The Shiloh Series: Books 1-3

by Phillip Bryant

  “Almost through,” Peter rejoiced.

  Stephen and Fredrick slowly set the pieces upright on the board. All three glared at Will and Jackson, but even their anger was drowned out by the sounds of the saw working on the wood. Listening intently to that was all they could manage to do. Now was the time to steel themselves for the run to freedom. Fredrick and Stephen held on to the box, not so much to steady it but to gather themselves. Peter giggled excitedly from within. Lewis, glaring first at Will, then at the others, gripped the box tightly to keep it level. One more hollow plunk, the last board falling to the grass. It was time.

  “If I figured it out, others have too. If yer going to go, you’d better go now,” Will said quietly. “Go.”

  The sounds of scuffing from within ceased, and for the first time since they had sat down to play, the box wasn’t rocking or tipping. Will lifted one end of the box and motioned for Stephen to slide in. Looking from Fredrick to Lewis, Stephen rolled under the box. Will pretended to look over the replaced chess pieces and winked at Fredrick. Jackson stood by Will and folded his arms.

  “This here’s my captain; he goin’ along,” Will said to Fredrick and Lewis. Lewis just glared at both men, and as movement from within the box stilled, Will motioned to Fredrick to go next.

  ****

  Columbus wasn’t easy to skirt around. Camp Chase occupied an area north of the outskirts of the city, but the city itself was wide and sprawling. Woods covered a small portion of their journey, but it was dodge and sneak from one corner to another, through alleys and tenements until by early morning they had managed to emerge south of the city limits and back into the cover of woods where they all collapsed. So far the group of privates had tolerated the two interlopers, but Hopewell was beginning to grate on Will.

  “Now, you two,” Lewis said motioning to Will and Jackson, “you two can get on yer own way. I’ll not be riskin’ my skin to some two strangers what forced they way into my plans.”

  “We be better stickin’ together, right?” Peter asked.

  “An’ I tole you I’d not be lettin’ you drag me down, neither,” Lewis replied.

  “A big group’s gonna draw attention,” Will said. “It’s sensible to split up.”

  Stephen looked from Lewis to Will, undecided as to who might be more trustworthy. It was the devil he knew to the one he didn’t. “I’ll take my chances with you, if you don’t mind?” he said looking at Will.

  “No, don’t leave me!” Peter cried.

  “Shhhh!” Lewis said angrily.

  “Can I come with you?” Peter asked Stephen.

  Jackson was silent. He was tired, and his shoulder was really aching, making taking a deep breath uncomfortable. These privates needed to be commanded, and he had the rank. “No, we’re better off just keeping the groups small.”

  Will nodded in agreement.

  “Can Peter and I come with you?” Stephen asked Will.

  “They’s six of us. We split into threes an’ keep half a day’s pace from each other, stick to the woods an’ out of sight, keep on a track south to Cincinnati. I take you an’ you,” Will pointed to Stephen and Peter, “an’ you take them other two,” to Jackson.

  “Now hold on—I ain’t here to drag no one around with me, specially no officer,” Lewis protested. “You can faller me, but don’t be getting’ no ideas of tellin’ me what to do, got that? You ain’t no officer here.”

  Jackson paused a moment. This wasn’t necessarily to his liking—he didn’t want to lose track of Hunter. If he was going to get his bargaining chip, he also wanted a little revenge if he could manage it. And he’d only just met Hopewell, but already he didn’t like the man. Apparently some of the others felt the same way.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Fredrick. “I don’t want to go without Stephen either.” It was going to fall to him to go with Lewis and the stranger called Jackson.

  “Well, then, a group of four an’ a group of two,” Will said, exasperated. The morning light was just beginning to lighten the skyline as the group huddled in a circle in the woods where they’d rested. They’d moved all night, something Will had pushed them to do.

  Jackson and Lewis eyed each other closely.

  “Don’t be gettin’ no ideas in yer head. I’ll not truck with no bein’ ordered about by some dandy officer,” Lewis said.

  “We sleep here till dusk an’ then set out, one group first an’ then t’ other. Keep the same trail an’ direction.”

  Jackson nodded and looked wearily at Will. It had been his own idea to split up; now he was going to have to rethink his position.

  For Will, it was unexpected, but nevertheless gratifying to be rid of Jackson altogether. If he decided to go off an’ turn the corn, he’d get Lewis in trouble instead of Will.

  “We’ll take turns keeping watch,” Will said. “I’ll go first.”

  Chapter 16

  Woods East of Springfield, Ohio, August 16, 1862

  Peter Pritchert squirmed beneath the covering of leaves they used to conceal themselves by day. The fading sunlight wasn’t fading quickly enough. Three days on the run. They were all uncomfortable, lying in the dirt and trying to stay still for hours as they waited for the anonymity of darkness. The first day of travel had been a chore. No food and water to carry, little sense of what direction they should be going or if they were on the right roads. Signs, when present, pointed the way to Dayton, Ohio, a name they recognized as a brief stopover point on their way to the prison. They had marched from Cincinnati all the way to Columbus and now were having to do it in reverse with no guide and no marching orders.

  Will’s group was the first to leave after their first night’s journey through Columbus. Jackson and Lewis would give them a six-hour head start, and from then on it would just be the four of them to worry about.

  Will Hunter stayed still and watched the sunlight sink beneath the canopy of trees to the west. The roadway was slowly becoming hospitable for easy travel. Peter was squirming next to Will, but he ignored him. It was nearing time to get on with the journey. Will had traversed these roads before. Rising for the first time in hours, he said, “Come on, let’s get moving.”

  The four of them, on unsteady legs, stood, brushed off the leaves and soil, and shook themselves out. Walking single file, they made their way across a field and onto the road where the walking would be faster. It was a summer night, and few people would be traveling after dark. The houses by the roadside were lit from time to time in parlor windows, and a dog would bark at their progress. Trudging through the night, they beheld the bucolic beauty of the Miami River Valley in southeastern Ohio, crisscrossed with streams, creeks, and farmhouses. About midnight, they skirted the outskirts of Springfield and made their way back onto the Dayton road.

  “Sir. Lieutenant, we’re going to need to find food soon,” Stephen whispered as they trudged along, keeping a single file as if being marched out to fatigue detail.

  “I’ve been lookin’ for a good place to get something we don’t have to cook to eat. I’m not seein’ much but animal feed,” Will replied.

  “Sir, mind my asking, but how’d you know we was plannin’ an escape?” Stephen asked. He was walking behind Will, with Peter behind him and Fredrick bringing up the rear.

  “You boys was pretty obvious; just no one was really watchin’ is all,” Will said leaving out his eavesdropping.

  “You been watchin’ us since that day you asked what we were doing!” The epiphany hit Stephen. “You knew from that day?”

  “No, but I knew you was up to no good, an’ that’s the kind of no good I sniff out, see. I just had to watch you fellers to see what you were up to. When I found that dead spot in the wall, I knew what the box was for. After that, it was just to watch you to see when.”

  Stephen, deflated, said, “Oh. We thought we was being clever.”

  “It were clever, an’ no one else caught on. But I got a sense fer things that ain’t right, and you boys was really not right,” Will said w
ith a chuckle.

  “What weren’t right?” Peter’s voice asked from behind.

  Turning over his shoulder, Stephen answered, “The lieutenant could tell something was up from that first day he asked us what we was doing.”

  “Oh,” came the reply.

  Calling over his shoulder, Will said, “You boys lucky it worked an’ that we haven’t been caught yet.”

  “Where were you captured?” Stephen asked.

  In the barracks, that was a question one tired easily of answering. It was the introduction after the exchange of names and units, like an exchange of names and family lineage. But out here it wasn’t so bad. Will, clearing his throat, answered, “On the eve of Shiloh. I’s captured in a cavalry skirmish outside the Federal camp. Kearns had me under arrest, took my horse, an’ the enemy soon swept over an’ gobbled me up, but Kearns got a’ shoulder wound an’ captured fer his trouble too.”

  Bitterness twinged his voice. Will was older than all three men—he guessed he had at least five years on Fredrick and more than eight on Stephen and Peter.

  “An’ you brung him along?”

  “Not by choice. He’d of made sure I weren’t gonna get away. He got out of the hospital an’ was my shadow. It were that or stay behind. So he come along. Caught him trying to reveal the corn with the keepers, least what I think he was tryin’ to do.”

  “What if he tries again?”

  Will grinned. “He’s Lewis’ problem now.”

  “You act as if you know the way,” Stephen said.

  “Been here before,” came Will’s reply.

  “How?” Peter asked.

  “I tracked runaway slaves; come here to Ohio a couple of times and even as far as Columbus. But they make it into Ohio too far an’ you’ve lost them forever. But I don’t like to lose, neither, so I made it one time to Columbus lookin’ for a slave.”

  “Bloody battle, that was, Shiloh,” Stephen said.

  “What I heard,” Will replied.

  “You think they lookin’ for us yet?” Stephen asked.

  “Sure, won’t have taken long to find that hole in their wall. They’ll be looking day an’ night, but we hole up during the day an’ move at night, we just might make it,” Will said. “It’s going to be a long walk.”

  “So you ain’t no planter’s son?” Stephen asked.

  “No; son of a drunk. I’s elected sergeant an’ then lieutenant. Didn’t have stars conferred on me because of birth, if that’s what yer askin’.”

  “Only officers we knew were sons of planters and politicians,” Stephen replied.

  “Common blood runs through these veins, sure,” Will replied. “How’d you three get mixed up with Hopewell? You boys ain’t cut out fer this game. What made you want to go an’ risk getting’ shot if recaptured?”

  Stephen shrugged. “Lewis wanted to get out, he kept other prisoners from preying on us, we wanted to get out too. I wanted to get home.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Carthage, Mississippi. I miss my maw and paw an’ my brothers and sisters. The war were a game at the beginning, an’ Willie Banks an’ I didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Willie?”

  “Friend, killed at Shiloh.”

  “Big family. I’s got a little brother. Don’t has a close family.”

  “No sisters?” Stephen asked. Talking in low tones had made the trek this evening more bearable given the rumble in his stomach. There was nothing to look at in the dark of the wood as they tripped along a narrow trail.

  “No, no sisters,” Will replied sharply. Talk of family and childhood was not on his list of topics. “You wanted to get home so bad you decide to escape with a man who’s close to mad an’ bring along a boy who can’t take two steps without someone to prod him along?” Will said with a chuckle.

  “What’s he sayin’?” Peter asked.

  “You can’t take two steps without one o’ us havin’ to kick you in the arse,” Will replied.

  “Oh.”

  “We stick together, least the three of us. Lewis needed us to pull the escape off, an’ I ain’t sorry to see him go it alone, but we wanted to be out of there as bad as he.”

  “Keep yer head down an’ eyes open an’ don’t give up; do that an’ you make it,” Will said to Stephen.

  Will kept up a good pace along the roadside, and as the night wore on, all fell quiet save for the tripping noises behind Will. He was hungry, and his legs were getting tired. He had been cooped up in one place or another now for five months, with little in the way of activity. He was a cavalryman and unused to walking great lengths anyway. He knew that if they dawdled, they would be found.

  At daybreak they made for the nearest patch of woods, and he saw that they got comfortable for a sleep. He would head back to the road and see if he could find someone willing to part with some bread.

  Making his way along, he felt back in his element. He’d knock on the first door that seemed inviting and hope they’d buy his story.

  With daybreak came the awakening of the farms. Old men and young boys were all he saw doing the chores. Knocking on the door of a small house close by the roadside, Will guessed they might be set for travelers as he smelled breakfast and coffee wafting through the open windows and the noise of conversations from within. When he’d been on the road for days at a time tracking a slave, he’d learned to spot a hospitable house—often one kept by a widow and too large for just her to run with her fatherless children. The house and fields would look unkept and un-repaired. This one fit the bill. Straightening his tunic coat, he hoped they’d not be rabid Unionists.

  The door opened, and a portly woman stood in the doorway in her aprons, looking barely awake and suspicious. Will guessed it was the uniform. “Yes?” the woman asked after a moment of studying him.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but I wondered if I could trouble you fer some bread an’ salt pork? I been exchanged and headed south fer home, I was robbed of the food they give me fer the journey, along with the government horse I was riding. I’d be glad to help you with anythin’ in return fer the food; I noticed your fences is in need of repair.”

  “You a prisoner?” she asked in a shy, husky voice. She was aged, in her fifties if he was to guess, and her hands, which she clutched to her bosom, were reddened from washing.

  “Were a prisoner, ma’am, now I’m exchanged an’ headed home. I’d be much obliged for whatever you can spare.”

  “We just settin’ table. You can come and join us,” the woman said as she stepped out of the doorway and disappeared into the house. Will followed and became aware of how much he’d missed the smell of a house at breakfast time. Eggs, potatoes, bread, and coffee. Through a narrow doorway and into a dining area, Will encountered at a long table several Federal officers in various stages of dress. All looked up from their food with surprise at having a Rebel officer in their midst.

  “Emma, grab another plate,” the woman called into the kitchen from which all of the enticing aromas of cooking wafted. She pointed to one of the empty chairs and bustled out of the room. The dining area was typical boarding house, with nothing overly personal in décor, and given the state of the property, they had not been wealthy farmers. Plain plates and a plain wood table, with plain and oft-repaired wooden chairs, offered a place for a traveler to repast. The other men at the table nodded in greeting. There was little talk, and the Federal officers seemed to be traveling in a group, as they had an easy air about them in familiar company. A young girl Will judged to be about fifteen brought out a plate loaded with eggs and fried potatoes and sausages. Will was hungry and wolfed it down quickly, wondering how he was going to be able to get some of the hot food to the others.

  “Where you from, Reb?” One of the officers at the table finally broke the ice.

  “Alabama,” Will replied curtly between bites.

  “Why you wandering about without a guard?”

  “Exchanged.” Will chewed, then added, “Headed home. Lost supplies and hor
se.”

  “You lost your horse? You in the cavalry, an’ you lost yer horse?” the officer with beady eyes and a cruel chin exclaimed.

  “Stole.”

  The Federals exchanged smirks.

  “You come from Camp Chase?” the younger of the officers asked as he scratched his chest.

  “Yes, from Camp Chase.” Will was beginning to get edgy. They were asking too many questions, and he’d stayed too long feeding his face. He didn’t know if they were familiar with the camp or with the protocol for prisoner exchange, a protocol of which he had no idea himself. If he told a tall one and they knew better, it would be all up.

  The young girl returned and cleaned up the other plates and brought more coffee. The other officers looked like they were new to the service.

  “Colonel Moody in charge of Camp Chase prison … a Methodist preacher from these parts,” Will added, testing the waters.

  “Oh?” came the reply of one, confirming what Will thought.

  “Yes. We was well taken care of, as far as bein’ a prisoner go.”

  “Probably better than you deserved,” the last man at the table sneered. He was mousy in his features, with a small nose and narrow-set, beady eyes, overly large ears, and cruel chin. It was clear these men had yet to see a fight. They could be home guards for all he knew. The green troops and those who had been left behind on garrison duty knew little of the privations of campaign or the horror of combat. These were the ones who’d bully a prisoner for looking at them a certain way, a far cry from how he had been treated when he first surrendered.

  Will let the comment go, though if all things had been even, he’d probably have pushed the man into a fight and then beaten him within an inch of his life.

  “You been on the road long, Reb?” the unassuming man at the table asked, a quiet expression on his face. Will liked him. He had a countenance that meant he was inclined not to make any quick moves or accusations. He’d probably not question anything either.

  “Few days,” Will replied and took a bite to discourage more questions.