Chapter 14

"You should get that looked at."

Kid was gingerly inspecting the wound in his calf when he heard the comment from behind him. With a frown looked over his shoulder and took in the eager face of a boy in an ill-fitting, homespun uniform, who was peering at his leg with morbid fascination.

"It's fine," Kid grumbled in response, wincing only slightly when he pulled his trouser leg down to cover the sight.

"Infirmary's in that building yonder, doc there will see you right," the boy continued, not to be put off.

"I'd rather not," replied Kid. "I seen enough hospitals."

"It'll make you sick if you ain't careful. Plenty of fellas here have lost an arm or a leg 'cause of the gangrene."

"I know how to look after it, thanks all the same," Kid said dismissively.

"You say that now, but if the gangrene gets you all they can do is cut it off. I seen 'em with the saw…" the boy replied with ghoulish delight, his darkened teeth bared in a grin, obviously hoping to elicit some sort of response from Kid.

But the Kid just ignored him. He had done his best to avoid anyone's company since arriving at Camp Chase the previous week. He and the other Confederate prisoners had been marched at a blistering pace until they reached the prison situated outside of Columbus in Ohio. Their Union captors only stopped long enough after the failed escape attempt to remove the bullets from Kid's leg and to bury Polk and another escapee who hadn't been so lucky. They'd let him ride in the wagon for a few days, but then he'd been forced to work along with the other prisoners, which had been pure agony.

When they finally arrived at their destination and were informed they would be imprisoned for the foreseeable future, Kid barely had the energy to care, but he knew he had to avoid the Union guards and camp officials. Camp Chase was a large collection of wooden barracks, not unlike those at Camp Douglas. The roofs and walls leaked during any downpours, but the buildings still suffered from a lack of ventilation which meant sickness was rife throughout the camp, caused by the open latrines which muddied the already sodden earth upon which the barracks sat. The men were left to their own devices, even cooking their own meals inside the crowded barracks. It wasn't difficult for Kid to disappear among them.

He had refused further medical attention after they arrived at the camp, preferring to slip into the prison population, lest the Federals discover his real name and where he had previously escaped from. He continued to use Polk's false name for them both, Smith, and confirmed he was part of the brigade they had been captured with. The camp administrators paid little mind to the new group of prisoners – they were just more men they had to take care of in an already overcrowded facility. No one found out who he was or what he had done.

Still Kid kept to himself, shunning the other men he had been brought to the camp with. The others were all relieved to have finally reached their destination after weeks of marching, and were grateful for the little food and shelter now afforded them at the camp. For Kid it was a different story. Once again he found himself locked up and unable to get home to Lou, to get as far away as possible from Camp Douglas. Worse still, he was injured – the field surgeon who had removed the bullets from his leg and patched up the wounds had been under strict orders to get the men moving again quickly so Kid knew he was at great risk of infection due to the doctor's hasty actions.

As it was his leg ached unbearably, the cold only exacerbating the sensation. But he refused to go the camp infirmary – he would not set foot in another Union hospital if he could help it. He kept the wounds clean as best he could and watched for any sign of infection, putting into practice the skills Henry had taught him. He had been lucky so far, and probably would have let himself believe it if not for the terrible pain he suffered.

Kid looked over his shoulder again and was relieved to see that the boy had disappeared. He was glad of it, the last thing he wanted to do was make friends in the camp. Everyone he had befriended since the war had started was now dead, he reminded himself. For all he knew, his friends from the Pony Express were too – Cody and Jimmy were fighting for the North, Teaspoon was down in Texas somewhere, Ike and Noah were already gone. And Lou… Kid wouldn't allow himself to imagine what might have happened to Lou. With the fighting in Williamsburg… He groaned as he shifted in place, jarring the wounds on his calf and above his knee where the second bullet had hit. No, he was better off alone.

So it was with a measure of annoyance that the boy found him again the next day and, grinning once more, handed him a small bundle of rags.

"Thought you could put these to use," he said, his pale blue eyes twinkling with incomprehensible exuberance given their situation.

Kid frowned at the boy, then opened the bundle. Inside was a worn cake of soap and more rags which were cleaner than the one that encased them.

"Bandages and soap to keep your wounds clean," the boy said by way of explanation. "You said you know what to do, but I figured these might help."

"Thanks," said Kid grudgingly.

"Here, got you some new trousers too, since yours are so torn up." He handed over another bundle.

Kid unfolded the material to reveal a very obvious second hand pair of pants. "New, huh?"

"New as I could get, anyway."

Kid didn't want to know any more. There was only one place to get replacement clothes in the prison camp, and that was off a dead soldier. But he also knew his own trousers weren't going to hold up much longer. One leg had already been sliced open by the field surgeon who had operated on him which didn't exactly help with the cold.

"Thanks again, I guess," Kid said, a little more gratefully this time.

"Welcome. You need anythin', just find me. I'm Brian." The boy stuck out his hand and shook Kid's. "I been here three months now so I know how things work."

"How old are you?" Kid asked, astounded that Brian could be so cheery considering what was going on around them.

"Eighteen," he replied defensively, and it was obvious it was not the first time he had been asked.

From the look of him Kid doubted he was older than fifteen, but didn't bother contradicting him. He had no interest in striking up a conversation. He nodded to Brian again in thanks for the clothes and bandages and limped painfully away.

Two days later Kid looked up from his unappetizing ration of hardtack and found Brian sitting next to him.

"You don't talk much, do you?" the boy said idly. "I been watchin' you the past few days. You just keep to yourself."

Kid swallowed a dry mouthful of food and scowled. "What do you care?"

"Nothin', I guess. It's just most fellas in here don't mind talkin', helps pass the time." Brian scratched absently at the lice bites on his ankle.

"We ain't exactly on a picnic here," Kid growled, increasingly angered by the boy's presence.

"That's for sure. Could be worse though."

"How would you know?"

Brian shrugged and blushed a little. "Guess I don't. I ran away from home to join the army but didn't even make it there 'fore I got picked up by some Yankees. Got my horse too. My ma's gonna be hotter over losin' him than me leavin', I bet. Was our last one."

Kid was reminded of Katy and quickly banished her from his mind. He scrubbed his hand over his beard that had grown in since he left Camp Douglas, wishing the boy would leave him alone.

"Never even got a chance to fight. This ain't exactly what I thought the war was gonna be like," Brian commented, looking at their surroundings. "It'll probably be over soon, and I'll miss my chance."

Kid scoffed bitterly at that. "They been sayin' this war'll be over soon for three years."

"It can't go on forever," Brian said determinedly.

Kid fixed him with a weary stare. "Oh yes it can."

The war didn't go on forever, but it was another year before the Robert E. Lee surrendered the Army of North Virginia at Appomattox Courthouse. Thousands more on both sides died in that final year, but the result was inevitable. The surrender in April 1865, received with such fatigued relief by the prisoners at Camp Chase, was closely followed by the assassination of President Lincoln which ensured their release was postponed for several months.

When the day finally came when the Confederate prisoners left Camp Chase there was little ceremony. The men were given a ration of food and then found themselves with the task of getting back to wherever they had come from. Brian, bewildered at the thought of finally going home to his mother who had not wanted him to go to war in the first place, stuck close to Kid. And Kid, who for so long had tried to shake off the boy who'd insisted on befriending him, kept Brian with him as they headed East on foot.

They had been at Camp Chase for more than a year, an unenviable place to be as overcrowding continued to be an issue and hundreds died from diseases like smallpox. The prisoners had been put to work rebuilding their own barracks when they became uninhabitable. Food, or lack thereof, was a constant source of anguish for most, as the prisoners waited helplessly for death, exchange or release, whichever came first.

Kid had given up. Everything that had happened at Camp Douglas, the daily suffering from the wounds to his leg, and his loneliness and worry for Lou had all worn him down until there was nothing left. He was convinced he was never going to get back to her. He knew she probably thought he was dead anyway, maybe he would just go ahead and die and that would be the end of it. For days and weeks on end the depression would take hold and Kid really did want to die. But throughout it all Brian had been his constant friend. Talking non-stop when all Kid wanted was silence, forcing him to eat when he couldn't stomach even the thought of food, reminding him of home when he thought he had lost it all, it was Brian who had kept the small glimmer of hope alive. And in the end, he had been right – the war was over.

Brian was from a small town near Clarksburg in West Virginia. They traveled slowly because of Kid's leg – he needed to rest far more often than Brian did but the boy never thought about leaving him behind. As they settled not far from the roadside one night, a week into their journey, Kid sorted through his few possessions for their meager food supplies as Brian made a fire. They had been lucky enough to receive a parcel of food from a farmhouse the previous day which they were carefully rationing. They knew the families whose farms they passed had little to share, and there were hundreds of men on the road each day, all traveling home as fast as they could.

As Kid sorted through the old knapsack he had acquired from a deceased soldier they had passed on the road, along with a hat to protect him from the harsh sun and a pair of worn boots for Brian who had been barefoot until then, he found the letter. The envelope was so yellowed and the writing faded that it was impossible to make out. But Kid knew the address by heart – it was the letter to Tommy's parents which his fellow scout had given him before the Manassas fight. Henry had returned it to him at the hospital in Washington after they'd mistaken him for Tommy. Kid had kept it with him ever since, intent on delivering it as soon as he got the chance. It was more than four years later, but his parents would finally get Tommy's letter. As soon as he had seen Brian safely home to his mother he would pass through Manassas to deliver it. Then nothing would stop him getting to Rob and Isobel's farm outside Williamsburg. Nothing would keep him from finding Lou.