I just realized that President McKinley's first name was also William and during this time in history he would have been about the same age as MY William McKinley. Just so you know- they are NOT the same person. Thanks!

William POV

The next day I took my leave from the Union camp just after noon, when it had cooled down a little. I had a day and a half until I was expected back with the Confederates. I figured that if I rode at a relaxed pace, then I would arrive on time. Seeing that I was in a Union occupied area, dressed in the enemy's clothing, General Grant gave me some civilian's clothes and a haversack to put my uniform in until I came close to my destination.

When I got close enough to the camp that people might start to recognize me, I changed back into my uniform and rode in. I got off of my horse and waked him to the stable. He was a Morgan, the same breed ridden by General Sheridan from the Union and Stonewall Jackson, with a mid-brown colored coat. His name was Buck. I didn't name him, his previous owner did. My father bought Buck for me when I turned seventeen. I took off his saddle and the rest of his tack before brushing him.

Buck was the one living creature I could talk to about my life, because he wouldn't relay the information. I'd always converse with him, however silly that sounds, while I brushed him out. He knew all of my secrets, from being a spy to my feelings for Susannah, as well as problems that had come up with my parents shortly before I set off to join the army. With my only confidant being a horse, sometimes I wish that I had not accepted General Grant's assignment for me to become a spy.

As I settled Buck into his stable area this time, I was silent. I was nervous. I was nervous about the war, about being found out as a spy, about Susannah's safety, and about dying. If it came to it and I had to fight, I would first have to get to General Grant to fight with Union, and even then I wouldn't want to be caught in the crossfire. Logic told me that I've served my country by giving information, so I didn't have to serve it by giving up my life. But in giving that information, wasn't I sending thousands of men to die in battle? Didn't I owe them my life for condemning theirs? It was something that had haunted me during my journey back

I knew that I saved many lives, civilians and soldiers alike, with my news about the attack on Gettysburg even before the fighting started, but I could already feel a pang of guilt. All of the men who would die on the battlefield would die because of what I did. They may have perished during the war anyways, but I couldn't help feeling that I would shorten their lives. All of the men dying in battle would be because of me; all of the bloodshed would be my fault. And if it turned out to be a Confederate victory, then I didn't know how I would be able to live with myself. I needed someone else to confide in than a horse.

Susannah POV

Someone had said they'd seen Major Davis return, so I went to the stables to find him. I saw him standing near his horse with an expression of horror on his otherwise handsome face. His brush stopped and tears began to flow silently from his eyes. He looked as though he was going to be sick. Buck nuzzled his face into William's neck and he snapped out of his sadness to smile at his horse and wipe away his tears.

I wondered what he had cried about and tilted my head, and I looked at him with a puzzled expression. I stood in the middle of the road, about twenty feet off from the stables. He embraced his horse around its neck and his eyes peeked over from the other side of his horse. I froze. He saw me standing there, and quickly departed from his horse to see me. I figured that running off would be useless, as I would no doubt bump into him again. "Susannah," he said, more worried and less angry than I had expected, "what are you doing here?" "I-I'm sorry. I'll leave," I mumbled, my eyes falling to the ground next to his feet. "No! Wait…" he said, now sounding sadder than I had ever heard him.

"I won't tell anyone that you were crying, if that's what you want to talk to me about." He looked embarrassed that I had seen him in such a vulnerable moment, but in my eyes, it made him even more into the perfect man. "It's a human thing, you know. Everyone cries, whether they'd like to admit it or not." He stepped closer to me so that we were but an arm's length apart. He was still silent, but his eyes seemed to bore into mine and I found it extremely hard to look away.

His eyes were beautiful, even though they still held the memory of sadness and desperation. They were light blue around the pupil, fading into a deep, dark blue with flecks of green and grey running throughout. I marveled at how I had not noticed this before. I was asking myself this question when he looked away. About six seconds had gone by, but it seemed like an eternity.

I had set out originally to ask him where he disappears to during his leaves, and I intended to find out.