***Part 9
"one, two, three, four...one, two, three, four," Ezra counted cadence, but he knew the tempo was slowing. He kept his head down, looking at the sandy soil and occasional rock and shrub. It was too disheartening to look out at the vast distance he still had to cover. His mind told him he couldn't possibly make it, but his heart beat in time with his steps, urging him on. His face was bright red and he was grateful that at least the miscreants let him keep his shirt, he only wished he had his hat. He hoped that Chaucer was able to eventually extricate himself from those reprobates. Ezra smiled at the thought of the two outlaws chasing after his horse and Chaucer prancing away. His horse would head back to Four Corners but there wouldn't be anyone there. He had to get closer to the village so that, even if he didn't make it, maybe they would find his body and the medicine...closer.
His side throbbed with every step, but he ignored it. He knew he was still bleeding, and he pressed harder on the wound trying to stem the flow, but he continued to march. He would not let the six lawmen down again. Hell, he survived a fever that killed so many. He felt light-headed and empty. Unable to concentrate, he had no option but to follow his thoughts as they drifted back. He was a young lieutenant, and his unit was holding a Union regiment at bay along the Georgia border. The fighting had been fierce for a week then three men got sick. Commander Rossner was preparing to send the men to the rear, away from the fighting. Rossner changed his mind when two more became ill and one died. The Commander knew he couldn't risk spreading this illness through the whole Confederate Army. Ezra remembered the bodies being dumped in large pits without even the dignity of a decent grave marker. So many died, some he even considered friends.
Ezra surmised that the Union regiment suffered from the same affliction, as the fighting had all but ceased. Harker's Fever, named after the first man who had died, had called an unofficial ceasefire. When Commander Rossner came down with the fever, and died, many men fled, carrying the disease with them. When Ezra came down with it there was hardly anyone able to aid the ones who were sick. Ezra remembered suffering alone. He remembered his fear of dying alone, a fear that had never left him. Ezra and two others were the only ones to walk away on that dreary October day. The three men walked past the bodies of soldiers, the blue and gray of their filthy uniforms their only shroud. Death harbored no prejudice, Yank or Reb they all died the same. The three men only wondered why they had survived as they trudged wearily away from the desolation.
Ezra gazed up at the slowly descending sun. He would not allow it to happen again. He squeezed the canteen tight to his chest and lengthened his strides.
tbc
