Hogan returned, his form growing larger, and the tension in the air gradually decreased. A mosquito buzzed near Wolf’s ear and he brushed it away. He eyed the agent and spoke softly. “Reminds me of the last time we were on a dark path in the woods.”
“Don’t put a hex on us like that. We’re back on Brock Road behind the rebs. But they be close.”
“Quiet now. Rebs are close,” Wolf whispered back to Roberts and he passed the word down the command.
They started forward again, but the pounding of hooves brought them all to a halt.
“To the woods!” Wolf half-shouted.
The unit drove their horses into the dense brush, kicking up dead leaves and dirt. They waited as the riders drew closer with each pounding hoof.
A company of cavalry thundered past toward Spotsylvania. Moving like enraged ghosts, they passed, unknowing that the enemy hid in the trees within harm’s reach.
“We got them ahead of us now,” Wolf said to Hogan.
The guide scratched behind his ear, eying the way they’d come. “We could go back. Ride closer to Fredericksburg and follow the rail south that way, but it will add at least twenty miles. Or we follow them and hope they think we’re with them. But that isn’t up to this laddie, no siree.”
In the night, both ways were the same, densely forested roads in enemy territory. The longer they spent away from the main army, the more chances they had to run into rebel forces. He glanced at Wilhelm, and his sergeant gave him a nod.
“We follow them. Darkness will cover our pursuit.”
Wolf led the way to the road, kicking his horse’s flanks to move her along. The men drove their mounts from the forest and followed at a trot. The slower pace should put enough space between them unless the enemy horsemen returned by the same route. His gamble paid off, and their pursuit of the rebel cavalry went unanswered. Miles disappeared and gave way to the town of Spotsylvania.
The structures and homes appeared abandoned as if the people who lived there had packed their belongings and moved to a less volatile place. It seemed to be the crossroads of the war, a distinction no town wished to have.
Wolf lifted his hand in the air, and the riders reined in their mounts to a walk as to not engender any additional scrutiny. They crossed between lifeless home after home, shadowed and dormant like a cemetery of houses. The men kept their heads low and scanned their surroundings for the enemy. But they found neither horse nor rebel as they traversed through the town.
They passed the home of the matron Wolf had robbed during Kilpatrick’s raid months before. He eyed the yellow clapboard-sided home, wondering what had become of the elder woman who had resided there with her slaves.
In hindsight, he didn’t regret robbing the woman of her husband’s pocket watch. That watch essentially ensured his freedom from Libby Prison. He wondered if Gratz’s father held it as the last treasure of his son, unknowing that a comrade had stolen it, stuffed it in an envelope along with the secret orders to kill Jefferson Davis, and had a widow who they’d saved from being raped smuggle it north. Perhaps someday Wolf could explain it to him in person. Then again, Wolf doubted he would make it that far.
They came to a crossroads, and nothing stirred around them. Wolf’s men steered their horses onto a southern road.
“Hi there!” came a shout.
All of their eyes darted toward the voice. Shadows moved in the darkness, turning into marching men. Canteens jangled, boots thumped the ground, and the quiet coughs and words of tired men doing the infantry trudge filled the air. Hundreds of marching men in butternut and gray.
“Dear God,” Wolf muttered.
“That my friend, is a rebel infantry regiment,” Hogan said.
Wolf’s heart rate accelerated. An officer atop a horse waved at them. “Keep moving down the road,” Wolf said harshly.
His men continued forward, nervously eyeing the approaching infantry, but keeping their horses at a walk.
The officer on horseback raised his voice, cupping a hand around his mouth. He was a portly fellow with a black beard, and Wolf almost felt bad for his horse. “You boys with Fitz Lee?” He lowered his hand, and when no one responded, he spurred his horse into a trot to meet them.
Wolf drew his pistol and aimed at the silhouette. Bang! The Colt Army .44 revolver kicked in his hand like an angry mule. The officer reared his horse on two legs. The animal screamed in terror, and the rider toppled from his saddle.
Angry shouts sounded from the marching soldiers. They eyed the homes for enemies and the riders in front of them. A musket popped, fire exploding from an unseen barrel followed by the bark of a sergeant.
“Ride!” Wolf called to his men. And they were off into a gallop. Houses blurred past them. Wind engulfed them. Horse manes fluttered in the night.
A distant ripple of gunfire crackled like a dry pine log on fire. Wolf squinted behind them. Orange blooms opened up in the darkness, but the bullets weren’t close enough to buzz or zip past the men. It was more a vengeful response from being surprised.
They pushed their animals for almost a mile. Wolf made frequent checks behind him as they rode to ensure his unit stayed together and that the enemy did not pursue. They couldn’t sustain the pace, not and save their animals, but they could keep it up long enough to stretch out from the town and the infantry within.
“Whoa!” Wolf said. He slowed his horse and his men followed his lead. “No use in burning them out before we need to.”
“Whose idea was it to shoot at them?” Hogan said with a hasty breath.
“First thing that came to mind,” Wolf said.
“Remind me to get out of the way next time.”
“Remind me to take the long way around next time.”
Roberts spoke up behind them. “What about that company we saw earlier? They could be on this road.”
“We’ll deal with them if we have to. Looks like the rebs are getting into position at Spotsylvania. Which means we just threaded a needle in our nightly pass thru.”
“Aye, that was an entire regiment of the bastards, all right,” Hogan said.
“You see the look on that reb’s face when Wolf shot at him?” Roberts said.
“Practically shit himself,” Pratt said.
“Before he fell off his horse,” Hale added. The two young men laughed at the rebel officer’s misfortune. The young men didn’t realize how close they’d come to getting captured or worse.
Wolf’s eyes swept the night for more threats. Another ten minutes and they would have run smack into that regiment. Right now, they were probably trying to decide if it was a case of mistaken identity or actual Federal cavalry this far south.
“They won’t pursue,” Wilhelm said. “Too much going on ahead of them. We’re irrelevant.”
“Let’s hope so, Sergeant,” Wolf said, patting his mount’s flank.
They pressed on into the night.
***
As the dawning light rays eclipsed the horizon, he brought his men to a halt. He’d estimated they’d traveled over fifteen miles and put enough distance between themselves and the two armies.
“We’re going to take three hours. So catch some sleep. Tomorrow will be even longer.” He climbed from the saddle, adjusting his reins. “No fire.”
There were a few grumbles, but everyone knew that fires were like a signal to anyone that people were near, and they didn’t want to advertise their whereabouts in enemy territory.
“Loosen the girths but keep them saddled.” Wolf patted his mount’s back. “Sorry, girl.” As soon as they had stopped, the flies and mosquitos found them and descended upon them with an irritating vengeance. The horses’ tails flicked and their skin twitched, trying to keep the winged menaces away.
He took a sack of feed from his saddle and gave her some, letting her eat out of his hand. No matter the demand of traveling far on horseback, there was always as much strain if not more on the mount. And a mountless cavalryman was just infantry. A crippled mountless cava
lryman was just a slow-moving prisoner.
She munched loudly, nibbling at his hand. He wiped his hands together, and the horse nudged him for more. “Be calm, Sarah.” He made sure to wrap her reins loose enough so she could reach the leafy green brush. She nudged at him again and he stuck his hand back into the sack and fed her a bit more grain.
The sounds of men curling up on the ground and tending their mounts was hushed save for the intermittent creak and scrape around them. Men could never truly be quiet. After his horse finished eating, he patted her nose with a soft sigh.
He thought about his previous horse, Billy. He’d bolted in the woods where they’d been ambushed and captured. Most soldiers went through multiple mounts during a war. Roberts had been through two. Hell, General Custer had been through five already. The Michigan Brigade was notorious within the War Department for being great “horse killers.”
But Billy had been Wolf’s first mount, and like him, the horse had been rejected as being suitable for service. They’d proved everyone wrong as they’d raced across the fields at Hunterstown to save Custer then charging twice near Gettysburg.
Billy had given him legs. He had let a man who never thought he would run again sprint across fields and leap over streams. He could never forget him and their bond. He sighed. But in war, everything was subject to change at a moment’s notice.
A friend could be with you one moment and gone the next. Life was this way too, but war expedited the process. It was like living at a full gallop, everything and everyone blurring by. He wondered how many of these men would even be here in a few days. There was no way they were going to escape this endeavor without a fight.
When this mission was over, they’d be back in ranks with the rest of the company. And after passing through the destruction surrounding the Wilderness and Todd’s Tavern, there was plenty of fighting to be done in this war.
He loosened the strap and rubbed his hand underneath the saddle. “You’ll be fine, old girl. A few more days of this and we’ll be back in the slow-moving Army of the Potomac.” Sarah didn’t say a word, only stood with her head bowed.
“Johannes,” came Wilhelm’s voice from behind. He said his name with perfect inflection like his father would at home. It brought back a flood of familial memories that he wished to embrace and fall back into, but for now, he brushed them aside like a fly. These men were his family now. They must hold his every attention.
“Yes, Wilhelm.”
The sergeant studied him for a moment with cool blue eyes like he’d seen a boy who’d transformed into a man before him. “My apologies, Lieutenant.”
“Please, you’ve known me for a long time.”
Wilhelm shook his head no. “You should call me sergeant.”
“You know I’m not like that. Hell, I only just received a promotion and I’m not sure I even deserve that. I got it for surviving.”
“Sometimes surviving is how you get promoted. Grit and a bit of luck.”
The two regarded one another. Between them hung the lifeless body of Wilhelm’s son, Franz, a young man who shouldn’t have ever been to war. A young man cut down that neither of them could save, but that was saying that you could save someone from this war.
After a moment, Wilhelm spoke, “May I speak frankly, sir?”
Wolf was about to rehash the whole conversation over again but held his tongue. “You may.” But he already knew what was coming.
“You shouldn’t have brought them.”
Them. He referred to Adams and Nelson. The two men Wilhelm promised to get court-martialed from the service, something that fell on deaf ears despite the soldier’s claims.
“We need them,” Wolf said.
“No, we do not.”
“I need men that aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. I need fighters. I need survivors.”
“Do you, sir?”
“I do for this. We are going deep behind enemy lines. We are kidnapping Stuart’s wife for Chrissake. Is that not dirty? We tread a fine line between war and criminal.”
“It’s a bit unorthodox, yes, but those men aren’t fit to be out of chains.”
“Then we are their chains. I need men that dig themselves out of a tight spot.”
Wilhelm’s eyes flashed the disagreement of a father to a son as if Wolf needed a lesson with a sharp tongue or a switch, but he restrained himself, keeping his face calm, his mustache straight. “These men can do that. They are easy killers, but not soldiers. Being a true soldier takes pride in what you’ve done.”
“These are the kind of men I need.” He got closer. “I trust you, Wilhelm. You’ve gotten us this far. I intend to bring us all back. But this war must end, and we need these men to do it.”
A slight nod of Wilhelm’s chin was his only consent.
“I need you to watch them.” Wolf dropped his voice. “If need be, we’ll put them behind us, say the rebs shot ‘em. But if they’re going to kill, I’d rather have them with us than against us.”
“You seem to understand the situation well then.”
“Sergeant.” The word felt wrong on his tongue.
“Yes, sir?”
“I can’t do this without your support and guidance. But we will carry out this mission. We will.”
Wilhelm nodded fully. “Yes, we will, sir. You’re the right man for this job.”
“As are you.”
“Until the war is done.”
“Until the war is done.”
Chapter Sixteen
Late Morning, May 8, 1864
South of Spotsylvania Court House, Virginia
The sun crept in the sky, nearing its apex, although it was hard to tell with the overhead greenery blocking out its warming rays.
Wolf’s men were quickly saddled and ready to depart at his command. The fifteen horsemen left little in their wake. No embers of a dying fire, only rustled and overturned brown and black leaves where they had rested their heads in the fading coolness of morning.
They rode south surrounded by thick foliage. If they’d wanted complete secrecy, they would have attempted to trailblaze through the secondary growth forest, an impregnable undergrowth of shrubs, tangled vines, and fast-growing trees sprouting skyward. But that way would be slow going, and they’d risk injuring their horses, so they stuck to the roads for speed, leaving them exposed to the glaring sun and potential enemies.
“It’s a hot one,” Wilhelm said.
Wolf eyed the sky. Clouds dissipated and the humidity grew more oppressive by the minute. “Aye, it will be blazing in an hour.”
“We’ll have to keep the horses well-watered if we’re going to push them hard.”
“I agree. About six miles and we’ll make our way to Anderson’s Ford. Isn’t that right, Hogan?”
The BMI agent nodded his agreement. “There we can cross with little notice.”
“I don’t want us going across no bridge.”
“Well put, Lieutenant. There’s always eyes and ears around bridges,” Hogan added. “In a river, not as much.”
“Then we go around Beaver Dam Station to the good colonel’s home.”
When they reached the North Anna River, sweat caked the horses and riders alike. The sun had beaten them mercilessly, causing Wolf to go for his canteen with its lukewarm water three times.
They dismounted, watering their horses in the shallows. George and James quietly took a rest beneath the shade of the nearby trees away from the group. They crouched in the undergrowth, their dirty blue jackets acting almost as camouflage, and they carefully studied the woods along the opposite shore.
Wolf removed his hat and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. “We made good time,” he said to Hogan.
“We did.” Hogan took his canteen and held it under the water. Bubbles floated to the surface.
“Should be there by tonight.” Wolf scanned the opposing embankment of mud, grass, and trees. A few rocks were stuck in its side like earthy fruitcake.
“It’s the next part
that will be tough.” Hogan took a swig of his water. He gestured with his head. “Once it’s done, we’re going to be riding even harder.”
“These men can handle it.” Wolf took a swig from his canteen. The water was tepid at best, but anything was gratifying in the heat. “But it’s going to be a sprint.”
“You be good at running, Yellabelly,” Hogan said with a grin.
Wolf cracked a smile in return. “I’m probably the worst runner here.”
Hogan emitted a stifled laugh. “Not too fast on two legs, are you? Never asked you how that happened. Gettysburg?”
“Father’s shop, before the war.”
“So no Southern man can claim to have maimed the great Lieutenant Wolf?”
“I been harmed plenty by the bastards. One in particular more than most.” Payne’s face came into focus and he found himself gritting his teeth as he relived the pain he had experienced at his enemy’s hands.
Hogan blinked back his words as if he relived some hardship as well. “I’m sure plenty of the bastards want my head for something or another.”
Wolf nodded. “I’ve earned my own hate too I’m sure.”
“Where there’s war, there’s men seeking retribution. That’s why when your golden-locked general brought up your special circumstances, I immediately endorsed such a mission.”
“All of my special circumstances dealt with survival.”
“And protecting our cause.”
He never thought he’d done more than any other man. It was natural to deceive the enemy if it could be done. He never could have known the impact his defiance would have on the war effort.
Hogan hooked his canteen back onto his saddle, speaking over his shoulder. “That’s the kind of men we need for this type of war.”
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