“Stay and fight, you coward,” he called, grabbing more snow and chasing after her, long legs easily catching up.
“Not fair,” she gasped, dodging him one last time. “These skirts are impossible to run in.”
He reached out and snagged her, the momentum of her run spinning her into his arms. “Now you’ll—” he started to say, holding the snow above her head threateningly, then broke off as she froze in his grasp, terror etched on her face. You idiot! You know her fears. Let her go this instant, apologize profusely, and maybe it won’t damage your friendship.
But before he could act, a series of emotions flashed across her face: the terror was replaced by determination—I will not let my fear rule me, it said, clear as writing—and then trust. Will Lewis’ voice echoed in his head: “Besides, Star trusts you as she trusts few men at this point. She would never admit it, but it is fairly obvious.”
She trusts me.
She relaxed even as he held her, and began to struggle again, but not in earnest. Her head was thrown back in laughter, lips parted, chest heaving with exertion. Each breath brought the warm pressure of her breasts against him. Her sapphire eyes were wide, her long dark curls bouncing every which way. I must have been blind, Travis thought distractedly. She is beautiful. And then came the staggering revelation that he very much wanted to pull her closer still, run his hands through that thick, dark bounty of hair, and taste those sweet lips opened so invitingly before him. It was like a cannon shot to his gut, knocking the wind out of him.
Oh, damn. I do love her.
The forgotten snowball slid from his upheld hand and down the back of her dress. She squealed hysterically, twisting against him to escape the icy stream, and shattering the moment. He released her as if burnt, praying fervently that she would not notice the effect her body had had on his. She didn’t, too busy wiping water from her neck.
“Starla? Where are you, cariad?”
Her head popped up. “That’s Will,” she said, stating the obvious. “About time he showed up. Over here, Will,” she called.
“Come on back now; it’s time to go.”
Time to go? No! There’s so much left unsaid!
And it had better be left that way, said the harsh voice in his head. For once he didn’t bother to argue. It was right, and had been all along.
Major Lewis and Captain Logan were chatting outside his tent, the Confederate holding both Iris’ and the big black’s reins. Travis noticed that Lewis’ face was flushed, his nose a bright red. So that’s why he’s not off with Stuart; he’s been sick.
“I hear you got yourself in trouble again, genethig,” her uncle said.
She snarled half heartedly at him as she gave Iris a hug before mounting. “Then you heard wrong, uncle dear. It was that thick headed, green broke beast of yours that got me in trouble.”
Lewis crawled up in his saddle, patted the sleek shoulder, then sneezed. “I know. Logan’s been catching me up on what happened. Did you know that he and I served together once upon a time?”
She nodded. “That’s what Travis said. Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Good to see you again, Will,” Logan said warmly, reaching up to shake his hand.
The other officer smiled. “You too, Logan. Come along, Star. Let’s get you back to camp.”
She looked down at Travis. “When will I see you again?” she asked, voice wistful.
Never, was his immediate thought. You mustn’t, not if I feel this way about you. He racked his brain for some light, witty response, but found none; it was still too full of his discovery to work properly. In the end he took her hand, held it for too short a moment. He could have held it forever.
She squeezed it tight. He managed a smile, kissed her hand in parting. He watched as they disappeared from view, his smile disappearing as they did.
And my heart goes with you, Starla Anderson, he thought morosely. Then, grimly: May the Lord have mercy on me, for it is certain this damned war will not.
9. Return Of The Pale Horse
March 17, 1863
Culpeper County, VA
I am never going to be warm again, Travis thought bitterly. He held his ammunition and carbine higher up out of the icy Rappahannock and wished yet again that he had not lost his new wool muffler back in Fredericksburg. Though it really wouldn’t do me much good here.
Chest deep in the water, Virginia picked her careful way across the river. Poor girl. She was probably frozen too, but right now Travis was too cold to care. Why are we even bothering to do this? Another march, another fight, another insignificant ford. Which one was it this time? Ely’s? Beverly’s? Kelly’s? Kelly’s. Yes, that’s the one. And for what? Another retreat? The angry little voice inside his head quoted, “Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.”
He was tired of retreating, of running away. Even with the reorganization of the corps, the weeks spent studying and drilling and preparing, still the cavalry remained a joke to the rest of the army. “Whoever saw a dead cavalryman?” Even General Hooker said that.
Ginny stumbled over something caught midstream; Travis glanced down. Well, there’s a dead cavalryman right there, General Hooker sir. And another and—damn. Looking around at the tree snagged carcasses of horses, the white corpses of men, he had to give Averell credit. The new general of their corps hadn’t retreated from this fight.
He heard the trooper beside him say, “Eight separate charges,” in a tone of disbelief.
Had it taken that many attempts to force the ford and push out the defenders from the southern bank? That was far more staying power than the Union cavalry had shown in a long time. Ever, actually.
Thankfully, he’d not been involved in the action. Most of the regiment wasn’t here at all, had been placed on picket duty between Bealeton and Catlett’s Station. Travis didn’t mind avoiding the miserable, numbing work of the picket line, nor the death trap that the ford had seemingly turned into, but his future role in this raid worried him a bit. It’d been late last night when the orders came for the 4th Pennylvania to head out towards the western flank of the corps.
“Except you and you,” the staff officer had said, pointing at Captain Logan and the new captain of Company A. “General Averell asked specifically for Company F and one other.”
The Fourth’s lieutenant colonel had looked perplexed. “Why specifically F?”
“I complained about being left out of the fun,” Logan muttered to Travis, “but I didn’t think anything would come of it.”
The aide had looked just as confused. “Not sure, sir. His exact words were, ‘Keep Logan’s troop with us. It’s developed an interesting reputation recently, and a canary in the coalmine might be very useful.’ Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
His captain looked at Travis and shook his head. “You’re making us famous, kid.”
Great, wonderful, terrific, Travis thought, remembering. He winced as the water washed over Ginny’s back, soaking a whole new section of his body. Though you’re not going to get much use out of said canary if you stick him all the way back here.
He didn’t have to wait long before that changed. Once everyone crossed, they paused to look after the horses and reform their ranks. The two squadrons of the 4th Pennsylvania were led to the front of the column.
“I hear you boys are good at sniffing out trouble,” they were told. “Have fun.”
Travis heard from the back of his squad, “You know, I’m really going to have to hurt whoever’s gotten us that damn reputation.”
Sorry. It’s not like I asked for this sudden increase in attention....
“Anything?” Logan asked, looking around with wary eyes.
Travis was busy listening and didn’t really pay attention to the question. “Not yet. Too much noise.”
“Ride out to the side a bit if you like. Maybe then you’ll be able to do whatever it is you do.”
Travis stiffened as he suddenly realized what he was discussing with the captain. “What
makes you say that, sir?”
Logan merely waved a hand at him. “Relax, lieutenant. I figured out a while back that you’ve got … let’s just call them better senses than the rest of us. Why else do you think I’ve had you out scouting all the time instead of leading your men? I won’t ask, you don’t have to explain, and everybody will be happy.”
“Except poor George back there.”
“Except poor George. Go on now. Git.”
Travis saluted and moved Ginny out of the line. The voices behind him faded as he twisted the air about him ever so slightly and focused his senses ahead. That’s our skirmishers tramping through the woods, and that’s horses … lots of horses. That was to be expected, but something wasn’t quite right. Birds. There should be more birds, and those that he could hear weren’t making much sense. He fell back into line as an aide wheeled away from Captain Logan, heading towards their right and the 4th New York.
Logan was already off his horse and handing the reins to a red haired private. “Dismount! One in four hold horses and fall back. You know the drill, so be quick about it.” The captain pointed at the trees up ahead. “Enemy’s got some people dug in up there. General wants us to clear them out.”
There was a low bark from the back of the company.
Logan smiled, thin lipped. “You’ve got that right, trooper. And don’t any of you forget it. Let’s loose the war dogs.”
Travis just shook his head and dismounted. They’d heard that line quoted and misquoted so often now that to howl or bark was the expected response. He handed Ginny off, then paused, listening past the volleys of gunfire. He caught a snippet of birdsong. That’s what was wrong about the horses.
“There’s a lot more than skirmishers up there,” he told Logan quietly. “There’s a large group of mounted cavalry to our right.”
Before the captain could respond, they heard General Averell cursing at the New Yorkers, ordering the hesitant troopers forward, and directing like words towards the waiting Pennsylvanians.
“Enemy cavalry to the right, sir,” Captain Logan informed him when the general paused for breath. As the captain followed his men into the treeline, he added, “Might want to check it out.”
A glance down towards their flank, then a startled oath and the general spurred off to move more men up.
Why bother with a bloody canary if you still wait until you can see problems with your own eyes before acting? Travis thought cynically, clutching his carbine tight and trotting through the undergrowth.
“Gotta love generals,” he grumbled, but joined in the cheer that swept the ranks as they charged ahead, their overwhelming numbers pushing the Southern soldiers away from a low stone wall. The men settled into the protected position happily, checked their weapons, and waited. Nothing seemed to be happening.
“Now what are we waiting for?” Travis asked his captain in a low voice.
“Averell knows Fitz Lee all too well. We’re waiting for him to attack us.”
Travis patted the sturdy wall and lifted an eyebrow. “Not the smartest maneuver.”
Logan shrugged. “Nevertheless, Fitz’ll come,” he said as he left to check the rest of their line.
On his other side a trooper commented to Travis, “They’re coming all right, but it looks like they’re all heading down thataway, towards the house.”
Travis risked a quick peek over the wall. In the watery March sunlight he could see a column of charging horsemen peel off from the main attack on their right flank and head towards the Union left.
“I think someone’s changed their mind,” he replied. He checked his gun again, then rested his head against the cold gray stones as his heart began to thump in anticipation. He was warm for the first time that day, despite sitting there in inches of slush. Funny thing was, he hated this life up until the minute the fight started. Smiling tightly, Travis growled to himself. Cry Havoc, indeed. Fool Rebs riding straight at this lovely stone wall, horse pistols and sabers against carbines. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.
He waited a few more seconds, feeling the vibration of many hooves through the back of his skull. Here they come, he thought, wiping sweat from his forehead.
The charging soldiers had spotted a thin spot in the line, where the two companies of the 4th Pennsylvania were positioned, and moved in towards it. Travis raised his gun and took careful aim at the leader, an officer mounted on a superb roan. Then a shock of recognition hit him and he froze, finger still on the trigger.
Will Lewis.
What is he doing out here?
It was obvious that Lewis hadn’t identified him yet. The major came sweeping past with an upraised arm, pistol pointed straight at him. Travis threw up a shield of Air, felt the ball stop mid flight. He saw the brown eyes widen as the Confederate realized who he was, then a blast came from the men on either side of him. Vulcan gave a shrill whinny, spun on his haunches and collapsed, Lewis toppling from the saddle and hitting the ground in a splash of muddy water.
The charge faltered, and began to disengage. Travis remained behind the wall, mind reeling. This cannot be real. Please, don’t let this be real. Below the clamor of the receding battle he could hear faint moans just the other side of the wall. Lewis was still alive, for now.
A bugle sounded. Damn! That’s a counter attack. Then, They’ll crush him for certain. Behind them Colonel Duffié was forming his First Brigade and the 4th Pennsylvania contingent for a charge. As Ginny hurried up, Travis told her, “I’ll catch you on the other side,” vaulted the wall, and hauled the fallen major into its lee. The ground shook as the horses came leaping over them into the field.
“Do you make a habit of rescuing wounded Rebs, Lieutenant Black?”
Travis ducked as another horse cleared the wall over his head. “Only the good looking ones, sir. Are you badly—?”
Ginny interrupted, “Not that I really want to go into that mess, but if you don’t want to get in any more trouble, we should be joining the others.”
“I know, Ginny, I know,” Travis said, first shifting the major so that he leaned up against the wall, then grabbing her reins. “Sir, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Lewis looked up at the horse with a confused expression, but merely said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
This is not what I had planned to do today, was Starla’s dour thought as she stood near General Stuart and watched the battle play out before them. All too soon she'd be down there working on the fallen men. She tested her strength again, glad it had finally recovered from the cold she’d had the past few weeks. Looking back down at the battlefield, she shook her head and sighed.
They’d been in Culpeper when the fighting began. The general and some of his staff were required at a court martial hearing; she’d taken the opportunity to do a little shopping for some herbs she was running low on, and for some feminine essentials. On hearing the news that the Yankees were coming across the river, the men had decided to join the excitement. She would have preferred to finish her errands. But where the general goes, Will goes, and where Will goes, I go. So come along I must.
“Men can be so irritating,” she muttered to Iris.
Before the mare could respond, there was the patter of hooves, the jingling of a harness, and an unfamiliar voice. “Sir, I’ve terrible news. Major Pelham is gravely wounded. I fear it is mortal.”
There was a horrified silence, and then a quiet sobbing. General Stuart was bent over the neck of his borrowed mare, weeping.
Starla closed her eyes and fought back her own tears. Oh no, not John. A sudden thought made her eyes fly open and her stomach twist into knots. She stopped Iris and looked about, apprehensive. Where is Will? The fiery nightmares she’d attributed to being feverish suddenly seemed much more ominous.
The dim sun was slipping behind the hills to the west by the time Travis was able to make his way back to the stone wall.
“Major Lewis? Are you still here?”
“Told you I wasn’t … going anywhe
re....” The voice was much weaker. The Confederate had an arm pulled tight against his belly, his face pale and contorted in pain. “Water?”
Kneeling down, Travis helped him drink before examining him carefully. The major had thrown up at some point; blood flecked vomit stained the gray jacket, but Travis couldn’t see any wounds. At his look of confusion, Lewis smiled wryly, shifted his arm slightly to one side. The red stained abdomen said it all.
He’s been gut shot. That’s a death sentence. Even Star had said so. Damn. And there is absolutely nothing I can do for him.
A chill wind picked up, bringing with it groans and faint cries.
He’ll not last long out here…. “Come on, sir. Let’s get you over to the house.” I can at least do that much.
“Don’t think I can walk that far.”
A forced laugh as he reached down and picked up the wounded man. “You won’t have to. I doubt you weigh much more than your niece, major.”
Mo Dhia! What about Starla?
“Sir? Star—” Travis broke off, unsure of how to ask about her, to ask who would watch over her now.
The major stared at him through narrowed eyes, saw the conflict and concern on his face, and seemed to understand.
“Don’t worry. Already arranged. Stuart….” His voice dissolved into a body wracking spasm of pain. Travis shifted his arms, trying to find some position that was more comfortable. Lewis looked as if he wanted to say more, but lacked the energy.
“General Stuart will find a safe place for her,” Travis supplied, his heart chilled. Major Lewis nodded.
Behind them Ginny whickered a warning. There was the plop-plop of hooves in mud. A deep voice echoed across the field—Logan’s voice.
“Black? Lieutenant Black? Where are you, kid?”
“Over here, sir,” he answered as the hoofbeats came closer. Logan’s tanned face peered down at them from the other side of the wall.
“Did you find what you were—? Damnation, Will!” he cried, sliding from the saddle to walk beside them. “What the hell possessed you to join in such an asinine charge?”
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