Idnapping the General's Wife

Kidnapping the General's Wife: Her Decisions

May 14, 1864, My husband, General Paul Locksmith, was out reviewing the night watch. The chair in the house we requisitioned from a copperhead was quite comfortable. I, Juliet, was dozing over my copy of Pride and Prejudice that had been a wedding present from my aunt June, two years ago. A gag filled my mouth, my legs and hands were trussed, and I was tied to a horse like a sack of grain. Within five minutes, I went from a satisfied nap to a trip through the night. A voice came from above:

"Don't worry, you won't be harmed. In about an hour and a half, we'll reach our way station, and you'll get a fuller explanation. Sorry for the discomfort, but it is necessary."

After what seemed to be hours of discomfort, I was taken off the horse, and carried into a lodge over someone's shoulder. Then I was placed on a bed, still trussed and gagged. Candles were lit. I could see there were three large men, one white and two black, in the room. The white man spoke:

"I will remove your gag, if you promise not to scream or speak until I explain what is happening to you. Screaming will not help anyway. There is nobody within ten miles, and no-one knows the lodge exists. However screaming will annoy me. Nod your head if you agree."

I nodded. The gag was removed, but I was still bound.

"My name is Brett O'Hara. Your husband knows that name. However, when you are returned to him, my name will be something else, and I will not be findable. I owned, Camelot, the most efficient plantation in Alabama. Don't laugh, I was very young when I bought the land and named it. I didn't inherit it. I was not born rich. My father was a blacksmith and I worked with him at many plantations. My eyes were sharp, and I could tell what made for success and failure on those farms. I also had a great poker face. When I had the hand of lifetime with the best pot of the year, I cashed out. I didn't wait for my luck to turn. I never played poker again. You have to know when to fold them. I waited until an idiot who inherited a plantation with potential went into bankruptcy. I bought it cheap with my winnings, and applied what I learned when smithing. These men, Tim and Jim, are my slaves for the moment. We are going to lose this war, so soon they won't be. I know slavery and "All men are created equal." are contradictory. Jefferson, my favorite revolutionary, knew it too. In his version of the Declaration of Independence, he blamed slavery on King George. The Continental Congress took that part out. Tom was my kind of author. He didn't want an editor. He hated to have any changes to anything he wrote. While I won't try to justify slavery, I used it to provide the cheap labor necessary for a competitive plantation in a society where every similar business used slaves. One of the things that made my plantation efficient was that I treated my slaves like the valuable workers they were. Admittedly one of the ways I made sure my workers were happy, was to sell off the discontented ones. I didn't sell them down river unless that would bring the best price. I did try to keep families together. I am no saint. In two cases with particularly beautiful wives, I sent off the discontented husband and kept the wife as a house servant. I learned much from each in the bedroom, but also in other rooms. One was particularly strong in the kitchen. The other had mathematical skills and learned bookkeeping at a previous plantation. She kept my confederate taxes at a minimum by showing a particular set of books. She claimed that she showed the auditor other things that made him even more sympathetic to our situation. Jefferson is my favorite revolutionary not because he was perfect, but because in comparing myself to him, I sometimes come out ahead. I would never put myself above Franklin in anything. I treated my average slave better than Jefferson treated the children he had with Sally Hemmings. Also his plantation went bankrupt. I might have bought it, if it came on the market. My farm was making me rich, which brings us to your husband. Major Locksmith ran a daring raid in Alabama where he destroyed some of the Confederates' most important plantations and other businesses. It really depleted their treasury. As a result his rank was jumped to General. Unfortunately for your marriage, one of the plantations he destroyed was Camelot. I hold a grudge, therefore this is what will happen. When you are returned to your husband, you will be in your sixth month of pregnancy. You will now prepare to have sex with me."

I gasped, "Never" He stopped me.

"This is the decision you have to make. We will soon leave the room. I will return in ten minutes. In that time, you will remove all your clothes, and lie on the bed with your legs spread and cooperate with our coupling. By cooperating I mean physically. You do not have to want it. You do not even have to kiss me, but you have to facilitate the impregnation. The alternative if you are not nude and spread when I return, the three of us will remove your clothes. We will tie you spread eagle to the bed. We will then take turns having sex with you. You will be returned six months pregnant to your husband in any circumstance. The second way it might be with a black baby. Ten minutes."

They left the room. Ten minutes later when he returned, I was naked on the bed with my legs open. He smiled:

"So the union general's wife is more bigoted than the slave owner. I have slept with many black women, but you stripped to avoid only two black men. Just teasing, I know standards are different for each sex. Having a black baby would get you shunned by even strongly anti-slavery groups."

He stripped, got on the bed, and touched me. I was surprised that he stayed away from what I thought were my erogenous zones. I found his fingers on my neck, ears, knees and thighs created sensations that I never felt with previous suitors or my husband. When he entered me, taking more time to start than my husband ever took to do the complete job, I was more lubricated than I had ever been. I had intended to do the minimum to comply with his demands, but my body took over. I reacted feeling like never before. When he exploded into me, I was his. While he withdrew, he never stopped his touching. As he reentered, my unthinking response was to totally satisfy him. My tongue was deep in his mouth. I didn't last two minutes after his second explosion. I was soundly unconscious. He woke me several hours later by stimulating my vagina. My reaction to being filled again was satisfaction and sleep.

After escorting me to the outhouse in the morning, we had sex again. I originally thought my outhouse escort was to prevent my escaping. I found, however, that the necessary trip had excellent wildlife viewing, particularly bears. Ten miles of primeval forest led to no possibility of escape. The escort was for my protection.

Breakfast was toasted bread with butter and honey. After our exertions, it was delicious. I was assigned to prepare lunch. I was provided with meat and vegetables for a stew. Brett and company said that they appreciated the meal. I thought that the meat was partly burnt and partly raw. Brett made the dinner. I was never asked to cook another meal.

Tim and Jim were sent to town for provisions, with extra money for and orders to enjoy a brothel. Brett started with criticism of my literary taste.

"I saw you were reading Jane Austen. Southern society, with which I am acquainted, is the closest equivalence to the English that we have in America. Even knowing it, I could only get through seventy pages. Fenimore Cooper started writing after reading Austen. He figured that he could write better than she. I brought a copy of "The Deerslayer" along to pass the time." Tim and Jim would not return until tomorrow. We were alone at night. We coupled again and again in the morning. There was no point or thought to do anything but comply.

Tim and Jim showed up late in the afternoon. They brought plenteous provisions but were eager to tell of the brothel. The bartender appeared to want to object to the black men. When he judged their size, and the professional way they wore their Colts, he said nothing. They said that the women were enthusiastic, and told them that they were excellent, and to please come back whenever they could. They came back in the morning. I did not rain on their parade, and tell them that that was what all whores, indeed all women, say to men who they think might be useful.

Brett and I continued to have at least a coupling a day, but I had my period at the end of my month. That was the last one however. He was delighted.

"It is the best of all possible worlds. We unquestionably know who the father is, but it is early enough to pass off as your husband's, particularly if that is what he wants to believe. It is enough for me to know he is raising my child. I don't want you hurt."

Even though the job was accomplished, I was pregnant, we continued to have sex. In fact, when he had an infection and was incapacitated for a week, I was surprised by how disappointed I was. I found that I actually preferred Cooper to Austen, and we found that we had similar tastes in areas other than literature. My sixth month was approaching. Brett waited until the evening to speak to me alone:

"My plan was to return you to your husband about now, but I am having second thoughts. I kind of like having you around. The idea of raising my own son also has appeal. You are the one who is married, you are the one who is pregnant. It is your choice. You can go back to your husband, and in the best case convince him the baby is his. Thus you can live a lie with your husband. You can go west to my new farm with me. Atlanta burned with its records. Richmond also lost records. If we say we are married, nobody will ask for evidence. Thus you can live the lie with me. So, Juliet, with whom will you lie?"

Epilogue: Those of you who are "The Lady or the Tiger" fans can stop reading here and make up your own ending. Since I am in the finish the damn story crowd, Juliet will continue:

Brett's choices were naively simple. I could live happily ever after with either my husband or the father of my child. If that were the choice I probably would have held to my vows. Unfortunately, my husband could count. While he couldn't be sure, he would know that the child probably was not his, not so happily. So I chose to be at the new plantation, 10 miles west of Dodge. Tim and Jim were now well paid co-foremen. It is simply called Will's, Brett's new name. Actually it's two businesses. We have a cattle ranch, and Brett actually figured out how to grow tobacco in Kansas. The tobacco was not as good as that grown in Virginia or Connecticut, but he found a weed that when mixed with the tobacco gave it a sweet smell, and gave the user a weird high. It sold fantastically in Dodge, and then in Wichita. Since we also made money with the ranch, we basically owned Dodge.

Tim and Jim sampled the five brothels in Dodge for about two years. When they felt they had the best evidence possible, they took what they considered the two top whores for wives. I thought that Jim chose wisely. One brothel owner hated that they took a top earner, but considered our position in town, and said nothing. The other thought that the fact that she was sleeping with the U.S. marshal could get her girl back. Once the ranch started being profitable, we had put the marshal on the payroll. We were paying him twice what the government was. He snuck out to the ranch, and the five of us, me, Brett, the marshal, Tim, and Jim, wrote a drama. We rode into Dodge and the marshal stopped us in front of the Longbranch saloon. He loudly demanded that we return the whore. This drew a crowd appreciative of the diversion. Brett even accused him of supporting slavery. Of course nothing changed. The next morning we were regaled with how energetically the marshal was rewarded for his attempt.

My first child was a boy, soon followed by two daughters. My son, Brett(Will) insisted that he have a namesake. Brett, the son, excelled at all the physical aspects of farming and ranching. When he was sixteen, he fenced off a piece of the farm, and actually grew tobacco that was better than Connecticut's. My older daughter, Lily, started going on selling tours with her father, when she was fourteen. She loved negotiation. By the time she was twenty, Brett(Will) realized that he was holding her back, and left all the selling to her. Our profits increased five percent the first year she was in charge. Our younger daughter, Rose, sue me I like flowers, loved numbers. She kept the books, and alerted her siblings whenever a problem was beginning to appear. Brett and I soon found that our only job was spending the money they made. I never regretted my decision.