There was nothing she could do about it now. Emptying it onto the ground, she hoped the worst was past. She looked at her watch, consulted her maps and compass. Her destination was only a day away. If she started now, she’d arrive in plenty of time.
Even under the glare of the hot Tennessee sun, she felt cold. She’d begun to tremble and sweat, her muscles aching. Her throat burned with a raging thirst, but she had no water.
As the sun began to set, she was grateful for the cover of night. Now, only a mile from the Moss Creek plantation, she slithered out of the saddle, took it off the horse, turned it lose and continued on foot. Patches of cloud scudded across the sky passing over the face of the rising moon, bathing the land with shifting patches of light and shade. She crept to the top of a ridge and found herself at the edge of the woods, looking down on the narrow road.
Lifting the binoculars to her eyes, she could see that the guard had already begun to change. Union troops were withdrawing along the track, back to camp. She slipped back a few yards, pulled off the federal uniform and dressed as a Confederate soldier. When she came out of those woods she’d be right on top of the rebel lines and she had no intention of being shot as one of the enemy.
The road had remained clear for at least ten minutes as Ceci lowered herself over the edge of the ridge and down the bank. It was only a matter of thirty feet or so, but she felt weak and numb, her faculties impaired, making it difficult to concentrate. Finally, she dropped silently to the ground. The road right in front of her was swathed in shadow.
This was her chance. She looked up; the cloud appeared solid against the face of the moon. She left the cover of the bank and stepped out into the middle of the track. Unexpectedly, the cloud lifted, trapping her in a pool of milky light.
She froze, glancing down the road. About a hundred feet away stood a Union soldier, a straggler. From the way he was fastening his trousers, it looked as if he’d been delayed on some personal business, behind a nearby bush. For a moment they just stared at each other, then she saw him go for his gun.
Ceci didn’t want to risk alerting the entire Union army with an exchange of gun fire, not when she was this close to her goal. She turned and plunged into the woods. The shadowy undergrowth was full of briars, making it all but impenetrable. The thorns plucked at her clothes and tore at her skin. Long, sinuous vines wrapped themselves around her legs, holding her back, causing her to expend more energy than she could spare in her weakened state.
She struggled blindly on, hardly aware of which direction she was going, forcing her aching muscles to respond. She was burning up, her body wracked by cramps and chills. Sweat poured down her face and into her eyes, blurring her vision. At last, she stumbled into a small clearing. Convinced that she’d gained a few minutes on her pursuer, she paused, gasping for breath.
Seconds later, a twig cracked behind her. She whirled, drawing her pistol, but the fever slowed her down, making her reactions sluggish. A gunshot exploded against her ears. Her pistol flew from her hand as a burning pain tore through her left side. She gasped, staggered back against the trunk of a tree, sliding down it, sitting heavily on the ground.
Pressing her hand to her side, she could feel warm blood trickling through her cold fingers. The Union soldier advanced towards her, out of the gloom. She glanced to where her weapon had fallen. It was just out of reach. The soldier loomed over her. She watched him raise his pistol, beads of sweat burning her eyes, making everything hazy. She glanced at her weapon again, trying to calculate the distance, wondering how many seconds it would take her to roll out and grab it, before her assailant could fire. She pressed her back against the tree, her breath hissing between her teeth, every movement was agony.
She began to feel light-headed as the fever reasserted itself, making her vulnerable. She tried to move, but couldn’t. She slumped back against the tree, realising she was helpless under his murderous scrutiny. She could see nothing but cold unremitting hatred in his dark eyes as he raised his weapon, cocked the hammer, and took careful aim.
Ceci had always known the risks, was well aware that this could happen but, somehow, she’d never believed it would. She was the last of the Bird spies. Now, it looked as if their time was over.
“Trent,” she murmured. Her last thoughts were of him.
A second gunshot rang out.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Ceci flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. After a second, she opened them again. She ran her hands hurriedly over her chest, but there was no second wound, no coup de grace, only the throbbing pain in her side.
The Union soldier still towered above her. He hadn’t discharged his weapon. A puzzled frown began to cloud his expression. His arm dropped to his side, the gun falling from his limp fingers. He began to sway as his legs buckled, sinking to his knees, before crashing onto his face, a crimson flower blossoming on his back.
Ceci glanced nervously along the tree line, trying desperately to focus, then at her pistol, then back to the trees again. Finally, she saw it, a figure, cloaked and hooded, standing in the shadows, a smoking pistol in their hand.
Before she could react, the figure surged forward, stood over her, then knelt. The cloak fell open and a silver dollar on a gold chain swung out, glittering in the moonlight.
“Hecubah,” she gasped, overwhelmed by a sense of astonishment and relief.
Hecubah pulled the hood from her head and laid her pistol aside, cradling Ceci in her arms. “Oh, God, honey,” she cried. “I hope I ain’t too late.”
Ceci tried to push herself away. “I have to get a message to Bragg,” she struggled weakly.
“Let’s just concentrate on getting you outa here,” Hecubah advised. “Those gunshots have stirred up a hornet’s nest. These woods are crawling with troops, and now they’ll all be heading in this direction.” She began to remove her cloak. “This is all I have to cover that uniform,” she clicked her tongue at the inadequacy of it.
“Wait,” Ceci pointed to the satchel she had, slung over her shoulder. “In the pouch, there’s a dress.”
Hecubah looked doubtful but, nevertheless, opened the bag and emptied its contents onto the ground. As Ceci had told her, a complete dress fell out, amongst other contentious items, followed by a Union uniform. She looked back at Ceci. “What, in God’s name, have you gotten yourself into?” she demanded. “If they catch us with all this, they’s liable to hang us both.”
She took the pouch, and what remained of its contents, and stuffed it under the roots of a tree, covering it with dead leaves. Then she helped Ceci out of the Confederate uniform, gasping at the ugly wound in her side. “I have to try and stop the bleeding,” she told her, pulling up her skirt and tearing two ragged strips from her petticoat. She made a pad of one, tying it in place with the other. “I’m sorry if I’m hurting you, honey,” she sighed, prompted by Ceci’s groans, “but we gotta hurry.” She helped Ceci to her feet, got her into the dress and finished it off with her cloak. “There’s a horse tethered yonder,” she pointed. “It ain’t far. You just lean on me.”
In the shifting patches of light and shadow they glimpsed armed men moving all around them. Often only a few feet away. They picked their way cautiously through the woods, dodging both Union and Confederate soldiers. Under the circumstances, one could be as lethal as the other. It was hard going. Ceci often had to stop to rest. Sometimes she collapsed altogether or began to mumble feverishly, forcing Hecubah to put her hand over her mouth until she’d quietened down.
It felt like an age had passed before they reached the thicket where Hecubah had left the horse. She helped Ceci mount, then climbed up behind her. Leaving the cover of the trees, they began to move slowly along an empty stretch of road, shadows and moonlight dancing around them, the darkened woods full of sound and movement.
They’d gone less than a hundred yards before a small detachment of Union cava
lry appeared in front of them, cutting them off from the Confederate lines.
“Stay quiet, child,” Hecubah whispered. “These ain’t our boys.”
“Who goes there?” the officer challenged, pistol at the ready. Then he noticed that they were women. “What the hell are you doing out here?” he barked. “Don’t you know there’s a battle going on?”
“We was trying to get away,” Hecubah told him the truth. “But we got lost. My friend was hit by a stray bullet.”
The officer approached, drawing his horse up beside them. Then he reached out, lifting Ceci’s cloak aside. She held her breath, swaying slightly in the saddle, barely able to stay conscious. If he became suspicious now, nothing would save them.
“That looks bad,” he muttered, seeing the large bloodstain spreading out on the side of Ceci’s dress. “All our surgeons are fully occupied with our own casualties,” he told them. “But there’s a small town nearby with a civilian doctor. Better have him look at it.” He beckoned to a cavalry corporal. “I’ll have one of my men escort you in,” he offered. “Don’t want you getting lost again.”
The Corporal led them through the Union lines and into town. In the distance, they could hear the thunder of cannon fire, as powder flashes flickered across the night sky, an eerie glow lighting up the horizon.
“Count yourselves lucky you aren’t there tonight,” he remarked casually. “Chattanooga’s taking a pounding.”
He helped Hecubah get Ceci down from the horse and carry her into the doctor’s office, where they laid her on his examination table. By now, the pain and blood loss had rendered her unconscious. Hecubah counted it as a blessing. Now, at least, she couldn’t blurt out anything incriminating under the influence of the fever. His task completed, the Corporal saluted and left, taking Hecubah’s thanks with him.
The doctor was a southerner, born and raised in Tennessee. A man of advancing years and considerable medical experience. Too old for war, yet a man who had lately seen more death than was good for anyone.
“What happened?” he asked, recognising Ceci’s injury as a gunshot wound.
“We was trying to escape from Chattanooga,” Hecubah was careful to tell him the same story. He may have been a southerner, but that was no reason to take unnecessary risks. “But we got lost, and my friend was shot by mistake.”
“War,” he shook his head disparagingly. “It’s always the young and the innocent that take the brunt of it. Let’s see what the damage is.”
Hecubah assisted him, as he cut away the bloodstained dress. “That’s it?” he looked up puzzled. “That’s all she’s wearing, just a dress?”
“She’s just a poor, simple, farmgirl,” Hecubah explained forlornly. “Farm ain’t bin doing too good since the war. She’s destitute.”
The doctor shook his head again, sighing. “There are some Christian people in the town,” he told her. “Methodists mainly, who are putting together parcels of food and clothes for refugees, like yourselves, fleeing from Chattanooga. I’ll have them send something over for her.”
Hecubah thanked him profusely, drifting into an anxious silence, as he proceeded to clean and dress the wound. When he’d finished, he covered Ceci with a blanket, then filled a bowl with hot water and began to wash his hands, turning back to her as he towelled them dry.
“She was lucky,” he told her. “The bullet went right through, missed all the vital organs. The wound itself is not that serious, but she’s lost a lot of blood. I’m detecting borderline malnutrition, but she seems strong.” He paused, placing his hand on Ceci’s forehead. “It’s this fever that bothers me,” he admitted. “Has she been drinking polluted water?”
“It’s possible,” Hecubah guessed. “What are her chances, Doctor?”
He exhaled sharply. “The wound’s not infected. It should heal quickly. As for the rest,” he shrugged. “I’d say fifty fifty, but,” he added gravely, “if she develops pneumonia, that’ll be the end of it.”
Hecubah stooped and kissed Ceci’s fevered brow. “Hold on, child,” she whispered.
“She’s too weak to travel yet,” he advised. “There’s a boarding house down the street that’s opened its doors to refugees. You can stay there, at no cost,” he reassured her, remembering her claim to poverty.
Whilst Hecubah waited anxiously beside Ceci, he went into the street and called a boy to fetch help. Twenty minutes later, two men and a woman arrived, Methodists, who had volunteered to help the displaced people from Chattanooga. The woman had brought a parcel of clothes with her, mainly nightwear, as she’d been told that the recipient would be bedridden. She helped Hecubah get Ceci into a nightgown. Then the men laid her on a crude litter and carried her to the boarding house, accompanied by the doctor. They were given a small attic room and, once Ceci was safely in bed, the three of them withdrew leaving Hecubah and Ceci alone with the doctor.
He took his watch from his waistcoat pocket, holding Ceci’s wrist between his fingers. “Pulse is steady.” He seemed satisfied. “I’ll leave fresh dressings and a bottle of antiseptic for the wound,” he continued. “As for the fever, make sure she drinks plenty of liquids. See if you can get a little food into her, where feasible. Will you be nursing her yourself?”
“Me and no one else,” Hecubah was adamant, afraid of what Ceci might say, in her delirium.
“Then be prepared for the long haul,” he warned. “I’ve known these fevers to last for months. At times she will be completely lucid, but she will also be prone to vivid hallucinations. Are you sure you can cope?”
“Yes, sir,” Hecubah confirmed. “I bin taking care of this little girl most of her life. I ain’t about to give up on her now.”
The doctor consulted his watch again. “I have other patients to attend to,” he informed her.
“We’ve a deal to thank you for,” Hecubah told him sincerely. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“Let’s hope it’s not all in vain,” he responded. “Send for me, if her condition changes.”
Alone, at last, Hecubah heaved a huge sigh of relief, wondering how they’d managed to come through it all. Luck had played a part, but there was no denying that the common decency of the Union officer who had found them on the road had a good deal to do with it.
“Mercy, child,” she addressed Ceci’s prone figure. “The Lord was sure watching over us today.” She patted her limp hand. “I’m gonna make you strong and well,” she promised. “Then I’m gonna take you home. And when we get there, I’m gonna whip your behind, so’s you never sits down again.” She knew, as she said it, she probably wouldn’t, but after all she’d been through, it made her feel better.
Fortune had smiled on them, this time. The boarding house was a relatively safe hiding place. Every room was occupied by refugees, escaping the depredations of war. Hecubah knew that they’d be too preoccupied with their own problems to take any notice of a sick girl. However, that didn’t alter the fact that she and Ceci were now in the middle of an enemy occupied town.
***
“Where am I?” It was almost dawn, before Ceci regained consciousness. “Where am I?” she asked again, trying to sit up.
“Hush, child,” Hecubah eased her back against the pillow. “You is safe. That’s all you needs to know for now.”
“Hecubah,” Ceci smiled weakly, beginning to remember the events of the previous day. “How, on earth, did you find me?”
Hecubah dipped a cloth into a bowl of cold water, wrung it out, and began to mop Ceci’s brow. “When Simon Robicheaux told me what you’d said, returned this silver dollar to me and handed me my freedom, I realised what you were trying to do. So I decided to bring you home.” She refreshed the cloth and laid it on Ceci’s forehead. “I knew that devil, Doucet, was behind it all,” she continued, sitting down beside the bed. “I began to search through the plantatio
n records. Took me almost a year, but in the end, I found what I was looking for. The guest list for the night of your ball. There was an address for Doucet in Lafayette.”
“You went to see Doucet?” Ceci stared incredulously
“Men like him, don’t frighten me,” Hecubah scowled. “He ain’t as smart as he thinks he is. Otherwise, he’d have remembered to tie up that loose end before he started spying again.” She took a glass from the table beside the bed, and helped Ceci take a few sips of water. “I found his house,” she went on. “I knocked on the door, pushed past his hired man and barged into his office. I shoved the barrel of a pistol into his ear and told him if he didn’t tell me where he expected you to be next month, I’d ventilate his skull. Adding, that if he lied, he could count his life in weeks. I guess the man knew I was sincere.”
“How’d you get all the way out here?” Ceci wondered. “That’s a journey of more than four hundred miles, with a war going on.”
“It weren’t easy,” Hecubah admitted. “I guess Doucet figured I’d never make it, but a thousand dollars, in gold, buys a lot of friends and a lot of leeway.” She paused, raising the glass to Ceci’s lips again. “I knew the date, the place and the time. I arrived half a day before you. I saw those battle lines, that strip of woods and the narrow road. I hid and waited. I knew you had to come down that road sooner or later. So, you did, followed by that ugly Yank.”
“I was wearing a Confederate uniform,” Ceci recalled. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Honey, I bin watching over you the best part of your life,” Hecubah reminded her. “I could pick you outa a crowd of a thousand. Don’t matter to me, if you was wearing a mule skin and a sack over your head. I’d still know it was you.”
“Lucky for me,” Ceci realised, wincing from the pain in her side.
“Luck?” Hecubah raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Honey, you come that close to dying. It must have bin your guardian angel watching over you that day.”
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