“Yes, most cautiously,” Rains said. “I have nitric acid, and glycerine proved available from a soap works in town. I mixed minute quantities of them; the resulting compound is so explosive that it promptly proceeded to shatter the flask in which it was produced when that flask was accidentally bumped against the edge of a table. Fortunately, the fragments of glass did me no serious damage.”
“Very fortunately,” Lee echoed. Not so long before, in Louisville, he’d also been lucky with glass fragments.
Rains said, “There are other ingredients in the AK-47 powder which I am having more difficulty analyzing. I have to hope they are the secret to controlling the force of that powder: soldiers would, I suspect, suffer a loss of morale if, for instance, their cartridges exploded upon being carelessly dropped.”
“You are likely to be right,” Lee said. Being a man inclined to understatement himself, he knew a good one when he heard it.
Captain Finney’s temperament ran the other way: “If that happened, you wouldn’t find a regimental ordnance sergeant who would dare poke his head out of his tent, for fear of meeting up with a bunch of privates carrying a noose.”
That was probably also true, but a commanding general’s dignity did not permit acknowledging it. Lee said, “By all means continue your investigations, Colonel Rains. The Confederacy is fortunate to have you. If any man now living can uncover the secrets of this powder, I am confident you are he.”
“Thank you; sir.” Rains paused thoughtfully. “’Any man now living’? An interesting phrase.” Lee sat in silence, not elaborating one bit; he realized he had carelessly said too much already. At last, seeing he would get no more out of him, Rains shrugged and said, “I shall go on with my researches, and promptly communicate to you in Richmond any new results. With peace here, I am able to devote more time to this project than was heretofore possible.”
“That’s the truth,” Bob Finney agreed. “Before, with the powder mill and the cannon foundry and these new cartridges and everything else, I don’t think you ever slept—you just went turn and turn about and relieved yourself.” He grinned mischievously. “Sometimes, I expect, you were even too busy to do that.”
“I should have told you to stay back at the arsenal,” Rains growled in mock anger. He gave an exaggerated shudder and turned back to Lee. “Is there anything more, sir?”
“I think not, Colonel; thank you,” Lee answered. “May I trouble you for a ride back to the hotel, however? I should like to start arranging my return to Richmond; having been away so long, I begrudge every further unnecessary minute.”
“I quite understand that sentiment,” Rains said. “Take my carriage back, if you care to; I can ride in and pick it up at any time, and our conversation has made me eager to go back to investigating this remarkable powder.” By the way he stirred in his chair, he seemed eager to be at it that very moment.
“Are you certain?” Lee asked. Rains nodded vigorously—sure enough, he did not care to waste time as a driver. Lee inclined his head. “Most generous of you, sir; I am in your debt.”
Rains waved that away, too. When Charles Marshall took the reins of the carriage, the colonel hardly waited for the horses to start moving before he hurried back to get to work again. “He reminds me of a hound on a scent,” Marshall said.
“An apt comparison,” Lee agreed, though he wondered how many Northern hounds were following that same trail.
The carriage rolled along, raising a small cloud of dust behind it. Men in the street waved to Lee; more than one woman dropped him a curtsy. He gravely raised his hat to return each salutation. When Marshall drove past the bookshop he had seen before, he said, “Let me out, Major, if you would. I think I shall buy a novel. The Planters’ is only a few blocks off; I’ll walk it from here.”
“Yes, sir.” His aide pulled back on the reins. The team slowed, stopped. As Lee got down, Marshall said, “While you browse, sir, I’ll go over to the train station and arrange our return passage to Richmond.”
“That would be excellent.” Lee walked into the shop. The carriage rattled away. The bookseller looked up. When he saw who his new customer was, his eyes widened. He started to speak, then thought better of it as Lee headed straight for a shelf, making it plain he did not care to be interrupted right then. After some frowning thought, he pulled out Ivanhoe and carried it over to the man who ran the shop. Its heft promised it would keep him amused through a long, slow train ride.
The bookseller looked unhappy, an expression that fit his long, thin face well. “I’m afraid I can’t let you have that, sir.”
Lee stared at him. “What? Why ever not, Mr.”—what had the name on the sign outside been?—”Mr. Arnold?”
“It’s my last copy,” Arnold said, as if that explained everything. To him it must have, for he went on, “If I sell it to you, sir, I won’t have another, and heaven only knows when I’ll see more again.”
“But—” Lee gave up when he saw how determined the bookseller looked. Trying not to laugh, he turned and replaced lvanhoe on its shelf, picked up a copy of Quentin Durward instead. “You have several of these, Mr. Arnold,” he said, deadpan.
“Yes, sir,” Arnold said, now seeming as happy as his doleful physiognomy permitted. “That will be three dollars paper or seventy-five cents cash money.” He bobbed his head up and down when Lee gravely handed him three U.S. quarters.
Back at the hotel, Lee told Marshall about “Arnold’s book.” His aide snorted and said, “It’s soldiers who are supposed to husband their ammunition, not booksellers.”
“Well put,” Lee said.” Are our arrangements completed for returning to Richmond?”
“Yes, sir. We depart tomorrow on the nine o’clock train and go by way of Columbia, Charlotte, Greensboro, and Danville.”
“I see,” Lee said.
“Is something wrong, sir?”
“Not—wrong, precisely, Major. I was wondering if we would pass through Rivington, that’s all. It might have been interesting to see.”
“I’m sorry, General; by your remarks to Colonel Rains, I assumed you would wish to travel by the most direct route. Going over to Wilmington and then up through eastern North Carolina would be like traversing the two legs of a right triangle rather than its hypotenuse. If you like, however, I’ll go back to the train station and have our tickets revised.”
Lee thought about it. “No, never mind, Major. As you say, fastest is best. And perhaps I would do better to stay as far away from Rivington as I can.” Marshall gave him a curious look, but he declined to elaborate.
Summer gave way to fall. School started again. As usual, the children, especially the younger ones, had forgotten much of what Caudell had taught them the spring before. He was resigned to that and spent the first couple of weeks of classes getting them back to where they’d been. That also let him start his handful of new five- and six-year-olds on their ABCs and numbers. Some of them stared at slates and chalk as if they’d never seen such things before. Likely they hadn’t.
Establishing discipline was also dicey as usual. The first time he switched a five-year-old for kicking one of his little classmates, the boy just looked at him scornfully and said, “My pa, he licks me a lot harder’n that.”
“Do you want me to try again?” Caudell asked, raising the switch. He would have sworn the boy thought it over before finally shaking his head.