Hello everyone! I have not abandoned (and will not be abandoning) this story, so please rest assured! I already have the ending worked out and I won't leave you hanging. I'll admit, these last couple of chapters have been more challenging to write and it has taken me a bit longer than the rest. It's also just been a busy week. As always, thanks again to everyone who continues to read and comment. All feedback is appreciated. Chapter 14 is already in the works so stay tuned!
Let me know what you think of the switching perspectives thing- Easy to follow? Confusing? Effective? Suspenseful?
Anyway, here is part 2! Enjoy!
Chapter 13: Collision Course, Part 2
The morning dawned bright and cold, with the 23rd cavalry was already on the move. The entire unit was uneasy, but for once their second lieutenant was oblivious to it. He was too focused on holding himself together and keeping upright in the saddle. Whit had tried to make a few jokes with Slim, as usual, to break the tension and lighten the mood. Slim barely spared him a glance before setting his jaw and moving down the line to his position. Whit just couldn't understand the out-of-character response. He leaned back in his saddle, hands on his hips, watching after his friend.
"Wonder what got into him," Whit said, to no one in particular.
"Excuse me, sir," came a timid voice to his right. Whit turned around to see one of the privates, looking unsure of himself but determined. "It's none of my business, but I overheard the captain talking with Lieutenant Sherman this morning while I was replacing my cinch. The captain was saying he was sorry about the Lieutenant's father, I assumed he'd passed rather recently." The young man looked down at his horse's withers.
Whit blinked, shocked. "We ain't had mail in two weeks, private, and I know he hadn't gotten any letters like that before. How in the Sam Hill would Sherman even know?"
The private seemed to shrink a bit under the blunt retort but looked his superior officer in the eyes anyway. "I wouldn't have any idea about that, sir, but I thought you'd want to know."
Whit dismissed the man with a wave of his hand, turning back to watch Slim's retreat to the end of the line. There's no way. He couldn't've found out so quickly, thought Whit. But still…
Whit had to admit that the death of a family member would explain how distant Slim had been. Somehow, Slim's family must have sent word. Maybe the captain had known through word of mouth and passed the message on himself. The odds were low, but Whit supposed it wasn't impossible. Either way, Whit vowed to keep an extra watch on his second today. Returning from a battle was never guaranteed, but the odds were even worse if a man's heart wasn't in it. Slim would need all the help he could get.
The last Whit saw of Slim, he was charging forward with his men at his side.
In the chaos, Whit didn't see the bullet that hit Slim's horse. He didn't see him fall.
-Laramie-
Things went from bad to worse for the rebels once the fighting started. The Union was determined to take the ridge and they had the reinforcements to make it happen. Colonel Young pulled Jess off the line to make a run to Lookout Mountain, instructing him to request additional support. By the time Jess got there, however, the position had already been overrun by the Union troops. It had taken just one volley for the confederate line to crumble. Jess found himself trapped behind the enemy lines. Without another option, he used all his senses to stay hidden while he tried to find a way back to his own unit.
Jess was forced to skirt around the western edge of the union forces. He could tell that the line was curling around, changing shape as the confederates were overrun. Finally, after more than a day of dodging blue uniforms, he caught up with what was left of the 9th Texas as they retreated deeper into Georgia.
Out of reflex, he listened for the quick beat-and-swish of Knute's heart and for the first time, he didn't hear it. His own heart started to pound.
The unit was in full retreat. Jess rode up the line at a trot, frantically looking for Duncan or Tommy or Colonel Young. The entire column of soldiers was down to less than a third of what it had been when he'd left. He finally heard someone call his name.
He stood in the stirrups and turned to see Sam, who was cradling his right arm with his left and doing his best to keep up with the rest of the men. Jess wheeled his mount around and rode over. He fought to keep his hearing under control as Sam started to speak.
"—looked everywhere, but it was no use, it happened so fast," Sam said, his face somber.
Jess shook his head and tried again to focus. "Looked for who, Sam? The colonel?"
Now Sam was the one shaking his head. "No, Harper, you have to listen to me. Someone else thought they saw Colonel Young go down, but it's Tommy. He was with us at the start, but he wasn't there for the retreat. Jess, we can't find Tommy."
Jess's whole world seemed to tilt as the vertigo overwhelmed him. His ears were ringing and his vision tunneled. His horse, a big, sure-footed gray, sensed the change and nervously sidestepped under him. He held onto the saddle horn and steadied himself with a breath.
"Where did you see him last?" he rasped.
Sam's eyes widened. "You can't be serious, Jess! We were completely pushed off the ridge. There's no one left to find," he said, trying to make the other man see reason.
"Tell me where!" Jess roared, his eyes blazing. In a way it was comforting to feel that old anger rise up inside of him. The burning hate he'd held onto for so long burned bright, like coals from a poorly banked fire finding dry kindling. Judging by the look on Sam's face, he didn't share in Jess's comfort. Sam looked downright terrified as he stumbled through a description of the where he'd last seen Tommy. Jess didn't hesitate as he dug his spurs into the gray's flanks, galloping back toward the ridge.
I'm coming for you, Tom, Jess thought. Just hold on.
Jess had spent the last twenty-odd hours slipping between enemy lines undetected. It had been even longer since he had slept or eaten, and it was getting harder and harder to control his emotions and therefore his senses. It was slow going, but eventually he reached the point where the ground started to slope upward. He adjusted the strap of his rifle and checked that his bowie knife was tucked securely in his boot out of nervous habit. He knew it would be dark by the time he reached the top of the ridge and found the place that Sam had described, but he pushed onward. Finally, heard something that held his attention. A heartbeat. Jess knew, without a doubt, that that heartbeat was the one he needed to find.
-Laramie-
Slim lay on his back, his thoughts drifting. At least, he thought they were thoughts. Maybe they were dreams. He wasn't really sure, but it didn't trouble him. Sometimes, he was swinging Andy up onto his shoulders. Other times, he was helping his mother set the table or peel potatoes. He saw Jonesy too, as he hefted a heavy sack of feed up onto his shoulder and crossed the yard to the barn. Something about the last image didn't seem right, though. In the last letter I got, Ma said Jonesy's back had gotten worse. He wouldn't be haulin' grain, Slim mused. Pa should be doing that. The thought slipped away before he could consider it too closely.
Slowly, Slim became aware of a bright glow through his closed eyelids. Not again, he thought, as a soft groan escaped him. Pa isn't going to be impressed if I slept through morning chores. He opened his eyes only to be greeted by darkness. He blinked, just to make sure his eyes were really open, but he only saw stars above him. How can that be? I was sure I saw the sun rising. Felt the warmth on my skin and everything. He furrowed his brow and brought his hand up to rub his eyes. When he pushed his bangs off of his forehead, he felt a sharp twinge of pain and realized some of his hair was plastered to the side of his head. That was odd. Before he could examine that particular revelation further, he noticed his sunrise again. This time, he realized it wasn't the sun at all. It wasn't even a lantern. It was in his mind; the glow of someone like him. It was a nearby sentinel, whose energy felt dangerously unsteady. Slim rolled onto his belly before struggling to get to his feet. Someone was in desperate need of a guide, and Slim was going to find them. Finding his rifle or his sidearm, or even the fact that he might need them, never crossed his mind.
-Laramie-
Jess followed the heartbeat through the dark, absolutely sure he was headed in the right direction. Not long now, he mentally promised Tommy. The heartbeat stayed strong and steady, marking time with the hoofbeats of Jess's mount. He tried not to think too closely about the other two heartbeats he was still missing. He had no idea where Knute and Duncan had ended up, but he had to focus on Tommy first. Once he had Tommy, they could track the other two down together. They'd be fine. They had to be.
As Jess crested the rise, he dismounted. This was the place Sam had directed him to. His vision wasn't able to focus on much useful by now, and he kept getting distracted by meaningless details. When he looked at the ground he could see individual dew drops on blades of grass, but he couldn't focus on the overall image. He finally just closed his eyes in frustration. Using his other senses, Jess tried again.
He could still hear the heartbeat, closer now, and beating a bit quicker. Jess figured maybe Tommy had heard him approach. The stench of blood, gunpowder, and unwashed uniforms of fallen soldiers was nearly overwhelming up here, where the thickest of the fighting had been, but something overpowered it for a moment. Jess swore he caught the scent of sunbaked summer earth and prairie grass. Home, he realized, picturing the grasslands of panhandle country, and Tommy. Jess took a few steps forward before tripping over a small boulder. In his exhaustion, he'd plain forgotten to open his eyes again.
Blamed fool, Jess cursed himself, frustrated. He opened his eyes only to slam them back shut again. His hands started to shake.
Directly in front of him, not six inches away, was Tommy. His face was turned skyward and his eyes were open as if still watching the stars. All Jess had needed was one glimpse of those sightless eyes to know his hope had been for nothing. Tommy was dead. He was dead, and Jess was alone.
-Laramie-
The sound that tore through the clearing was inhuman. It shattered the solemn peace and shook Slim straight to his core. He fought against the tide of grief and rage that swept across his mind. The rage alone left him breathless, while the grief threatened to drown him. He had to find this sentinel, and he had to find them now. He worked to close his mind and keep his composure. About fifteen yards away, Slim saw a figure crouched on the ground next to a body. He stumbled forward.
-Laramie-
Jess couldn't put words to what he felt inside, as he crouched there next to the oldest friend he'd had in the world. Time stood still. He could have been there for moments or hours; Jess wouldn't have known the difference. He wanted to fight and he wanted someone to blame. Most of all, he wanted to kill whatever union soldier had taken Tommy from the world, but at this point he'd settle for anyone who came too close. When he heard the soft chime of spurred boots approaching, he knew he had his chance. In his couched position, Jess slipped his hand into his boot and around the handle of his knife. He gritted his teeth, blinked away his tears, and waited.
-Laramie-
Slim approached the figure slowly, not wanting to interrupt the intimate moment of grief he was witnessing, but he knew this man needed help. The man crouching was clothed in a gray wool coat and trousers along with a matching cap, with a rifle and canteen strung around his shoulders. That gray should mean something to me, he thought, but he couldn't place it at the moment. Slim reached out a tentative hand, intending to lay it on the stranger's shoulder.
Out of nowhere, the stranger whipped around, his arm swinging wildly as the glint of a wicked steel blade came flying toward Slim's face. Slim reeled back but wasn't quite quick enough. He felt a cold slice along his left cheek as he fell, followed immediately by the warm flow of blood. He fell to the ground and scrambled backwards. He was completely bewildered as he watched the stranger raise the rifle to his shoulder and aim straight at Slim's chest. In a last-ditch reflex, he tried to shield himself by bringing both arms up, palms facing outward, as if he could stop a bullet with his bare hands.
-Laramie-
As Jess looked down the barrel at this union officer, hate boiling inside, he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. He wasn't sure what stopped him. Maybe it could have been the open palms, clearly showing that the man was unarmed and asking for mercy. Maybe it was the smell of sun and prairie still strong in his nose, making him think of happier days, that kept him from pulling the trigger. The face of this strange officer was so covered in mud and gore that in the darkness the only feature Jess could make out was the pale blue eyes. Later, he'd admit it was the eyes that stopped him. His own vision seemed trapped by that sky-blue gaze, honing in on the streaks of near-white and the darker ring around the edge. His trigger finger relaxed and he started to lower the rifle. He just couldn't bring himself to take the light out of those eyes.
He never heard a sound, but he felt the punch as the bullet hit his body. The force slammed into his shoulder and finally tipped him over the edge. Jess's vision whited out completely and he was only vaguely aware he was falling.
He never heard a sound, but somewhere within his own mind, he was aware of an outraged cry.
-Laramie-
CRACK. The thunder of the rifle ripped through the air, the shot finding its mark.
"NO!" Slim cried, as he watched the stranger fall. Moments ago, he had been sure the man would shoot him, but now Slim was surging forward to protect him. He grabbed the smaller man and used his own body to shield him, afraid another shot would come at any moment.
"Sherman!", he heard, as several boots crashed through the trees and into the clearing. "Slim, answer me!"
Slim just squeezed his eyes shut and clung tighter to his attacker, clumsily trying to put pressure on the entry wound. Strong hands grabbed him and tried to pull him off, but he wasn't having it.
"You can't take him," Slim said desperately, "He wasn't going to shoot, you can't take him."
"Sherman, Slim, look at me. We ain't takin' him nowhere."
Slim finally looked up, finding Whit kneeling down next to him. He could barely make out his friend's face through all the grit and blood in his eyes.
"At least talk to me. Are you hit? Where's all this blood coming from?"
Slim shook his head. "I'm not hit, it's just a scratch. He didn't shoot."
Whit let out a shaky breath and shook his head, slapping a hand on Slim's back. "Sherman, I swear, if you ever make us hunt for you again, I'm leaving your sorry ass out here for the wolves. We thought we'd lost you for good. What were you trying to do, take on a whole Reb battery all by yourself?"
Slim didn't answer, and he didn't relax his hold on the unconscious man. Whit tried again. "C'mon, Slim, we gotta get back to the others. Captain Tucker doesn't even know we came lookin' for ya, and there's no way in blazes he'll let us back in camp if you ain't with us. Go on an' let go a that boy."
Several pairs of strong arms grabbed him, pulling him up and away. No matter what they tried, it was no use. Slim wouldn't leave without the rebel. Finally, after one of the sergeants promised to take him back as a prisoner and make sure a doc looked him over, he finally let go. Whit helped him to his feet just in time to catch him as he stumbled. Noting the nasty gash on his head and the still-bleeding slice through his cheek, Whit decided Slim wouldn't be able to stay mounted on his own. Once they got Slim up on a horse, Whit swung up behind him. Slim was too tired and confused and hurt to have an opinion on the arrangement. At the back of the group, the dark-haired stranger was slung over the saddle of Slim's intended mount. Together, the group slowly made their way back to the 23rd volunteers.