“It’s not a question of danger, but duty,” Andrea retorted. “I’m doing no more than my duty—and no one can expect me to do less.”
When Daniel did not reply, she leaned forward in her saddle, causing the leather to creak. “Do you have a better plan, Colonel Delaney?” She appeared calm and confident as she gazed at him. “If you do, I’ll gladly yield mine to yours.”
Daniel looked from her to the spectral parade of gray-clad horsemen and back. “No.”
“Then I’ll see you in Salem.” Andrea did not wait for him to change his mind, but put spur to horse and was off.
“Caution will be the order of the day,” Daniel whispered as loudly as he dared. But she had apparently already thrown caution to the wind. Her horse disappeared into the shadowy landscape in the blink of an eye, and in another moment even the sound of hoof beats had faded.
Daniel stared into the tree-line and shook his head. That girl would fan the flames of hell—and then charge through them—simply for the thrill of the ride.
Chapter 28
For if destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author. We must live through all time, or die of suicide.
– Abraham Lincoln
J.J. listened with half-closed eyes to the sound of Daniel’s nervous pacing as they waited for word at Colonel Dayton’s headquarters. Suddenly the door burst open.
“I have a report from one of my scouts.” Dayton strode in, still reading from a piece of paper he’d apparently just received.
“About Sinclair?” Daniel stopped in mid-step and turned around.
“Yes. It seems your scout, Sinclair, was observed trailing the enemy closely.” He paused and cleared his throat. “So closely in fact that my man lost sight of him.”
“He what?” Daniel’s fists tightened by his side.
“It says here he was observed riding north of the enemy column, well screened and concealed. But when the Confederates made the unexpected turn away from Salem toward Middleburg, my scout says Sinclair just kind of got mixed up in their line.”
Daniel and J.J. looked at each other and simultaneously exhaled. Daniel even put his hand to his head as if he felt a sudden rush of pain.
“There’s no need for worry,” Dayton insisted, sitting down and pulling a pipe out of a drawer. “He says Sinclair just sort of blended in with the enemy. There was no alarm.”
“Was Sinclair on the black horse?” J.J.’s voice did not mask the concern he felt knowing that she had once again thrown caution, and all else, to the wind.
“No. He ran into some of my men on patrol and borrowed one of theirs.” Dayton tapped his pipe on the desk, seemingly unaware of the effect his news was having on the other two officers.
J.J. glanced at Daniel again and read both relief and alarm. They both knew Justus would still have been fresh. But the fact that Andrea had used some foresight in anticipating that the rebel cavalry would be on the lookout for a big, black horse, did little to ease their anxiety.
“I have some pickets I must talk to,” Dayton said, after lighting his pipe and taking a leisurely toke. “You gentlemen can stay as long as you’d like, but I don’t anticipate any updates any time soon. My men have all been recalled.”
After the general exited, Daniel and J.J. remained in the headquarters office, one gazing wistfully out the window, the other pacing restlessly back and forth. “I’m afraid she will do something foolish,” Daniel finally said as if to himself.
“In all likelihood she already has.” J.J. answered in a loud voice, his tone reflecting both frustration and concern.
“Why does she do it, Jon?” Daniel turned away from the window. “What possesses her?”
“I’ve tried, with little success, to find that out myself.” J.J. lowered himself onto the front of the desk and crossed his arms. “All I know is that she has a belief of wrongs suffered and a desire to set them right.”
“It must end.” Daniel took off his hat and ran hand through his hair in agitation. “She’s not eaten and hardly slept for two days.”
J.J. laughed. “Land’s sakes, man! You should know by now she doesn’t have to eat or sleep. She feeds on danger and thrives on risk. And I swear to you,” he added through gritted teeth, “if she makes it back alive, I’ll kill her with my own two hands.”
“Not if I get to her first.” Daniel turned to the window again and stared at the raindrops gathering in intensity on the glass.
By the time the full report arrived from the scouts, the two officers discovered they had even more to worry about. The column Sinclair had fallen in with was indeed Stuart’s. But the report said Hunter and his men were expected to join up with them by nightfall. Whether Sinclair knew that detail, they had no way of knowing. But it was clear if she did not get out by dark, she may not get out at all, because she would be in the midst of two of the most dangerous, ruthless, quick-striking forces in the entire Confederate army.
Chapter 29
If there is a place worse than hell, I am in it.
– Abraham Lincoln
Andrea sat huddled by a smoky fire with her tired and soaked new comrades. The storm, which moved in quickly, had been somewhat of a blessing. Riding with their heads down against the onslaught, the Confederates took no notice of the new rider in their ranks, and the rain slicker she now wore helped her blend in.
She glanced up from beneath the rim of her dripping hat to study the men around her. There were some in their prime; some well past. All looked like they had not eaten for quite some time, and that sleep had been scarcer than food. They obviously suffered from the wet and cold, yet all looked ready to fight.
Andrea remembered she also had not eaten for quite some time and concluded that the prospects of getting a meal here looked slim. Furthermore, she was exhausted from the lack of rest the past two days and scolded herself for not lying down when she had the chance last night. With a clearer mind, perhaps she’d be able to think.
She lifted just her eyes again and scanned the faces around her. No one appeared to suspect her. Most, she surmised, were too miserable to even notice her. But her walk through the encampment had done little to uncover any intelligence of who this cavalry unit belonged to—or where they might be headed next.
Sitting on a log turned on its end, Andrea faintly heard the door of the farmhouse behind her slam shut. She was unaware of anyone approaching until she felt a strong hand squeezing her shoulder with the strength of a bear. It was apparently a friendly gesture, but she knew she would not forget the power in that hand as long as she lived.
“At ease, men.” The voice was deep and jovial as the men around her struggled to rise to their feet. “Just came down to invite you up to the porch if you’d like. Get out of the rain for a spell.”
Andrea felt a tingle of fear run the length of her spine, along with a sense of excitement. She knew by the devoted looks on the faces around her that the man behind her was General J.E.B. Stuart. She tried to keep from breathing in short gasps as Stuart continued making small talk with the men, his hand still resting on her shoulder.
“Might take you up on that, Gen’ral,” one said.
“There’s a barn down the road a piece too if any of you boys want to hunker down there for the night. We’ll be moving out at dawn.”
A courier appeared out of the darkness with a dispatch, and Stuart went down on one knee by the smoky fire to read it. As he stood, Andrea turned her head away to avoid meeting his gaze. Seeming not to notice, he nodded to the group of men, patted her on the shoulder again as though she were an old friend, and headed back toward the house.
Andrea followed the others to the porch, and after a little nudging, found a small space to sit. With her back pressed against the bannister, she was barely shielded from the rain, but was glad to be out of the mud. Just as she settled in, the sound of heavy footsteps and jingling spurs jolted her like a lightning bolt.
She knew without looking that it was him, sensed his presence even before his indo
mitable figure came into view. Perhaps the current that ran through those around her caused the reaction. Or perhaps it was the way he appeared from out of the darkness, imposing and commanding as he followed one of Stuart’s aides toward the house.
Striding to the porch with the bearing of a warrior, he removed his gloves while tramping up the steps with neither a look to the left nor the right. Men instantly clambered out of his way, making a path that appeared to move before him like the parting sea. Although he had said not a word, everyone seemed to know he meant business.
Andrea herself was spellbound, only turning away when she unintentionally made direct eye contact with the cigar-smoking lieutenant who followed close behind. A sudden apprehension of death unexpectedly stirred in her soul, equal in potency to the adrenalin that coursed through her veins. Had spectral hands swept out of the darkness and placed a noose around her neck, Andrea could have felt no closer to doom and death than she did upon gazing into those fighting eyes.
“Captain Hunter!” Stuart’s voice boomed from within as the door opened. “You’re late. Out looking for that elusive fox of yours?” The gallant Stuart laughed loudly as if he thought his friend’s misfortunes a rather good joke.
“He’s got more holes than a prairie dog.” Hunter, on the other hand, did not sound amused.
“I’ve no doubt you’ll sniff him out, my boy. Don’t you worry; he’ll wander from his den into the jaws of Hunter yet.”
“If I were to worry about all of the Yankees nipping at my heels, I would have little time for anything else,” Hunter replied. “Yet this one is especially irksome to me.”
Andrea heard a rain slicker being removed and shaken, followed by the sound of rustling papers. There ensued a short silence as Stuart apparently read an intercepted dispatch, followed by a deep, booming laugh. “Captain Hunter, your name has become well known to the Union ranks, you devil. They don’t seem to know which way to turn.”
“Your name is mentioned as well. I can’t take all the credit for their panic.”
“Ha!” Stuart’s voice was full of merriment. “This Yankee officer says here, ‘I’d rather face a full division of Jackson in my front than a dozen of Hunter’s men in my rear.’”
Stuart continued to laugh, seeming to get a great kick out of the perplexity his friend was causing Yankees. “You are creating quite a disturbance with your divine genius at outwitting them. I rather liked that trick you played with your men dragging brush behind them to raise more dust. They must have thought there were five hundred of you!”
“I believe their official report said a thousand,” Hunter responded coolly.
“And you had?”
The captain’s voice was barely audible, as if he found it embarrassing to baffle the Yankees so easily.
“Thirteen.”
Stuart laughed again. “They think you have a thousand when you have but a baker’s dozen! The Yankees have gotten a good deal of education at your hands, Captain—and paid high tuition fees to boot!”
Andrea could hear his spurs clanking as he walked across the room. He must have been standing near to Hunter because his voice grew softer. “General Lee wants me to convey to you in the strongest possible terms that the constant exposure of your self during battle is perhaps your only fault.”
“I take no unnecessary chances,” Hunter defended himself. “But I’ll not ask men to go where I will not.”
Stuart sighed heavily.
“I know you too well, Captain,” he said. “After all, I would never have taken note of you had you not disobeyed repeated orders to withdraw while under heavy fire. Remember?”
Hunter must have nodded, because Andrea heard no reply.
“I’m telling you when I receive a dispatch that says the enemy was routed, I need no further information to know that your Command was engaged!” Stuart chuckled. “You have made quite a name for yourself.”
“Which I could not have done without you.”
“As Lee depends on me, so I depend on you,” Stuart said, his voice suddenly serious. “You deserve to roar a little on your own behalf.”
“A roaring lion catches no game,” Hunter responded. “You are too generous with your praise.”
“My boy, one thing I am not is generous with praise,” Stuart said, “but in this case, it’s well deserved.”
“I don’t feel deserving. Not after yesterday.”
Andrea cringed and hoped no one noticed.
Stuart’s voice grew grave. “I heard you lost a lieutenant.”
For a few minutes the conversation was spoken in low tones, making it unintelligible to Andrea. She unconsciously leaned closer, straining to hear, but the sound of hoof beats drowned out the words completely.
A lathered horse soon burst out of the darkness, causing everyone on the porch to jolt. The heaving animal came to a sliding stop in front of the steps, spraying mud on the closest occupants.
Sweat began to drip down Andrea’s shirt despite the growing cold.
“Cap’n Hunter in here?” The young man did not wait for an answer. He leaped off his horse and proceeded up the steps two at a time, knocked once on the door, and entered. The group on the porch grew quiet in anticipation of what was to come. They did not have to strain to hear. The voices inside carried well.
“What do you have, Gus?” Hunter asked.
“Sir, I have reason to believe there is a Yankee in our midst.”
Andrea stopped breathing altogether. She listened and waited in silent suspense.
“Go on, boy!” Stuart boomed.
“I watched a rider fall in with the column earlier. He didn’t reappear. This is the only place he could be.”
“You’re sure?” Captain Hunter’s voice carried as he walked to the door. The sound of his approaching spurs caused convulsive chills to ripple down Andrea’s spine.
“I’m sure, sir. I stayed out to make certain.”
With a great clatter of boots and spurs, the men tramped out the door and onto the porch. “Inform all the pickets, no one in or out of this camp without our expressed consent,” Hunter said to one of his men who stood waiting for orders at the bottom of the porch. Then Stuart yelled to one of his. “Secure this camp! Make it so tight the ghost of Caesar cannot escape us!”
Stuart and Hunter walked off the porch still talking and gesturing, each warrior looking formidable and impressive in his own way, together creating an image that made Andrea’s blood run cold.
Dropping off the side of the porch, Andrea leaned against the house in a deep shadow created by the chimney. Perhaps Stuart is right. The hunted fox may be forced into the vengeful jaws of Hunter yet. She shivered with inexplicable dread, then took a few deep breaths and willed herself to calmness.
Think. Think. There must be a way…
Pacing in the shadows, Andrea forced her weary brain not to panic as she analyzed her dilemma.
The first thing I’ll need is a horse. A fast one. A mount that can be depended on to be ready to run.
Andrea scanned the yard where horses were tied hither and yon. None looked especially fleet; most appeared wet and miserable. She could not risk her escape on a steed already fatigued from hard riding. She had to find the freshest among them.
A slight smile rose on her lips as she identified in her mind which horse she needed to find—and take.
But the wave of relief was instantly followed by a flood of dread that made her lips tremble with fear. The daring and difficulty of being successful in this endeavor was almost too much to comprehend. She remained where she was for more than an hour, formulating and disregarding a thousand and one plans as either impractical, impossible or accomplished with too much risk.
Around midnight Andrea knew she was running out of time. She took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm as she began to put her plan in action.
But that didn’t stop J.J.’s warning from continuing to replay through her brain.
War isn’t a game.
Chapter 3
0
There is the risk you cannot afford to take, and there is the risk you cannot afford not to take.
– Peter Drucker
Trying to move without raising any suspicion, Andrea walked toward the barn, sticking her hands in her pockets and whistling under her breath when soldiers were near. When she got close to the large stone building, she picked up her step to indicate urgency.
A camp guard stopped her, sounding more tired than commanding. “What’s your business?”
“Get out of the way, man,” she said, her voice full of impatience. “Captain Hunter ordered me to get his horse.”
“Cap’n Hunter? He’s already on his haws.”
“I know that. He needs his second. The other tripped in the dark and is lame. Hurry, man! He said he needs a fresh horse!”
The picket walked over to a sleeping soldier and nudged him with his gun. “Dodge, git up and fetch the Cap’n a haws.”
The man sat up sleepily. “He’s got Fleetson.”
“Well, saddle up Stump. It’ll take but five minutes.”
“No,” Andrea yelled a little louder than she intended. “I haven’t that many seconds to spare. Just show me the horse. The captain’s already got his saddle.”
“He’s that bay on the end of the picket line,” the man who had been sleeping said. “Two white socks and a blaze. You one of Stuart’s boys?”
“Yeah,” Andrea said over her shoulder as she untied the horse and headed away from the barn. She paid no heed to the pain in her ankle, but practically dragged the animal called Stump behind her.
“Stump?” she whispered to him. “What kind of lowlife name is that for the horse of a cavalryman? Sounds like you should be pulling a hay wagon.”
Scrutinizing the horse in the shadows, Andrea saw he was nearly the size and build of Justus, but he moved lethargically, and with a name like Stump…well, she would soon find out.
Duty Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Book 1) Page 13