A Thousand Shall Fall

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Peyton sat forward and stared into his coffee cup. “Fog had settled over the battlefield, and the cries of thousands of dying men sounded like the biblical account of hell—weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. I’d heard about hell plenty of times from Johnston as well as other preachers, but I experienced it that night. At one point, I actually believed I had died and gone to a godless eternity. I knew I deserved it as I’d been living like the devil.”

  “Hard to believe.”

  “But true, and I’m not proud of my past. I cheated on my former fiancée Lavinia the night before we were to get married. She found out and called off our wedding.”

  Carrie put his admission together with his prior friendship with Miss Phoebe and knew exactly what kind of a rake the colonel had been. She’d met such men at the Wayfarers Inn. “But you’re alive … and you’re different.”

  He lifted his gaze and smiled. “Miraculously. When I realized I wasn’t dead, I started praying. I asked God to spare my life. I promised that if He did, I would start living right and going to church. I vowed to quit imbibing along with all the other filthy habits accompanying it.”

  “And God took you up on it.” Carrie smiled and realized she’d been holding onto her cup a bit too tightly. She relaxed her grip.

  “Indeed He did. The next morning, orderlies found me. The pain was so great when they moved me onto the stretcher that I lost consciousness. It was LaFont who stitched me together. I’m fortunate he was the attending physician. When I awoke, I was in the York Army Hospital with Aunt Ruth sitting at my bedside, reading from her Bible.”

  “And now you’re making good on your promise to God.”

  “That I am.”

  Hope and gladness soared through her. “How wonderful that this dark tale has a happy ending.” She sank her gaze into her teacup. “I’m thankful you didn’t fall at Gettysburg. I’m even more thankful that you turned your life around. However …” She paused. How to best phrase her next thoughts? “… the cost of this war has been great. So many lives lost.”

  “No one knows that better than I.” The colonel reached across the table and took her hand. “Carrie, you should be proud. You comforted many a soul during his final moments here on earth.”

  “I’m not proud. I’m … I’m …” She couldn’t even find the words to express her emotion.

  His palm pressed hers gently. “You’re a very compassionate young lady, Carrie, and you never cease to amaze me. You could have refused to help, as I brought you here against your will. Instead you rolled up your sleeves and went to work, helping LaFont.”

  She glanced up to see warmth in his golden-brown eyes—and something else. Mischief, perhaps.

  “Not that you had a choice in that either.” He grinned. “However, I sense the toll it’s been taking on you, which is why I’ve planned for you to leave camp tonight.”

  Her heart leaped with anticipation. “Tonight?”

  “General Sheridan has ordered that the Union line here near Halltown be fortified and defended. Meanwhile the cavalry still has its burning orders. My regiment and I leave on a mission at dawn. I’m not sure when we’ll make it back to camp, so I can no longer guarantee your safety. But when I heard of General Sheridan’s scouts heading for Winchester, I knew it was a divine opportunity.”

  “Scouts? You mean you’re not taking me to Winchester?” Disappointment fell over her.

  “I’m afraid not.” Releasing her hand, Peyton sat back in his chair, and Carrie immediately missed the physical connection. “A few of Sheridan’s scouts are heading for Winchester within the hour. They’ll see you safely to my aunt’s home. It’s a journey of about eight hours and it’s fairly hard riding. Do you think you can manage?”

  “Yes.” She hoped so, anyway.

  “Beneath the cloak of darkness, you won’t be spotted leaving the camp. After the scouts clear Charles Town, they’ll likely bivouac and get a few hours’ sleep.”

  “Something to look forward to.” She stifled a yawn. “And if you feel I’ll be safe with the general’s scouts, then I trust I will be.”

  “You will be.” Peyton finished his cigar and ground it out on the grass under his chair. “I appreciate your cooperative attitude, Carrie, and I’m sorry to spring the news on you this way. But you see, war, such as the Shenandoah Valley has never seen, is coming. When it does, I want you somewhere safe, not that Winchester would be my first choice for you—or for my aunt.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He took another drink of his coffee. “At the present, the Confederate flag flies in Winchester, but I learned from scouts that Lieutenant Colonel Elijah Kent has recently moved into my aunt’s home. Ironically, Eli Kent and I are good friends from our West Point days. Both Virginians. After we joined opposing armies, we vowed to look out for each other’s kin if at all possible. His folks reside near Richmond, and while I have never had use of their home, I believe they’d make me comfortable. Therefore, Aunt Ruth makes Eli’s stay in Winchester pleasurable. To make a long story a breath shorter, you will be safe there even though Confederates are in control of the town—temporarily in control, I might add.”

  “Your optimism impresses me. In the past, the Rebs have forced the Union to abandon its occupation of the Valley.”

  “Not this time.”

  His tone, soft, but with a saber-sharp edge to it, sent a chill down her spine.

  “I’ll miss you, Peyton.” A heartbeat later, she realized she’d spoken her thoughts. “Oh!” How horrifying! “I beg your pardon. My remark probably sounded quite forward.” She stared at the flickering lamplight on the table between them. “I assure you I didn’t mean anything by it.” She’d never said such things to a man. What was wrong with her?

  “Quite all right. You’ll be missed as well.”

  By you? Dr. LaFont and his staff? Other volunteers? Why did she hope that he’d miss her most of all?

  “At the same time, I hope I haven’t encouraged you in … well, in the wrong way.”

  Her heart took a tumble. “No, you haven’t.” She didn’t need clarification on what the wrong way was. She knew exactly what he’d meant. She was a farm girl from Woodstock, a serving girl at the Wayfarers Inn. He was a fine Union officer, a colonel, and a handsome one at that. They couldn’t be more ill-suited. “You’ve been very kind to me.” She smiled, deciding to add a bit of humor to cover her inexplicable disappointment. “Even if you did have the gall to arrest me.”

  He grinned. Moments later, another man entered the tent, capturing Peyton’s attention. He immediately pushed to his feet.

  “My scouts are saddling up.” Removing his hat, the officer glanced Carrie’s way. “Is this the young lady we spoke of earlier?”

  Carrie stood.

  “Yes, sir.” Peyton stepped around the table and took her hand. “Miss Carrie Ann Bell, allow me to present Major General Philip Sheridan.”

  General Sheridan! “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.” She’d never met anyone of such importance.

  “The pleasure is mine, Miss Bell.” He stepped closer, and Carrie was surprised at his small stature. He stood only an inch or two taller than she, although his odd-shaped head looked overly large for his frame. “I have heard of the tender care you administered to our wounded men. You have my sincere gratitude.” He gave her a bow.

  “I didn’t mind helping.”

  “Good, because you’ll likely be called upon again, particularly if you reside with Ruth Collier.” His mustache twitched with a smile. “She’s a fine nurse, and the Union army has men recovering in both area hospitals. I’m told they’ve been treated well, but that’s largely due to our loyal ladies in Winchester.”

  “I hope to be considered among them, sir.” Carrie meant it too. She liked these men, and after living among them she found herself believing more in the Yankees’ cause than she did the Confederates’. Even so, she understood the South’s grievance that its states’ rights had been violated. For Carrie, it was
easier to view men of both blue and gray as human beings. Wasn’t that what being independent minded was all about?

  “I’m sure you will be an asset,” the general said. “Your audacity will get you far in life.” He chuckled softly. “One particular tale of your service will remain etched in my memory for a long while.”

  “Which is that, sir?” Carrie chanced a peek up at Peyton, wondering what General Sheridan had heard—or what she’d done—but she couldn’t make out his expression.

  “As the story goes, my dear lady, while suturing a gash above Colonel Ackerby’s brow, you very unabashedly told him to ‘quit whining and take his stitches like a man.’”

  She sucked in her next breath. “I meant no disrespect.” A blush burst into her cheeks, its heat spreading down her neck. “It’s just that there were other men worse off than the colonel.”

  “Indeed.” General Sheridan guffawed and looked at Peyton. “Ackerby is full of complaints, is he not?”

  “I’ll reserve my comment for a later time, sir.” A subtle lilt to Peyton’s tone revealed good humor.

  “You’re a wise man, Collier.”

  Relief engulfed Carrie. The last thing she wanted was to cause Peyton any embarrassment. Seemed she hadn’t.

  Another laugh from the army commander, and then he reached for her hand and held it just briefly. “You’ve got pluck, Miss Bell, and I like that.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  He dropped his hat onto his head. “With that, I shall bid you Godspeed.”

  Carrie dipped her head gratefully.

  General Sheridan faced Peyton. “My scouts await. They’re cleverly disguised as local farmers. If questioned, Miss Bell will be a sister or cousin. The men will think of something. I don’t expect any problems.” The general smiled at Carrie. “Everything is in order for your departure from camp.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  Peyton extended his arm toward the tent’s flap. “Lead the way, sir.”

  Collecting the cape and cap that Miss Phoebe had scrounged up for her, Carrie followed General Sheridan. Peyton trailed her.

  Outside of the mess tent, Major Johnston and Tommy stood by while, in the near distance, two men sat on horseback, waiting. General Sheridan walked off with several of his staff.

  “I packed some gear for you, just in case it rains or you get hungry,” Tommy said, stepping forward.

  “How very thoughtful. Thank you.”

  “And … well, I can tell you look real pretty in that dress.”

  Carrie was touched. Standing on tiptoe, she placed a sisterly kiss on Tommy’s cheek. “You’ll make a fine soldier someday.”

  “Golly.” He rubbed the spot on his face that her lips had touched.

  Carrie’s face flamed as Peyton and Major Johnston’s chuckles sailed the distance. She’d never known a male to react to her like Tommy did just now.

  “Good-bye, Miss Bell.” Johnston doffed his hat and sidestepped around Tommy. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

  “Likewise. I hope to see you again.”

  “You will. If not on earth, then in the sky when the trumpet sounds the Lord’s second coming.”

  “Nevertheless, Reverend, keep your head low.”

  He guffawed. “I shall, Miss Bell.”

  Carrie turned to Peyton. “Will you tell Dr. LaFont good-bye for me?”

  “You can tell him yourself.”

  She gazed in the direction of Peyton’s nod and saw the Frenchman leaning against a nearby tree, smoking a cigar. He pushed off the trunk with his shoulder and strode toward her.

  “I am not happy about this, petite.”

  Carrie didn’t know how to reply. She didn’t feel happy about leaving either. What a difference a week made.

  “It’s not her doing, LaFont,” Peyton put in. “It’s mine.”

  “And I told you the same thing, did I not?” Dr. LaFont met Carrie’s gaze. “You may volunteer in my hospital any time.”

  “Thank you.” High praise, coming from a man who demanded perfection in the very worst of conditions. Nonetheless, Carrie observed his calm and skill amidst chaos, and aside from the hand of God, Dr. LaFont had most likely saved Peyton’s life.

  Cupping her elbow, Peyton led her over to the scouts. “Miss Carrie Ann Bell, allow me to introduce your escorts for this evening.”

  She smiled. He spoke as if they were in attendance at some well-to-do affair.

  “Majors Roddy and Brown.”

  Carrie gave a polite nod to the men before one of them dismounted. His movements struck a chord of familiarity deep inside of her. Seconds later, dread knotted in her belly as she peered into the face of her childhood friend, Joshua Blevens.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bell.” Joshua removed his hat and combed his fingers through his shaggy, walnut-colored hair. “Like the colonel said, I’m Major Brown.” He spoke the name slowly as if to warn Carrie against revealing his true identity. “If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

  “What she needs,” Peyton said tersely, “is to get to Winchester safely.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Darkness hid his frown, but Carrie heard it in his deep, dark tone. She felt as though she’d forgotten how to breathe.

  Peyton untied a saddled sorrel and led the animal over to her. “Tommy selected this horse especially for you.”

  She gazed across the way at Tommy and smiled, hoping she could convey the gratefulness she felt inside. After all, she was thankful. Scared to death, but thankful. What was Joshua doing here? Was he a Confederate spy, or had he deserted the Confederacy and joined the Union?

  “The gelding has a gentle nature—”

  Carrie forced herself to pay attention to Peyton.

  “—and he’s too small to meet cavalry regulations so he’s of no use to us. But he’ll make you a fine mount.”

  “Th-thank you.” She hoped Joshua hadn’t heard the quiver in her voice. She glanced in the scouts’ direction before seeing Tommy, Major Johnston, and Dr. LaFont amble off. Nice of them to say farewell.

  Looking back at Peyton, she wondered whether to invent some reason why she couldn’t ride away with the scouts. Joshua would likely give her a thrashing once they left camp. Like an older brother, he protected her, allowed himself to be cajoled by her, but he had also reprimanded her. He’d wrestled her to the ground for lesser offenses than this one—showing up in a Union camp. But she could hardly use that as an excuse to stay. She’d have to face Joshua sometime. After all, she’d accepted employment from a Union cavalryman in Winchester.

  Peyton slid the cape from her grasp and set it around her shoulders. With particular care, he hooked its top clasp. He leaned closer. “I must admit to feeling a bit jealous that Tommy got a kiss and I didn’t.”

  She found the remark amusing.

  “I mean it.”

  A pleasurable blush burst into her face. He wanted a kiss? She’d happily give him one, provided Joshua didn’t see.

  She flicked a glance over the horse’s back and saw him conversing with the other scout. If done quickly, her actions wouldn’t be noticed. Then again, if she was already in hot water with Joshua, she may as well make his wrath worth it.

  Standing on tiptoes, Carrie placed one hand on Peyton’s shoulder and touched her lips to his cheek. Before she realized it she’d brought her fingertips to his chin. His beard felt as soft as she’d guessed.

  In that moment, she knew she’d fallen in love with this man. A handsome Yankee colonel who was well above her station in life.

  Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped back, wishing she could remain close to him.

  Peyton said nothing, his gaze fixed on her.

  “Thank you for everything,” she whispered. “You’ve been more than kind and generous to me.”

  “Entirely my pleasure.”

  She peeked over the saddle at Joshua. His frowning countenance stared back at her.

  The bloo
d drained from her face.

  “Is something wrong, Carrie?” Peyton’s voice was soft, intended for her ears alone.

  She didn’t know how to respond. Did she nod? Shake her head? How did she let on that something was very, very wrong? If she wasn’t mistaken, the other shabbily dressed scout was Rodingham, the Confederate major she’d met the day she left Woodstock. And, of course, she’d recognize Joshua anywhere and at any distance.

  “Carrie?” Peyton held her shoulders. “You need not be frightened. The scouts value their positions with this army far too much to risk harming you.”

  She opened her mouth, but not a single utterance came out.

  “Colonel, that girl won’t be any trouble to us, will she?” Joshua asked.

  Resting his right elbow on the saddle, Peyton peered across the way. “I thought I made it clear, Major Brown. She won’t be any trouble.” Irritation oozed from each syllable.

  “Just making sure, Colonel.”

  Carrie dropped her gaze and stared at the toes of her boots. The damp breeze ruffled her skirt. If Joshua kept this up he’d likely give himself away without her saying a word.

  “It’s your choice, Carrie,” Peyton said softly.

  “I’ll go.” She may as well face Joshua now. Besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Joshua was the one in disguise! But unless he let on, she’d go along with the pretense, especially since she couldn’t say for sure which side of this conflict the men were on. She felt safe with Joshua, although she didn’t care a whit for his friend.

  After tying her bonnet’s ribbon beneath her chin, Carrie pulled on her gloves. She stroked the horse’s nose. “You and I are going to be friends for a while, all right?” The animal tossed his head as if he nodded in understanding.

  Peyton helped her mount.

  “Please give Aunt Ruth and Tabitha my regards.”

  “Yes, I will.” She smiled down at him, noting again what a handsome figure he made. “I’ll be praying for you—you and your men.”