Chapter One

October 1865

Kid lay motionless as he tried to get his bearings. The noises he heard were muffled and unfamiliar, distant voices incomprehensible. He was laying on a bed so soft after endless nights sleeping on the cold, muddy ground that it took him a few moments to recollect where he was. The sheets were crisp and clean, scented with lavender. The combination of senses invoked distant memories that had been locked away his clouded mind for so long. They were memories of Lou. The pillow he rested on smelled of her. The remembrance was so jolting that Kid was fearful he was dreaming again. But the bed was real, the pillow was real. He forced himself to open his eyes to make sure it was not an illusion.

The first thing Kid saw was a pair of eyes identical to his own staring back at him. The deep, speckled blue eyes blinked at him as he focused on the small girl's face, only a foot away from his own. She grinned at him, an open loving smile that puzzled him at first. Kid didn't quite know what to say to her, or even how to react to her presence. Before he could think of what to do she jumped up without warning and ran out of the room.

"Momma! He's awake!" she yelled loudly, clattering onto the landing.

Kid pushed himself into a sitting position with some uncertainty. Every muscle ached from the torturous pace he had set himself on his way home to find Lou. He had walked non-stop for weeks with little food, and now that his body had a chance to rest he felt worse, just like an old man. Kid rubbed a hand over his shaggy beard and supposed he looked like an old man too. He felt just as muddled and frail as a man three times his age, his thoughts sluggish and unsure. He looked around the room he was in, still not quite believing where he was.

It was a small, neat bedroom with few ornaments and trappings. A pale light shone through the curtained window which was opened only a crack, and he felt a refreshing breeze caress his cheek as he took in a deep breath of the familiar Virginian countryside. Kid shut his eyes and tried to recall the last time he had stopped to appreciate that comforting aroma of his childhood.

After a few moments he continued his surveillance of the room, and his gaze fell upon a picture frame on the dresser beside the bed. He picked up the double silver frame and drew it closer to his face. Kid didn't immediately recognize the young Confederate soldier on one side - he was so youthful and serious in his brand new uniform and unlike any of the soldiers Kid had seen in recent years. With a start he realized the boy was actually himself - it was the daguerreotype he had sent Lou from Richmond when he had signed up with the cavalry. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Kid couldn't look at the photograph for long. The faded memories of those early days of the war were so far removed from the reality he had endured that he felt nothing but bitter sadness when he looked into his own innocent face. If only he had known then what he knew now… Kid squeezed his eyes shut and refused to let the horrific images invade his mind again. Instead he looked at the other picture in the frame, this time of a young girl. She was smiling shyly, her pale face framed by long dark hair. Her name was Virginia, Kid reminded himself. She was his daughter.

The idea was still incomprehensible. Being reunited with his wife after so long had been emotional enough, but to also discover they had a child together had been too much for Kid. But he could not deny it was the truth - Virginia looked so much like Lou that it shocked him every time he looked at her. He couldn't believe he had missed the resemblance when he first starting chatting with the girl, before he'd known who she was. The realization of how much he had missed of her life was the worst feeling - he didn't even know his own daughter. He looked at the door through which she had just fled and wished she was back beside him so he could look into her face again. He felt a great wave of sadness build up in him as he sat alone in the room. Then, suddenly, Lou appeared.

He drew in his breath when he saw her, not yet used to the changes in her. She was far more beautiful that he ever remembered, her dark hair now long and rolled into a heavy chignon at the nape of her neck, her figure shapely but slender. He had loved her for so long but it was like she was a different person now. He couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same about him. Kid's eyes were apprehensive as she paused in the doorway, but then Lou's face lit up with a familiar, loving smile and she crossed the room quickly to his side.

"You're awake," she said faintly, and Kid realized she was nervous too. "We were beginnin' to wonder when you'd ever wake up."

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, his voice husky after not talking for so long.

"Nearly two days." Lou fidgeted with her apron and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, unable to keep still. "The doctor was here and said we should let you rest as long as you needed, but I didn't think it would be so long."

Kid nodded slightly, unsure what to say to her. Lou stared at him and her eyes flashed momentarily with pain. She had not anticipated the awkwardness between them, having prayed for Kid's return every single day and dreaming of their reunion. Now that he was finally home she found it was impossible to pick up where they had left off - a newly married couple very much in love. Lou reminded herself that they probably just needed time, after all Kid had only been back a couple of days and he had been unconscious for most of that time. Lou buried her fears and forced herself to sit calmly down on the bed beside her husband.

Kid lowered his eyes, unable to look at her now without succumbing to the flood of emotions that were bottled up tightly in his chest. Being so close to her after so long was more difficult than he ever imagined, and he too had imagined their reunion a thousand times over. He never thought he would feel so uncertain and confused in her presence, but he was completely tongue-tied. As if reading his mind, Lou took his hand gently in hers and didn't push him.

"How do you feel?" she asked softly. The gentle tone of voice made him raise his eyes to look into hers, drawing strength from them. He remembered how deep her eyes were, as if he could drown in their gaze. He was trapped in her stare.

"I don't know," he managed to say.

Lou nodded, understanding his inability to reveal his mixed emotions immediately. He could tell she was disappointed, but to her credit she did not verbalize her misgivings.

Lou was burning with questions. She wanted to interrogate him, to find out where he had been for so long and why he had not written to her. Why was he limping so badly? What had happened to him to make him so uncomfortable with her? But she could tell from the look in Kid's eyes that he was not ready to reveal any of this information. Lou decided it was best to wait until he felt he could share it all with her. In the meantime she would have to curb her own curiosity and passionate concern.

"I'll prepare a bath for you, then we can have supper. Would that be all right?" she said as cheerfully as she could.

Kid nodded again, drinking in her beautiful face and trying to recognize the woman he had married in Rock Creek. She smiled at him and gave his hand a quick squeeze, then stood up to leave. Kid felt panicked when she did, he couldn't let her leave so quickly. He kept hold of her hand so she couldn't go, causing her to frown slightly.

"What is it? Are you all right? Do you need somethin'? Should I get the doctor?" Her voice was full of worry for him, but he wasn't sick. He didn't need a doctor, he just needed her.

Kid pulled her back down onto the bed, unable to let her go. A frown creased her brow but he couldn't find the words to reassure her. Instead he leaned forward slightly, his forehead coming to rest on her shoulder.

Lou gulped, unprepared for the flood of emotion that washed over her. She slipped her arms around his back, drawing him closer to her. Kid sighed heavily as he allowed himself to be comforted in her familiar embrace. He just wanted to stay like that for a while, until he knew for certain that he wasn't dreaming all this and would wake to find himself on the muddy frozen ground of some field. He had spent so many nights like that it would take a while for him to trust his surroundings. He drew his arms tighter around his wife and held on. After so many years he had finally come home to Lou and he wasn't about to let go.

* * *

Chapter Two

The steam from the copper bath clouded the windows of the room as Lou poured in more boiling water. She had scrubbed and scrubbed and finally Kid's skin was its normal pink color. There had been so many layers of dirt and grime on his arms and back that she had replaced the water three times already.

Julia Papen had taken it upon herself to burn the clothes Kid had arrived in, and silently handed Louise an outfit that had belonged to her son. She would not hear Lou's protests, and insisted that Kid take them. They were no use to her Edward now.

Lou laid out the freshly laundered clothes and waited as Kid finished washing. They had not spoken during the ablutions, and her mind was swimming with questions she would ask him when he was finally ready to answer them. She stood with her back to the window, her thoughts racing, and after a few minutes realized that Kid was staring at her in wait. She roused herself from her thinking and smiled at him expectantly, picking up a linen towel. When he looked away, embarrassed, it finally dawned on her that he was waiting for her to leave the room before he dried and dressed himself. The small rebuke saddened her momentarily, as she remembered the intimate nature of their relationship before the war. But she nodded instead and turned around to face the window so she was not watching him.

She heard Kid rise out of the water and could resist the temptation to look at him in the reflection of the strip of glass that peeped between the curtains. The image she saw was cloudy, but she could not miss his gaunt, naked body, sickly white with wasted muscles and bony rib cage. She wanted to burst into tears and hug his poor frame, to repair the damage that the war had ravaged upon him. But she didn't do anything, she just stood with her back to her husband and tried not to imagine what he had been through in the last four years when he was away from her.

With a small cough, Kid signaled that it was safe for her to turn around. Lou did so, and again had to swallow the painful lump in her throat when she saw how the clothes, which would have once been a perfect fit, now hung off his body. She forced herself to smile, but from the look in Kid's eyes, she could tell she wasn't doing a very good job of convincing him he looked all right.

Kid pulled at the shirt and trousers unsuccessfully. No matter what he did they were two sizes too big. Glancing away from his wife's troubled stare, he looked at himself in the dressing mirror. Kid knew he looked ridiculous in the misshapen attire, but at least he has clean now. All that remained was the shaggy brown beard and hair that fell past his shoulders. He rubbed his hand through the beard and turned to face Lou again.

"D'you think it would help if we cut this off?" he asked simply.

With glistening eyes she nodded yes.

"Would you do it for me?"

"Of course," Lou replied, blinking away the tears. "We'll have you back to normal in no time."

Kid did not point out the simplicity of such words, nor the naiveté. Instead he took a seat in the wooden chair Lou put out for him and let her set to work.

"Let's do somethin' about your hair first," Lou said with an attempt to sound cheerful, running a comb through the long curly locks.

She took her time as she combed and styled his wet hair, before reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out a small pair of scissors. She methodically snipped away at his hair, running her fingers through it all the time to make sure she was cutting evenly. Lou had cut his hair once before, when they were first married. Kid remembered how relaxing it was, remembered her delicate touch, and was lulled into such a state of contentment that he could not tell how much time had passed. He was only brought back to reality when he heard a short gasp at his ear.

Turning his head sharply, he saw Lou staring with horror at his neck. Kid was so used to the old wound that he had forgotten she would react like this. Lou stared in abject shock at the angry, puckered scar that cut an oblique swathe along his neck under his right ear. It was so deep she could lay her index finger in it. Her hand trembled as she touched the skin lightly, for fear of causing him pain. Kid glanced uncomfortably at her and wished she would stop staring at it. He hastily covered the scar with his large hand.

Lou remembered herself and stepped back from him, breaking her glazed stare. He would not meet her eyes so she swallowed the stream of questions on the tip of her tongue. He would not talk about it, not yet. With much difficulty, she finished snipping at the strands of hair above the horrific welt and brushed the remnants from his neck and back. By the time she had finished his haircut, Lou had managed to calm herself after the shocking discovery, for at least it gave her some indication why Kid had been missing for so long. She could tell it might be the only explanation for a while.

With his hair now its old length, Lou set to work on the beard - first cutting away the long clumps of hair, then applying a carefully stropped razor until Kid's face was smooth. She ran her hand over his face with a gentle touch that was more a caress, before handing him a small mirror so he could view her handiwork. Kid stared in disbelief at his reflection, and Lou was similarly moved. Despite the hollow cheeks and shadows under his eyes, he looked just as he always had. He looked just like the boy she had met in Sweetwater when they started riding for the Pony Express, at least superficially.

But Lou could not help but notice that his eyes were no longer the optimistic, exuberant blue they had once been. Back then, Kid's eyes were full of life and excitement, and love for her. Now they were remote and empty, soured by the war and his experiences of the past four years. She wished she could understand what they were. She was afraid they would never be able to get past it all and move on with their lives if she didn't. Lou knelt down before him, waiting as he still gazed at the mirror.

"Kid," she began slowly, making her tone as non-threatening as possible. "Where were you for so long? What happened to you in the war?"

Kid did not look at her, but she saw his grip on the mirror tighten. She waited patiently as he swallowed with difficulty. Gently she placed her hand over his and brought the mirror down onto his lap.

"Please tell me, I need to understand."

Kid fixed her with a soulless stare. His voice was harsh but almost a whisper. "You can't possibly understand."

"Not if you don't talk to me," Lou persisted. "What happened to your neck?"

Kid's eyes flooded with pain but he would not look at her now. He shook his head imperceptibly, staring off to the side. He couldn't bring himself to recall the events that had kept him from his wife and daughter for so long. To do that would open the floodgates on the terrifying images and details of war that he had tried so hard to bury forever. Kid believed it was the only way he'd be able to go with his life. He could never talk about any of it, even with Lou.

"Please, Kid."

He looked at her helplessly, silently pleading for her to abandon this line of questioning. She stared at him so intently, so eager to share his pain. But Kid knew he had too much pain and too many secrets to ever reveal them all to her.

Lou was not relenting, and if it had not been for Virginia bursting into the room at that moment, Kid would have been forced to leave himself. Lou sighed in frustration when Ginnie interrupted them, feeling sure Kid was about to open up to her. But she could not help but smile slightly when she saw the girl staring with wonder at her father, now he was barbered and in respectable clothing.

"Julia says supper's ready, if you're ready," she said shyly.

The scruffy soldier she had met was very different from the man who now sat before her mother. She thought him very handsome, and was proud he was her father. Ginnie held out a hand and Kid took it gratefully, thus escaping Lou's questions. He caught her eye briefly as Virginia led him from the room, but Lou just looked resigned as she followed him out. He could not avoid her for long, then she would have her answers.

* * *

Chapter Three

A few days later, Virginia led her father by the hand and led him across the Julia's yard.

"It's not far now," she told him, waiting patiently as he limped along beside her. "I'm keeping watch over them 'cause Mrs. Bailey's cat wants to eat them."

The two of them reached the willow tree in the yard and began examining the bird's nest in one of the lower branches. Lou watched from the open parlor window and couldn't help but smile.

Kid was lifting their daughter up so she could get a better view of the robin's eggs inside the tiny nest, struggling a little awkwardly with his bad leg. But it was with great care and attention that he listened to her stories of how she would take care of the baby birds when they were born, and Lou could tell that even only after a week, Kid had grown to love Ginnie as much as she did. It was hard not to fall in love with the young girl, and it gave Lou hope that one day their lives would be back to normal. She needed to have faith that that day would eventuate, despite the feeling that Kid was as distant from her now as he had been during the war.

It wasn't a physical distance that separated them, if anything she felt the chasm was wider. She had not expected him to be the same man who had left Williamsburg all those years ago, but she had not anticipated the reserved, closed-off man who was her returned husband. He barely spoke to her above polite conversations about trivial matters. He slept alone in her bed, still recovering his strength and sleeping long hours both day and night, while Lou shared an old cot with their daughter in the next room.

The only real life Kid ever showed was around Virginia and her childish prattle. He would listen to her so intently, closing himself off from everyone and everything but that in her safe, innocent world. Lou was overjoyed to see their relationship growing so strong, but she feared for her own connection with her husband.

It was obvious that he was avoiding her questions about his whereabouts during the years when she'd had no word from him. Something had happened to him, that much was evident from his injuries, but whatever it was he could not share it with her. The rebuke was painful enough, but she worried more about Kid and what he must be going through if he couldn't even bring himself to share it with her - the one person he was supposed to love and trust.

Lou had had her share of secrets. Her own past, which for years had been so shameful to her, was still not something she chose to speak about. But when the time came, after Charlotte's death in Rock Creek, she had finally forced herself to tell him everything that had happened with Wicks, to explain why she had wanted to kill the man for what he done to her all those years ago and to Charlotte. It was the most difficult conversation she had ever had, but she loved him and knew she had to tell him or else she would never get past it. She needed to him to know so he could understand why she behaved the way she did, and she needed to know that he still loved her despite of it.

That was before they were married - before they promised before friends, who were closer than family, that they belonged to each other. It was before Kid promised to return to her when he went away to war. And now, when their bond should have been stronger, when he should have been able to tell her anything, Kid avoided her and her pleas for an explanation. He couldn't tell her what he had been through, what had kept him from fulfilling his promise for so many years, for missing the birth of their child, for leaving her along for so long, fearing every day for his safety.

Lou was increasingly fearful that this was something they wouldn't get past. Every day her questions remained unanswered, the more she was afraid that she had lost him forever. The smile she first wore as she watched Kid and Ginnie through the window had been replaced by an ache in her chest and throat.

"You're back already," said Julia, entering the room and seeing that Louise had returned from town. "Was there any flour?"

"Not today, Mr. Lawson said maybe tomorrow," Lou replied absently. She was not listening as Julia sighed over their poor provisions and her concern that they would not be able to amply feed any returning soldiers who were still passing their gate every day.

"Were you able to send your telegram?"

Lou did not respond, lost in her thoughts, until Julia touched her elbow gently. She turned with a slight start.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Lou said, trying hard to smile at Julia but failing in the attempt.

The older women smiled sympathetically and looked out the window to where Louise had been staring. Kid and Ginnie were sitting under a tree across the yard, the young girl talking non stop.

"Did you send your telegram to Isobel?" Julia asked again.

"Yes, and to Rachel in Rock Creek as well."

Lou crossed the room and sat in one of Julia's armchairs. She had finally been able to send word to Isobel and Rachel that she had found Kid, or more precisely that Kid had found her, after the telegraph in Manassas had been down for days.

"I'm sure they will be thrilled to hear that Kid is safe," Julia said as she joined her, immediately picking up some mending from her sewing box. Julia was never one to sit idly when there was work to be done.

"I doubt Isobel will believe it, not until she sees him for herself. She was convinced…" Lou did not bother finishing the sentence. It hardly mattered now that Isobel had tried to make her give Kid up for dead, after the return of her letters to him and notification from the army that he was missing, presumed lost.

"Not many people would have had your faith, Louise," Julia said.

"It wasn't faith… it was a promise." Lou's brow furrowed once more with worry, unable to hide her fears any longer.

Julia glanced up at her tone and saw the pain etched in the young woman's features.

"He'll tell you when he can, Louise," said Julia gently, setting her sewing in her lap. "You just have to give him some time."

"What if he can't?" Lou whispered, her eyes misting with tears. "He barely speaks to me and when he does he dismisses any questions I ask. He's like a stranger…"

"He's still your husband. We can only imagine what our men went through in the war. It won't always be like this," Julia said reassuringly, her voice catching only slightly as she tried not to think of her own husband and son who were killed at Gettysburg and whatever suffering they may have felt.

"I hope you're right." Lou let out a shaky breath.

Julia glanced out the window again at Kid and Ginnie.

"It must be a lot for him to take in - finding you again after so long, discovering he has a daughter."

Lou nodded. "He missed so much."

"Maybe it's something you can tell him about… while it's still hard for him to tell you his story."

Lou considered the wisdom of Julia's words. Kid had missed everything - finding out she was having a baby, Ginnie's birth, all the milestones of her young life. There were certainly many stories to tell. Lou suddenly smiled to herself when she realized that she didn't have to tell him, she had already written it all down in the letters she had sent him over the years, many of which had been returned to her by the army.

The letters were bound in a gray ribbon and buried in the blanket chest at the foot of her bed. Leaving Julia in the parlor, Lou slipped upstairs and pulled them from their hidden spot. She had been unable to discard them but wanted to make sure she didn't come across them again unless she needed to - the memory of the day when they had been returned to her was still painful. None of it mattered now, Kid was alive. She smiled at the stack of letters and did what she could to put them in some semblance of date order before she gave them to him to read.

Julia was right. If Kid couldn't tell her what had happened to him yet she would share with him the one thing he could face - their daughter.

* * *

Chapter Four

"What are you reading?"

Kid glanced up and saw Ginnie peering out of the back door of Julia's house to where he sat on the porch. Lou's letters, which he had already read several times, were bundled in his lap. Since she had given them to him the day before, he had pored over them, learning about her life without him and all about Ginnie.

"I'm reading about you," he said, smiling at the girl.

She grinned in response, pleased. Ginnie slipped from behind the half opened door and sidled up to him. She stared at the paper in his hands as if reading the words intently.

"What does it say?"

"Well, this one's about when you first started to walk," he replied, before picking up another envelope from the small pile. "And this one's about when you went to stay with Jack and Lily."

Ginnie nodded. "They had a dog called Samson."

Kid smiled again but it was a sad smile. He hated to think of Lou and their daughter fleeing from Virginia when the war came too close to Williamsburg. He hated to think of them in any kind of danger. Reading Lou's letters and getting a glimpse into the past four years left him with a heavy heart. It reminded him of just how much he had missed, and the torment he had put Lou through. He had never intended for any of it to happen - never thought it possible all those years ago when he swore to Lou that he would return to fight for his home state if war came. It was never supposed to be like this.

"Read me a story," Ginnie instructed, shaking him from his thoughts with a persistent tug on his sleeve. "One of the ones about me."

Kid's smile was cheerier this time. "A story about you?"

"From momma's letter." Ginnie climbed into his lap and nestled against Kid's chest, waiting.

A lump formed in his throat as he curled an instinctive arm around his daughter. He was not yet used to the way she made him feel - he was her father, she was part of him, and the feeling was indescribable. He hoped he would never get used to it - every moment was a gift and allowed him to momentarily forget everything he had been through to be back with his wife and child.

"Which one do you want to hear?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion.

"This one," Ginnie said, pointing to the one he had been reading. "Then the one with Samson."

Kid cleared his throat and started reading the letter that recounted Ginnie's first attempts to walk without holding onto the furniture, and the stubbornness with which she approached it after falling repeatedly. Ginnie held onto Kid's hand that held the letter, utterly contented.
Lou couldn't sleep. The wind was howling outside and the air felt heavy as a storm approached. It was late. Ginnie was sound asleep, curled up beside her and oblivious to the restlessness outside. Lou glanced at her, envious. She had been sharing her daughter's bed since Kid's return, giving him time and space to recover. In the week since his return he had not mentioned her absence.

Lou again wondered at the irrational fear she had that somehow she'd lost him. Memories of their early married life were so vivid and yet she struggled to regain any level of intimacy with him. Worse, they were awkward around each other ever since she had cleaned him up after his return.

She heard the first rolls of thunder in the distance, and was instantly reminded of the wild weather they had experienced in Sweetwater in the early days of the Pony Express. Several times she had been caught out on the prairie during a run when a fierce storm hit, lightning licking the sky and thunder crashing around her ears. The memories were so vivid Lou could swear she smelled the rain hitting the dusty ground, although the storm had not yet hit outside.

Then came another noise. At first she thought she imagined it - Julia's house often creaked and groaned when the wind picked up as it had now. She strained her ears but heard nothing for several minutes. She was about to give up and try to sleep when she heard the muffled sound again.

Lou slipped out of the cot, careful not to disturb Ginnie, and lit a small lantern. She shivered in her nightgown and bare feet but did not pause to find a wrap for her shoulders. The lamp cast a dim, yellow light before her as she made her way to the door of her bedroom where Kid was supposed to be sleeping. She paused before the closed door, not wanting to disturb him, but convinced she had heard something from within. When he let out a yell at that moment she jumped in fright, nearly dropping the lamp in the process. Without a moment's hesitation she burst through the door and found him still asleep, but obviously in the grips of a nightmare.

Kid's body writhed under the bedsheet, having kicked off his blanket. His hands were knotted in the cotton fabric, fingers clenched until his knuckles were white. His face was full of anguish, tears streaking his flushed cheeks. Lou stopped in her tracks, her heart breaking at the sight of his pain and distress. She placed the lamp on the bedside table and sat next to him, stroking his hair and murmuring his name.

"Shh, Kid, it's all right. I'm here," she said quietly. She gently unclenched his hands from the bedsheet.

Kid's eyes snapped open, although he appeared not to focus on her immediately.

"I'm here, it's all right," Lou said again. "You're safe, Kid."

Kid was breathing in ragged gasps and his feverish gaze did not leave hers as he sat up quickly and threw his arms around her, gripping her like he had when he'd first seen her again in Julia's yard. Lou clung to him with all her strength. The tightness in her chest was nothing compared to the pain in her throat as she tried to stop herself from crying. She hadn't the tears to weep for Kid's suffering, or her own, not after all that had been shed. Her resolve began to crumble though, as Kid's body was racked with sobs. He held onto her and cried.

After several minutes Lou reluctantly pulled herself from his grip in order to look him in the eyes.

"Shh, Kid, you're here now. You're safe."

She stroked and kissed his cheeks, pressing her forehead against his and swallowing with difficulty. Running her hands down his face, her fingers slipped to Kid's neck. She barely registered the feel of the puckered scar underneath her touch when, with a start, he took a sharp intake of breath and pulled away from her.

"I'm sorry!" Lou yelped, seeing the pain from his old wound cross his face.

Kid shook his head, silencing her apology, ashamed he had obviously frightened her with his behavior since he awoke from his familiar nightmare. The last thing he wanted was for her to be affected by what he had experienced during the war - it was the very reason he wanted to keep it from her. He didn't want her to be reminded of what had happened while he was apart from her, any more than he wanted to remember it.

He wished more than anything that he could go back to the way things had been before - when there were no ugly scars to stop her from simply touching him. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and then, without meeting her gaze, he slowly picked up her hand in his and drew it back to his neck. Kid held her hand against the scar, barely feeling its warmth through the thick skin. He looked warily at her then, waiting for her to be repulsed, but Lou's eyes were only filled with love and compassion. A long silenced followed which Lou could not break. It had to be Kid.

"It was a saber," he finally murmured so quietly that Lou almost didn't hear him.

She held her breath, saying nothing.

"At least, that's what I thought at first. I didn't see the swordsman but my neck was on fire so I thought it was a cut from a saber."

He paused, his eyes dropping to his lap, but his hand still over hers on his neck.

"Tell me, please," Lou pleaded in a whisper.

Kid eventually nodded, defeated.

Chapter Five

 

July 20, 1861

 

My dear Lou,

 

I'm writing you this letter from home, my true home. We are camped on the very land I was born on just outside Manassas. It is hard to believe that this will be the place we will first meet the enemy. All indications are this will be tomorrow or the next day, for their Army is camped just across Bull Run Creek. Weaver and I scouted out their position tonight. Captain Phillips chose me for this Honor because I am a Manassas boy. The Union army is large, but we are expecting reinforcements any hour now.

 

The feeling in camp is high, and the boys are looking forward to the fight. You must not worry about us, Lou. We will make a good stand. The South will be proud of us as we defend her. I hope you will be proud of me.

 

I may not be able to write for a while. But do not suppose I am not thinking of you. You are in my thoughts every minute of the day, in camp and on patrol. I think about the night we spent under the stars a few months ago and I cannot wait to hold you again. The feeling is so strong sometimes I have to stop myself from turning South and riding home to you. Your picture and letters are in the pocket above my heart always, and your face is in my dreams at night.

 

The boys are bedding down now. I must take this letter into Town tonight in case we move out at first light. There is more I wanted to say, but I lack the words to describe the feeling in my heart. I feel so close to you at this moment and yet you are far away.

 

Lou, I think about the promise I made to you when we parted and I pray each day that I am able to keep it. You will be angry at me if I say it, but if this coming fight decides my Fate, never forget how much I love you. I will always love you, even in death. And I will always be with you, no matter what happens. Remember this.

 

Kid.

 

The Kid finished addressing the envelope and slipped his letter inside. He tucked some extra pieces of paper and pencil into his pocket and felt the familiar bulk of a frame nestled amongst Lou's letters. He pulled it out, needing to see her face. Kid was not prepared for how much he would miss Lou, considering he had volunteered to be parted from her in order to fight. But now, having put into words the thoughts and fears he was feeling at that moment, he had never missed her more.

 

He had volunteered to fight for his State, his home, because he felt it was his duty, first and foremost, and to protect the precious memories of a childhood that had been both happy and destructive. The brutality of his drunken father, the death of his mother and separation from Jed had been the worst parts of his young life, and yet he felt such a strong connection to Virginia that to fight to protect its rights and way of life was inevitable.

 

He didn't fear death, not having faced it so many times. He had been wounded before and recovered. These things did not concern him because he believed in his decision to fight. But it was having to leave Lou that weighed heavy on his heart. He had known it would be hard to be parted from her, but in truth he had not thought it this difficult. She was in his thoughts every moment of the day. Kid hoped she was safe and as happy as possible with his aunt, Isobel and the children on the farm.

 

Some days he feared he made a mistake in bringing her home to Virginia – she would have been safer in Rock Creek with Rachel. But now, having her so near even if he couldn't be with her, was some comfort. He laid a gentle finger on her cheek in the photograph, and prayed she stayed safe.

 

"You're gonna wear that picture out, Kid," came a muffled voice next to him.

 

Glancing up, Kid smiled at his friend who was looking out from under his hat, staring at him with one eye.

 

"Shouldn't you be gettin' some sleep?" asked Tommy, shifting on the ground, his blanket roll doing little to make sleeping outdoors comfortable.

 

"I wanted to get this letter written to Lou, in case we head out tomorrow," said Kid, his eyes returning to the picture of her.

 

"I never met anyone so lovesick as you, boy."

 

Thomas Weaver was several years older than Kid, but had managed to avoid being ensnared by any woman, as he described it. Since joining the same cavalry unit the two of them had become fast friends, having discovered they were born and raised not five miles from each other. Like Kid, Tommy was a natural horseman, and their elevation to the troop's lead scouts was something they both took pride in.

 

"You just wait, Tommy," sad Kid. "One day you'll meet some girl…"

 

Tommy shoved his hat back on his head as he drew up onto his elbows, staring at the flickering fire beside them. He shook his head, unconvinced. "No, thank you. Give me a good horse above a girl any day."

 

Kid raised an eyebrow, amused at the comment. "You know, I used to think the same thing myself."

 

He glanced over affectionately at Katy, who was corralled with the troop's horses a short distance away. "It's different when you're married."

 

"I'll take your word for it, Kid," grunted Tommy.

 

Kid sighed softly, his thoughts returning to how much he missed Lou. His letter would make her mad as she always refused to discuss the possibility that something would happen to him. The Kid wasn't prone to superstition, but after so many months of waiting for the real fighting of the war to begin and the likelihood that they would be engaging the Federal army soon, he had needed to tell her how he was feeling. Just in case, he thought.

 

"Don't you want to write your folks?" Kid asked, surprised that Tommy seemed so at ease with the threat of battle upon them.

 

"I sent them word a month ago." Tommy nudged a log in the fire, causing orange sparks to rise in the inky blackness above.

 

"But if tomorrow…"

 

"Whatever happens tomorrow happens, and the next day, and the next day after that," he sighed resignedly.

 

"That don't make a whole lotta sense, Tommy."

 

"Neither does starin' at a picture and writin' your wife in case you go and get yourself killed, boy," said Tommy gruffly. "Morbid's what it is."

 

Kid smiled ruefully, and with a last long gaze at Lou's beautiful face, he slipped the frame back into his jacket pocket.

 

Tommy lifted his hat off his head and lay back down, catching Kid's attention as he did so.

 

"Best thing you can do is get a good night's sleep and stay alert tomorrow. You be ready."

 

Kid nodded. "I'm just gonna take this in," he said, holding up the letter to Lou.

 

Tommy said no more and settled the hat over his face again. Kid sat by the fire a little longer, trying to convince himself he could follow Tommy's advice. But Kid doubted very much he would get any sleep that night.

 

At first light, the Confederate army was preparing itself for possible attack. The Kid and Tommy were saddling up to scout ahead to report the enemy's position. Kid was tightening Katy's girth strap when Tommy sidled up to him and nudged his arm.

 

"Here," he said simply, holding out a folded letter.

 

Kid glanced up, puzzled.

 

"It's a letter to my folks," said Tommy, shrugging. "Keep it, will you? Just in case."

 

"I thought you said whatever happens happens?"

 

"Maybe it does, but it ain't gonna kill you to hang onto it. If somethin' happens to me…"

 

Kid nodded quickly so Tommy didn't have to finish the sentence. It wasn't something to say out loud.

 

"Same goes for me, Tommy," Kid replied gravely. "You know where Lou's stayin'. Get word to her, tell her…"

 

"I know," Tommy interrupted, and brushed past Kid to his own horse. "Let's get movin', boy. We got some Yankees to send home."

 

Kid tucked Tommy's letter into the pocket of his gray trousers and with a determined breath he leapt into the saddle.

 

"Get up, girl," he geed Katy, following Tommy to the front of the troop so they could move ahead on Captain Phillips' order. "Time to go."

 

* * *

 

Chapter Six

 

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.

 

* * *

 

Chapter Seven

 

Kid drifted in and out of consciousness. It was the noises that first roused him – they were of men screaming in pain. Sometimes he tried to open his eyes to see where the noise was coming from, but he found he didn't have the strength to do so. Before long he would slip into darkness once more.

 

The next thing he remembered was movement at his neck, like someone was changing a dressing. Again he tried to open his eyes but the crushing pain in his head prevented it. He let out a groan but no sound emanated from his mouth. The Kid couldn't understand why.

 

Sometime afterward, he had no idea how long, he became aware of the familiar sound of rain on a rooftop. It was quieter now, apart from the heavy downpour. Time and place had lost all meaning, but at least he recognized the sound of rain. The soothing rhythm lulled him to sleep within moments.

 

"Can you hear me, Tommy? Open your eyes if you can hear me."

 

It was later again, and with great difficulty Kid tried to look at whoever was speaking. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead. After struggling for some time he was able to see the blurry image of a man staring at him. A finger suddenly pushed one of his eyelids up and the hot light of a candle was placed close to his face. The man stared intently then let go of his eyelid. The Kid, unable to hold a conscious thought after that, surrendered to oblivion.

 

The next time he awoke it was a little easier. The pain in his head had not subsided, and his neck was stiff. Any movement sent waves of pain radiating down his neck and into his shoulder and chest.

 

Kid's lips were chapped, his mouth dry and tongue swollen with thirst. He concentrated hard, trying to form a single word.

 

"Water," he finally managed to whisper, but he barely made a sound.

 

After what seemed like an interminable time, a small amount of liquid trickled into his mouth from a rag squeezed against his lips. Kid swallowed gratefully. After a few moments he was able to open his eyes and this time take in the same face he had seen before – a man in a white shirt, its sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had sandy blond hair and a neatly trimmed mustache, and he smiled kindly.

 

"That's better, Tommy. Not too much now."

 

He withdrew the rag from Kid's lips, despite the fact he was still dying of thirst.

 

"How are you feeling today?" the man asked pleasantly.

 

Kid opened his mouth to speak and accidentally moved his head. The pain that followed caused him to squeeze his eyes shut in agony, and he felt he might lose consciousness again.

 

"Try not to move now, your injuries are serious. You were shot in the neck – nicked your jugular vein. It's a miracle you didn't bleed to death."

 

Kid felt gentle fingers on the dressing around his neck.

 

"I'm afraid your head will hurt for a while too – you received a nasty concussion."

 

The Kid looked at the man, barely comprehending what he was saying. He wanted to ask questions, but the effort to speak was too much. Kid's brow furrowed.

 

"I'm Dr Wilkinson, Tommy," the man said, assuming the question. "I looked after you when they brought you here."

 

Kid didn't know where here was, but after everything that had happened and the discomfort he now felt, he knew he should be grateful to be alive. With difficulty he tried to remember what happened in the clearing near Bull Run Creek. It was with a chill that he recalled a gruff voice saying "This 'un's dead" and heard Katy's frightened whinny. Kid clamped his eyes shut again, trying to block out that sound. He didn't want to think about Katy being led away from him.

 

Within moments he fell asleep once more.

 

* * *

 

In the end it was more than a week before Kid was finally able to make sense of what had happened. He didn't remember being brought to wherever he was, but he figured it couldn't have been too far, given how close they had been to the Confederate army when he and Tommy were surprised by the Union soldiers. Had they pushed on and taken Washington? Was the war already over? The Kid realized that might be reality, which meant he could go home to Lou… That thought alone forced him to focus his energies.

 

The anguished cries of men he had first heard were replaced with the low moaning of the dying, but he saw only one man – the blond, friendly doctor who checked his bandages and, with great patience, got to him to eat some broth. The movement caused Kid much pain because of his neck, but the man was insistent.

 

"You have to try and eat a little, Tommy. You need your strength," he said.

 

Kid swallowed as gently as he could to avoid the agonizing stabbing sensation he felt each time he did so, and cleared his throat.

 

"Not Tommy," he mumbled, his voice scratched and barely audible from lack of use.

 

"Do you prefer Thomas, then?" the man said, seemingly pleased that Kid was actually talking after only silence. "I understand – my brothers always insisted on calling me Harry, but my name is Henry. Or worse, they called me Hank."

 

"I'm not Tommy," Kid said again, more insistently.

 

"You're not?" Henry was confused. "The letter we found in your pocket was signed Tommy. We just assumed…"

 

Kid shut his eyes, remembering the letter to Tommy's parents which he had been given the morning of the battle. In case something happened to him, Tommy had said. "This 'un's dead" echoed in his mind. It did not take long for Kid to think of his own letters which he carried everywhere, and the precious picture of Lou he kept tucked between them. They had been tossed carelessly aside as if they were nothing by the Yankee who had hit him.

 

"What is your name, soldier?" Henry said.

 

Kid opened his eyes again, noticing the sudden formality which had crept into the doctor's voice.

 

"Where am I?" Kid asked instead, frowning. "Are we still in Manassas?"

 

Henry set aside the bowl of broth he was still holding, shaking his head.

 

"You're in Washington. Campbell hospital," explained Henry kindly.

 

So we have taken Washington after all, thought Kid, feeling a flash of exhilarated pride. Despite their inferior numbers, despite the arrogance of the northern aggressors who had invaded Virginian soil, the Confederates were victorious.

 

"You're a Union prisoner now, soldier," came the doctor's voice, dashing Kid's spirits as quickly as they had risen.

 

Kid stared at him in disbelief. But they had won, the Federals were running back to their capital…

 

"You were brought in unconscious, barely alive, when the details went in to collect our wounded." Henry's voice softened further when he realized his patient had had no idea he was not with his own people. "What is your name? I need to report it."

 

Kid, still stunned by the news, answered out of habit and by rote.

 

"Folks call me The Kid," he whispered, then found himself unable to say any more.

 

* * *

 

Chapter Eight

 

In the weeks after the bloody battle of Manassas, or Bull Run as the Union called it, there was little fighting. Both armies were reluctant to engage the other after such a short but shocking encounter.

 

In Washington, the routing the Federal troops had received prompted President Lincoln to replace their army commander with General George McLennan. It was obvious to the North that the Confederates were not going to be easily beaten. More training and better organization was required if they were to be victorious. At the same time the Federal navy closed in on the coast, establishing an effective blockade of the South.

 

At Campbell Hospital it was a slow road to recovery for the Kid. The bullet wounds to his neck and shoulder and the severe concussion he received meant it was some weeks before he could even sit up. He was kept apart from the other soldiers in the hospital, all of them Union troops. He received no visits from the women who came each day to read to the wounded and brighten their day. He received no letters or parcels from home to help with his recovery. Only Henry Wilkinson tended to him or spoke to him, and he said little of any substance.

 

Though not an army doctor, Henry was nonetheless hesitant when sharing any news of the war with Kid. Even as a civilian he knew he shouldn't be discussing the impact the Confederates' victory at Bull Run had had on the North. The mood had changed in Washington – everyone was keenly aware that, had the Rebels decided to invade the capital after the battle, the city could well be in their possession at that moment.

 

"What's gonna happen to me?" Kid asked Henry one overcast, humid afternoon. The heat in the hospital was sweltering, and all were uncomfortable.

 

"I don't know," the doctor said as he finished redressing Kid's shoulder. He frowned at the obvious signs of infection that had appeared the day before. Henry realized the heat had little to do with his patient's flushed skin or the glassy look in his eyes.

 

"The army will sort that out, Kid, don't you worry," Henry went on, moving to the other side of the bed to check Kid's neck. "There's a bunch of our boys being held in Virginia, so they're no doubt working out the best way to get everyone back on the right side."

 

"Are there more like me? Confederates here?" Kid asked, wincing as Henry probed the wound at his neck which was red and sore, and getting worse rather than better.

 

"I really couldn't say, Kid," replied Henry, which meant he most likely didn't know, Kid suspected.

 

Kid was surprised when Henry had told him he wasn't an officer. He had seen few uniformed men at the hospital, so he barely felt like a prisoner. There were no guards by his bed. Henry's civilian status was most likely the reason, Kid thought, that the doctor was as kind to him as he was. He did not view the Kid as Johnny Reb, the enemy, as the soldiers who'd shot him had.

 

Henry had little love for the war, that much Kid had worked out. He was the one who insisted Kid got the necessary care for his wounds when the Union doctors wanted Henry to concentrate his efforts on their own soldiers who were wounded and dying at the hospital. They were overrun with injured men from the single day's fighting in Manassas, and Kid was the cause of arguments among the medical staff because Henry was having to spend so much time tending to him. Kid had heard the raised voices, but Henry never let him know the trouble he was causing among the doctors.

 

Henry finished redressing his neck, and then made him sip some water from a tin mug. Kid started at the slight metallic taste, swallowing with difficulty, but dutifully drank it all at Henry's urging. Then the doctor helped him lay back down, careful not to move his head too much.

 

"You need to rest, Kid," Henry ordered. He pressed his fingers to the inside of Kid's wrist, taking note of his pulse.

 

"What is it?" Kid asked wanly. He knew something was wrong with him from the way he was feeling – almost worse than when he'd first woken and found himself in a Union hospital.

 

"Your wounds are infected and it's causing you to run a fever." Henry tucked Kid's arm underneath the coarse hospital blanket, not meeting his eyes.

 

"Am I gonna die?"

 

Henry scoffed. "I didn't spend so much time digging that bullet out of your shoulder or stitching up that neck to have you go and die," he said lightly, masking the real doubt he had for his patient's prognosis. Already a dozen men had died at the hospital from infection, although their wounds had been more grievous.

 

"My wife," Kid said urgently, catching Henry's gaze. "I'd like to send word to my wife."

 

"Later. You need to sleep."

 

Kid closed his eyes, weary all of a sudden. He realized Henry must have given him something in the water to help him sleep.

 

"Tell her… tell her I love her. Tell her I'm sorry… didn't keep my word," he murmured as he drifted off.

 

"You rest now," Henry commanded again.

 

Within moments Kid was breathing evenly, fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

"Wha–… what happened?" Kid muttered. "Who done that?"

 

Henry looked up from the book he was reading. It was late, past midnight, and the lantern burning by Kid's beside offered him poor light. But he was reluctant to leave his patient's side, given his worsening condition. The poultice he had been using to draw out the infection didn't seem to be working, he realized with regret. Conventional medicine said there was nothing he could do but wait and see if the infection was going to take Kid's life. But Henry had been reading whatever he could find on Indian medicine, and wanted desperately for the poultice to work, if nothing else than to silence the derision of his colleagues who thought him a fool for even trying.

 

Henry was not as close-minded to non-traditional medicines as the other doctors. He was an avid reader of whatever he could find on the natural remedies that the Indians used. If they could save the lives of their wounded, Henry believed, then the doctors at the hospital shouldn't be afraid to try something just because they did not learn it at medical school. Henry knew he never would have been allowed to try out his poultice on any of the Union men in the hospital, so he was especially attentive to Kid's condition in the hopes that he would be able to prove the remedy's worth to the others.

 

Unfortunately whatever he had concocted for Kid's infection did not appear to be working. By Henry's reckoning, he would probably be dead by morning. His fever had been raging for three solid days, and it could not continue for much longer.

 

Kid was raving again in his delirium, and had been for several hours. Most of what he was saying didn't make much sense, at least to Henry's ears. He touched his hand to Kid's forehead and found it was burning still. He dipped a cloth in some cool water and wiped his face.

 

"Lambert!" Kid gasped, his eyes snapping open. He tried to sit up but Henry restrained him. After a moment all the energy drained out of Kid and he slumped back onto his sweat-soaked pillow.

 

Kid moved fitfully for a few more minutes. Henry sighed and picked up his book once more.

 

"Lambert! I'm callin' you out!" Kid said through gritted teeth.

 

Henry adjusted the cloth on Kid's forehead and resumed his reading.

 

* * *

 

Much to the surprise of the army doctors at the hospital, not to mention Henry's own, the Kid did not die. By morning his fever had broken and Henry could see a noticeable reduction in the infection in his neck and shoulder. He was careful not to flaunt his success in front of the others, but Henry was exceedingly pleased that Kid was on the road to recovery. No doubt there would be skeptics among the doctors who believed that the poultice was no help at all and the Confederate prisoner would have recovered of his own accord, but Henry knew better.

 

Kid was weak for several more days, barely able to move. Henry tended to him faithfully during that time, rarely leaving his side. Instead of working with other patients, Henry would sit by his bed, scribbling in his notebook and sorting through his case of vials of herbs and other strange looking mixtures that he methodically catalogued. All the while he chatted to the Kid, telling him of his ideas for cures and medical treatments. Sometimes it was exhausting, but Kid was glad for the companionship.

 

"Why are you in Washington? Why aren't you out West somewhere?" Kid asked one day a week later, amazed that someone who was so interested in Indian medicine had lived all his life in the East.

 

"One day I'll go, soon I hope," replied Henry with obvious excitement. "I've read everything I can get my hands on, but the true research needs to be done in the field. A few more years in practice here and I'll have enough to set up somewhere and write my book."

 

Kid pushed himself into a semi-sitting position on the bed, his back aching from lying flat for so long. His arms shook as he did so, his muscled weakened.

 

"Well, maybe you can look me up when you get out there, if this war don't go on too long," he offered, grateful to Henry for saving his life but also for being nicer to him than he had expected, given where he was and the fact they were on opposite sides.

 

"Why? Where are you from?" Henry asked, surprised. "I thought you were from Virginia."

 

"I am. But I been livin' out there these past few years. Most recently in Rock Creek in Nebraska Territory, ridin' for the Pony Express. When there was a Pony Express," Kid finished with a hint of sadness in his voice. It was still strange to him that the Express was no more, now that the telegraph had been completed.

 

"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" Henry grinned. "All this time I've been talking to a true hero of the frontier. I've read stories about the Pony Express, stage drivers, fellows like that… I bet you have a few stories of your own."

 

"A few," Kid admitted, smiling faintly.

 

"Do you miss it out there?"

 

Kid sighed. "Yeah. More'n I thought I would."

 

"Is that where your family is? Your brother?"

 

Kid's expression darkened. "I don't have a brother."

 

"I'm sorry," Henry said quickly, feeling he had brought up a painful topic from the look on Kid's face. "You just kept calling out to someone called Lou. You seemed awful concerned about him, so I just assumed…"

 

There was silence for a while as Kid tried not to succumb to the overwhelming wave of sorrow that flooded through him. God, how he missed her.

 

"Lou is Louise," he said eventually. "She's my wife."

 

"Ah, I see." Henry nodded. "Is she still in Rock Creek?"

 

"She's stayin' with my aunt and my cousin's family near Williamsburg."

 

"I suppose she'll be safe there, at least for now."

 

"Why? Has somethin' happened?" Panic gripped Kid. He had no idea what was happening in the fighting. Had Virginia been invaded again? Was she in danger?

 

"Nothing, don't worry," Henry placated him. "There's been no fighting for weeks, at least not in those parts."

 

Still uneasy, Kid closed his eyes and wished he could see her to know for sure she was all right. He never should have brought her back to Virginia, he thought, and not for the first time.

 

"Can I have some paper and somethin' to write with?" Kid asked, remembering his earlier request to send word to Lou. He had been too weak when he was first brought to the hospital and then sick with the fever so he had still not written to let her know he was all right. Lord only knows what the army told her, Kid thought with a grimace.

 

"Of course," said Henry, handing over a few sheets from his notebook and the pencil he had been writing with.

 

Kid took them gratefully, but then did not start writing. He glanced at Henry, an embarrassed look crossing his face.

 

"I'll leave you alone," the doctor murmured respectfully.

 

Kid waited until he was gone but even then he didn't know how to begin his letter to Lou. He simply didn't have the words to tell her how much he wanted to be with her again, how he needed her. Nothing he could say or write would relate how much he missed her at that moment.

 

* * *

 

Chapter Nine

 

Henry Wilkinson was born and bred in the coastal town of Lewes in Delaware. The son of a soldier, he had not followed his two older brothers to West Point as was the family traditional, too concerned with science and books to give the army much thought. Even at university he was different from his classmates – unconventional was what they called him to his face, a damn fool behind his back. His interest in natural remedies and the practices of Indian shamans did not sit well with his professors and he found himself graduating near the bottom of his class.

 

His dream was to go West, all the way to California where he could look upon an ocean clear across the country from the one of his childhood. He needed a job so he could save his money and set out for California as soon as he could afford it. The hospital in Washington was not exactly his first choice, but Henry was smart enough to know it was a means to an end. Enlisting to fight was the furthest thing from his mind.

 

"I'm not cut out for fighting, I know that much," Henry told Kid one evening, as they sat talking. "The truth is I don't have the stomach for it."

 

The Kid looked at the bowl of tasteless stew he was trying to eat and smiled ruefully at Henry's choice of words. "I know what you mean."

 

Henry smiled. "Kid, you need–"

 

"To eat, I know," he replied. He forced himself to take another bite.

 

Kid had been at the hospital for nearly three months, well enough to be up and around, but still hampered by his shoulder which had weakened his left arm. Boredom was his worst enemy, so Henry's visits were the only things he had to look forward to. Luckily for him the doctor would stop by throughout the day to check on him, bring him books to read, and usually ask about Rock Creek and the other places Kid knew so well from his Pony Express days. Every detail fascinated him, especially Kid's stories about the close shaves he and the other riders had experienced. To Henry it was a like dime novel come to life – he drank in Kid's words and never seemed tired of hearing his tales.

 

Kid tried not to do all the talking. He coaxed what he could out of Henry about the war. He was cut off from any other news of the fighting, so anything he could find out from the doctor was valuable. He wanted to know how the Confederate army was faring, of course, but he was more concerned with news of the Union army in Virginia. The snippets he discovered about McLennan's amassing forces off Chesapeake Bay made him anxious for Lou, when a coastal invasion became the obvious choice after overland efforts to get to Richmond had not gone well for the Federals.

 

Some days Kid wondered if Lou had even stayed in Virginia. He had not received a letter from her so he could be sure if his note reached her at Rob and Isobel's farm. Perhaps she had gone home to Rachel in Rock Creek. She would certainly be safer there, and most days he wished she had. There was no reason to think something had happened to her, reasoned Henry, when he saw how worried Kid would become. He reassured him that the Union army had no interest in upsetting the Virginian townsfolk. It was Richmond the army was after.

 

Kid wrote to her when he could, trying to fill his letters with positive news about his circumstances. He told her of Henry's kindness, of the other Confederate soldiers, now also prisoners, who arrived infrequently at the hospital. He wrote to her of his belief that he would be set free or exchanged soon – he had heard mention of prisoner exchanges from a couple of the other Confederates. Each letter he signed from "your loving husband", and wished he had better words to express how much he loved and missed her.

 

Kid absently twirled his wedding ring on his hand now, his dinner forgotten, feeling the warm gold band which had not long been placed on his finger and yet he couldn't remember what it felt like without it. Once a perfect fit, it was now too large for his finger. The shirt Henry had given him when his own had been ruined from his injuries was no longer the right size for him either.

 

"Here, I almost forgot," said Henry, producing a wrapper of cloth from his jacket pocket which was slung over the back of his chair. He opened the package to reveal several small pieces of corn bread. "I figured you could do with this more than me."

 

Kid took the bread with a small but genuine smile. "Thank you, doctor."

 

"When are you going to stop calling me that? I told you, it's Henry."

 

"Henry," Kid corrected himself. "I appreciate it… everythin' you done for me."

 

Henry smiled in return, keen to brighten Kid's mood. "You can repay me by telling me about Hawk's Raiders. You never did finish relating how you managed to escape them."

 

Kid tried a little of the corn bread and couldn't help but grin at the look of anticipation on Henry's face. He swallowed and started his story.

 

* * *

 

In the months since the battle at Manassas there was minor fighting in Virginia and Missouri, then Kentucky. Victories were shared by both sides, but none had much effect. As winter drew closer the armies set up camps and dug in for the interim. In November typhoid fever swept through the hospital, infecting many of the recuperating soldiers, including Kid. Once again Henry stayed by his bedside whenever he could, but there were more Confederate soldiers in the hospital now, and Henry found himself taking primary responsibility for them all. It was not a job that the other doctors, particularly those who had enlisted, were very interested in, when there were plenty of Federal men to tend to.

 

As Christmas approached and Kid slowly regained his strength, he did what he could to assist Henry with the other prisoners. Most of them were worse off than he, and some died from the infectious fever that had them writhing in agony. Henry, appreciative of the help, taught Kid how to check and clean their wounds, and keep the men hydrated and fed as best they could. The rest of the time Kid spent reading to the soldiers, or listening to them whisper farewells to loved ones who would never hear the words. Kid could provide little comfort to them, but he knew just having someone there was some benefit to the men who died that winter in the hospital.

 

It was a dark and particularly bitterly cold evening when Kid sat by the bedside of a young Confederate soldier who was barely conscious. His arm had been amputated at the shoulder only the day before, but his blood loss had been so extensive that no one held out much hope for him. Kid wrote down a few words for him and promised to have them sent to his family. He read a few passages from a book Henry had given him, but when he looked up to check on the boy he saw that his chest was no longer rising with each breath. He was still, his eyes half open and staring at nothing. Kid closed them properly and sat back heavily in his chair, weary and despondent.

 

It was more than an hour later when Henry came by to check on the patient, and found Kid still sitting by his bedside. With one look the doctor could see the young man was dead.

 

"I'm sorry, Kid," he said quietly, so as not to disturb the other patients who were asleep around them.

 

"Me too," Kid replied. With a sigh he stood and walked away as Henry covered the boy's head with his blanket.

 

He caught up with Kid not long after, who had returned to his bed at the end of the ward, away from the other patients and near Henry's office. The doctor had moved him there after he succumbed to typhoid fever like the other men, as the new bed afforded Kid some measure of seclusion from the sick and dying men in the hospital. Henry ducked into his small office and poured them each a cup of hot coffee, and then took up his usual seat by the bed. They would often the spend the evenings like this, talking over the day's events as they sipped the dark, bitter brew.

 

Kid was quiet in his melancholy, and Henry knew there was more to it than just the young soldier's death.

 

"Merry Christmas, Kid," said Henry, raising his cup in a toast.

 

Kid couldn't quite bring himself to reply, but he held up his mug of coffee. He couldn't believe it was already Christmas, almost the new year. 1863. It had been six months since the battle at Manassas – six months at the hospital where he had almost died twice, spent weeks at a time weak and unmoving in bed. He was still not fully recovered from his fever, but this was not what made him so heavy of heart.

 

He had received no letter from Lou, no word that she knew where he was and that he was all right. The few letters he'd managed to send her through Henry had gone unanswered and, for all he knew, not received. He hoped and prayed she was safe, that it was some problem with the mail that was the cause of her silence. Any other reason was too painful to consider.

 

"It wouldn't be Christmas without presents, would it?" Henry said. The doctor pulled out two bundles from underneath the bed and handed them to Kid.

 

For a few precious moments his hopes soared, thinking they were from Lou. But the first present was Union care package that, Henry explained, had been destined for a soldier who had died that morning. It contained two pairs of blue woolen socks, a small bible, some hard candy and home-cured jerky. The second package was from Henry – a Charles Dickens novel.

 

"Thank you, Henry," Kid said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He appreciated the efforts of Christmas cheer from the man who, in the most unlikeliest of circumstances, had become his friend. "I wish I had somethin' to give you in return."

 

"You already have, doing what you are for the other patients," Henry assured him. "It's a great help to me, Kid, and I appreciate it."

 

Kid shrugged, not feeling particularly useful, especially when the men died just as the boy had not an hour ago.

 

"Do you like working in the hospital, Kid?"

 

The Kid thought about his response before he answered. "It's the least I can do."

 

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that." Henry set his coffee cup on the floor and pulled a letter from his pocket. "I've been offered a job – it's at the hospital at an army training camp in Chicago. They're going to use it as a camp for Confederate prisoners."

 

"Oh," was all Kid said in reply. He wasn't sure how he felt about Henry's news. It was the first the he'd heard any mention of a camp for prisoners. The growing number of Confederate soldiers in the hospital and others being held in Union encampments, no doubt, meant there must be need for one now, he realized. And that meant the war not going to be over any time soon.

 

"If you like, I can fix it so you can work with me there, in the hospital," Henry went on, growing more animated. "You'd still be a prisoner, but you wouldn't have to… you know, be held with the others."

 

Kid frowned. "I don't deserve no special treatment."

 

"I don't mean that, Kid. I only meant you could be of real use at the hospital, just like you are here. You could help the men that way," said Henry.

 

"It's in Chicago?"

 

"That's right, Illinois. It's called Camp Douglas."

 

Kid stared at the now empty cup in his hands, his mood darkening further. "Chicago's an awful long way from here."

 

Henry tilted his head in confusion. "It's where the camp is, I guess they want it away from the fighting."

 

"My wife's in Virginia… at least, I think she's still there," Kid said quietly.

 

"I know, Kid. But it's not like you can see her. She hasn't even responded…" Henry bit back his words when he saw Kid's eyes flash in anger and hurt. "You said yourself, she might have gone home to Rock Creek. Chicago's a damn sight closer to Rock Creek than Washington."

 

Kid contemplated the truth of Henry's words. "Maybe you're right."

 

"Besides," Henry continued, a little regretfully. "I'm sorry to say it's not like you have a choice. The orders are for all Confederate prisoners to be sent to Camp Douglas in the new year. We'll leave in just over a week."

 

Kid nodded, keenly aware that choice was the very last thing he had anymore. If he did, he would have been back by Lou's side in a heartbeat.

 

"You'll see, Kid, it'll be all right," said Henry reassuringly. "It won't be long before this is all over."

 

* * *

 

Chapter Ten

 

February 1862

 

Less than a month after Henry, Kid and the few dozen Confederate prisoners arrived at Camp Douglas, General Ulysses S. Grant successfully commanded the Union forces to their first significant victory of the war, at Fort Donelson in Tennessee. Fourteen thousand Confederate troops were forced to surrender to their Northern foe, and half of those captured were sent to Camp Douglas. Many of the men wounded in the battle for the Fort came with them, and soon Henry and the other handful of doctors were as busy as the medical staff had been at Campbell Hospital in Washington.

 

The camp was set up to hold 6,000 prisoners, but the resounding Union victory and the forced surrender of so many Confederate soldiers meant that quota had already been met. The Kid was not used to the startling number of soldiers in gray after so many months in a Union hospital. He was soon back at work at Henry's side, doing what he could to relieve the suffering of the Confederate men, whether it was tending wounds or simply talking with the men to try and raise their spirits. The crushing defeat at Fort Donelson was the first taste of battle for most of the men, and they found it difficult to assimilate their abrupt transformation into prisoners of war.

 

During the first few months at Camp Douglas, Henry was concerned with getting the necessary supplies for the hospital – medical instruments and what medicine he could, along with blankets for the patients who were suffering from the cold. The camp, a former army training base, was equipped with long wooden barracks to house the prisoners, with the hospital at the southern end of the compound. There were half a dozen doctors and more orderlies, some of them Confederates like the Kid. Despite the number of wounded who required attention, Henry found his new position to be much more favorable than his previous one.

 

"As soon as the war is over, I'm heading West," he told Kid, excited to be so close to his dream. Chicago was the furthest he had ever traveled from his home in Delaware.

 

"Whenever that will be," Kid replied solemnly, not as enthusiastic about his new surroundings as Henry was. "Ain't no body sayin' it's gonna be over quickly no more."

 

"You don't know that, Kid."

 

Henry knew just how important the recent Union victories had been in Tennessee, and that the Army of the Potomac was still amassing in huge numbers in northern Virginia, readying for its attack on Richmond. If the newspapers were to be believed this could happen any day. Henry was careful not to share such news with Kid. The doctor knew just how much he feared for his wife's safety in Williamsburg. Henry thought it best that Kid knew little of the fighting in the East, and was accordingly vague with the details whenever asked.

 

"You'll see, we won't be here forever," Henry went on, refusing to be swayed from his optimistic belief that the war would soon be over. "I'll be able to visit Rock Creek and Sweetwater, and all those other places you told me about. All the way to San Francisco."

 

Kid smiled half-heartedly. "I hope you're right."

 

* * *

 

Despite Henry's attempts to resource the hospital appropriately and provide the best possible care to his patients, outside the hospital walls was another story. It became clear to Kid that his work in the hospital, which afforded him the added benefit of a place to sleep away from the prison barracks, meant his experience at Camp Douglas was significantly different from the other Confederate soldiers. Even Henry could not deny that there was something wrong when the hospital, after healing most of the wounded men from the Fort Donelson battle, was now filled with sick and malnourished men. When summer came dozens of prisoners fell ill with typhoid fever, dysentery and other maladies every week, so many that only the worst cases could be cared for at the hospital.

 

"I'm sure this is just temporary... they'll send some of the men to other camps soon," said Henry guiltily, when the conditions steadily worsened. He found he was unable to convince the camp commander that the sickness spreading throughout the compound was a direct result of the overcrowding of the barracks and the unsanitary conditions of the facilities. No amount of complaining and cajoling from the Kid and the other Confederate prisoners at the hospital did any good. The camp was run by the army and Henry was a civilian.

 

As the months wore on the number of prisoners being held at Camp Douglas only increased. Starting in July some prisoner exchanges occurred, but their places were soon taken by newly captured soldiers as fighting escalated throughout the long summer and into the fall. Soon the Federals tried a different tack – the prisoners were offered their freedom if they agreed to take an oath pledging allegiance to the Union and fight for the North. Few men in gray, no matter how much they wanted to leave Camp Douglas, accepted the offer.

 

Then winter came and, to the camp doctors' grave concern, there was an outbreak of smallpox among the men. An immediate program to vaccinate the prisoners began, but due to the large population it was haphazard and slow going. They isolated the smallpox sufferers when the could, but Henry knew there were still sick and dying men in the barracks receiving no medical care. No matter how many hours he worked, or how hard he drove himself and the others, there was nothing he could do to prevent the sickness from spreading.

 

* * *

 

The Kid continued to write to Lou whenever he could, usually late at night when the patients were all asleep. But as Christmas Day approached once more he found he had less and less to write about. He tried not to tell her the worst of his life at the camp – the endless disease and death that he saw at the hospital every day. He didn't want to tell her of the dispirited men who were punished severely by their captors whenever they disobeyed orders. He didn't want her to know that, despite sneaking out to the men whatever extra provisions he could steal from the hospital, he still felt like he was betraying his brothers in arms because of his privileged status as a hospital orderly and Henry's friend. The letters he wrote now were short, and they always ended the same way.

 

My darling Lou,

 

I pray this letter finds you safe. I only wish I knew for sure that you are all right. So little mail gets here, but every day I hope to have some word from you. If you read this, know that I am well and thinking of you. The days are long here. There is so much sickness, but I am faring well. I do what I can for the others but sometimes it ain't enough.

 

I miss you more than I can say.

 

Your loving husband,

 

Kid

 

He paused, wanting to write more but he didn't have the heart to do so. He wondered if she would ever even read it. If she was receiving his letters he didn't know about it because there was no reply. Kid sighed heavily, unable to shake the dark mood that descended upon him whenever he allowed himself to think about Lou for any length of time. He quickly addressed the letter to Rob and Isobel's farm in Virginia, then went in search of Henry to give the envelope to him to mail.

 

As had become typical for this time of night, he found Henry in his office scribbling in his notebook. The doctor rarely stopped working these days, and Kid was concerned he was wearing himself out. A few medical books were open in the desk in front of him, barely visible in the weak lantern light he was trying to write by.

 

"Henry?" Kid said quietly when it was obvious that the doctor had not heard his approach.

 

Henry looked up, his eyes bright despite the poor illumination. He saw the envelope in Kid's hand and sighed. "Kid. You'd like me to post that, I suppose?"

 

Kid was surprised at the irritability he heard in Henry's voice – it was most unlike him. He had never once complained about taking care of Kid's letters to Lou, because he knew how much they meant to him.

 

"If it ain't too much trouble," he said warily, approaching the desk. "Are you all right, Henry?"

 

A bitter laugh preceded his response. "All right? I have a hospital full of sick men and a commander who doesn't care if they live or die. I can't get the smallpox vaccine I need to prevent more outbreaks and our own attempts to harvest it are poor at best. I have nothing to relieve their suffering… even the most basic supplies take a month to arrive."

 

Henry sat back heavily in his chair, his lank blond hair hanging in his eyes. Weariness exuded from every pore and Kid knew the toll the past month had taken on the doctor. It was natural and all too easy for Kid and the other Confederates to blame the Yankees for the worsening situation at the camp, but he knew Henry was just as helpless to prevent what was happening as they were. Despite Henry's best efforts his pleas for help were going unanswered.

 

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Henry said morosely, shaking his head. "This place… I thought I could do some good."

 

"It ain't your fault," Kid said. "I know you're doin' your best for the men."

 

"And once again my best isn't good enough," Henry replied bitterly, quick to anger. The hand he ran through his hair was shaking.

 

Kid frowned. "Henry, are you sure you're all right?"

 

Henry tried to laugh again but there was no sound. Kid took a few steps forward and peered at him closely. His eyes were shining, his face ruddy. Kid confirmed his suspicions by pressing his palm to Henry's forehead.

 

"You're burnin' up. How long have you been sick?"

 

"I'm fine, Kid, I just need to sleep a while," he muttered. Henry stood up then but quickly slumped back into his chair, unsteady on his feet. "Whoa."

 

"Henry, you're sick."

 

Kid pushed up his shirt sleeves which lay open at the wrist in order to inspect his arms, and then unbuttoned it at his chest. Henry's pale skin was dotted with the familiar watery blisters of the smallpox patients.

 

"Damn," Kid breathed.

 

Henry looked down at his own chest, and smiled feverishly. His head rolled back and he looked up at Kid.

 

"Damn is right, my friend."

 

* * *

 

Chapter Eleven

 

Henry was isolated to an outer building of the hospital where the patients with smallpox were being housed. Kid, whose own vaccination against the disease administered by Henry had thus far prevented him from becoming sick, was not supposed to enter the ward, but whenever possible he would visit the doctor. Henry's condition was not as dire as some of the others and, despite his exhaustion from working long hours, he slowly recovered. He and Kid found their roles reversed from the hospital in Washington – now it was Kid who did what he could to lessen Henry's fever, keep him company and read to him during the long days of his convalescence.

 

For several weeks Henry was too ill and weak to do anything but be a patient, but as soon as he had recovered some strength he resumed tending to the other sick men in the smallpox ward. The camp commander and the other doctors all urged him to return East to recuperate fully – back to Delaware and his own people. But Henry flatly refused, to Kid's incredulousness.

 

"Henry, you should go. It ain't good for you here," he urged as he sat by the doctor's bedside.

 

Henry had been up and working for several hours that afternoon and was already too worn out to do any more. Kid brought him dinner and argued again for the merits of leaving Camp Douglas.

 

"I'm fine, getting better every day," Henry protested. He sipped at his coffee, casting his unappetizing food aside.

 

"But you'd be better off at home, away from this place," Kid went on.

 

"And who'd look after the men? The Commander would leave them all to rot, or worse, exchange you all so you can go off and get killed." Henry rubbed his hand over the red pox scars that peppered his face. "Besides, I won't ever go back there. I aim to strike in a different direction."

 

Kid couldn't hide his smile and shook his head at Henry's stubbornness. "So go on, then. You ain't army, there's nothin' stoppin' you."

 

"I'll go soon enough," Henry sighed, resting back against the head of the bed. "It'll be a new year soon. The fighting can't go on much longer. And, besides, I'd rather make the journey knowing I had a friend out there."

 

"I got a ways to go before I even think about headin' west again," Kid said. "As soon as I'm able I'm headin' for Virginia and Lou."

 

"You said yourself, she may not have stayed there."

 

"Maybe not, but it's where I left her. It's where I'll start lookin' for her. And I won't stop until I do," Kid said with indefatigable determination.

 

Once again, Henry remained quiet on the subject of Virginia and the Union troops there. Only days before, the head of the Army of the Potomac, the indecisive General McLennan, had been removed from command. His continued lack of movement despite the superior numbers under his charge had finally worn down President Lincoln's patience. Many Northerners were convinced 1863 would see the end of the war once the fight was well and truly taken to the Confederacy. This confidence did not wane despite the crushing defeat at Fredericksburg that the Union had just suffered.

 

"Well, maybe we'll meet up somewhere down the road," Henry said instead, not meeting Kid's eyes.

 

The Kid smiled and sipped his coffee.

 

* * *

 

The new year began with the Emancipation Proclamation, and some of the bloodiest battles of the war followed. The winter was hard on the prisoners at Camp Douglas, hundreds dying every month from sickness that still plagued the camp. Supplies were scarce, even in the hospital, and food, clothes and blankets were becoming hard to come by. There was little for Kid to get his hands on to distribute to the needy men, as even Henry and the other doctors were feeling the sting of rationing. The daily rations the men had received when they first arrived at the camp were a feast compared to the inadequate provisions that now formed the prisoners' diet.

 

In July, what was supposed to be the definitive battle of the war was waged in Pennsylvania. When word came through that Lee's army had been defeated at Gettysburg the mood among the men was very low. Most were losing heart that they would ever see the end of the fighting. Worse still was their despondency that they could nothing to assist their Confederate brothers. Still the fighting went on.

 

In the fall the various plans for escape that groups of prisoners had been working on began to escalate. No more would they stand for remaining at the camp where they were being starved, mistreated and left to die. Not even their own army commanders could save them – prisoner exchanges were few and far between due to sluggish, bureaucratic paperwork. There was little hope to be freed from Camp Douglas except with the ending of the war, and the end was nowhere in sight.

 

The main breakout occurred in November of 1863 when 75 men dug underneath the walls of the camp and fled their captors. The rebellion raised the spirits of the prisoners so much that the camp commander immediately brought in Reserve Corps and sharpshooters to protect the boundaries of the compound. Confederates were shot down without warning if they ventured too close to the fences now. Other escape routes needed to be found.

 

It was a couple of months later that Kid first met Ezra Polk. He was admitted to the hospital with a gunshot wound inflicted by one of the guards when he defied an order. The warning shot had missed his heart only by inches, the bullet burying in his shoulder. Polk and his men were planning to escape Camp Douglas, and his time at the hospital opened his eyes to how they were going to do it. From his bed he observed the Confederate orderlies, Kid included, who had the run of the place. But it was Kid's comradeship with one of the Yankee doctors that caught Polk's attention.

 

For days he watched them interact – saw the trust the doctor obviously had in the Southerner. Polk hatched a new plan. He started by asking the other patients and orderlies about Kid, found out who he was and where he was from, and what little they knew of his story. Then Polk struck up a conversation with him, making small talk. After a couple of days of this he asked Kid to write a letter for him, as he was not able to with his injured shoulder.

 

"A Virginia man, huh?" Polk asked, as Kid settled by his bedside, pencil poised over the scrap of paper he had found for the patient's letter.

 

"That's right. Manassas."

 

"I'm from Missouri, myself," said Polk pleasantly.

 

"Who d'you want me to write this letter to?"

 

"My wife. Her name's Sarah. She's at home with our three young 'uns."

 

Kid started to write, but looked up when Polk did not continue. The man was just staring at him, a faint smile on his lips.

 

"You married?" he asked, nodding at the ring on Kid's finger.

 

"That's right," Kid replied.

 

"Children?"

 

"Not yet, we weren't long married before the fightin' started."

 

"Must miss her, huh?"

 

Kid shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He always tried to avoid talking about himself whenever he chatted with the other prisoners. He had listened as men shared their most intimate fears and secrets as they lay dying but he always kept quiet about his own. It was easier that way.

 

"What d'you wanna say in this letter?" he tried again to focus Polk's attention.

 

"Truth is I can't write my Sarah 'bout this place," Polk sighed. "I'd rather she don't know the truth."

 

"I understand." Kid felt the same difficulty when it came to writing to Lou. There was no sense worrying her unnecessarily when there was nothing either of them could do to fix the situation.

 

"Your wife know what you're doin' here? Bet she's proud," Polk asked, determined to keep him talking.

 

Kid just shrugged.

 

"I seen you helpin' the boys. They all say how good you been to them. How you make sure they're taken care of."

 

Kid put the pencil and paper back into his pocket. "Maybe we should try writin' this letter another time."

 

"Maybe we could just talk awhile, Kid. It is Kid, isn't it?"

 

"That's right."

 

"Is your wife back in Manassas? I heard there was more fightin' there."

 

"No, she's with my family, near Williamsburg."

 

Polk shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that."

 

"What do you mean?" Kid looked up, alarmed.

 

"Can't be easy on her, everythin' that's been goin' on there."

 

Kid frowned darkly, unable to find his voice to ask the questions he so desperately need to have answered.

 

"Why, the Army of the Potomac's been all through those parts for more than a year now. They're usin' Chesapeake Bay to invade, blockadin' the waters all through there to cut off our supplies."

 

"Was it bad there?"

 

"Who can say. It's bad everywhere. But I heard there was fightin' right in Williamsburg itself."

 

Kid breathed heavily, imagining the worst. His anger flared when he thought of all the times he had asked Henry for word of what was happening in Virginia. Never once did he tell him about the danger in Williamsburg. His chest grew tight with fear when he thought about what Lou may have gone through, what she still might be going through.

 

"I'm sorry, Kid. You're right, we should write this letter another time." Polk decided not to say any more. He had already known Kid had a wife in Virginia but he had no idea that the man knew so little of what had transpired there. Polk realized it might be easier to convince Kid to help them than he had anticipated.

 

The Kid, stunned into silence once more, didn't acknowledge Polk as he withdrew to his own bed near Henry's office. His mind was racing – he had no idea what had happened at Williamsburg and if Lou was all right. His sense of hopelessness was crippling, and festered within him when he contemplated his circumstances. He had been so reliant upon Henry to keep him informed about what was happening, but for some reason the doctor, his supposed friend, decided not to tell him. Kid was surprised at the betrayal he felt over Henry's actions.

 

When Henry joined him for coffee that evening Kid was still quiet. Henry was exhausted so talk was light, and he didn't notice Kid's reluctance to speak or even meet his eyes. Kid decided not to say anything to him about what Polk told him. He wasn't sure why he kept it to himself, but the trust he had placed in Henry was shaky and he felt it best to think on the situation more before he confronted him.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, just before Polk was due to be released, he shared with Kid the escape plan. Polk had used his time at the hospital to observe more than just Kid – he watched when the doctors came and went, when the meals were delivered for the patients, and where the unfortunate souls who had lost their lives were taken. That was when he realized how he and his men would escape the hospital.

 

The bodies were disposed of throughout the day, left in a room at the rear of the building and then transported to a graveside outside the camp gates every few nights. The room was locked but Polk knew each of the doctors had a set of keys. That was why he needed the Kid. If he had more time he would have cultivated the young man further, to make sure he could be trusted, but his shoulder was healing and he knew he would be sent back to the barracks soon. Polk explained everything to Kid late one evening as the other men slept.

 

"You in?" Polk whispered, staring intently at the Kid. "If you are, we'll be outside these walls in a matter of days, and you can be on your way, home to your wife."

 

Kid looked away, trying to process everything Polk had told him. But it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the thought of leaving the camp and of finding Lou.

 

"I'll get word to my men," said Polk. "There's five of 'em. They know what to do to get brought in here. Then, we'll leave through the same door as all our brothers who've died here. We just need the key."

 

Kid scrubbed his hand over his stubbled chin, unsure of the plan, but unable to think of too many objections. He knew himself that it was possible – they could get away under the cover of darkness before anyone even knew they were missing.

 

"That doctor, he trusts you, doesn't he?" Polk continued.

 

"I guess he does, yeah," Kid replied in hushed tones.

 

"Do you know where he keeps his set of keys?"

 

Kid nodded. "In his desk."

 

"And can you get into his office?"

 

He nodded once more. He came and went from the office almost as much as Henry throughout the day. It wouldn't be difficult, especially if he waited until Henry was asleep.

 

"So you'll do it?" Polk said insistently, when Kid fell into silence again.

 

"I don't know." Kid's head was bowed.

 

Polk tried to control his anger, not wanting to ruin things when he was so close. "How long have you been here, boy?"

 

"Nearly two years."

 

"And how much longer are you gonna stay? Men are dyin', Kid. In here and out there. How else are you gonna get to where you're needed?"

 

"The prisoner exchanges will keep happenin'. They may let us go." Even as he said it, Kid didn't really believe it. Besides, he had been excluded from all the previous exchanges, when other men around him had been returned to the Confederate army.

 

"They ain't gonna let you outta here," Polk whispered harshly. "None of us, 'cept as corpses. You ain't seen what I seen, Kid. You don't know what it's really like out there in the camp."

 

Guilt pierced Kid's heart at that. He knew the truth of it, and it never ceased to cause him pain.

 

"You owe us," said Polk, driving the sentiment home with a swift poke at Kid's chest.

 

Kid looked swiftly around to ensure no one was listening. The other men were asleep, but he knew Henry might still be awake and could look for him if he realized Kid was not in his bed.

 

"If you won't come with us, at least help us by gettin' the key," Polk said.

 

Kid straightened in his chair. "All right."

 

The other man looked up, relieved.

 

"But I'm goin' with you," Kid said with determination.

 

Polk grasped his hand firmly and nodded. "We go tomorrow night, then."

 

CONTINUE ON...

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