Knights Live Forever
A/N Sorry for the lousy summary. I didn't know how to word things without giving some things away.
Warning: I'm sensing death in the story already so, since I don't know where the death is coming from, be forewarned there's a high possibility a Major character death.
~oOo~
The darkening clouds that were rolling in, along with an occasional sound of distant thunder, told nineteen year old Eliza Klampton a storm was fast approaching. Common sense told her to stop and make camp where she was, however desperation pushed her forward in spite of the threats thrown at her from the unfriendly sky. "Knowing my luck," she muttered under her breath as she looked around the flat land she was traveling through, "the day I choose to take off on my own, Zeus will decide to drench me with rain." She wasn't really into mythology, but she figured the man upstairs wouldn't appreciate her blaming him if she should happen to get soaked by a rain storm. After all, the timing of her departure from the only town she'd ever lived in was by her choice, not his. By the time trees appeared on the horizon, the wind was howling; Eliza spurred her horse forward, hoping she'd at least find some sort of shelter among the trees.
By the time she had traveled another three miles, and found what appeared to be an old abandoned shack, it was all she could do not to let out a string of cuss words as the rain began falling. Thank goodness the shack had an eight by fifteen "lean to" attached to it. Eliza hurried and tethered her horse under its roof, unsaddled him and, grabbing the few supplies she still had with her, hurried inside the shack. As she entered the shack, which she guessed to be twenty feet in length and ten feet wide, Eliza forced herself not to let out a few choice words as she fought the wind to shut the door behind her.
Once she had the door close, Eliza looked around. A couple of cots set up against the east wall, a black pot belly stove sat in the middle of the room, and a pile of wood was stacked in the far northwest corner. There was also a table and cook stove on the west side of the building, along with a few cupboards. She had assumed the building was abandoned, but the two cots both had bedding, along with pillows…and the cupboards-bare of any doors-were full of canned food. It was definitely not a mansion; then again, she was only looking for shelter from the storm, not a new place to call home.
"Well, I hope whoever lives here is away visiting friends or family." She said to herself as she set her supplies down on one of the cots. "I'd hate to think they've found themselves caught out in this storm. And," she said as she removed her coat, hanging it on a nail near the window that set to the right of the door, "I hope they're not against having uninvited guests." Eliza then worked on getting a fire started. Once she made sure the door to the wood stove was secure, Eliza grabbed the small pan-the only pan she had-out of her supply bag, along with a tin plate, a small fork and her own canned food. As tempting as it was, she wasn't about to take any of the food in the cabinets. No, if she took any of that it would be after she talked to the owner about working for some of it. Soon she was cooking her meal on the pot belly stove.
After the food was cooked, Eliza poured the beans into the tin plate and sat it on the table. Though, once she sat down, she gazed out the window and watched the rain pouring down. For a moment her mind turned back through time, back to the war-another bad time. Though, she couldn't help but smile. It hadn't been all bad. Her mother had fed any soldier who happened to pass by and needed a good hot meal…north or south didn't matter. Folks said her mother was a "Conscientious Objector". As young as Eliza was at the time, she'd had a number of memorable visits with the soldiers.
As she turned her attention to her food her mind went to one particular soldier. He'd been kind and gentle; he'd told the most interesting tales and had been so helpful to her and her mother. Unlike the other soldiers who dropped in on a one time basis, this one returned three or four times. He'd played with her and her brother who now lived overseas. The last words he'd spoken to her and her mother still rang in her ears. "If you ever need anything, look me up" the union soldier smiled at her and her mother as the two of them stood on their front porch. "I'll do what I can for you; I promise." He had then mounted his horse and rode away.
Finishing her food, Eliza pushed the tin plate and fork aside hoping she'd be able to find a source of clean water once the rain stopped. She then stood up slowly and walked to one of the cots. Once again she prayed she wouldn't be in trouble for taking refuge inside the shack as she lay down and pulled the blanket to her shoulders and fell asleep…her mind on finding the former soldier.
Because of the rain, she didn't hear the riders approaching, nor heard the surprised exclamations at seeing a strange horse tethered under the 'lean to'. And, because the riders quietly approached the shack and looked through the window, she didn't see the shocked expressions upon their faces. And, as tired as she was, she didn't hear the door open or feel a pair of kind, but calloused hands, readjust the blanket upon her…nor the whispered debate between the riders as to who would be taking the empty cot and who got the floor for the night.
oOo
A/N I'm not saying who the soldier that Eliza is thinking about is yet. However, I will say Jarrod, Nick AND Heath are all candidates. Yes, Heath would have been awfully young, but my research (and the research of others) have proven that there were many young boys in the war. I believe the youngest was a nine year old drummer boy. I would have to look him up again as I KNOW I remember reading he made the military his career and eventually became a general).
