set up the grill. They’d brought hot dogs and beans and the makings for s’mores. Everyone seemed hungry, and it wasn’t until they’d eaten and had gorged themselves on the s’mores that Joey asked Mariah when she was going to get to the ghost stories.
“Ah, well, now!” Mariah smiled at him and gestured grandly. “Now that the moon is high, and the mist will soon gather and rise on the moor!”
“Is this a moor?” Joey asked.
“No, not really. It’s a field in the foothills, but close enough,” Mason said.
“Remember, I don’t just tell ghost stories. A ghost story doesn’t amount to anything unless you know why the ghost stayed behind,” Mariah said. “And that means knowing the history.”
“So you’re going to tell us about General Rufus Cunningham, right?” Joey asked excitedly.
“With a little help from my friends,” Mariah said. “Liv, you want to start?”
“Okay, if you’d like,” Olivia said. She looked around at all the boys, and forced herself not to smile. Brent was sitting on Dustin’s left side.
Sean was on his right—sitting even closer than Brent.
“The best stories always come with truth and time,” she began. “And to understand what brought about a ghost, you first have to understand some history, just like Mariah said. As I’m sure you already know, Tennessee was the last state to join the Confederacy. That happened on June 24, 1861. As soon as Tennessee seceded, it was like Nashville had a target painted on her. Because the city was a major shipping center and had a major port on the Cumberland River, both sides saw Nashville as extremely important. Battles couldn’t be fought without supplies, without a way to keep soldiers clothed and fed. And, of course, Nashville was also the capital of Tennessee. It was important for the Union to take a capital, because that affected morale. One thing we learn in therapy of any kind is that morale can dictate what happens. We can create self-fulfilling prophesies—believe there’s no choice but to fail and you will. Believe you can make it and you will.”
Joey cleared his throat. “Uh, Olivia, the South did lose the war.”
“Yeah, didn’t you hear?” Matt asked her, giggling.
“Okay, it doesn’t always work.” She smiled. “Hard and bitter as that defeat must have been for the Confederates, time has shown us that we’re better and stronger as one country. To many people living in the nineteenth century, the main focus was states’ rights, and, okay, that was connected to slavery—and the economy. But one of Lincoln’s great triumphs was that slavery was abolished. Today, we can look back and wonder how any human being believed he could own another human being.” She paused to let the boys think about that.
A moment later she continued. “But, as I said, it was important for the Union to hold the city. Protecting Nashville was Fort Donelson, which fell on February 16, 1862. As soon as the fort fell, Union troops came in and the federal occupation of Nashville began. And Nashville became the first Confederate capital to fall to the federal government. Again, something that was actually good for some—the Unionists—and not so good for others—the ardent secessionists. Remember, we were divided on the matter of secession. The state government moved to Memphis at that time. But the Union sent in a military governor. Anyone know who that was? I’ll give you a hint. A future president.”
“Andrew Johnson!” Matt called out.
“Gold star for that boy,” Olivia said. “Okay, so there was a Union Army of Tennessee and a Confederate Army of Tennessee. On December 2, 1864, the Confederate Army of Tennessee came to face off against the Union Army south of the city. On December 15, the Union Army arrived and started the Battle of Nashville. While the Confederates fought hard, they were badly defeated and had to retreat.”
“And that’s where we get our famous ghost!” Mariah said, beaming.
Matt set his flashlight beneath his chin so the beam would give him an eerie look. “General Rufus Cunningham!” he moaned.
“Hey, stop it!” Sean said. “Remember—we respect the dead.”
“Exactly!” Mariah then took over the story. “General Rufus Cunningham had a daughter and she was married to one of the Union lieutenants with the troops occupying Nashville.”
“Wow, the girl was kind of a traitor, wasn’t she? Ooh—maybe she hated her dad!” Sean suggested.
“No, no! It was very sad,” Olivia said. “The whole war was tragically sad. Many of the men—the foot soldiers and ranking officers—were good friends or relatives of the soldiers they fought. Cunningham’s daughter was named Eliza. She married Nathan Randall in 1858, and she met him because her father had been his commanding officer at the time. Many of the men went to West Point or other military academies together. Many of them had fought together in Mexico. The thing is, General Rufus Cunningham loved his son-in-law. But even if he hadn’t loved him, he would have tried to save him. He’d ordered that any man who’d been injured—whether wearing blue or gray—was to be given medical attention.”
“So,” Mariah continued, taking up the story, “Nathan Randall was injured. Seeing him—although he was already in retreat with his troops—General Cunningham stopped. In saving his son-in-law, he was caught in the crossfire between the advancing Union and the retreating Confederates. He died not far from where we’re camping tonight and he’s buried in the tiny Confederate Cemetery we just visited, where you saw his grave.”
“And,” Joey added, “it’s said that General Rufus Cunningham still rides these hills, watching out for those who are in danger, trying to save lives.”
“Yeah, well, he failed with Marcus, huh?” Matt said. His words were followed by silence.
“I’m sure he would have helped if he could,” Olivia said.
Brent rose and sat next to Matt. The tough guy smiled at the Down syndrome boy and placed an arm around his shoulders.
“Hey, there’s a romantic story, too,” Olivia quickly offered. “The beautiful stream we can hear trickling. Know how that was formed?”
“Someone’s tears?” Joey asked.
“You bet,” she replied. “There was a beautiful maiden called Little Deer. She was in love with a warrior named Soaring Eagle. This was during a terrible time in our history when we were land grabbers—and we forced all the eastern Native Americans west, toward Arkansas. The two of them were torn apart because Soaring Eagle was with a peace delegation sent to argue out terms. He should’ve have been back before Little Deer was forced to leave. But the army was determined to get this done. There was a horrible mistake in communications. Soaring Eagle was only trying to reach Little Deer, but he was shot down because an army lieutenant thought he was trying to create an uprising. Little Deer heard the shot from miles away. She cried this stream that runs from the river down to the hills and plains. Sometimes at night you can hear the two of them calling to each other.”