This time, however, it was the man who didn't get up. One of his legs was smashed, and there was a gaping hole in his chest. His eyes were open and he glared at Nathan. Then they glazed over and rolled back in his head.

Rifle fire erupted around him as the fat little lieutenant got his men organized. More horses and men tumbled to the ground. It was too much for the remaining rebel cavalry. With a few parting pistol shots that hit nothing, they rode off.

“That was damn fine shooting for a civilian,” the lieutenant said. “You sure you ain't in our army?”

“Maybe I just enlisted,” Nathan said. His hands were trembling and he had difficulty walking over to his own horse and mounting it. He noted thankfully that a soldier had put the wounded horse out of its misery.

He rode a few yards away and stopped. He had spent years in the army and had served on the frontier fighting the Indians, but this was the first time he'd ever known that he'd actually killed anyone. Shooting at movement in the night or at a tree that didn't seem quite right was one thing. Blowing a man's chest out or beating him over the skull was another. Nathan leaned over and vomited into the grass. He hoped no one was looking. Then he decided he didn't much care.

CHAPTER NINE

THE UNION RETREAT from the Culpeper-Fredericksburg area had been long and slow. The army withdrew in good order, first caring for the wounded, and then tending to the mountains of supplies. That which could be moved was sent back to Washington by train and wagon_: while the excess was destroyed. As the army sullenly moved back north_: the sky was darkened by the smoke of scores of fires devouring the many tons of supplies that had just been brought southward at great effort and expense.

The rebels would get some rewards, but not that much. Some foodstuffs, for instance, did not lend themselves to burning. The rebels would eat their fill, but only for a while. Southern papers had published accounts that the Union soldiers had poisoned some of the food. It wasn't quite true. As Nathan had seen, Union soldiers had urinated and defecated on piles of food or ripped open sacks so vermin could get at them. Then they had left signs saying the food was spoiled and why. They hadn't counted on so many of the rebels being illiterate. A number had eaten the bad stuff and gotten sick. Nathan felt no sympathy for them. It beat getting shot.

The gloom of the defeat and retreat had been somewhat mitigated by the news of a bloody federal victory by General Ulysses Grant at a place called Shiloh.

The only good thing to come from the travesty was Rebecca's response to his safe return. She had greeted him with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek that had lingered a second longer than he'd hoped for.

He had found her at the Washington office of the American Anti-Slavery Society. She had grabbed a shawl and taken him outside. While they walked down the street, she grasped his arm tightly and he could feel the warmth of her breast against it.

“Everything,” she said, “you must tell me everything.”

With some surprise, he found himself unburdening himself totally. He told her of watching the battle and of nearly getting killed by rebel cavalrymen. Then he told her how sick he had been after killing the two enemy soldiers.

In the course of talking, Rebecca picked up the hint that something terrible had happened to him in earlier years. Skillfully, she pried out the story of the Apaches and the terrible destruction of his small command. He even wound up telling her about his recurring nightmares and felt relieved that he had shared them with someone. He felt lighter and better for having done so. Had Amy been alive, she would have been the one he confided in. Now it was the dark-haired and equally troubled Rebecca Devon.

“Do you still think it was your fault?”

“No,” he said, still conscious of the delicious feel of her body through God only knew how many layers of clothing. “I had pretty well gotten over it before the battle, but what I saw confirmed it. Too many unexpected things happen in war. Those rebels had no right being there at the supply depot, but they were. The Apaches shouldn't have been in my patrol's way, but they were. I had plenty of time to think of it during the retreat from Culpeper, and now I know I didn't cause either event to happen and I couldn't have stopped them if I'd wanted to. Terrible things take place in life and war and there's nothing anybody can do.”

“Except not have a war in the first place.”

“True,” he said. “Now tell me, what are you doing with the Anti-Slavery Society and not in the hospitals?”

She shrugged and smiled grimly. “As much as I try, I'm not really much good with the wounded. Waiting for Thomas to die was the extent of my skills. Later perhaps, when the soldiers are truly convalescing, I will go and read to them and write letters for them. Right now, there really isn't much for amateurs to do, so I'm concentrating on getting people to pressure Mr. Lincoln to free the slaves.”

Talking about her own activities made her exuberant. “We've been talking to congressmen and cabinet members. Why, I've even spoken to Mr. Seward as part of a delegation that went to influence him. He supports emancipation and he said he would urge the president to act as soon as possible.”

“Do you think he will?”

As they walked, Nathan found his cares and worries disappearing in the presence of this attractive and intelligent woman. He hadn't felt this way at all since losing Amy. He found he enjoyed it and felt no guilt over Amy's memory. He wondered why his first impressions of Rebecca Devon were so unenthusiastic. How could he not have liked her from the start?

“I think we're getting closer to the Negro's emancipation,” she said. “McClellan's defeat was a setback, but Grant's victory at Shiloh somewhat offset it. Mr. Lincoln will free the slaves this year and then we'll see marvelous things happening.”

Nathan wasn't so sure that it would be marvelous, but it would certainly be interesting. Rebecca's exhilaration was infectious and he felt wonderful. He would not spoil the moment by debating the point with her.

“You haven't had that dream about the Apaches recently, have you?” Rebecca asked. Nathan realized he hadn't. “No, not at all. What made you ask?” “Because I just realized you're not limping anymore either.”

Shiloh was a creek in Tennessee near a small town called Pittsburg Landing. It amused Nathan that the North and South couldn't even agree on the naming of their shared battles. The South named them after the nearest town, while the North after the nearest creek, river, or other geographic feature. As a result, Bull Run was also the Battle of Manassas, and Shiloh bore that name and Pittsburg Landing. The Confederates called the recently concluded debacle the Battle of the Culpeper, while the Union called it the Battle of the Rappahannock. Nathan fervently hoped historians would be confounded forever. He did concede the Confederates one point. Culpeper was easier to spell than Rappahannock.

He was in his study and pondering this when former sergeant Fromm brusquely announced visitors for General Scott, and that they were directly behind him. The unexpected visitors were Secretary of State Seward and Secretary of War Stanton, and they virtually walked in with Fromm. John Hay trailed behind them and managed a quick grin towards Nathan. All of this said that the visit indicated a high degree of interest by Lincoln and his war cabinet in what General Scott was thinking. Lincoln's absence from the group also indicated that he wasn't ready to commit to precipitating a change in the command structure.

Fromm showed them in and Nathan made them comfortable until General Scott entered, which was only a moment later. Both Nathan and Hay stayed in the room but behind their respective principals.