52 pages • 1-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of graphic violence, illness, death, racism, sexual violence, and gender discrimination.
Libby Steadman, 24 years old, is struggling during the American Civil War. The whereabouts of her husband, Peter, a Confederate Army captain, are unknown; he was taken prisoner after Gettysburg, but she has not heard from him in months. Without him, she runs the gristmill on their property in Berryville, Virginia, in the Shenandoah Valley near Winchester.
Peter inherited the small farm and mill from his father. The surrounding area, including Winchester, was in Union hands for much of the last few years, but since June of 1863 it was “back in Southern control, where it belonged” (8). The Confederate Army of Northern Virginia now collects the flour that Libby’s gristmill produces from local farmers’ harvests.
Upon his father’s death, Peter freed his father’s enslaved people; most chose to leave, but Joseph and Sally, an older married couple, remained. They now help run the mill and farm for wages and live in the house of the former overseer. Libby is also the guardian of her outspoken niece, Jubilee, the 12-year-old daughter of her brother Robert, a Confederate captain fighting near Petersburg, and his deceased wife.
As the novel opens, a man who may have deserted the Confederate Army (under General Jubal Early) or, more likely, John Mosby’s guerrilla-style raiders, barges into Libby’s house and attempts to rape her. Joseph kills the man with a shovel. They bury him on the property, and Libby keeps his Colt revolver.
A week after the man attacks Libby, three Confederate cavalry soldiers approach the mill. They question whether Libby is really completing some of the farm’s physical labor herself, as she claims, and then threaten to take Joseph for the army, as Union troops are expected to fight near Berryville soon. Libby tells them it will be harder to produce flour for them if they take away her only help. They relent, though one, Lieutenant Morgan, claims they will return to take whatever they need from her.
At dawn, Captain Jonathan Weybridge sits 100 yards from his troop’s encampment. He wants privacy to write a letter to his wife, Emily. Weybridge was a young professor at Middlebury College in Vermont before the war; after enlisting in 1863, he spent most of his service in Washington, DC. In the spring of 1864, however, he led his fellow Vermonters into the active battles of Spotsylvania County and the Shenandoah, where rebel John Mosby’s men and aggressive Confederate General Jubal Early’s army presented significant dangers. Now, months later, he thinks of his wife and their two young sons. He dwells on a memory of seeing John Brown’s body, accompanied by Brown’s widow, in Vermont on its way to his final resting place in New York.
Eustis Marsh, lieutenant and helpful right-hand man to Weybridge, convinces Weybridge to come closer to the camp. Later that morning, Weybridge receives orders: His men are to be one of four companies to cross the Opequan River and storm the woods on the other side, with the short-term goal of taking Berryville. This is part of a much larger objective: to destroy or steal harvests before burning the fields and forests, preventing the valley’s continued use as a “granary” for Southern troops.
In the fight, Weybridge’s company is caught in enemy fire as they cross the water; he expects only infantrymen, but cannons with canisters (artillery in can-shaped containers that explode musket balls and shrapnel) surprise him, and a “massive blast” sends him and Marsh flying.
Libby has a meager dinner with Joseph, Sally, and Jubilee. She supports the South, though her family never enslaved others, and her husband freed the people enslaved by his father as soon as it became his choice to do so. She feels that enslavement is a “stain” on the South and wishes this war had not been visited upon her and her family, when enslavement is the sin of others.
The four discuss the need for ammunition for their new Colt revolver, and Jubilee suggests a neighbor, Leveritt Covington. Thinking about self-protection and teaching Jubilee to shoot to defend herself, Libby agrees to visit Covington if the nearby artillery sounds die down. Libby reflects on her husband, injured at Gettysburg and captured. She also thinks about their proximity to the North’s territory. With Winchester being north of Washington, DC, it was no wonder the nearby land had changed hands frequently during the war.
Later, Libby visits Covington. As she chats politely with the elderly man about the nearby fighting and the deterioration of both armies’ standards, Libby realizes that asking the man for ammunition is too risky; Covington will know a Colt must belong to a Mosby man or a Yankee, since no other fighters carried them. She also hears footsteps in the house but knows they are too heavy to belong to either Covington’s bedridden sister or his enslaved “house servant,” and she grows surer she cannot wholly trust Covington. She pretends instead that she came to ask for the old man’s thoughts on the election, the war, and the chances of Peter’s return.
Weybridge regains consciousness, but two fingers on his left hand are missing, and his right leg is barely attached from the thigh down. Marsh uses his canteen strap and ramrod to fashion a tourniquet, saving Weybridge’s life. Marsh and a few men carry Weybridge to the hospital tent. The doctor assesses Weybridge. He tells him the leg cannot be saved and they will “worry about [his hand] later” (49). Weybridge understands that he may not survive amputation long enough for the fingers to be a concern. They give him chloroform for the surgery.
Later, Weybridge awakens. A private tells him he is in the “nicest bedroom” of an abandoned rebel house. The private gives him opium and water. Time becomes unintelligible for Weybridge as he struggles against pain and infection, but at some point, the men assigned to stay with him flee to follow the departing army. Weybridge realizes he is alone. When he is able, he crawls to the window and hollers for help. Delirious, he can barely sleep once his opium runs out. He mourns that he will not be able to share literary greats like Dickens and Poe with his sons. He cannot tell how much time passes, but it is late at night when a woman arrives and stands in the bedroom doorway with a candle.
Libby realizes the man’s condition is dire and tells Joseph they will need a doctor’s help. She is appalled that the Northerners would leave a captain (like Peter and Robert) behind, but Joseph reminds her “the crime would be just as awful before God” if the man had been of lesser rank (62). Looking for beebalm that day at the abandoned house, Sally heard cries for help; upon hearing this, Libby decided to investigate.
She hopes the man has a gun she can add to her arsenal, but he doesn’t. She does not question taking the man home so that he does not die alone; it is simply something she must do. Libby and Joseph manage to support his physical weight as they descend the stairs; Libby is strong enough to help because of all the flour sacks she lifts. Feeling even more mired by responsibility at this turn of events, she reflects on the war’s emotional toll, thinking she will be gray before reaching the age of 25.
The narrative is framed almost exclusively through a third-person, limited omniscient point of view that focuses on Libby and Weybridge’s perspectives. Each chapter is told either from Libby’s perspective at her home and nearby surroundings, or from Weybridge’s, at the encampment, the battle, the hospital tent, and the abandoned house. By the end of this opening section of chapters, Weybridge’s setting shifts to Libby’s house, but their viewpoints will continue to reveal the story in separate chapters. This strategy establishes the details of the everyday experiences on both sides of the Civil War, establishing early on the narrative’s attention to the individuals trapped and affected by the conflict.
The novel’s initial characterization of the main figures establishes a dichotomy of two very different personalities, highlighted by the different tones of their passages. Weybridge, fittingly for a professor of literature, thinks and reacts in metaphorical and romanticized ways. He mourns his lost and injured men, for example, along with his own lost innocence, and marvels at the strange juxtapositions evident in wartime: “Their lives swayed like plumb bobs between boredom and brutality, between tediousness and terror” (18). He also compares the geographical and weather differences between Vermont and Virginia, which triggers a memory of seeing John Brown in Vermont. This allusion to the historical figure is ironic, considering Weybridge is stationed at Harper’s Ferry, where the abolitionist attempted but failed to take weapons from a federal arsenal and lead an uprising of enslaved people in 1859.
Weybridge’s literary language continues even after his terrible injuries, evident when he reacts to the field surgeon’s appearance: “He was a pirate. A bloody sunburned pirate” (49). That the surgeon touches Weybridge’s filthy skin barehanded while holding the surgical knife in his mouth hints at the limited medical standards of the day; the author reveals this historical fact, however, while keeping the focus on character conflict and indirect development with the pirate metaphor. Later, as Weybridge faces dying abandoned and alone, he is not simply missing his family but specifically regrets never being able to see his boys discover fine writers. Weybridge struggles with the hard turns of a harsh world even before his fight to survive begins, establishing an interior conflict to overcome in the story.
Libby is characterized in a way that pointedly contrasts with Weybridge’s romantic ideals and reactions. She misses her husband but is too busy to pine for him. When she thinks about their early marriage and romantic times together, she does not feel longing so much as morbid curiosity for the kind of life they (or she alone) will have in the future, once the war is over. Her goals are to run the mill, accumulate weapons, and maintain some safety for Jubilee, Sally, and Joseph despite the threat of fighting nearby and the Confederacy’s demands for grain. At 24, Libby demonstrates insight beyond her years, cured by hard work, sadness, loss, and suspicion. This last is evident when she makes the mile-and-a-half trek to Covington for bullets, then covers her true intent when she realizes she cannot trust him. Despite her weariness with the war, Libby tackles each day with a determination that develops the theme of Civilian Resilience Under Military Authority. She is wholly invested in her external conflicts at this juncture; she will only face her significant, inner emotional demons when her interactions with Weybridge grow comfortable as a result of Humanizing the Enemy Through Shared Vulnerability. From these foundational characterizations, Libby’s and Weybridge’s arcs will commence on paths of change that intertwine.
While Joseph, Sally, and Marsh serve as secondary figures who support and guide Libby and Weybridge, Jubilee serves as a kind of “wild child,” both literally and figuratively, in the cast of characters. A 12-year-old girl, she is outspoken, offers her ideas and reactions as soon as she thinks or feels them, and does not apologize for it. However, though Libby’s burdens are greater for having to serve as guardian to Jubilee, the girl is not a thorn in her side; in fact, she is the one who mentions Covington’s potential worth as a source of bullets. Jubilee’s role as an intimate observer of and vocal commentator on the actions of others throughout the narrative foreshadows her brief but impactful voice of criticism in the falling action and Epilogue.



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