Hid Wounded Reb

by J. L. Salter

  When he arrived at her place, Mitch was still bristly about the extra sandwich for Ginny, but was so glad to see Kelly he didn’t even mention the five dollars expended for an intrusive refugee who’d disrupted the recent flow of things. The recent different flow, as best he could discern. He was also chafing because he still had not found a chance to probe whether Kelly also sensed a shift in their relationship since the cave-in. It certainly wouldn’t be possible to discuss anything important with an intruder around. Yeah, things are different! Can’t even talk to Kelly!

  “Mitch, this is Ginny Cable.” Kelly took the sack of hoagies inside and gave the two strangers a minute on the porch.

  “Hi. Bill Mitchell. I spent about a month in Pop’s farm house some time after you’d left.”

  “I’m sorry it was such a mess. I, um, didn’t have a chance to pack up… or straighten up, and stuff.”

  Mitch shrugged and held the cabin door open for her.

  All three ate at the table, with Perra making the rounds among the chairs. Gato feigned complete disinterest at the guest and the hoagie meats. No one discussed Ginny’s situation.

  After they finished eating, Ginny headed to the bathroom. Kelly and Mitch went out to the porch.

  “Okay, bring me up to speed.” Mitch moved a rocker where he could better see Kelly’s face.

  Kelly closed her eyes as if preparing a long story. “I’ll skip some of the context and just give you the high points. Ginny had gotten in some kind of squeeze play in high school and ended up with a small group who were a lot wilder than she’d imagined. She thought they were cool at first because they tended toward the Goth look and had loud disdain for everything to do with adults. And, of course, they hated or resented the other kids who weren’t like them.”

  Mitch shifted from his sore hip.

  Kelly continued. “But when members of that group got involved with selling and stealing drugs, Ginny got scared. She tried to ease away, but they literally wouldn’t let her leave. At that point she wasn’t actually imprisoned or anything, but somebody was with her constantly and she was always watched. She didn’t explain — not to my satisfaction, anyway — why the group refused to let her go.”

  “Maybe because she knew too much about what they were doing.”

  Kelly nodded. “Anyway, later, she actually escaped. She ran to where she thought she was safe — home. But her folks couldn’t handle her and did the precise thing she dreaded most, they contacted one of the people in the drugged-out gang. Ginny’s parents had their heads in the sand, or maybe just didn’t realize how whacked out these other kids had gotten.”

  Mitch was eager to interrupt, but Kelly motioned for him to wait.

  “So anyway, Ginny was doomed. She was an outcast but they wouldn’t turn her loose. They somehow viewed her as a potential betrayer and didn’t trust her, but nothing she did or said made them want to get rid of her. Which might be a key — they probably were thinking about getting rid of her, but they hadn’t gotten quite wild enough to kill her yet. So she was stuck with them and they were stuck with her.”

  “Where was all this going on? Here in Somerset?”

  “No, a county over east of here.” Kelly pointed vaguely. “One day, somehow — Ginny didn’t really explain — she slipped away. She gave me the impression she’d gotten friendlier with one guy than she wanted to, thinking she could gain an advantage and get enough slack to escape. She did escape, later, evidently during a robbery or something, a part still fuzzy to me. But the guy she’d befriended was badly beaten by the others after Ginny escaped, even though he hadn’t materially helped her. He’d just relaxed his guard a bit and hadn’t watched her closely enough.”

  “Nice bunch of pals. How’d Ginny find out about the beating, if she was already gone by then?”

  “Not sure. Evidently she’s had limited additional contact with her parents, even though they didn’t protect her when she really needed them. Guess they spotted something in their local paper. Anyway, so Ginny had only her clothes and shoes and a few things she’d gotten from her home. Her family still didn’t want her back, by the way — as best I can tell — even after learning how violent the so-called friends were. But they did give her a little money, with which she ended up in Somerset a little over two years ago and rented the farm house from Pop.”

  “Why the farm house?”

  “Well, not sure. It’s somewhat off the beaten track, yet pretty close to two significant highways.” She shrugged.

  “What brought her here? I can think of better places to hide than Somerset.”

  “Not sure. Anyway, Ginny lived in Pop’s farm house very quietly for about seven months, always watching the road, always scared they’d find her. One day, somewhere in town, she noticed one of them. Ginny freaked. She hurried back to the farm house, grabbed a couple of things, and disappeared. Dropped out of sight, and she’s been out of Pulaski for these eighteen or nineteen months.”

  “What brought her back? Why now?”

  “It’s still fuzzy. She implied she’d left something but acted like it didn’t matter enough to explain it. Obviously if it’s important enough to return for, it’s important enough to explain. But I let her hold back that little secret for the time being. The main thing I wanted to know was what you and I already talked about, if she was running from the authorities. According to her, she’s done nothing wrong… at least nothing against the law. She does have a juvenile record, but it’s mostly a mistake. Things were pretty wild in that group. But they were the ones stealing, buying and selling illegal drugs, getting stoned or fried… or whatever they call it now. They were the ones who nearly killed the guy who inadvertently allowed Ginny to escape. But she was a hostage, not an accessory.”

  “So those punks are also the ones searching for her now.”

  “I guess that’s a logical conclusion.”

  “Kelly, this is insane. If those creeps find out where she is, you’ll be in as much danger as Ginny is. You’ve got to send her somewhere else.”

  “Where else? Where can she go? She can’t go home. She can’t go anywhere near where she used to live when she was with those creeps. This is as close to a safe haven as she’s got. I can’t run her off.”

  “What about social service agencies? Homeless shelters? Rescue missions?”

  “Those are the first places the bad guys would hunt for somebody without a place to stay.” Kelly shook her head. “No, she’s safer in my cabin than she’d be anywhere else.”

  “Maybe so. But are you?”

  “Mitch, this is important to me. Don’t let it be something that pushes us apart.”

  He reached for her hand and held it gently. “Kelly, I love you and I’m worried about you. Seriously. I think this situation is not only extremely inadvisable, I’m scared it’s really dangerous. It’s one thing to try to help someone who’s got nowhere else to go. I don’t know I’d do it, but I admire you — I mean it — for wanting to help her. But if those creeps nearly killed one of their own guys, what do you think they’ll do to anybody else who gets in their way?”

  “I know, I know. Mitch, I doubt I can explain so it’ll make sense to anybody but me, but, like I told you, I’ve been in a situation not unlike the one Ginny’s been sucked into. I’ve been in her shoes and frantic for a safe harbor. But most important, I’ve been turned away. I just can’t do it to her. Maybe not to anybody.”

  “Kelly…” He realized she had closed the topic, so Mitch went silent.

  ****

  Kelly heard a crash from the kitchen area. Ginny had dropped a glass when Gato suddenly leaped up to the counter to check his little food dish, so Kelly went in and started to clean up the spill.

  Ginny took the spray cleaner out of her hand. “My bad.”

  Kelly left the mess to Ginny but checked through the window occasionally as the refugee picked up broken glass pieces. Then she re-shifted her focus to Mitch. “Oh, this was interesting.” Kelly touched his arm for emphasis. “I happened
to mention, just in passing, we had investigated the red platform shoe. Ginny went positively stone white.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She asked me, with considerable urgency, ‘Where’d you find it?’ So I explained you’d found it at the farm house along with three lawn bags full of other clothing.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. Ginny seemed relieved, but she didn’t explain — either about the shoe or why she got so agitated when I’d mentioned it. And she didn’t ask what happened to her other clothes. Didn’t say she wished she had some of those designer things to wear. It was unreal.”

  Through the window, Kelly could see Ginny had finished with the cleanup and was actually stroking the big cat — a good sign.

  Soon, Ginny sat flipping through a magazine… though, clearly, none of Kelly’s selections really interested her. Kelly didn’t purchase any magazines, but people often gave her old issues; she kept the ones which interested her and recycled the rest.

  Perra was busy outside checking scents and trails.

  Obviously, Mitch was still adamantly opposed to the situation — out of concern for Kelly’s safety, he said — but he had settled down considerably in the half hour since they’d temporarily dropped the subject.

  Kelly and Mitch were still out on the porch. One chair held papers and files which Kelly had accumulated. Mitch occupied the other chair.

  Sometimes Kelly could think better when she said things out loud to Mitch, and he was a willing listener. She’d been telling him about her strolls through the minds of Belva and Mary Butler. Leaning on the porch rail, Kelly was catching the early afternoon sun on her bare legs. Hot day, nice for cutoffs. Her cell phone rang. Don Norman.

  “Hi, Don, what’s up?” She paced slowly while talking on the phone.

  Mitch couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but he was obviously focused on her movement. He had previously offered the assessment that Kelly had the grace of a dancer who was not conscious of being watched and not scanning herself in a mirror. “No narcissism, no apparent consciousness of self,” he had said, “just grace.”

  “I tracked down those units at Dutton Hill. Just the Rebels, though. Right?” Don continued before Kelly could reply. “Well, on that particular raid from Tennessee, Pegram’s Brigade consisted of Huwald’s Battery, with three Tennessee Mountain Howitzers, an escort company, and four regiments of cavalry. There was the 1st Georgia, 1st Louisiana, 1st Tennessee… Carter’s, and 2nd Tennessee… Ashby’s. The escort company was from Ashby’s regiment.”

  “That’s all? None of the regiments were numbered D 16?”

  “All the regiments. But part of another battalion was there with Pegram at Dutton Hill. Sometimes they’re referred to as Rucker’s Battalion, but in other places they’re called Neal’s 16th Tennessee Cavalry Battalion. The 16th Battalion, minus two companies left back somewhere else, was there with Pegram’s Brigade.”

  Kelly very nearly squealed with delight at mention of the number sixteen. “Well, the markings of the cave wall had 16, but it had a D in front — D 16. Does the D fit any other unit Pegram brought along?” As Kelly paced, Mitch continued to watch her legs, just showing the beginnings of a light tan.

  The way Don paused on the phone made Kelly suspect he was stalling. “Well, all the battalions had companies. Companies mostly used letters. So you could have B Company, C Company, whatever.”

  “How many companies did the 16th Battalion have?” Kelly had caught on; Don was playing it out the Kentucky way — a few key words at a time. Aggravating.

  “I don’t know which two companies were left behind, but the entire battalion had A Company, two companies which seemed to use B and C interchangeably… which was bizarre. Then F Company, E Company, plus another company that might not have had a name or number. Oh, and one more…”

  “Don, are you giving me the business?” Kelly was smiling a little, but she also had teeth behind it. Fortunately for Don, he was only on the phone with her.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Kelly. Couldn’t resist. Yeah, Rucker’s 16th Battalion also had a D Company.”

  Kelly whooped. “D 16 — Company D of the 16th Tennessee Cavalry Battalion!” She flipped shut her phone without saying goodbye and zoomed toward Mitch. He quickly stood, almost in self-defense, which was not necessary, since she only wanted to hug him.

  “Mitch, we’ve got the Rebel’s unit! It places Corporal H.H. in the cave! It corroborates Belva’s diary. Maybe we can follow him back home. Maybe…”

  Mitch clearly enjoyed seeing Kelly so excited.

  Don called back.

  Kelly answered without letting go of Mitch. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hang up on you. Just got excited that we, uh, you found a unit to match our wall markings.”

  “I understand. Besides, I probably deserved it. Anyway, one quick note. Remember I told you Pegram sent a unit around the Yankee right flank? Well it turns out to have been the Louisiana regiment. Pegram blamed the battle’s loss on Colonel Scott, who led the 1st Louisiana Cavalry. Scott was sent around the flank to charge from their rear. Inexplicably, Scott turned the other way and retreated instead. He later testified one of Pegram’s aides gave him the order, but Pegram never authorized his retreat. Scott’s previous reputation had been as a daring and capable leader.” Don sounded like he was giving another briefing to school kids. “Anyway, I thought it was an interesting connection to your Louisiana friend. You can tell Diane it was her state’s unit that lost the Battle of Dutton’s Hill for the Confederates. If not for Scott’s retreat, maybe the Reb who wandered to the Butler cabin wouldn’t have been wounded… or, if wounded, maybe he wouldn’t have died. No dead Reb, no cemetery begins up on the hill. Think about it.”

  “Thanks, Don, thanks a lot. This is a huge help.”

  ****

  Ginny had returned to the front room during Kelly’s phone call and presently peered through the door glass at the source of loud rejoicing.

  “You guys okay out here?” Ginny opened the door only part way and scanned toward Macon Circle.

  Mitch nodded, not wanting anything to break his embrace with Kelly. But Ginny’s question had done it. Kelly disengaged and excitedly explained to Ginny a very short version of what she’d just learned.

  Ginny appeared bored, which made it even more difficult for Mitch to gracefully accept her arrival at the door. Ginny had ended their embrace, and she was bored with Kelly’s project. Completely unacceptable. On both counts.

  Plus Ginny owed him five bucks for the hoagie.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Wednesday, May 23

  It was about 10:30 a.m. when Kelly finished at the library and rechecked the address for the nursing home where Nora Lee James currently resided. For the past three weeks Kelly had eagerly waited to meet with the elderly lady. Since Mrs. James was correct about the corporal staying around longer than just a day or two, she might have additional detailed information not available from other sources. From weekly calls to the nursing home, Kelly had finally learned Mrs. James was well enough to receive visitors.

  Kelly had considered inviting Mitch to accompany her, but decided not to. Sometimes old ladies liked to flirt with Mitch, which was very distracting. Not that Kelly was jealous, but research needed to be research.

  It was an attractive, rather new facility in the south part of Somerset. Kelly checked in at the desk and received a temporary I.D. The receptionist provided the room number but suggested Mrs. James might be in the main recreation area for a small church choir ensemble, so it would be a good idea to stop there first. Kelly got a brief description of Mrs. James so she’d know who to look for.

  Not too surprisingly, that description fit nearly a dozen women present for the choir’s program. The director announced it was the final number, so Kelly sat at the back of the room and watched all the women who generally fit the vague description she’d been given. Finally she asked a uniformed employee, “Can you direct me to Nora Lee James?”


  “Uh, sure. She was here for the program.” The staffer rose up on her toes to scan the residents, guests, and singers milling around the large room. “There, just leaving through the side door.” She pointed.

  Kelly expressed appreciation and hurried to catch up.

  “Are you Nora Lee James?”

  “Why yes. Who are you?”

  “Kelly Randall.” She extended her hand. Nora Lee’s hand was thin, mostly bones and veins — so light and delicate, Kelly feared she’d crush it. She held the frail hand as if it were a piece of fresh bread. “I spoke to you on the phone about three weeks ago.”

  No visual clue Mrs. James remembered the call.

  “I was given your name by Don Norman, who got it from one of your James nephews, though I’m sorry I can’t recall which one.”

  “Oh, I have a lot of nephews and quite a few on the James side. Are you one of my nieces?”

  “No ma’am. I’m a reporter for the newspaper, part-time. I’m writing an article and some of your distant relatives thought you could help me with part of it.”

  “Well, I don’t write very well anymore, but I can still talk okay. What’s your story about?”

  “Is there someplace we can go sit down where it’s quiet?”

  “Well, my room has an extra chair, but I like to sit out in the garden, when it’s not too hot. Is it hot today?”

  It was warm to Kelly, but she couldn’t guess what temperature was agreeable for someone of Nora Lee’s age and frailty. “Let’s try the garden for a bit. If it’s too hot, we can come back inside.”

  “For what, dear?”

  It took a good while for them to travel the relatively short distance to the garden area. Nora Lee stopped at several rooms to greet other residents and introduce her niece to them. Kelly didn’t correct any of those misimpressions — it wouldn’t have been right.