Chapter 6

July 21, 1861

That first day of fighting at Manassas was terrible for both the Union and Confederate armies. It was the first time many of them had even seen the men who were now their enemies. For most it was the first time they had ever aimed a gun at another human being.

There was confusion that day, both armies green and untested, even if their commanders were not. The air was heavy with the smell of gunpowder and the smoke from endless volleys of cannon fire, and the sound of men wounded and dying. The Federals led the charge in the morning, and after fierce fighting they broke the Confederate ranks in several places.

By the time Virginian reinforcements arrived under General Jackson, the brigades holding out against the Union army were almost defeated. The first major battle of the war appeared to be lost by noon. But Jackson rallied the infantry and gave them hope that in the afternoon they would reclaim the lost ground and drive the enemy back to Washington.

The boys in gray were so full of Southern pride and hatred for the Northerners that nearly everything went according to plan after that. The Confederate army was able to drive the enemy back and break their ranks in return, and in the end it was every man for himself. They were stunned as they watched the Union soldiers running away en masse from the onslaught, and many thought that the war was over. Despite the South's confidence that one of their boys in gray was worth a dozen Yankee soldiers, it was hard to believe they could have won the war so easily.

"Damn Yankees'll learn not to underestimate Virginia boys," grinned Tommy as he and Kid rode with the rest of their cavalry troop. "They can't invade our land and expect a welcomin' party."

Their commanding officer, Captain Phillips, drew rein next to his scouts.

"Weaver, Kid, I want you boys to follow these last soldiers north," he ordered cheerfully, amid the whoops of his men who were celebrating the crushing victory. "Make sure the army's not regrouping somewhere on the other side of the creek."

"Yes, sir," said Kid.

"Regroupin'?" Tommy chuckled. "I don't think they're plannin' on stoppin' 'til they hit Canada!"

"We goin' to advance, Captain?" asked Kid, not yet willing to celebrate if they were to push on after the Union army in order to press their advantage.

"We're waiting on our orders," Phillips replied. "Don't be surprised if we're all in Washington next week, boys!"

A cheer went up from the rest of the troop.

"Report back before nightfall," Phillips ordered, then kicked his horse forward to the front of the ranks.

Kid and Tommy set out from the rest of the cavalry, their spirits high. They passed the infantry with hands raised in salutes for their bravery. As they rode further into the battle field it grew harder to remain jubilant as they passed countless bodies, in gray and in blue, that littered the ground. Kid tried not to focus on their faces but he couldn't help searching for his cousin Rob among the men, in case he had fallen. Kid had did not know where he was or if he was even at the Manassas fight, but he nevertheless held his breath each time they passed a Confederate soldier in fear he would find his cousin.

Groups of Union soldiers, now prisoners of war, were being marched south by their captors, many of them stumbling with defeat or perhaps exhaustion. Kid and Tommy rode on, determined to get far enough ahead before they lost the light so they could report back any possible counter attack from the north.

They doubled back along Bull Run Creek for any small bands of Federal soldiers that might be holed up somewhere, then followed the fleeing men towards Washington. But the Union army showed no signs of slowing down and regrouping for another push into Virginia. The sun was setting on the first bloody battle of the war, and it appeared to all be over.

"Let's head back, Kid," Tommy said, halting his horse in a small clearing. He took a drink from his canteen, still casting his eyes around for any sign of the enemy. "They ain't comin' back any time soon."

Kid drew Katy's reins and stopped a few feet behind him.

"Can you believe it?" Tommy continued. "It was a fierce fight, sure, but we whipped 'em. This could all be over. In a few days you could be home with Louise."

Kid grinned at the thought. "You won't hear me complainin'."

"Guess you got spooked for nothin', boy," Tommy turned and crowed over his shoulder to Kid. "And you got me thinkin' the same thing, makin' me write that let–"

Kid saw Tommy's face freeze in a half smile, the words dying on his lips, before he heard the gunshot. There was a second screaming sound and thud of a bullet and Tommy pitched back in his saddle, then fell heavily to the ground.

Suddenly, before Kid could even register what had happened to his friend, there was a flash of pain at his neck underneath his right ear. The white, searing sensation caused Kid to look up in surprise, waiting for the flash of a blade, for he felt sure he had been cut. There was no sword. He didn't hear the sound of the bullet that time.

In an instant he turned Katy's reins and dug his heels sharply into her sides, but she had barely moved before pain exploded in the back of his left shoulder, toppling him off balance and he fell forward out of his saddle.

He hit the ground, one hand still grasping Katy's reins. She shied away in fright as the sound of heavy hoof beats quickly approached, but Kid's grasp was firm. He rolled onto his back and found himself staring up at the sky, pink and orange with the dying sun, not feeling the insistent tugging of Katy's reins or the dull throbbing of his shoulder. He did feel a warm and sticky sensation at his neck, but none of these thoughts really registered. He just gazed, mesmorized, at the seemingly endless sky.

"I got him!"

"Grab that horse."

"This 'un's dead."

"Gimme his hat."

"Check those bushes, make sure there ain't any more of them."

Kid heard the voices, and with difficulty he turned his head slightly. His view of the sky was suddenly blocked by a bearded face with a stout cigar clamped in between its teeth. A bearded face in a navy jacket.

"Looks like I got me a dirty Reb, too," the man said, looking down at Kid, a grim smile appearing around the cigar.

"That's a mighty fine horse you got there, Johnny." It was a different voice, but Kid did not see who it belonged to.

He suddenly felt Katy's reins being ripped from his fingers. Kid tried to sit up to reclasp them but his head only lifted a few feet off the ground before a boot to his injured shoulder forced him back down in blinding pain.

"I can't see no more of 'em, Sergeant. Must be scouts."

"Take the horses," commanded the bearded Union soldier.

"And his hat," said another voice. "I want a souvenir too."

Rough hands pulled at Kid's jacket then, rifling through its pockets. He tried to protest but only a moan escaped his lips when Lou's letters and photograph were wrenched from the pocket above his heart.

"Leave it, Simons," said the bearded man gruffly.

The other man looked up angrily but did not disobey. With a final sneer at Kid he threw the bundle of letters aside and stood up to rejoin the others.

"Hold that horse, I said!"

"I'm trying, Sergeant!"

Katy's high pitched neighs pierced the air, rousing Kid from his semi-conscious state. His cloudy mind cleared briefly as he focused all his energies… someone was trying to take his horse.

"Katy!" he cried out, raising his head only a foot from the ground and struggling to catch a glimpse of her as she was led away.

"That her name, is it?" said the sneering man.

The Kid saw the soldier raise the butt of his rifle and, with a sickening thud to his head, his world went black.