Rhett Butler sat still as stone in the wagon seat, watching the last of the Confederate troops march out of Atlanta and felt for the first time since the war begun, a tingle of shame. He knew it was foolish after all, he was one man. But watching the older soldiers pull the boy from the muck where he fell his sense of shame only grew.
Scarlett's thin fingers dug harder into his arm and he started suddenly, laying the branch into the nag's back as the last of the ragtag troops disappeared into the burning light.
"Hurry, Rhett, please." She pleaded with him, green eyes wild with barely controlled panic. He checked his urge to join them, those brave fools, and Rhett wondered which mattered more to him. An eleventh hour joining of the Cause or the brave child at his side. He felt a chasm open inside himself. If he made the wrong choice he could lose self and love in one strike.
He drove them on, ignoring the sounds of fright from the darkie and the child. From Melanie he heard nothing. Rhett hoped she simply fainted instead of died. Suddenly the fires were behind them and the way ahead loomed before them black as tar. Rhett stopped the wagon, letting the lathered horse catch his breath. He turned, staring back at the way they'd came before vaulting down from the wagon.
"Scarlett, come down here."
She jumped down with his help and he pulled them a little away from the wagon.
"This is not going to be easy. Maybe we can get past Rough and Ready all right. General Steve Lee was there during this afternoon covering the retreat. Maybe the Yankees aren't there yet. Maybe we can get through there, if Steve Lee's men don't pick up the horse."
"I don't care, Rhett! I will get home and damn any Yankee that tries to stop me."
Rhett smiled, his teeth white in the blackness. Yes, this path before him now might bear fruit. He turned his back on the burning city and lifted Scarlett back into the wagon.
"Well then, Mrs. Hamilton, shall we?"
And together they drove south, towards home. Towards Tara.