“Why not? She’s beautiful, loyal to the cause, and the only daughter of wealthy parents.”
“Why not court her? Her parents might disown her for eloping.”
“I don’t think they will. They have no other children. And life as an outlaw leaves no time for courting. I rarely stay two nights in the same place.”
“Does Amy like the nomadic lifestyle?”
“She doesn’t travel with me all the time. I leave her with friends, get back to her when I can. But it’s not what she’s used to.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Jesse cleared his throat. “Good to know we will be on the same side tomorrow. Often had nightmares about encountering you on the battlefield.”
“Knew I could best you, huh?”
“Not likely,” Jesse shot back, but he never would have been able to fire upon his own brother and hoped Jack felt the same.
“I couldn’t do it anymore. Felt like a traitor to my people. How could Father ask me to do that?”
“He thinks the North will win, and he’s probably right.”
“No, we may never regain Missouri, but the South will not go down without a fight.”
They’d fight to the bitter end, but they wouldn’t win. “We should listen to Cole and get some sleep.” He felt weird knowing the future, knowing he was fighting a losing cause. Even if he had never wholeheartedly believed in it, he hated to see his way of life come to such a bitter end. He looked into his brother’s deep blue eyes, so like his own. “Be careful, Jack.”
“Likewise.” Jack blew out a ring of smoke. “Let’s not make our brides widows.”
Twenty Six
Chapter 26
They rode into town as the sky turned pink and caught the Union contingent unaware. A few shots were all it took to subdue the unit and take them prisoner. Then the looting began.
It was unlike anything Jesse had ever seen before. He had mostly been on the losing side, fleeing New Madrid under the cover of darkness and then experiencing the doomed withdrawal from Island #10. Since riding with General Price, he’d seen some victories, but against fellow soldiers, shooting at one another across fields or within the woods. This was something different.
But not for the guerrillas. For all their lack of a command chain, they systematically busted down the doors of all the houses, capturing any adult males and taking whatever caught their eyes. It didn’t take long for Jesse’s fellow soldiers to learn the drill and soon the air was full of smoke and the cries of frightened women and children as their husbands and fathers were dragged from their homes.
“Come on,” Jack called, gesturing for Jesse to follow him into a small brick house. Jesse pulled his pistol as they entered the house, his stomach tight with dread. A woman stood by the kitchen table, a plate of bacon and eggs in her hands. The tantalizing smell of grease hung in the air.
“Don’t shoot,” she said.
“Where’s your husband?” Jack asked.
“With the army.”
“Which army?”
The woman’s gaze skittered to the side. “The Confederate Army.”
She was lying. “Search the house,” Jesse said, keeping his gun trained on the woman. Jack complied, returning a few minutes later carrying a pillowcase.
“No one here but two kids. The husband’s either off fighting or he slipped away.” He walked up to the woman and grabbed a handful of bacon off the plate. “They might have some food set aside.”
“Why don’t you put that down, ma’am, and have a seat,” Jesse said.
Slowly, the woman set the plate down.
Hungry, but sick to his stomach, Jesse stepped forward and helped himself to some food while Jack raided the pantry. He kept a close eye on the woman, the skin on his back twitching, expecting at any moment an attack from behind. “Hurry up.”
Jack filled the pillowcase and slung it over his shoulder. “All done.”
They left the house and moved on to the next one, continuing the pattern. They found a man hiding under the bed in one house and took him to the center of town where they were holding the captives.
“I just want to live my life,” the man complained as they pushed him along. “Don’t own any slaves, never have, but I got no beef with those who do. I keep to myself.”
“Our orders are to restrain all adult males,” Jesse said.
“We don’t owe him an explanation.” Jack shoved the man, although he was already moving.
Jesse glared at him.
“What? He should pick a side.”
They turned the man over to the guards.
“We should take any men wearing a Union uniform prisoner and get out of here,” Jesse asked as they headed towards another house.
“It won’t take long to strip the town of anything valuable.”
“This might be how you usually operate, but you’re with a real regiment now. We’re not thieves.”
“Might as well what we can. It all goes to the cause.”
“It’s not right,” Jesse muttered to himself.
They entered another house, guns at the ready but perhaps overconfident from their earlier success. Jesse held a woman and child at gunpoint while Jack ransacked the place. Neither saw the teenage boy until he rose from behind the couch and fired at Jack.
The blast shattered the quiet. Jesse raised his gun, ears ringing from the gunshot and Jack’s yell. He pulled the trigger without thinking, watching in mingled horror and relief as the boy fell, blood staining his plaid shirt. The woman screamed, a high pitched keening sound, and she ran to her son even as Jesse ran to Jack.
His brother lay slumped on the floor, a jar of broken pickles near his hand. Blood blossomed on the back of his shirt. Jesse turned him over and Jack moaned. A larger stain marred the front. “Jack? Can you hear me? We’ve got to get out of here.” He slid an arm behind Jack’s back and raised him
