different, younger. Maybe this Colonel Blair has a great-grandson who’s been bothering me?” I say hopefully.
She shakes her head.
“He never married. He was only fourteen when this picture was taken.” Passing me another picture frame off the mantel, she continues, “This picture was taken in December of 1864, a couple months before his seventeenth birthday and the end of the war. As you can see, he is a highly decorated soldier at that time. With his experience with horses and his natural leadership skills, he was quickly advanced through the Confederate ranks.”
I fight to keep my hands from trembling. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that this is the same guy who’s been walking past my window each day.
“What happened to him?” I barely whisper, still trying to find a way to convince myself that Sunny is somehow wrong and this is all some crazy mistake.
She pulls a chair out for me and we both sit at her dining room table. “I’ve been researching this house while I’ve been fixing it up, and the Blairs are a mysterious family. It’s been hard finding information about them. It’s strange, but I’ve found very little about them for being such an important family in Virginia City. Most of what I know is based on speculation. However, it’s best if I start at the beginning with the facts.
“James’s father, John Blair, was a prominent plantation owner near New Orleans. He married a beautiful French woman named Emily. Not even a year into their marriage, Emily died in childbirth, but the child survived. Without a mother, James was raised by his Great-Aunt Mary. In 1859, John abruptly freed his slaves and sold his family’s vast plantation. He generously split the money with his younger brother, Samuel, and invested his share in Comstock Lode. He left James with Mary in New Orleans and came west. He was one of the original stockholders of the extremely lucrative mines in Virginia City and was a very rich man before the start of the Civil War. In 1862, he went back to Louisiana for James and was called up by the Confederates. James was only fourteen when he followed his father to war.”
“Why?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Not even the historians agree, but I have my suspicions. However, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Being a true Southerner, John was drafted into the cavalry, leaving his only son James to manage the mines from thousands of miles away. The irony is that, had John retained twenty of his slaves, he would have been exempt from the Confederate draft. Still, he hoped the war would end quickly to spare his son having to fight. James, however, had other plans. He signed up and was soon fighting, side-by-side, with his father.”
“But he was so young, why did he sign up?” I reword my previous question.
“I suspect his father was his whole world. James’s mother died when he was so young that he couldn’t bear being separated from John, too.”
“Who took care of the mines?” I ask the obvious.
“John’s younger brother, Samuel, eventually made his way to Virginia City, and he would have been more than happy if both his brother and nephew had died in battle. John had given his younger brother an impressive inheritance, but, from what I’ve read, he squandered it and wanted John’s mines. I’m sure he celebrated the day he received word that John had been killed in the Battle of Chancellorsville. What he didn’t expect was what James did next. He had the audacity of becoming a war hero and not just among Southerners.
“After John died, James seemed to lose all will to live. He went into battle like a lion. That, and his dashing good looks, made him an instant favorite in the Southern newspapers. But that wasn’t all; he fought like a lion and then showed such compassion and mercy to the wounded Union soldiers afterward that the Union papers began printing pictures of him as well. They called him ‘Gentleman James.’ When he was
She shakes her head.
“He never married. He was only fourteen when this picture was taken.” Passing me another picture frame off the mantel, she continues, “This picture was taken in December of 1864, a couple months before his seventeenth birthday and the end of the war. As you can see, he is a highly decorated soldier at that time. With his experience with horses and his natural leadership skills, he was quickly advanced through the Confederate ranks.”
I fight to keep my hands from trembling. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that this is the same guy who’s been walking past my window each day.
“What happened to him?” I barely whisper, still trying to find a way to convince myself that Sunny is somehow wrong and this is all some crazy mistake.
She pulls a chair out for me and we both sit at her dining room table. “I’ve been researching this house while I’ve been fixing it up, and the Blairs are a mysterious family. It’s been hard finding information about them. It’s strange, but I’ve found very little about them for being such an important family in Virginia City. Most of what I know is based on speculation. However, it’s best if I start at the beginning with the facts.
“James’s father, John Blair, was a prominent plantation owner near New Orleans. He married a beautiful French woman named Emily. Not even a year into their marriage, Emily died in childbirth, but the child survived. Without a mother, James was raised by his Great-Aunt Mary. In 1859, John abruptly freed his slaves and sold his family’s vast plantation. He generously split the money with his younger brother, Samuel, and invested his share in Comstock Lode. He left James with Mary in New Orleans and came west. He was one of the original stockholders of the extremely lucrative mines in Virginia City and was a very rich man before the start of the Civil War. In 1862, he went back to Louisiana for James and was called up by the Confederates. James was only fourteen when he followed his father to war.”
“Why?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Not even the historians agree, but I have my suspicions. However, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Being a true Southerner, John was drafted into the cavalry, leaving his only son James to manage the mines from thousands of miles away. The irony is that, had John retained twenty of his slaves, he would have been exempt from the Confederate draft. Still, he hoped the war would end quickly to spare his son having to fight. James, however, had other plans. He signed up and was soon fighting, side-by-side, with his father.”
“But he was so young, why did he sign up?” I reword my previous question.
“I suspect his father was his whole world. James’s mother died when he was so young that he couldn’t bear being separated from John, too.”
“Who took care of the mines?” I ask the obvious.
“John’s younger brother, Samuel, eventually made his way to Virginia City, and he would have been more than happy if both his brother and nephew had died in battle. John had given his younger brother an impressive inheritance, but, from what I’ve read, he squandered it and wanted John’s mines. I’m sure he celebrated the day he received word that John had been killed in the Battle of Chancellorsville. What he didn’t expect was what James did next. He had the audacity of becoming a war hero and not just among Southerners.
“After John died, James seemed to lose all will to live. He went into battle like a lion. That, and his dashing good looks, made him an instant favorite in the Southern newspapers. But that wasn’t all; he fought like a lion and then showed such compassion and mercy to the wounded Union soldiers afterward that the Union papers began printing pictures of him as well. They called him ‘Gentleman James.’ When he was
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