Glory (28 page)

“You’re taking a risk.”

“Not much of one, sir. I’m officially assigned to General Stuart, who is off on other business now, as you know. I’m to scout around and keep my eye on the enemy. What better way?”

Henley, Julian realized, was on the level. “Let’s go,” he said simply.

“I’ve taken the liberty of having horses ready,” Henley told him.

Julian nodded to Liam and Henry Lyle, who both followed him out. Two men waited with six mounts—decent-looking horseflesh for the Reb army. Henley introduced his men as Abe Jansen and Alistair Adair. They all nodded quick acknowledgments, mounted, and rode hard from the camp.

Thirty minutes out of the camp, they slowed their gait. Elijah Henley moved his horse next to Julian’s. “You’re the spittin’ image of your brother.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Too bad he decided to stay a Yank,” Henley said without rancor. “We sure could have used him.”

“Well, the war has been hell for him. He feels he’s fighting for what he thinks is right, but he’s fighting his own family.”

“Sure is a shame. All way around. Why, I heard one of Mrs. Lincoln’s brothers was killed fighting for the South. And all she could say was that he shouldn’t have been a-fightin’. The Yanks just jump down her throat if she so much as sheds a tear for her own kin! My General Jeb likes to find ways to sneak notes under his father-in-law’s plate when he’s eating in the capital with other Yanks, just to pull the old fellow’s cord and prove the Southern cavalry is fast enough to do anything. Well, I sure hope so. Jeb is off sniffing around the Yanks right now, trying to figure out just where the Union army is. Hell, good thing the Billy Yanks are slow. Else they would have had us a half dozen times by now!”

“So we’re heading for a major battle.”

“Well, we know the big Yank army is near, they know we’re near. Hell, yes, we’re going to clash in a major way.” He went silent suddenly. “There’s your road, Dr. McKenzie. Straight ahead. Did you have a plan?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. Dismount, hide the horses, into the trees.”

The men hurried to do his bidding, Elijah Henley’s boys as quick, agile, and quiet as Lyle Henry and Liam Murphy. Julian found himself taking up the last position; the wagons would have to be directly beneath them all, then they’d have to leap down and catch the guards, using speed and surprise to suppress resistance before it could turn into a skirmish.

Time began to tick by ...

The night was warm. An occasional breeze stirred. When it did, it felt like a slice of heaven. Julian scratched an itch on his knee, hoping that the trees weren’t full of ticks. It was the right time of year for them.

He heard Liam, just down from him, swearing.

“Liam?”

“Sorry, sir. Varmint of some kind, don’t rightly know what.”

“We’ve got to keep quiet. You know that.”

“Hell, yes, sir.”

More time passed. Julian began to wonder if it had been a rumor. Then he heard Lyle, first man out, give a soft bird call. Meant a lone man was coming. Lone man ... a point rider, watching for guerilla Rebs?

He waited, tensing, He heard a horse, then saw a rider. Nice blue uniform, new and unsoiled. His horse looked as if it had just come off the farm, fat and sleek.

The boy was whistling as he rode—whistling, Julian thought, because he was afraid.

The rider kept coming, unmolested. They wanted him deep into the trap before they sprang ...

When he was beneath Julian, Julian hesitated, then leapt. He fell silently, knocking the boy from his horse and to the ground in a matter of split seconds.

The boy struggled and Julian whispered to him. “Hush, now—”

“Rebs, Rebs, Rebels, oh-my-God-Rebels-oh-my-God-Rebels—”

“Shut him up!” Henley called. “The wagons are coming.”

“Son, shut up,” Julian warned.

But the kid was scared to his brand-spanking new boots. “Rebs, Help. Oh, help, help, Jesus above us, help—”

“McKenzie! The others are coming round. Kill him!” Henley shouted.

“What?” Julian called.

“We need you! They outnumber us, remember? It’s a war, Julian, kill the little momma’s boy. We can’t jeopardize the whole action.”

Julian stared down at the boy. Kill him. Easy. Take the knife, slide it into the heart. He knew all about death.

Kill him.

Couldn’t do it. If he did, it made everything to which he had dedicated his life to a lie. It was one thing shooting bullets when he was escaping Yanks in Florida. He was being shot at, he shot back. But this would be murder.

The Yank beneath him, young, mute with fear, was staring at him. Eyes as wide as that of a buck.

“McKenzie, get it over with!” Henley hissed.

If he killed the boy, he’d have no chance of getting out of the war with even the remnants of his sanity left.

“Julian, they’re coming—”

“Sorry, kid,” Julian said softly.

Rhiannon had tried every move she could think of. General Magee had sent word that he’d try to get Sydney out; of course, he’d have to go through the proper channels and authorities and it might take time. She’d appealed to Granger, she’d tried to find out where Ian McKenzie was, but he’d left for the battlefront. It would take time to find him, too.

It was Granger, however, who told her about Jesse Halston.

Jesse was still in town, for another week. A second injury on the field and he’d been sent back to the capital from his company to work with the Pinkerton men trying to guard the security of military information here.

Jesse Halston had been involved somehow when Jerome had escaped, and he’d been instrumental in getting Sydney arrested later. With little choice, Rhiannon sent word to him with her name and a message that she urgently needed to see him. She received a message back from a young soldier inviting her to Halston’s office across from the White House. She arrived at dusk.

He was a handsome young fellow with level hazel eyes and a quick smile.

“Sir, I need your help.”

“Why, Mrs. Tremaine, I would just be willing to help you in any way that I possibly could,” he told her.

“Sydney McKenzie. You arrested her. Perhaps you could free her.”

“Ma’am, if I wanted her free, why would I have arrested her in the first place?” he asked, his eyes suddenly guarded.

“She’s a McKenzie, and I know that family,” Rhiannon said firmly.

Halston sat back on his desk, arms crossed over his chest. “She can’t be trusted.”

“I think she can be. She could swear that she wouldn’t cause any more trouble. I know that people have been freed by signing vows of allegiance—”

“Do you think that Sydney McKenzie is going to sign a vow of allegiance to the United States of America?” he asked her.

Rhiannon looked down, smoothing out a pleat in her skirt. “No, but I believe that she will swear to leave Washington, to cease her spying activities.”

“And then you want me to trust her?”

“Yes.”

Halston watched her, shaking his head. “If you’re worried about Jerome coming after her, I understand. But if you’re in love with him—”

“I’m not!” she snapped indignantly.

Halston grinned. “Good, because he’s got a wife, though when I saw you—”

“When you saw me, what?” she demanded, eyes narrowed, jaw locking.

“My apologies, nothing intended, Mrs. Tremaine. It’s just that you’re a very beautiful woman, and you seem so passionately and sincerely worried about the McKenzies.”

“Captain Halston, I’m becoming passionate about human life—and it not being stupidly wasted when there is so much carnage to begin with!”

“I am sorry, Mrs. Tremaine. But what makes you think that Sydney will let me help her? Especially since I did put her in there.”

“She said that she’d do almost anything to get out. I believe she’s really afraid of someone in her family becoming too reckless in their efforts to save her.”

He smiled, watching her curiously. “They say you’re a witch.”

She groaned. “Dear God, not that again—”

“Yes, that. Are you a witch?”

“It’s all in the eyes of the beholder, isn’t it?”

“Well, I guess we can thank God that you seem to have such unusual powers. You’ve convinced me to do your will, and I didn’t believe that you could do so. I will get Sydney out, Mrs. Tremaine.”

Rhiannon was so startled by his agreement that for a moment she didn’t respond. “Thank you. Thank you!” she said, flushing and rising.

“It’s my pleasure to help you in any way, ma’am.”

“But how will you manage this, and when—”

“I’ll get her out tomorrow,” Halston promised.

“But you haven’t told me how—”

“You want me to trust you, right? Well, you’ll have to trust me on this one, Mrs. Tremaine. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Julian leaned back, clenched his fist, and cracked the boy in the jaw. As he had hoped, the boy’s eyes closed, a whoosh of air escaped his lips, and he was out cold.

Julian leapt to his feet, then dragged the boy out of the road, and swatted the horse hard on the haunches. The horse obediently ran into the night.

Hurrying back along the trail, Julian saw Elijah Henley’s position and scurried up the tree opposite from him. Just in time. The first of the wagons, with two men on the seat, two men riding guard, reached the point directly beneath them.

He looked at Henley, then let out a sharp bird call. He and Henley leapt together, taking two of the Yanks entirely off guard. The man on the left of the wagon was so stunned he dropped his rifle. Julian bellowed out an order that the Yanks were surrounded; they had only one choice, and that was to surrender.

“Lord, yes! Surrender, Captain!” one man cried.

“I surrender,” another called out down the road, throwing down a Spencer repeating rifle. Henley looked at Julian, tipped his hat to him. “Hell, damned good rifle you got me there, Doc.”

Julian frowned, warning him that they had yet to have the Yanks all corraled as captives. He aimed his newly taken rifle and his own Colt at the disorganized Yanks while Liam, Henry, and Elijah and his cavalry boys herded the fellows forward. “Liam, Henry, get their weapons,” Julian ordered hoarsely.

There were fifteen men total, including the boy who remained oblivious to the world in the bushes. They milled in the center of the moonlit road as their weapons were taken. “Gentlemen, now, if you’ll get into the rear wagon ...” Julian said.

“Where we headed?” one of the Yanks asked.

“South,” Julian said. “You can walk or ride. It’s a fair long piece, though, fellows.”

Grumbling, they crawled into the rear wagon.

“Watch them,” Julian commanded, taking a brief look at the contents of the rear wagon, then searching through the first. He folded his hands together prayer fashion and looked up to the sky.

“Thank you, Lord!” he breathed.

Ether, lots of it. Morphine. Bandages. Quinine. Root and herbal mixtures, sulphur, mercury, iodine ...

It was better than a diamond mine.

He realized that Henley was standing behind him. He turned. The cavalryman saluted him, grinning. “The Yanks have just now realized that they’re not surrounded, Doctor,” he said.

Julian nodded. “Well, they were bound to find out.”

“But they haven’t got so much as a butter knife left among the lot of them.”

“Good. They won’t be getting too feisty back there then.”

“You’re something, sir. I wouldn’t have thought to knock that boy out, and I wouldn’t have thought to demand a surrender. I’d have killed half of them, and probably lost one of two of us in the process.”

“Let’s get this stuff back, shall we?”

Once again Henley saluted him.

By late morning, Rhiannon was leaving Washington behind.

She had naturally been invited to ride in one of the ambulance wagons, but after a day of riding she was rocked and tortured and miserable. The next day she asked permission to ride with the general, was invited to do so, and found herself much happier mounted on a black gelding with a beautifully tended coat and pleasing gait.

Magee was charming and personable during the ride, telling her anecdotes about the military and about his daughter.

“I miss her. Miss her badly, I do. I’ve got to admit, I was happiest myself when they had Jerome McKenzie in that prison and my daughter was here with me.” He sighed after a moment. “No, that’s not true. She wasn’t happy, he wasn’t happy ... but it was good to have my grandson here with me. Handsome babe, ma’am.”

“Yes sir, he’s a very handsome child.”

“You saw young Jamie?” he asked, his tone gentle for a man used to thundering out orders.

“In St. Augustine, sir. When I arrived there with your daughter and Alaina McKenzie.”

“And her babes?”

“Healthy and fine, sir.”

“Ah, good, good. I’m always glad when a man has had a chance to have his children before the war. It’s a sad thing when a fellow dies and his grieving widow is left without even a babe to love. And for a man, well, it’s an important thing, to leave an heir behind.”

Rhiannon lowered her head and her lashes, feeling a wave of unease wash over her. An important thing, yes. She wished that she and Richard ... She bit her lower lip, then raised her head. Well, she and Richard hadn’t had children. But now ...

“Are you all right, Mrs. Tremaine?” the general asked worriedly. “You’re quite pale.”

“Fine,” she said, flashing him a smile.

“If there’s ever anything wrong, you will come and tell me? I’ll try to help in any way that I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Ah, there!” the general said, reining in.

She looked ahead, and gasped. There, before her, was the Army of the Potomac. Men, tents, weapons, cook fires, more men, fires, horses, tents ... The waves of men and tents and horses and guns seemed to stretch forever.

A massive battle was eminent. The promise of gunfire and blood seemed rich, a whisper that grew louder and louder on the wind even as dusk fell to darkness and a cold moon rose high above them.

“S
IR ...

“What is it, Mrs. Tremaine?”

In the great Yankee movement, with the cavalry trying to ascertain Lee’s movements, General Magee’s troops were moving into Maryland. Magee had taken a small force along an old mountain trail, looking for the enemy.