THE REBEL KILLER

by Paul Fraser Collard

‘No.’ He took a long, slow, deep breath and held it.

  ‘Good. I can’t sleep either.’

  ‘Then just rest. You’ll surely need your strength.’ He was in no mood to talk, but he understood her inability to fall asleep. He was bone weary, yet his mind would not let him find the rest he craved. If there had been more moonlight he might have risked moving on. Yet if they did that, they were in danger of stumbling across a party of Confederates. That was a gamble he could not take.

  They had stayed hidden in the woods until they were certain the party of Confederate soldiers was long gone. Only then had they moved. They had kept the pace measured, wary now that they knew the Confederates were scouring the woods for Union troops. Their progress had been slow and tortuous. Every sound could reveal a threat, and he had lost count of the times they had stopped, hearts in mouths, as they sensed danger. They had spent much of the day hidden, the hours and minutes crawling past with excruciating slowness as they waited, half expecting to be spotted by one of the bands of Southern soldiers prowling through the wide swathe of woodland.

  Their caution had saved them from discovery, but they had covered little ground before the sun set and they could no longer see the way ahead. This night there was no barn to shelter them, but Jack had slung a blanket over the bough of a pine tree that bent low to the ground, creating a rudimentary shelter. Not that they needed it. The night was warm to the point of being stifling, the humidity in the air as unpleasant as the tiny insects that came out in their thousands to torment and bother them the moment they stopped.

  ‘You hungry?’

  Jack did not reply, but his stomach growled, answering the question for him.

  ‘We need to find food.’ Rose lay on her side, her head propped on her elbow. She watched him closely.

  ‘We need to find somewhere that’s safe first.’ Jack’s reply was waspish. His back was hurting like the devil. It was the legacy of a childhood of humping barrels of liquor in a back-street gin palace in the rookeries of east London, and a decade of being a soldier. The ache never left him, but at times it was worse, and at that moment, fiery lances of pain were searing up and down his legs.

  ‘There’s no need for that tone, mister.’ She paused and waited for a reaction. When she didn’t get one, she changed tack. ‘You know which direction we’re going to take in the morning?’

  ‘No.’ Jack had heard the pepper in her rebuke and had wisely remained silent. But the second question was a fair one. She had every right to be worried.

  He looked across at his companion. In the moonlight, he could see the scars half hidden under her jawline on the lower left side of her face. He knew how she had got them, the marks the gift of an overseer’s whip. It was one of the few things he knew about this girl who had been born a slave. She had been a servant when he had first met her, her place as maid to Elizabeth Kearney the reason she was now in his life.

  She smiled as he met her gaze. ‘You ain’t much of a woodsman.’

  ‘Never said I was.’ Jack grunted at the mockery in her tone.

  ‘You’ll have to learn.’

  ‘I will.’ Jack agreed readily enough. He had been a soldier on campaign many times, so he knew how to live without comforts. But he had always been supplied by whichever army he was with. He did not know how to be self-sufficient, how to provide for himself.

  ‘You’ve had it too easy.’ Rose reached out and poked his side. ‘You’ve got fat and lazy.’

  Jack gasped as her finger jabbed hard into his flesh. She was being harsh. Granted, he was not as lean as in his younger days, but he had been with the Union army for just under six months and was as fit and strong as he had ever been.

  ‘You’ll have to get used to hard work too, now. Proper work. Not just parading around shouting at people.’ Rose jabbed him again, harder this time.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Jack was in no mood to fight.

  ‘That’s better.’ Rose’s hand came forward again, but this time it rested on his thigh. ‘I like it when you stop complaining and do as you’re told.’

  ‘Complaining? Is that what I do?’ He shook his head at the barb.

  ‘Come on, let’s get moving.’ Rose barely managed to complete the sentence. She had put on a deep voice in what she clearly thought was an English accent but which sounded more like she had a heavy cold.

  ‘I see.’ Jack could not help chuckling at her impression. ‘So I sound like a proper grouch?’

  ‘You sound like an old man forced to leave his seat by the fire.’ Rose began another attempt, but dissolved into giggles before she could manage it.

  ‘Will you always abuse me so piteously?’ Jack made a play of sighing in exasperation.

  ‘Always.’ Rose inched closer, then laid her head on his arm. ‘Do you not like it when I tease you, then? Would you prefer it if I were a little mouse who did exactly what you told me?’ She squeaked, then wrinkled her nose.

  ‘So you can imitate rodents too. Is there no end to your talents?’ Jack laughed, then moved his arm and pulled her closer so that her head rested on his chest.

  ‘In time I’ll show you all I can do, Jack Lark.’ Rose stretched her arm across his belly, holding him close. ‘If you stop them from taking me.’

  Her words changed the tone of the conversation. They were a reminder of the fate she faced if she were captured. He looked into her eyes. The fear was half hidden, but he found it there all the same.

  ‘They’ll kill me.’ Rose offered the statement in as bland a voice as she could manage. ‘For what I did to the man who gave me these.’ Her fingers traced over the fretwork of scars on her jaw.

  ‘They’ll have to capture you first. I won’t let that happen.’ Jack made the vow without hesitation. He meant it. He would die rather than see Rose be taken.

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  Neither of them spoke for some time. It was Rose who finally broke the spell. ‘We can go west. Find a place where we can start a new life. One where I don’t have to be a servant and an ex-slave, and where you don’t have to be a soldier.’

  ‘What’s out west?’

  ‘Everything. Mountains. Plains. Forests. Rivers. It’s all there.’

  ‘And it’s ours for the taking?’ Jack could not help the glib remark. He had fought for everything he had ever owned. He could not imagine a future where fate could be so beneficent.

  Rose lifted her head so that she could look at him properly. ‘There’s free land for anyone who wants to stake a claim. We can find a wagon, then head someplace where no one will ever bother us again.’ She smiled and looked him dead in the eye. ‘We can be pioneers.’

  Jack considered the notion. It seemed a fair one. There was the small matter of money, but he was a boy from Whitechapel. He had been born poor, had found wealth, and now was poor again. He would find a way to get the money they would need. There was always a way. ‘Well, that sounds a fine plan to me.’

  Rose still watched him carefully. ‘You don’t want to be a soldier no more?’

  ‘No. I’m done.’

  ‘Will you be happy?’

  The question caught him off guard. His life had been a struggle to make something of himself and then to understand quite what he had made. He had never pursued happiness.

  ‘Will you be happy with a farm?’ Rose spoke lightly, but there was a seriousness to her tone that had not been there before.

  ‘I could live with it.’ Jack snorted as he considered the notion. He knew nothing of farming, or of working the land. Yet here he was agreeing to Rose’s plan without hesitation. It made him want to laugh.

  They lay together in silence. Rose’s ideas began to settle in Jack’s mind. A part of him still wanted to scorn such naive dreams, but despite himself he started to conjure images of the future that Rose had inspired. He could see them, far off in the distance. They were hazy and ill defined, but he knew he could make them reality. He could learn the skills he would need to become this new man, this pion
eer. He had come a long way from the streets of Whitechapel. He reckoned he could go further still.

  ‘Of course, you have to get used to doing what I tell you.’ Rose broke the spell. ‘I’ll keep you busy.’ She smiled as she saw him grimace. ‘As will the children.’

  ‘The children!’

  Rose chuckled at the reaction. ‘We keep doing what we’ve been doing, mister, and there’ll be children all right.’ She shook her head at his naivety.

  Jack stayed silent. They were too much, these thoughts of a new future. There were too many new notions, ones he had never considered before.

  ‘Have I scared you?’ Rose understood his lack of reply.

  ‘A little.’

  ‘I thought soldiers were never scared.’

  ‘No. That’s not true. Soldiers know fear better than anyone, I reckon.’ Coldness crept into his reply.

  ‘And I’m scaring you with this talk of what we could be?’

  ‘A little.’ He repeated his first answer.

  Rose smiled, then laid her head back down on his chest. ‘Then let’s not talk of it for tonight. Let’s just see what happens.’

  Jack felt her settle. He lifted his hand and ran it across her temple, his fingers moving as gently as he could make them.

  He knew they made an odd couple, an escaped slave and a scarred Englishman who had once been a soldier. But he had a feeling they could create a future together, one far removed from both of their former lives.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation of Rose’s skin under his fingertips. He let the ideas she had stirred settle in his mind. They might have been alien concepts, yet somehow he knew they were the right ones. It was time to stop wandering. It was time to be someone else.

  Jack woke with a start. Rose was crouched at his side, her hand on his chest. It was early, the sky still dark grey and with only the very first fiery tendrils of dawn warning of the approach of another day.

  ‘What is it?’ He wiped a hand across his face and sat up.

  ‘Hush.’ She silenced him with a hiss.

  Jack stopped moving and listened, his senses firing into life. He heard it almost immediately. Somewhere not far from where they were, someone was singing.

  ‘We need to move.’ He did not wait for her reaction. Instead he pulled on his boots, then retrieved his weapons from where he had left them.

  ‘We could stay here. They might not see us.’ Rose was on her feet at his side.

  ‘No, we have to go. Shit on a brick.’ Jack hissed the oath as his fingers fumbled with the buckle on his revolver’s holster. It took him two attempts to undo it. The weapon inside was primed and loaded. It had been the last thing he had done before he had let himself rest.

  ‘Are you ready?’ He twisted, scanning the ground, a last check that nothing was left behind.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then let’s go.’ There was no discussion. He grabbed her hand and hauled her after him, leading her away from the singing, plunging them into a dense patch of woodland where the ground was smothered with twisted and interwoven undergrowth. He kicked his way through as quickly as he could, careless of making noise. His only thought was to get them away.

  ‘Look! Over there!’

  The first whoops and catcalls cut through the wood. Jack barely heard them over the roar of his own breath in his ears. He felt Rose slow and pulled her after him, not caring that he might hurt her.

  ‘No!’ Rose tugged back, hauling him around. ‘This way!’

  ‘Shit!’ Jack spat out the word. A moment’s anger flared at her lack of obedience. ‘Go on then!’ He bit down the anger and urged her to move. Direction did not matter. Speed was all.

  They ploughed on, Rose now in the lead, crashing through the brush, stumbling and thrashing as they fought their way forward.

  ‘Faster!’ Jack could only urge her to speed up. Every few paces he glanced over his shoulder, looking for a glimpse of their pursuers. He could hear them, the sound of their progress coming between his own gasps for breath, but he could not see them.

  The ground passed with stubborn slowness under his boots. Rose was trying hard, forcing her way ahead, yet still the yards crawled past.

  ‘Go around!’ Jack shouted at her as she paused, a fallen branch blocking their way. Frustration was building. The wood was fighting them, as much their enemy as the men who would surely delight in capturing a Union officer and an escaped slave.

  He saw a flash of grey behind. Their pursuers were close now.

  ‘Stop! Shit!’ The words came out as little more than sobs. ‘This way now.’ He pulled Rose back, half yanking her arm out of its socket as he forced her to turn, and changed direction, moving off at a right angle to their current path. It was a desperate gamble, yet he was certain it was their only hope.

  He plunged into a dense thicket of greenery, tearing at the jumble of scrub, ignoring the stabs of pain as thorns and splinters ripped his hands.

  ‘There they are!’

  He heard the cries behind them. The pursuit was close now. Still he kicked on, his actions ever more frantic as he fought to get them away. Ahead he could see that the wood was less dense, the tangled undergrowth giving way to clearer ground. He redoubled his efforts, battling on, face streaked with sweat, hands running with blood.

  ‘Fucking hell.’ He swore as he kicked away a branch that blocked their way. He stumbled forward into clearer ground. And that was when he saw them.

  There were dozens of men waiting in the open woodland to their front.

  He staggered to a halt, hauling the breath into his lungs. The sun was higher in the sky, the first light of a new day forcing away the last inky shadows of night. He could see his pursuers clearly now. And there were too many for him to count.

  He did not pause for long. The idea of giving in never once entered his mind.

  ‘This way.’

  He turned them in a new direction. He felt Rose stumble, yet still he tugged her forward, cruel in his mastery. Any pain he inflicted would be as nothing against her fate should the Confederates take them. Now that they were out in the open, he tried to get them moving faster. Yet still the ground passed beneath his boots with spiteful sluggishness. No matter how hard he strove to force the pace, it felt as if they were wading through the deepest swamp.

  Shouts came from all around them. Jack saw blurs of movement in the wood behind him; shadows in grey clattering through the trees in relentless pursuit. They were almost surrounded now. Only the way ahead appeared to be clear.

  He ploughed on, straining every sinew to get them away. Rose stuck with him, silent and brave even as he dragged her forward without mercy. She did not cry out, or beg him to slow. Yet he knew they were failing. No matter how hard he tried, the sound of the pursuit was getting louder with every step. There was to be no escape.

  He slowed, summoning the strength for what lay ahead. It was time to change the plan.

  ‘You have to keep going.’ The instruction left Jack’s lips in between gasps for air. He held Rose by both arms, making her look at him. He could see her struggling to breathe.

  ‘What . . .’ Rose tried to reply, but she was fighting for air and the rest of her words would not come.

  ‘Shut up and listen.’ Jack mastered his body and forced the words out. ‘I’ll create a diversion. Keep going and don’t stop for anything, you hear me?’

  ‘The hell I will.’ Rose blurted the words, then sucked down a couple of breaths. ‘I ain’t leaving you.’

  ‘We have no choice.’ Jack had no time for a debate. He turned her around, placing her ahead of him, then pushed her hard in the back, forcing her to take the first steps away. ‘Go on! Move! Now!’ He bellowed the orders just as he would in battle.

  ‘I ain’t—’

  ‘You know what they’ll do to you.’ Jack shouted her down, cutting off the protest and revealing his fear. ‘You need to go!’

  She shook her head, stubborn to the last. ‘Together. We go together.’r />
  ‘No!’

  ‘If you fight, they’ll kill you.’ Rose fired out the words.

  Jack almost hated her then. The emotion surged through him, fear for her life making him desperate. ‘I don’t care.’ He pushed her again. ‘Go!’

  There was no time for more.

  A Confederate soldier crashed out of the tangled greenery just a few yards away from where they stood. He staggered to a halt, his mouth opening to trumpet his discovery.

  Jack’s head whipped around as he heard the man arrive. There was time to stare at the unfamiliar face, to see the sweat running down the man’s skin in wide streams to darken a thick, bushy beard.

  ‘I got ’em!’ The triumphant shout was loud. ‘They’re—’

  The sentence was never finished. Jack had drawn his revolver in one smooth, practised movement. He had it levelled and covering the Confederate’s face in the time it took for the man to call out his final words. Then he fired.

  The bullet took the man plumb in the centre of his forehead.

  Jack did not look to see the Confederate fall. He grabbed at Rose with his free hand and dragged her after him. There would be no diversion. There would be no forlorn hope to give Rose time to get away. There would just be one last desperate attempt to escape.

  The pair ran like the very hounds of hell were chasing after them. There was no thought to direction, just to speed.

  Jack tried to watch the men in grey who came after them. He saw little more than shadows and fleeting shapes that dogged their every step. He fought down the rage, and a building sense of frustration. He had dared to think of finding a new future. Now fate had intervened to make a mockery of such foolish thoughts.

  They ran hard, twisting and dodging through the trees. Rose led them. She was quick, darting ahead, her body snaking through the gaps between the trunks. Jack followed as best he could. There was nothing left to be done save to run for their lives.

  The chase ended as suddenly as it had begun.

  Jack had not seen one of the Confederate soldiers cut ahead. There was no shriek of success like the first pursuer had given. Instead the man simply stepped out from behind a tree trunk, his arms wrapping around Rose and half lifting her from the ground. Rose screamed and lashed out, fighting to get free, her legs kicking at the man who held her.