Nathan had asked Rebecca to marry him, but she had demurred. She loved him, but she felt that he would sooner or later be back in uniform and leading troops. She felt it would be tempting fate and just plain bad luck to get married on the eve of a climactic battle. Besides, she'd added only half in jest, she'd already been widowed once and had no wish to be one of those old women who collected dead husbands. They would marry, but not until the time was right.
Nathan agreed, and he understood that she was also giving him a chance to back away from the relationship if he wished, and he loved her all the more for it. “Any more news?” she asked. He had begun to discuss the days reports with her, but earlier in the evening they had both been overcome with the urge to make love. “Nothing of consequence. Lee is heading north and appears to be veering westward, which means that neither Baltimore nor Philadelphia is his target.” “Then we are not in any danger?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then let's enjoy the moment.”
Nathan turned and watched as she slipped out of the nightgown and lay full-length on the bed. She was every bit as breathtaking and gorgeous as the first time he'd seen her naked. He stripped off his pajamas and lay down beside her. Their hands began the now-familiar ritual of exploration and arousal.
“What's your pleasure this evening?” he asked.
“Everything,” she answered huskily. “Remember what we did last night?”
“I'll never forget,” he whispered. He lowered his head beneath her breasts and her belly. He began to caress her moistness with his tongue and felt her quiver in response. What a wonder she was, he thought. Rebecca Devon was every bit as sexually spectacular and adventurous as his late Amy had been. Why did so many men feel that women were sexually inhibited and didn't enjoy lovemaking?
Rebecca groaned and arched her back in pleasure. She twisted her body and took his manhood in her mouth. God, he thought, what an utter fool her late husband must have been to have mistreated her so. Then Nathan was suddenly incapable of thinking coherently of anything.
Jeb Stuart had chased the fox. and then the fox had turned and caught Jeb Stuart. At least that was what an observer from the Prussian army, one Wolfgang Kraeger, had said to John Knollys as they watched the brutal tableau unfolding beneath them.
Wade Hampton, at the head of Stuart's cavalry, had flushed out a small division of about a thousand Union cavalry and had given chase. It was a trap. Within minutes, additional Union cavalry had surged from one of the many shallow valleys that were part of the normal landscape of southern Pennsylvania and had surrounded Hampton's men. This had forced Stuart to send in more troops to rescue his second in command, and this resulted in still more Union cavalry until the largest cavalry battle ever fought in North America ebbed and flowed. All the while, Knollys, Kraeger, and a handful of others watched in morbid fascination through their telescopes.
The battle was strangely silent. Shouts and screams could sometimes be heard, but there was very little gunfire. This was a brawl fought horse to horse and sabre to sabre. Once pistols and carbines were emptied there was little opportunity to reload. Units from both sides were intermingled, which meant there was no artillery or infantry support, as fire from either would kill as many of their own side as of the other.
A group of several hundred Union horsemen disengaged, formed, and charged back into the melee, which swallowed them in a cloud of dust. “How long has this been going on?” Knollys asked. He'd lost track of the time.
“About an hour” was Kraeger's quick response. He held a pocket watch in his hand. The Prussian considered himself a true professional in a land of rank amateurs, but even he seemed taken aback by the awesome and awful pageantry unfolding below.
Knollys could only stare at the spectacle and hope he wasn't gaping like some of the others were. There was something inherently indecent about watching other men die. The scene below was something out of the Middle Ages, except he couldn't recall any battles that had been so totally cavalry like this one, which was taking place on the outskirts of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
Slowly, agonizingly, it appeared that the rebel cavalry was pushing the Union horsemen back. The rebels were the better horsemen after all, but there were so damned many Union cavalry. Then, after what might have been an eternity, bugles sounded, and the blue-clad horsemen pulled back. At least he thought they wore blue. As covered with dust and dirt as they were, their uniforms were indistinguishable from the rebels', and Knollys wondered just how many had been hacked down by friends. It would not have been the first time. As the two armies became covered by identical layers of dirt, there had been a number of incidents where men from the same side had fired on and killed each other.
The two armies separated and the Union cavalry withdrew. There was no pursuit from their Southern enemies. The rebel horsemen were too exhausted. The Confederates might have been the better riders, but the Union cavalry had also been quite good and more numerous, and had been surprisingly well led. One more Confederate advantage was evaporating as the mounted Union forces gained experience.
Kraeger moved his horse by Knollys. “My take on it is that Pleasanton was the Union commander who led Hampton into the trap.”
“Who was overall Union commander? Could you tell?”
“I think I saw Sheridan. He wears a strange little flat hat and I'm pretty certain I saw it.”
That coincided with what Knollys had observed. It helped to have an independent and uninfluenced confirmation.
Kraeger jabbed Knollys's arm. “Look. They're taking Hampton off the field. If he isn't dead, he's been seriously hurt.”
Several riders were helping keep a man upright in the saddle as they rode towards the rear. Knollys focused his telescope and saw that Hampton's left shoulder was bloody and that Hampton was barely conscious. He wasn't a doctor and no one would attempt a diagnosis from a distance, but the wound did appear significant. If so, the loss of Stuart's second in command at this critical point in time was a serious blow.
Knollys then swung his telescope over the battlefield that was now empty of combatants. It was blanketed with dead and dying men and horses. The field, now beaten smooth by thousands of hooves, looked like a carpet with a particularly horrible pattern woven into it. There were no good ways to die in war. but to be slashed by a sabre and then trampled by horses struck Knollys as a particularly bad one. He tried to estimate the number of dead who covered the ground, but gave up. Even allowing that the majority were Union casualties, Jeb Stuart had suffered badly for his victory. Lee had described Stuart as being the rebel army's eyes. Only now, with the loss of Hampton and so many other men, it looked like one of the eyes had been gouged out.
“Ach, this day's over,” said Kraeger, “and another rebel victory. But could they afford it?”
Good question, thought Knollys. Kraeger was an observer and allowed to let his mind wander, but Knollys was a part of the invading army and would share his thoughts with his own kind.
“By the way, Knollys, can you share any food to eat?” Kraeger mispronounced food as foot, which made the Englishman smile. “We have plenty of fodder for the horses, but not much rations left.” the German went on. “Like you. we had hoped to take sustenance from the countryside.”
Here, Knollys had to tell the truth. “None I can spare, I'm afraid. Sorry.”
Kraeger nodded and rode off, leaving Knollys to his thoughts, which, thanks to the Prussian, had switched from today's battle to thoughts of filling his stomach.
Knollys had hired a former Confederate soldier who'd been discharged because of wounds to find food and fodder, and cook for him. As Kraeger had noted, there was plenty of fodder since a horse could eat almost any grass and make do, but there was damned little in the way of food for people to eat. As yet, the rebels had not captured anything substantial in the way of a Union supply depot, and the Union soldiers were carrying off civilian supplies and burning what they could not carry. What small stores had been taken had not been enough to replace what more than a hundred thousand men ate three times a day. Thus, the rations they had carried north with them were all that was feeding Lee's army, and they had almost run out. It was not a good sign.