Chapter 5
Loyalty
"You've traveled a long way, son." The general sat behind a desk made from wooden sawhorses hastily constructed for the purpose. An old plantation door lay atop the sawhorses, serving as a table.
"Yes, sir."
"Is that blood you're wearing? Are you injured, Lieutenant Loflin?"
"No, sir." Ty glanced down at the scratches along with several deep punctures left from his war with the briars. The shackles the Confederates had put him in connected a long chain to cuffs around his hands. Though still able to walk, he was hobbled by the chain.
"My men reported they could hear you for a mile screaming and ranting like a madman. One even said he heard a wolf howling." General Stewart ran a speculative eye over Ty's person. "Do you mind telling me what you were doing out there in the middle of nowhere carrying on at the top of your lungs?" Without waiting he kept going, "What's this business about being tied up with vines and briars? Good God, man, you look like an escapee from a mental hospital." Stewart scowled at his lieutenant.
"My apologies, General. I can't explain my condition. He shifted with the pain from his injuries visible for a second on his face. Soon the wounds would heal. He should be by himself when that occurred. Squaring his shoulders more, Ty continued, "I have information regarding the Union Army. A message of the Union Army's whereabouts." He continued to stand at attention. Someone had covered his nakedness with a sheet before he appeared before the general. Thankful for small favors he wished his explanation was that easy.
"At ease, Lieutenant. Can I get you a brandy?"
"No, but thank you, sir." Ty relaxed his stance like General Stewart had asked him to. He wanted a shot of something badly. Bad enough, he would fight for it, but now was not the time.
"Continue, Lieutenant."
"I have a feeling you already know the reason I'm here. I don't expect you to comprehend where I 've been all this time, nor do I expect you to understand why I haven't contacted you sooner." He rested his hands on either side of his hat. The tattered cavalry hat was all he had remaining of the striking Confederate uniform with gold braid and brass buttons. Had it been only four years?
"You have something to say, son? Something other than your report, I take it." Stewart's eyes never left Ty's.
"Yes, sir. I do. I've come to a conclusion, sir. I'm not meant for the Army. If I had my weapon and bars, I'd turn them in, sir."
The general did not say anything as he rose to stand to all of his impressive six foot, four inches. Instead, he walked to the opposite side of his tent and peered out at the men under his command.
Ty's hearing caught Stewart chewing on his cigar, the steady grind of tobacco between molars. The general never lit a cigar, preferring instead to ease the tension of command by the simpler act of tasting the juice. "That's a punishable decision, Lieutenant. I've never known you to walk away from a fight even if it was a losing one. May I ask why?"
With abloom he was not sure would hold, Ty spoke up, "I am unable to explain my reason, sir. It's not explainable."
"I find it hard to believe, Lieutenant Loflin." The beginning of irritation laced the General's reply. "There's a rational explanation for everything under God's heavens."
Without so much as a flinch, Ty shook his head, I disagree, Sir." He met the commander's bland stare head on. "My reason isn't of God's making, sir."
Hands still secured behind his back, Stewart turned back and stared out of the tent. "Perhaps you'd better start from the beginning, Lieutenant. Explain your movements on the night of May 16th, 1863." The words were stern.
Ty expected no less. After all, he had told his commanding officer he wanted out of the Confederate Army. The General was nobody's fool. The fact the Rebels were losing on every front and before much longer, the Union Army would begin another spring campaign was the truth. Still, it did not make for a good enough reason. As such, his request was as good as desertion.
Ty gave his report, which contained just the facts. Leaving out his relationship with Sonja and their conditions, he lied. He told the general he had come upon a few well-meaning refugees, who nursed him back to health as they made their escape. With the rational, it had taken him quite a while to gain his strength and then make his way back, Ty accounted for all the time he had been gone.
Stewart returned to his desk and listened quietly, his hands locked on the arms of his chair.
A line of cold sweat ran down Ty's backbone. The general keen gray eyes never left his face. Confident, Stewart caught on to the fact that he had lied. He was headed to the blockade for sure. Funny how lies had a way of compounding one on top of another, he mused.
Sure enough, the general called for the guard. "Find the Lieutenant a tent, Captain. Stand guard and don't let him out of your sight. I have some recognizance reports to go over and then we'll see about this mess." The cock to his brow told Ty, Stewart may have sympathized, but orders could not be ignored. "I'll consider your statement, Loflin. You'll have my answer in the morning. Do you have anyone we should contact?"
The words brought momentary hesitation on Ty's part. He glanced back at Stewart. Stewart's face held a small twinge of regret. Ty's heart sank. He would be court-martialed. "Yes, sir." A moment passed. "Yes, sir. Please give my gold chain to the woman who saved my life. Sonja Brooks of Brooks Farm near Spotsylvania." He considered his next words carefully. "Tell her I'm sorry, I know she did her best."
Stewart nodded and bowed his head. "Dismissed."
Silently, Ty followed the guard to a small tent pitched near the creek. Obviously, word had made it around he was there because all eyes followed him as he walked after the guard to the temporary housing.
Ty glanced at the moon, which made its way up over the ridge of the North Virginia countryside. No one could know of his condition, and he had to keep the beast under control. If there were vampires among the soldiers, he would be under attack. Too much was at stake. There would be a time and place to execute revenge on those who had killed his men.
"I'll be keepin' my eye on you, all right. You just get on down there and get cleaned up. Here, these are all you're gonna get, so take 'em and hurry up with that bath. You hear?"
Ty did no more than nod as he hobbled down the hill to the creek bank, the cold water trickling over the rocks shimmering in the moonlight. With the meager clothes the guard gave him, he shed the sheet. The she-wolf had disappeared, and Ty had no way of knowing what happened after the stupid vines had literally tied him up right there on the infernal ground. The beast got away from him and he had allowed the Confederates to find him, stupid, green behind the ears mistake on his part. He had wanted to contact Stewart on his own terms. He could not blame the general for seeing a traitor when he looked at Ty.
The moon shone brightly. The guard would keep a close eye on him. If he planned a move, he would have to be quick. One bullet would do him in. Or would it? He stood back up and glanced around as if someone had tapped him on the shoulder. No one lurked in the shadows. Or did they?
Unsure if he could hold them off, he had made his last arrangements in the event, he could not withstand the assault. Stewart sent a man to deliver the medallion to Sonja. It was not much, but Ty figured Sonja would understand his meaning. He smiled into the darkness. Honor being as important as it was to her, he consoled himself with the idea she would do the right thing by his family. At least he could count on her loyalty. Her love being a different matter made him irritable and edgy. What he would give for a few more minutes with her to explain how sorry he was and how he did not blame her for what she had to do to save him. It would surely use up the last of his luck. Maggie's sweet Irish voice came to him.
"Boyo, get your butt up! Do what you must. This isn't over by a long shot." Hands on hips and a snort of laughter, she gave him a good hard glare out of green eyes.
"Yes, ma'am." Ty shook his hea
d. He must be losing his mind, talking to the thin air was one thing, but seeing apparitions was bordering on crazy.
Back at the tent, he rested on the small palette provided. Ty went over the details of his meager plan. Sonja's lovely face kept interrupting his musings. Her being the only really good and decent thing in his whole horrid existence did not escape him. The chance to make a life for them became paramount in his mind. It would be difficult. He would make it work. Pretty sure they would court-martial him he worked it out in his head. Escaping with her, no matter what proved out in the end. He could not die without her knowing the truth. He loved her, so much, he could not return to his old life without her. Somehow, he vowed, they would be together.
The Lady in the Mist (The Western Werewolf Legend #1) Page 29