(On the firsts day of the Battle of Bull Run, Josh and Abel, two Confederate soldiers trying to make their way back to camp unseen by Provost patrols.)
………..They kept low moving left around the clearing, inside the wood line. They went a short way, then stopped. Josh hissed, “Shhhh! I hear somethin’ … Sounds like hummin’.” They crept forward then stopped again, paralyzed by the scene to their front. A young boy was kneeling as if in prayer. His quiet humming ceased when he saw them. Through the trees the moon lit up a mop of curly flaxen hair, like a halo around the boy’s head.
They approached cautiously. Dark spots covered his grey uniform and the ground around him. Blood - they both thought. A regimental drum sat on the ground. Painted on its side were the words “1st Virg. Vol. Infy.” These were in lovely script, partly covered a Confederate flag.
“It’s just a kid, Josh.” Abel’s eyes were wide with fear…and relief. “He was hummin’ some kinda hymn, I think.”
“Damn it, I can see and I can hear, ya goober.”
“Should we help ‘im?”
Josh looked hard at his friend. “If we don’t get movin’, Abel, we’ll be the ones needin’ help. Fergit this kid.”
“Aw-right, aw-right. I hear ya.”
“Drummer boy,” Josh said as he surveyed the scene. “Just plain scared I ‘spect…from the fightin’. That yeller hair and them bright blue eyes, the boy looks plum angelic.”
Abel sucked in a breath, pointing a shaky finger at a dark outline in the bushes. Not five yards from the boy was the body of a woman, fully clothed. In the gruesome moonlit setting they saw blood everywhere, in dark contrast to the white skin of her face and hands. A large knife rose from her chest. The straight guards jutting out at the base of the knife’s handle gave it a cross-like aspect.
Josh followed Abel’s finger and stiffened. He recognized the knife, common among soldiers, a large dagger with a ‘coffin’ hilt. They called it an “Arkansas Toothpick.” His hand moved to his hip where he wore his own similar blade, thankful to feel its bulk tucked securely in his belt.
Abel knelt by the body. “Jeeze, Josh, is that Annie?” He paused, brushed leaves aside. “Yup, this be Annie, sure ‘nough. From the 1st Virginy.”
“Yeah?” Josh questioned, without moving closer.
“You know her, don’t ya? Sure you do. Married ta that corporal – 1st Virginy - who died a the consumption a while back.”
“I know who ya mean, but I can’t say that’s her in this light.” Josh stretched closer. “Sure looks like her, though, an’ that drum says ‘1st Virginy.’”
Abel brushed away more leaves. “After he died, I see’d her whorin’ round the camps, but who’d a done this?”
“Some bastard demon from Hell, that’s who,” Josh snarled. He looked at the boy. “I heer’d she had a son. Ya think?”
The lad grabbed the drum and hugged it between his knees defensively. Fear in his eyes, he stared at Josh, then Abel, and then vacantly at some far away point. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
“God a’mighty.” Abel was examining the boy. “Will ya look at that blood? Ya think he’s wounded? Ya think the boy saw this – Jesus, God a’mighty?”
“It ain’t what the kid seen that throws me, Abel. It’s this ‘Annie’ woman. She’s all cut up.”
Abel turned his attention back to the body. He again drew in breath. “She looks bad. She’s sure ‘nough daid, and the kid’s just lookin’ out there … at nothin’.”
Josh was keeping his distance from the body and the boy. He added, “Ain’t sayin’ a word, like he’s tetched. He musta seen it ...What’s yer name, boy?”
Silence.
“Maybe it ain’t his ma,” Abel suggested.
Josh leaned down. “That yer ma, boy? You hurt any? What on earth happened here? Who done this?”
The boy looked up, blinking several times to refocus, then stuttered, “N-not, not … not hurt.” He was mumbling, hardly moving his lips. The boy looked down at his drum.
Abel knelt beside him. “Ya sure don’t talk much, kid.” He looked back at the woman. “Just look at this poor thing, Josh. Stabbed all over. Hey ... where in hell are her ears?”
Josh stared over Abel’s shoulder, eyes wide. “Sheee – it. Look around. Any sign a them ears?”
“Jesus wept,” Abel cried as he rooted around in the leaves. He looked back at Josh. “Nope.”
Josh made an alarming suggestion. “Ears gone, looks like she was staked out, could be Injun work. Don’t trust them Injuns none – never did.” Abel’s eyes shifted restlessly about the clearing – back and forth.
Josh continued. “Injuns the only ones I heerd do this kinda messy killin’, but I didn’t know any was round’ here. If it is them, we best git outta here.”
Abel searched for the wild painted hostiles he knew were lurking behind every tree ready to pounce, wailing like banshees, and take his hair. “Ummm, best git outta here,” Abel repeated, then muttered, “Sides, we got our own troubles gittin’ back ta camp.”
Josh was thinking the same thing, but with a twist that struck terror in him. He looked nervously at Abel. “You right there, both ways. Worse – somebody could think we done this.” He let that sink in, then added, “Ya know, maybe you ain’t such a dunderhead after all, Abel Prowder … let’s git.”
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