July 1st, 1863

Approximately fifteen miles outside Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Noon

The misty rain that the Twentieth Maine had woken up to had faded and turned into a hot and dusty day. Margaret was marching along with the soldiers in the dirt, guiding her horse by the reins. She had taken an earful from Kilrain as he begged her to 'use the horse that the good Lord provided', but eventually he had let it go, since Colonel Chamberlain still remained in his saddle, leading the men forward endlessly. To distract from the heat and the mindless boredom of marching, Margaret struck up a conversation with the Colonel's brother and another soldier.

"One of the things you get to know, is that this here brigade has got its own special bugle call." Lieutenant Chamberlain was saying, his upper mustache quirking along with his lips. Margaret chuckled, quirking her eyebrows. The brown-haired man turned towards her. "You ever hear tell of Dan Butterfield?"

"General Butterfield…" Margaret turned the name over her head. "What was with Hooker?"

"Right. Same man. Well, he used to be our brigade commander."

"They say he was a pistol." The soldier said with a grin. "No mane like him for having a good time."

Margaret chuckled as the young man gave a lewd wink. Tom on the other hand just winced.

"Well, I don't know about that, but he liked to write bugle calls. Trouble with this army is too many bugle calls. Call for artillery, and infantry, to get up and eat and retreat, and all that. And it got a mite confusing, so Ole Dan Butterfield wrote a call for this here brigade. Special. If there is an order for this brigade, well, somebody else would be blowing his damn bugle and we'd think it was for us only it wasn't, but we would follow the order anyway."

"And then the next thing you know you'll be in for a world of trouble." Margaret completed the thought. She chuckled.

The soldier chuckled. "That happened to us once. Half the regiment charged, and the other half retreated. You had your choice. Come to think of it, seemed like a good system."

"Well, in this brigade we got a special call. You hear that call and you know the next call is for you. Goes like this."

Tom sang a couple of notes, going up the scale in a three-four-time signature. Margaret only half listened, her mind focusing on Colonel Chamberlain. The man had been silent for most of the march, and Margaret could only guess what was going through his mind. She bit her lip before zeroing in back on the conversation.

"-all it 'Dan Butterfield'. Just like this: 'Dan, Dan, Dan, Butterfield, Butterfield, Butterfield."

"In the middle of a battle, I'm supposed to remember that?"

Tom chuckled. "It's easy if you remember, this: Dan, Dan, Dan, Butterfield, Butterfield, Butterfield."

Margaret glanced over at the soldier and his confused countenance. "I don't think that helped any, Lieutenant."

Tom chuckled, shifting his saber over his shoulder before continuing. "Ole Butterfield wrote a lot of bugle calls. Either one of you know 'Butterfield's Lullaby'?"

Margaret did a double take. "Butterfield…. wrote a lullaby? How strange."

"Same here. Seems that it wouldn't be a good lullaby."

"Nah. It goes like this."

Margaret excused herself from the conversation as she mounted her horse in one swift movement and rejoined the colonel. She watched his expression, almost vacant as though his mind wasn't there. She was shocked that the Colonel could distant himself from the drudgery and mind-numbness of marching. Margaret herself could do that, mentally distance herself from the drudgery of riding all day with nothing but the endless scenery and the oppressive heat to keep her company. Remounting her horse, Margaret pushed the creature forward until she was right beside him.

"Colonel."

He jumped a bit, causing her to blush in apology.

"My apologies, Colonel. I didn't mean to break you out of your thoughts."

"It's alright, Mrs. Lelan." The bushy-lipped man assured. "I was just ruminating on the weather."

"Yes. I too miss the summers of Maine. It's unbearably hot. I wonder how they all do it."

"They've lived here for generations. I'm sure that they're used to it."

Margaret kept her eyes forward, squinting against the horizon. "Yeah. Kind of wish the rain would return."

"Then we would have to deal with the mud. At least with the heat, we can move with some semblance of speed."

The two fell silent as they continued. Margaret listened to the clank of the marching soldiers behind them. Her heart thundered in her chest as she took in the horizon.

"What do you think lies ahead of us?"

"Who knows." He gave her a side glance. "Can't you tell? I thought you people had eyes and ears everywhere."

"Even if we do, the mouths don't run as fast as they should." She said as she moved her hood over her head. She sighed as the sun was blocked out most of the sun, but it didn't do much against the heat. "There will come a day when words fly across the ocean at the speed of lightening. Even quicker than the telegram that we have now."

"And your little orbs have helped you see that?"

"The Pieces of Eden don't really allow anyone to see what will be. Only what was."

"Very cryptic."

"You have no idea, believe me." Margaret squinted, spotting something on the horizon. She sat up. "Do you see that?"

Colonel Chamberlain sat up in his saddle, his focusing on the spot on the horizon that was steadily growing bigger. Both Margaret and the Colonel straightened. As the spot grew, Margaret caught sight of a Union courier, though whether he was also an Assassin had yet to be discovered. Colonel Chamberlain clicked his tongue, driving his horse forward, ahead of the line of soldiers to greet the courier. Margaret followed close behind, keeping her head lower with her eyes raised.

The courier stopped just a few paces in front of them, snapping a salute. "Sir."

"Soldier."

"I bring news, sir." The horse underneath the young man, no more than a boy, pawed at the ground. The courier fought to bring him under control. "General Buford and his cavalry have engaged Heth's division at a town called Gettysburg. General Reynolds has fallen. All Union divisions that can are asked to converge there so that the line might be held. The Twentieth Maine is to march double time to make the distance in time."

"No…."
Margaret felt like she couldn't breathe. She knew General Reynolds from the stories that were told to her. He was a good friend of her family, though he wasn't around much. To hear that he had perished….it was like a blow to the gut.

Colonel Chamberlain nodded, his face grim. "Thank you."

"YAH!" The courier took off, spreading the news down the line as he went. Margaret's fingers tightened around the reins, her stomach tensing. If Heth was converging at this place, this town of Gettysburg, then surely the entirety of Lee's army would meet there. But the Confederate High General was smarter than that, to meet the full Army of the Potomac head-on.

Henry, I hope you're slowing him down. She thought. A quick glance at the Colonel told her that they were about to be marching triple time.

"I'll give the men a few minutes rest." The man announced. Margaret nodded. She turned quickly and headed down the line.

The men were enjoying the few minutes of rest, but Kilrain wasn't. Margaret had pulled him aside to talk in the shade of a lone oak tree.

"I fear there's nothing that can stop what's coming, Killrain." Margaret stated. There was a hesitancy to her words, as though she was ashamed to have to admit that this big mission to keep massive bloodshed from happening was about to fail.

The old man sighed heavily. "I'm afraid that when Destiny wants something to happen, there's no changing her mind, lass."

"Funny. You speak of Destiny as though it was a woman. But I've always seen it as a stubborn Scot."

The two friends chuckled.

"How will this play out, old friend? How will our lives look after the next sunrise?"

"Who knows what the Gods have in store for us, my dearie." Kilrain said wisely. Margaret took a deep breath. "We can only pray that tomorrow we find the strength and the courage to face the unknown."

"Amen."

"Now. Back on the horse, with ya. Maybe you can convince the good colonel to do the same."

Margaret chuckled, her eyes lingering on the two Chamberlain brothers discussing something, the young Lieutenant animatedly saying something. "I'll try but he's as stubborn as Destiny."

Kilrain gave a full-hearty belly laugh, thanking her before moving on to collect the men and get them back into line. Margaret gave one more glance at the climbing sun before climbing onto her own horse.

Their destination was Gettysburg.

And so their destiny awaited them there.