The Shiloh Series: Books 1-3

by Phillip Bryant

  Quietly closing the door on the poor display, Will started to make his way back to his companions. The morning was getting later than he wanted to risk being out of cover. Something from the front of the house drew his attention. The sounds of a horse.

  One quick ride down the street and then off toward Cincinnati and it would all be over. Will crept down the side of the house, and there it was, and then there he was, that chaplain. Ducking back, he slipped silently back and out of sight.

  Will, popping dried hominy into his mouth to suck on, made his way back.

  Slipping in and out from behind houses, his attention was drawn to the road as the distinctive clop of many hooves and the rattle of sabers forced him to go to ground. A cavalry patrol was making its way down through the village. The troopers looked tired and surly, and draped over the back of one of the horses was a blond head of hair that swung lazily with the horse’s movements. The face was not visible, but the uniform of a Confederate of artillery and the dirty hair were unmistakably Peter Pritchert’s. His arms dangled unceremoniously, and his torso was tied to the back of the saddle.

  So, he’s been found, Will thought to himself. Now it’s time to get out or surrender.

  Chapter 19

  Germantown, Ohio, August 18, 1862

  Stephen and Fredrick watched in shocked stillness. In mournful procession, the Union cavalry patrol sauntered down the road, with one trooper leading his horse with the body of a man draped over the saddle and tied down like a sack of flour. They weren’t exactly paying much attention to their left and right, as if they’d found what they had been looking for and were on the way back from a successful hunt. They had somehow caught and killed Peter Pritchert.

  “Fool must not have listened to the lieutenant,” Stephen whispered.

  “Why’d they have to shoot ‘im?” Fredrick replied.

  “Hey, I don’t see no blood on him … something else happened. Where was the captain? They got him too?”

  The five-man patrol continued on, looking grim as they passed. Fredrick and Stephen watched their friend, head bobbing disgracefully with each step of the horse. Feeling that they needed to make haste despite the real possibility the Federals were wise to their presence, the two men stole through the trees with caution, making slow time but keeping themselves in motion. The crisis had come after many days on the run, and it would end in sight of their destination. Stephen was troubled by seeing Peter hauled away without so much as a cover over his body. Further, where was Lieutenant Hunter?

  “I don’t see the captain with them. You sure we goin’ in the right direction?” Fredrick asked.

  “No, but following this road supposed to lead us to Cincinnati where we cross the river to Kentucky; if we keep the road in sight we be okay … least that’s what Hunter told us,” Stephen said, unconvinced himself.

  “I don’t know, Stephen. We been followin’ Hunter because he was an officer, but I don’t think we should trust him.”

  “What else we got? He wants to get out of Ohio too. He’s been here before, so he must know something,” Stephen said. “I don’t like doin’ this in daylight.”

  “What if he had somethin’ to do with Peter bein’ captured or killed? What if Hunter the one what did it? You want to wait around for that?”

  “Don’t know, but if he did, we still need him to show us the direction, though I don’t know how even he’s thinkin’ to get across the river. We takin’ a big chance moving about.”

  The farmhouses, a common sight scattered about along the roadside, were replaced by domiciles that were more closely spaced together, and the outskirts of a town took shape. The trees grew sparser and stood further afield from the roadside, making staying out of sight difficult. The road traffic was constant: wagons and carriages coming and going as well as foot traffic, and more ominously, Federal cavalrymen riding about with purpose. There were cavalry horses tied up in front of many of the houses and dismounted troopers investigating barns, sheds, and sties. They were definitely looking for something.

  “What the hell you two bring down on us?” A voice startled both men.

  Hiding under a cover of brush and leaves, a face appeared in front of them. They had not seen any movement or even any hint that someone was lurking nearby.

  “Lewis?” Stephen asked. “What you doin’ here?”

  “I knew you two would bring the whole Union army down on me! What are you doing moving about in daylight?” Lewis whispered angrily.

  Stephen took a step forward and knelt down as if suddenly concerned with being seen. “We seen Peter get caught an’ we decided we needed to get moving.”

  “He didn’t get caught,” Lewis said in his usual tone when referring to Peter. “That lieutenant throttled him. Can’t say I blame him.”

  “What?” Fredrick blurted loudly.

  “Quiet, Lester!”

  “What do you mean Hunter killed him?” Stephen whispered. “Why didn’t Captain Kearns stop him?”

  “Seen it; wasn’t far away when I see’d Pritchert headed for the road like he was going to walk down the middle of it. Didn’t see no Kearns about. It were last night. I was moving not far from where I seen you four halt. That lieutenant come back an’ jus’ strangle him where he stood by the side of the road. Like I say, can’t say I blame him. That Pritchert was gonna give up the whole game fer us all. Someone must’ve found the body, so I suppose it don’t make much of a difference if Hunter’d left him alone or not. This place is crawlin’ with Federals now.”

  “He didn’t deserve to be killed … murdered,” Stephen gasped in disbelief.

  “Like hell he didn’t!” Lewis said. “I thought I’d kept a good distance from you, but I were just as surprised to see you last night as you was to find me now. Now, we going to have a harder time getting across the river thanks to our mutual friend what been paraded by slung over that horse.”

  “What you going to do now?” Fredrick asked Lewis.

  “Lay here until dark; too risky moving in daylight.”

  “They starting to comb the woods now; you gonna get found,” Stephen replied. “We don’t know where the lieutenant be; too hot to stay where he left us.”

  “You’ll be spotted moving as a group; better to do it alone an’ at night when they can’t see you,” Lewis said.

  “We lay low here until dark. Them troopers ain’t gonna find us as they ain’t lookin’ very hard.”

  Stephen and Fredrick hunkered down, and soon all three of them were covered over once more and hidden under musty-smelling leaves. Sleep soon followed.

  It was fitful sleep for Stephen. He’d not given thought to what it would take to get back home—he would not have even tried to escape had not Lewis organized the effort. Stephen lay awake, thinking of Pritchert’s body paraded over the saddle. Shiloh loomed large, crowding out thoughts of hunger and more walking.

  The bloody charge up the hill into the guns of the 58th Ohio had netted them the top of the hill, eventually, but at the cost of half the officers and men and of irreparable damage to others. He had taken orders, as all soldiers do, and charged up and back down the hill until his legs burned, his lungs heaved, and his throat stung. He and Fredrick were still following orders, and for reasons he did not know when he thought about it. By now, they knew how many had escaped, and now, roughly where they might be found. It was now a matter of wills. Did he have the will to keep going, or to buck Hopewell or Hunter? For all his childish ways, Peter’s stubborn refusal to continue on had been a braver thing than he himself had attempted, even in the face of an angry Will Hunter.

  Traffic along the road was a continuous clanking and creaking of wagons and carriages and the clopping of hooves in the dust. The mystery of what had happened and where Hunter was right now kept him on edge. He didn’t entirely trust Lewis either. It was a toss-up which of the two men was the most dangerous. There was something about Will that was a little more easing than Lewis. Perhaps it was that Will was an officer, expected to have a
sense of duty and honor that Lewis could easily dispense with—but the image of Hunter strangling Pritchert for no other offense than to jeopardize his escape was fantastic. It should not have been. And Stephen wondered if it was over. Who else would get in his way?

  ****

  Will Hunter was at that moment stealing out of the residential area along the roadside. The grisly parade of Pritchert’s body down the center of the town had clinched it. If he was to get out of Ohio, he’d need to just push on. Stephen and Fredrick would have to make it on their own.

  Cincinnati was still a day’s walk away or more, but the military activity along the road was becoming close. It was dusk before Will could make his way out of the town and into the cover of the trees along the roadside. He’d lost a day, but the time to be able to move more freely was upon him. He’d be more judicious with the route this time. He was finally free of impediment.

  Hearing noise ahead through the trees, Will took cover and waited. Through the gathering murk, the forms of three men appeared, walking in single file, moving cautiously. They were headed toward him, skirting along the tree line parallel with the road. Leading the way was Lewis Hopewell. Will recognized him easily enough and waited until they were within whispering distance before stepping out from his hiding place. Hopewell had wanted to go it alone. Why were they all together now?

  “You fellers off somewhere?” Will said softly.

  Despite the congenial voice and tone, the three men jumped.

  “Lieutenant!” cried Fredrick.

  “I see Hopewell caught up to us … I wondered when you would,” Will said as he stepped toward them.

  Stephen, puzzled, replied, “What do you mean, Lieutenant?”

  “Did you see they caught Peter?” Fredrick asked uneasily.

  “Yes, I seen them troopers carrying his body through town,” Will replied. All three men were looking nervous; Hopewell looked dangerous.

  Will stood with his arms folded, scrutinizing each face to see what they were thinking, anticipating what he might have to do. The reunion was not cordial. Stephen and Fredrick, looking a little guilty, stood off from Lewis, hands in their pockets. Lewis, his legs slightly apart and his hands dangling loosely by his sides, stood as though confronting Will.

  “Why’d you do it, Lieutenant?” Stephen broke the tense silence.

  “Do what?” Will replied without a hint of surprise.

  “You know what, Lieutenant,” Lewis goaded.

  “Peter, sir. Why’d you kill Peter?” Stephen said.

  “I already told them I see’d you stop the boy from headin’ for the road. I told ‘em I see’d you,” Lewis said quickly, defensively.

  Will looked at Hopewell, and a glimmer of recognition passed between them.

  “So,” Lewis continued, “you better keep going by yourself, or we going to leave you like you left Prichert. I know why you did it, and I might have done the same, but we think it better for you to go on yourself.”

  “Fair enough,” Will replied. He could move much faster and probably keep ahead of Hopewell if he were alone. There were no illusions as to what Hopewell might do if he got the advantage—best to put the distance on now.

  “You didn’t answer me, sir,” Stephen persisted.

  “Because Pritchert was going to give himself up, that’s why he did it,” Lewis answered.

  Will stared into Lewis and smiled wanly. There was little use or purpose in defending his actions at this point, but he steeled himself in case Lewis intended to do him bodily harm. Worry broke over the faces of Stephen and Fredrick, and Will took some solace that they did not appear to be in a vengeful state of mind. If he left now, Fredrick and Stephen were done for.

  “Let him answer, Lewis,” Fredrick broke in. “We want to hear him.”

  Will shook his head slowly. “So, you wants to know what happened when I left last night? I went back to where we’d left Peter, but he weren’t there an’ neither was Jackson. Knowing Peter’s intentions, I seen him walking along the roadside. I was going to confront him when I seen someone moving along the trees on the roadside.” He looked both men in the eyes. “Then I watched as Lewis here killed the boy an’ left his body along the road. If you want to find out why Pritchert’s dead, you need to ask Lewis here. I’m sure he can explain why he did what he did. Hopewell?”

  “He’s lying, he killed Pritchert, I seen ‘im.” Lewis said defensively. His stance grew more belligerent, and Stephen backed away from both of them.

  “They be expectin’ one of us to lie, but who? I don’t care who you believe. I didn’t hurt the boy. You gonna say I killed Kearns as well? He ain’t here neither. If it ain’t like I said, then you believe who you want. I’s pressing on. If you think I did it, then follow Hopewell. But if he did it, then watch yerseves.”

  Will stood for a moment, letting his warning sink in. Then, without waiting for anyone to act, Will turned around and made his way back the way he’d come.

  The three men stood for an awkward moment before Stephen broke the silence. “Fredrick, I think I’m going to go with the lieutenant.”

  Fredrick, startled, gaped at Stephen. As Stephen took a step in the direction Will had gone, Fredrick caught him by the arm. “What if he did it?”

  “And what if Lewis did? I don’t know, Fred; I trust the lieutenant more than I trust Lewis. They both have reason to lie to us, but we both know that Lewis wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone if he got in his way. The lieutenant was pretty mad at Peter, but I don’t think he’d kill him like that. I think the lieutenant was acting in all of our interests, not just his own. I’m going to catch up with him. I won’t go with Lewis. If you decide to go with him, watch your back.”

  Fredrick, still holding on to Stephen’s arm, hesitated. “Okay, Stephen, I’m with you. I don’t trust either of them, but if you think the lieutenant won’t lead us wrong, then I’ll trust your judgment.”

  “Then let’s go, pard.” Stephen jogged in the direction Will had taken, and Fredrick, taking one look behind him, left without a further word, leaving Lewis standing alone looking angry.

  Unfortunately for Stephen and Fredrick, they had lost sight of Lieutenant Hunter. They wandered about in the darkness for a time and then huddled together and wondered what to do now. They were again startled by a whisper from behind. Lieutenant Hunter had stolen up to them while they were discussing which way to go next.

  “Hopewell was going to let one or both of you get captured just to save his own skin, I reckon, or kill one or both of ya,” Will said at length.

  “Did he kill Peter?” Stephen asked. “He told us he saw you do it.”

  “Hopewell didn’t see me, just thought he might blame me. I tracked down Peter making fer the road. I’d suspected we was being shadowed for the last day.”

  “What?” Fredrick blurted.

  “I seen Hopewell kill Pritchert plain as day.”

  “Good God,” Fredrick said.

  “Why?” was all Stephen could say, over and over in disbelief.

  “Can’t say as I know.”

  “What we going to do now, keep moving on?” Fredrick asked.

  “No, we going to visit justice on Hopewell. He’ll follow behind us like he’s been for days, and when he gets close enough, we going to execute justice.” Grim determination set his jaw taught. Justice.

  “What?” Stephen gasped. “You want us to murder Lewis?”

  Will, not missing a beat, repeated, “We going to visit justice on Hopewell.”

  If Stephen had felt any qualms about escaping and stealing food, he’d kept his thoughts to himself. He’d not taken an oath of parole or of peace when he was captured, but he’d taken an oath to do right by his fellow man—or so his father the deacon would have told him. Mr. Murdoch, as the townspeople called him in Carthage, Mississippi, deacon in the First Presbyterian Church of Carthage and all-around man of pious habits and disposition, would have frowned on stealing food even if it meant going hungry. But this thought of dispensi
ng summary justice on someone who was deserving of punishment was something else. It was murder. They did not have the authority to carry it out without some sanction.

  Sanction—that was the basis of all his father had taught him about life and the church, which were one and the same in Mr. Murdoch’s estimation. One did nothing without sanction. The bishop taught from sanction given by the church, the minister by sanction from the Holy Spirit, the policemen and sheriff from the people, secession by vote of the delegates. All had a place in society, and sanction drove every action taken. Now he was being asked to take part in what had not been sanctioned by anyone in any chain of command. They were overstepping their bounds.

  “We … we can’t do that,” Stephen cried.

  “Yes, we can. If he’s allowed to roam around, he’ll go unpunished for murder an’ try it again on one of us; Jackson said he wasn’t right in the head an’ now I see why. If he’s captured, he’ll lead them to us just fer spite. He gets away unless we act. The punishment fer murder is death. If he were before a court-martial, he would be found guilty of murdering Private Pritchert. If we don’t do somethin’, no one will.”

  “This ain’t right … this jus’ ain’t right,” Stephen protested. “I ain’t gonna have any part of it.”

  Will pursed his lips and said, “Suit yerself. With or without you, I’m gonna deal with Hopewell.”

  Stephen looked to Fredrick, who appeared conflicted. The lieutenant wasn’t asking their permission; he was telling them what he was going to do. There was no consent from the governed in the army, only following orders. Yet, the lieutenant wasn’t giving any orders to follow.