United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
The conversation thus opened was carried on by Rachel giving
copious and disparaging information concerning the “Yankees,” and
the Lieutenant listening in admiration to the musical accents,
interrupting but rarely to interject a question or a favorable
comment. He was as little critical as ardent young men are apt
to be of the statements of captivating young women, and Rachel's
spirits rose as she saw that the worst she had to fear from this enemy
was an excess of devotioni. The story of her aunt at Murfreesboro
received unhesitating acceptance, and nothing but imperative scouting
orders prevented his escorting her to the town. He would, however,
send a non-commissioned officer with her, who would see that she
was not molested by any one. He requested permission to call upon
her at her aunt's, which Rachel was compelled to grant, for lack
of any ready excuse for such a contingency. With this, and many
smiles and bows, they parted.
All the afternoon she rode through camps of men in gray and
butternut, as she had ridden through those of men in blue in the
morning. In these, as in the others, she heard gay songs, dance
music and laughter, and saw thousands of merry boys rollicking in
the sunshine at games of ball and other sports, with the joyous
earnestness of a school-house playground. She tried, but in vain,
to realize that in a few days these thoughtless youths would be
the demons of the battle-field.
Just before dusk she came to the top of a low limestone ridge, and
saw, three miles away, the lights of Murfreesboro. At that moment
Fortner appeared, jogging leisurely toward her, mounted on a splendid
horse.
“O there's my Cousin Jim!” she exclaimed gleefully, “coming to meet
me. Sergeant, I am deeply obliged to you and to your Lieutenant,
for your company, and I will try to show my appreciation of it in
the future in some way more substantial than words. You need not
go any farther with me. I know that you and your horse are very
tired. Good by.”
The Sergeant was only too gald of this release, which gave him an
opportunity to get back to camp, to enjoy some good cheer that he
knew was there, and bidding a hasty good-night, he left at a trot.
Fortner and Rachel rode on slowly up the pike, traversing the ground
that was soon to run red with the blood of thousands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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