Souls Aflame (52 page)

“I don’t know.” Thomas shook his head. “We’ll just have to find out.”

“Damn right,” Myles fumed. “I want to know the whole story.”

They traveled northwest along the James River from Richmond, stopping along the way to beg or steal chickens, potatoes, hams, anything to eat from the farmhouses they passed. At the end of two weeks, they were deep into the mountains, and only four of them remained—Thomas, Myles, Satch, and Kelso. All the others had deserted.

Myles was still weak, but Thomas felt certain now that he would fully recover. All they had to do was wait for the right time to make their move, and he hoped it came before they reached their destination. There was a possibility that others would be at the hide-out increasing the odds against their escape.

One night as they sat around a fire drinking coffee made from boiled peanuts, Thomas casually asked Satch just how much farther they had to go. “Seems like we’ve been on the road for months.”

“Tomorrow or the next day,” Satch yawned, scratching at his long, matted hair and pulling out a nit, which he tossed into the fire. “I’ve started seeing a few signs along the way that show me we’re getting close.”

“Signs? You mean we’re following a trail in this wilderness?”

Satch laughed. “You don’t think I’m just wandering around, do you? I thought you knew we got a hide-out up here, a regular nest of men wanting to stay out of the fighting. They left a few markers along the way, notched trees, stuff like that.”

“Then why did the others desert us?” Thomas persisted. “If you have a hide-out, and they knew they wouldn’t be called back to the war—”

“Well, we’re still in the war, in a way. We do what Fox tells us to do. He needs a place to hide somebody out, we’ve got it ready for him. Sometimes we bring prisoners up here and torture ’em into telling us what we want to know. You’ll find a few skeletons once the snow thaws, I guarantee you. Some of ’em wouldn’t talk, so we just slit their throats.”

Kelso guffawed, and Thomas exchanged a nauseated glance with Myles.

“I reckon the others just wanted to run back home,” Satch went on. “Or maybe they was afraid Fox would call us all back to the lines. Who gives a shit? We’re almost there. And it wouldn’t have taken near as long if it hadn’t been for the damn snow. Shouldn’t be too long till the spring thaw, though. I’d say we’re well into March now. Few more weeks, and things’ll go to melting.”

Satch went to search for dry firewood, which Thomas knew would be no easy chore. Kelso shuffled through the snow to where the horses were tied to see if he could find a bottle of popskull that they might have forgotten about.

As soon as they were out of hearing range, Thomas turned frantically to Myles. “We’ve got to do it tonight. We’ve got to get away, or this time tomorrow we might be in a whole nest of Yankees and Reb deserters. Who knows? They might kill us. We’ve got to do it tonight, Myles. Are you up to it?”

Myles looked at him for a long time without speaking. His eyes were still sunken into his head and had deep circles beneath them. The veins were still visible beneath the yellowed skin, and his fingers had lost none of their skeletal appearance. Finally he took a deep breath, his shrunken chest heaving. “I suppose we have no choice, do we? Do you think we can find the way back?”

“We’ll look for the same signs that Satch found to lead us this far. Once we make it to the James River, we’ll just follow it back to Richmond—”

“We can’t go there!” Myles cried, stunned. “They’ll put both of us in jail. I’m an escaped prisoner, remember? And you helped me, so they’ll be looking for you too. It isn’t safe in Richmond.”

He shook his head wearily, eyes sparkling with tears of frustration. “Thomas, I appreciate all you’ve done to help me. I swear I do, and I’ll never be able to repay you, but there’s no way out. We have to face it. There’s nothing to do but take our chances with Satch and the men who’ll be waiting at the hide-out.”

“Which is no chance at all!” Thomas scoffed sardonically. “What the hell’s the matter with you, Myles? What happened to the man I was proud to call my friend? Maybe they
did
beat you down in the goddamned prison, and you’re nothing but a coward…all your fight and spunk gone. Maybe you never had a backbone after all.”

His nostrils flared, chest heaving with anger as he raged on. “And what about Julie? Have you forgotten about her? She was willing to risk her life to save yours, but now there’s no telling what kind of danger she’s in. Aren’t you willing to make an effort to try and save her, after all she did for you?”

Myles looked at him, stunned, and then he said in a croaky voice filled with shame, “All right. I guess I was starting to give up, but I owe it to both you and Julie to fight back. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

So Thomas quickly outlined the plan that been churning about in his mind for the past few days. When Satch and Kelso fell asleep, he and Myles would just slip away into the night, as the others had done. “It’s beginning to snow again. Our tracks will be covered. They won’t come looking for us anyway. We’ll head straight south, find our way into North Carolina and on to Wilmington. We should be safe there. If anyone does ask questions, we’ll just say we’re on leave, that you’ve been ill. Anyone will look at you and see that’s no lie.”

At the sounds of footsteps crunching in the snow, they fell silent, huddling near the warmth of the fire as though too weary for conversation.

It was Kelso, and he had found his bottle of popskull. He grudgingly offered them a drink, which they declined. “My stomach’s knotting from hunger,” Myles said. “It would make me sicker.”

Thomas mumbled that he wasn’t feeling well. “I may be coming down with the fever. I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

Kelso looked at Myles and sneered, “We shoulda got rid of you a long time ago.” Then he threw a sarcastic glance in Thomas’s direction. “As for you, Johnny Reb, you ain’t much better than he is. Why don’t you both curl up and die?”

“Aw, lay off of ’em,” Satch bellowed, returning with an armload of scraggly branches he’d managed to find beneath some rocks. “We ain’t got much farther to go. Fox will be glad we got the job done, just the two of us, after the others turned into such yellow bellies.”

Thomas and Myles moved back from the fire, as they did every night. Even though it was bone chilling to huddle beneath their thin blankets, away from the warmth, they had long since reasoned it was better than being around the two men they found so despicable.

Myles dozed off right away, weary as always from the day’s ride. Thomas only pretended to sleep, alert to any sounds from Satch and Kelso. As usual, their talk turned to women. Finally, their voices became slurred as they got drunk and sleepy. The fire was slowly dying, and they made no attempt to keep it going.

He could hear the sound of gentle hisses, knew snowflakes were falling to hasten the fire’s death. Then the dampness began to seep through his blanket. Ordinarily he would have moved and attempted to find some sort of shelter beneath a bush or a rock, but he dared not move till he was sure the other two were asleep.

A half hour passed. Then, cautiously, Thomas pushed the cover back from over his head and looked over to where Satch and Kelso had been sitting. Faint smoke crept skyward from the smoldering ashes, and the two men were slumped together, blankets pulled about them as they slept deeply. Trying not to make a sound, Thomas reached out and shook Myles. He did not respond, so Thomas crawled closer, grasping his shoulders to jerk him harder, “It’s time,” he whispered quickly. “Quiet, now.”

Myles was instantly awake. “Are you sure?” he asked anxiously.

“They’re as dead as the fire. I listened to them for hours, getting good and soused. You stay put while I get the horses. It’s starting to snow harder, and it’s going to be rough going. We may have to walk and lead the horses, and you’re going to need what strength you can muster.”

“Thomas, I can make it,” Myles said, hurt at being reminded of his weakened state.

Thomas gave his cousin’s bony shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know you can. We
both
can. We’re Georgians, remember? And nothing can lick us!”

Myles could not see the smile in the darkness, but he knew it was there just the same and he returned it, feeling strength he had not known for a long time flowing in his veins.

Slowly, stealthily, Thomas stood up. His original plan had been to just take two horses and steal away into the night, but now he decided he had better make sure they weren’t followed. Walking to the dead fire, he reached down and picked up a partially charred log that was still very heavy. With quick, chopping blows, he hit Satch, then Kelso. They made no sound as they slipped farther down into the snow.

Myles heard and quickly asked, “Did you kill them?”

“No,” came the reply. “I just want to make sure they don’t come after us—for awhile, anyway. And I doubt they’ll give chase on foot.”

Once the horses were saddled, and the few remaining supplies packed, Thomas said there was no way they could ride out. “Our weight would just push the horses down deeper in the snow. I don’t even know which direction we’re headed. I can’t see the stars with the storm overhead. We’ll just have to keep plodding along till it gets light. Can you make it?”

“I can make it,” Myles answered solemnly.

“Then let’s move out. If you start to stumble, or you fall, for God’s sake make some kind of sound so I’ll stop for you. We’ve got a long way to go, and it’s going to be rough…”

His voice shook with emotion. The task that lay ahead was formidable. There was a good chance they would not survive the elements, but they had to try. By God, they had to try, he thought with a fierceness that made him tremble.

And it was Myles’s hand upon his shoulder that gave him strength, as Thomas heard him say confidently: “It’s like you said, cousin. We’ll make it. We’re Georgians. Nothing can lick
us
.”

Together they began to push their way through the ever-deepening snow.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Luther Saxton sat on the ground outside the covered wagon. Absently he fingered the strings of the guitar he held on his lap, then stared down at it, remembering the pride he had felt when he bought the instrument. It was newer, nicer, than the one he’d taught himself to play on. And until the war broke out, music had been his life…but, like thousands of others, his world had been turned upside down.

He struck a chord dejectedly, sensed rather than heard the bitter quality of the tone. He touched the tuning pegs to bring the strings to their proper pitches.

Suddenly Julie poked her head out from between the canvas flaps at the end of the wagon. In the glow of the campfire, he could see that ever-present sadness reflected in her now lackluster green eyes. “Luther, I’m dressed now. You may come in,” she called flatly, emotionlessly.

Slowly he got up and walked toward the wagon, carrying his precious guitar with him. He wasn’t about to leave such a prize just lying around the Rebel camp. It would be stolen for sure.

He climbed inside. Julie was wearing a dress of blue silk, soft, flowing, with no hoops. The neckline dipped low, something Major Fox had insisted upon in each garment he bought for her, wanting her lovely breasts exposed as much as possible. As she self-consciously pulled a woven shawl tighter about her shoulders, draping it across her bosom, Luther said regretfully, “You know Veston is going to have something to say if you go out there like that, Julie. I’m sorry, but you know—”

She bit her lip and nodded as she took a deep breath of resignation. “I know. I’m quite aware of my duties. I’m to look as provocative as possible, and I’m to seek out men of rank and importance and entice them to my bed. Haven’t I performed well on three occasions now?”

“Yeah. Even though Fox sent back word that the information you got was worthless, you still did what you were told to do.”

Impulsively she reached out to clasp his hand. He could feel her body trembling, and he wondered if she knew just what her touch did to him…how a rage swept through him as he fought to keep from crushing her in his arms.

Dammit, he loved her. There was no denying the fact that he loved her more than he ever thought it possible to love a woman. And it wasn’t just her beauty, though Lord knew she was a sight to behold. It was her gentleness, her inner strength that somehow seemed to shine through, despite the misery of her life.

He wondered what her reaction would be if she knew of his feelings. He dared not speak what was in his heart, not yet, but when this blasted war was over…

“Luther,” she whispered, a sad smile on her perfect lips. “I’ve told you before, but I feel I must keep saying it. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could make it. I mean, those times were horrible, those men pawing my body as I teased them into telling me those things—” She shuddered with revulsion, struggling for composure and blinking back tears, her long, silky lashes fluttering. “But you were there at the last, to make sure they were properly drugged, and I didn’t have to actually—you know…”

Yes, he knew. “I’m not going to let it happen, Julie.” His voice was husky, and he wanted desperately to kiss those precious lips. “I aim to protect you with my life, if need be.”

Her eyes searched his quizzically. “But why? Why do you devote yourself to me so? You’re such a friend. And you know that despite what the Confederates did to my brother, my heart is still with the South. It’s killing me to know I’m betraying my own people. I’m the one who should be branded a traitor, not Myles. But you’re different. You’re a Yankee, and you want to see southern blood spilled…for the North to triumph in this war. Yet you befriend me, knowing how I feel.”