“Ada…”
She twisted as well she could in the saddle, infuriated, and slapped his cheek with all her strength.
2nd Lieutenant Jeremy Hillsdale inhaled deep and suddenly wished he hadn’t. One would have thought the morning smells after a battle would have been familiar now, but it was the added enhancement of burned human and horse remains took it to another notch and his stomach threatened to upheave. It was bad enough he with two privates were sent to help find the surgeons in the field who’d, as his commander grumbled, ‘wandered off to find those poor bastards’ — the wounded who’d fallen in the fields. So far, he’d found the one and his orders were to return with him immediately, but it was harder than he imagined as the man literally stopped at every lump on the ground.
“Doc, we need to keep movin’,” he stated and spat into the ground. “Or we’re gonna be in a mighty heap of hurt when those Rebs start this morning.”
The surgeon glanced up from the stack of leaves and debris, a mixed look of relief and frustration on his face. “Been out here most of the night. Don’t hear those howls of pain anymore…”
Or the screams of pain being burned alive! That still made Hillsdale tremble.
“…I guess we’re done.” The surgeon stood. “For now.”
Grateful, Hillsdale nodded, the mood to take a gun and fire at the enemy growing out of desire to kill those sons of a bitch who’d started this war! He waited anxiously as the doctor mounted his horse and they with the two other soldiers turned to go.
They barely walked a few yards when Hillsdale heard the voices. Living people and they were yelling, but not for help, more like arguing. He motioned his entourage to stop so he could hear better and find them. Tilting his head in the direction he thought it came from, he heard them again. One of them sounded like a woman. He frowned. What was a woman doing out here in hell? Unless she was a nurse…
Slap!
That spurned him to send his horse at a trot toward her, with the rest following suit. Over the crest in the land, with its fallen timber mixed with standing trees and shrubbery, he found a woman on horseback with a man sitting behind her. They were arguing, yanking on the reins, sending the horse to dance with minor hops in its steps. Hillside knew that animal’s fright was rising and those minor hops would turn to bucks. The black man on the ground was scurrying out of the equine’s path.
The white male rider’s cheek was flaming red from the slap. Hillside gathered he was secesh from the color of his clothes being mud-spattered butternut. Yet the girl was dressed like a nurse for the US Army, with her navy dress and tinged white pinner apron. Though, she could be a civilian…
“Whoa, hold, sir!”
The threesome stopped, obviously surprised. Hillsdale smirked. Coming in with prisoners might make this expedition worth the while.
But all his wild musings came to an abrupt stop when the surgeon piped in.
“Ada?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed then. What little color in her cheeks paled. “Richard?”
Ada froze. What was Richard doing out here? She hadn’t recalled hearing he was in the area, let alone searching for survivors. Her heart, though, jumped at seeing him. He did look rather dashing in his uniform, even with it as muddy as everyone’s. As he approached, the usually warm wickedness she normally saw wasn’t there. Recognition yes, but the warmth was lacking. Then again, she was sitting on a horse with the Rebel. She wondered if he recognized him…
Francois, though, recognized him as his whole frame tightened against her. She tried to relax against him, hoping he’d do the same but both failed.
“I thought you’d returned to the Army of the Tennessee,” she started, trying desperately to recall what he had said. “It’s a surprise to see you here, in Virginia.”
He smiled, breaking the tense look on his face. “A pleasant surprise, I hope, considering. I was at the last minute re-assigned to Grant’s command.” He looked at Francois. “Are you not the man I met at—”
“He is,” she interjected, praying Francois would not say a word and expose his Southern drawl. The uniform, though… “It’s a joint venture, as it were, trying to find the wounded.”
“Well, come to me,” Richard offered, extending his arms. “Let the Rebels find their own.”
“Ada,” Francois warned, his voice low.
She pulled her confused focus off Richard to the man on the front horse behind him. An officer. And she noticed his hand was at his side, where his revolver was.
“Richard, this man is wounded as well. Don’t allow Captain—”
“2nd Lt. Hillsdale, ma’am,” the mounted officer claimed but he didn’t move his hand.
“Lieutenant, then. I’d appreciate if you’d move you hand away from the gun,” she directed at Hillsdale.
The two soldiers behind him moved closer. She hadn’t seen them, but they were not mounted. They carried rifles. The air was tense and her worry increased. Edward, she saw out of the corner of her eye, had stepped back. What was he doing?
“Gentlemen, please,” she started.
“Yes, Ada, explain what I’m seeing here,” Richard said. “You are on the horse with this Rebel, obviously in dire straits. We cannot allow that type of behavior.”
Her heart fell into her stomach as her eyes shot wide open, but she forced a laugh to try to lighten the mood. “You know me, Richard. Arguing is a pastime of mine.”
Richard laughed, followed by Francois. The officer gave a chuckle and when they all bent over with the contagious jovially, no one saw Francois pull his LaMott pistol out and aim it at Richard. The click of the hammer locking back caught everyone’s attention.
Ada gulped. “What are you doing?” she mouthed but he ignored her.
“I think it’s time we leave.”
Hillsdale steeled. “Soldier, drop your weapon.”
Richard acted fast. He reached up, grabbing Ada
