GLORY II Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

  After Will dropped Jenny off near the Union lines near Collierville, he headed back towards Brice's Crossroads as fast as the tired Squirrel would carry him.  He got permission from General Forrest to head on back and he made it as far as Ripley before he had to stop and rest.

  He promised himself no more than a few hours, but even then, he found sleep difficult in coming.  He was extremely worried about Laura and still pumped up from the excitement of the past three days.  He finally managed to sleep for an hour, then mounted and continued on his way south.

  He was less than a mile from the Agnew farm when he spotted several people walking down the road carrying torches.  He reigned up as a man approached him.

  "We're looking for a young white girl," the man stated, holding his torch up so that Will could finally see his features.  He was shocked to see the face of Samuel Agnew.

  "It's me, Samuel," he said, "Will, Lieutenant Welch."

  "Thank the good Lord, Will," Sam blurted out, "Laura's missing.  We've been looking for her for over an hour and can't find her anywhere."

  A lump suddenly formed in Will's throat, which became so constricting he couldn't even reply.  His heart fluttered then and started beating like a rapid drum.

  "Didn't you hear me?" Samuel Agnew asked.  "Laura's missing, we need your help to find her."

  "How many people do you have searching and where have they looked?" Will finally managed to ask.

  "A couple of dozen people, son, and they went in all directions.  She was last seen on the front porch of my father's house about an hour ago."

  "I'll ride over to the army camp and see if I can find more help," Will stated.  "Where are they camped now, Sir?"

  "Most are in the field at the junction of the Ripley-New Albany Roads, but there are some up at Brice's place standing guard over the captured Yankees."

  Without answering, Will galloped off down the dark road at a fast trot.  He knew Squirrel had been through more than any horse was meant to endure over the past 24 hours, but he did not spare her as he raced down to the road junction.

  As he entered the camp, he could recognize none of the soldiers, but most of the standards were identifiable.  They were mostly Kentucky unit standards.  After searching for a few moments, he spotted someone he knew, someone everyone knew, and rode over to the fire where he was sitting.

  "Where you been, boy?" Monday asked, as Will drew up and dismounted.  "Last I seen of you was when you were headin' out from Salem with that Yankee girl."

    Will then realized that the wiley Sergeant Major had known all along that Jenny was not who she pretended to be.  "We chased the Yanks all the way to Collierville then turned around and came back," Will replied. "I just got back.  Need your help Sergeant Major, Laura's missing."

  "Heck, I had Sergeant Tibbitt bring her back personally," Monday replied.  "In fact, I saw her sittin' on the Agnew's porch as I rode by early this evening."

  "She's missing now and they've been looking for her for over an hour."

  Monday stood and threw his coffee into the blazing fire.  "I'll rustle up a company of these Kaintuck boys and we'll go canvass the entire area.  In the meantime, you git on back over to the Agnew place in case she shows up or somebody finds her."

  Over the next three hours they searched every gully and brush patch, every house and barn, every stand of timber and even along the creek banks, but found no trace of Laura.  It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.  Will refused to sleep, even refused to eat anything, until Doctor Agnew reminded him he'd need his strength to continue the search during the daylight hours.

  Totally exhausted, around four in the morning he nodded off in the same rocking chair Laura had been sitting in on the front porch.  He had been sleeping for less than an hour when something hit him behind the head and woke him up.  He sleepily turned around and saw a little negro girl standing in the bushes, hidden from the light shining through the front window.

  "You be Master Will?" the little girl asked bluntly.

  "I am Will."

  "Then this fo’ you, Master," she said, pushing a piece of crumpled paper into his hand then racing off into the darkness behind the house.

  Will started to chase her but realized he could never catch the young girl in the dark.  He uncrumpled the paper and noticed there was writing scribbled on it.  He leaned against the window so he could read the note from the weak lamp light.

  "Come to the old cabin across from the church," the note read.  "You girl be there. Come by yourself, do not bring enny weapons.  Be waitin,' Selmer."

  Will re-read the note several times then crunched it up and put it into his pocket.  The old house across from the church? Must be the one he and Laura had run to when it started to rain during the social.  He ran out to Squirrel, grabbed her bridle and reigns and mounted up, not even taking the time to saddle her.

  He started to push her hard then realized he needed to be more circumspect.  The note said come alone and without weapons, which indicated that Laura could be in danger if he accidentally alerted half the command by riding through their ranks like a madman.

  Ever so slowly, he made his way up the incline to the crossroads, then spotted the old cabin about a hundred yards down the Baldwyn Road.  To his left, the Yankee prisoners lay sleeping with their guards alertly walking the perimeter around them.  A single tent signified where the officer of the guard slept.

  It was almost dawn now and light was filtering in from the east.  He dismounted from Squirrel and slowly walked down the rutted road.  He turned off the road just before the church and walked in the dew-wet grass to the front of the small cabin.  There was no light inside.

  Pulling the pistol from his holster, he thought for a second of keeping it, then realized the note said to come unarmed.  He might endanger Laura if he walked in with a loaded pistol, Selmer might kill her out of spite.  Reluctantly he dropped the pistol into the grass beside the rickety old door and stepped slowly into the room.

  It was difficult to see at first, but as soon as his eyes adjusted to the dim light starting to filter in, he saw Laura kneeling in the far corner of the room.  Behind her, stood the figure of the colored sergeant who had whipped him, wearing civilian clothing and holding a rifle with a wicked-looking bayonet on it.

  "Justice," Selmer said, as soon as he could tell Will had no weapon.  He reached over and quickly cut the bonds holding Laura's hands behind her back.  "You can go to him now girl," he told her, "one last time before I kills him."

  Laura worked the gag from her mouth and raced over to Will, throwing herself into his waiting arms.  They held each other for a long while before Will finally spoke.

  "Why?" he bluntly asked.  "We've never harmed you mister, have we?"

  "You rapes and kills my mother while I watches!" Selmer lashed out.  "You beat me ‘til I bleeds, you sell me away from the people I love, you kills my friends.  You treats us like animals.  Yes, mister white soldier.  Mister See-sesh, you harms me all right.  Now it is time you goin' to pay."

  Will knew immediately there was no arguing with the hate-filled colored man.  All his pent up hate and hostility had finally reached a climax and nothing he could possibly say or do would soothe the anger and the bitterness the man felt.  He pushed Laura aside and stood, waiting for the man to make the next move.

  Selmer smiled and lunged at Will, barely missing him with the sharp bayonet.  Will quickly jumped to the side and tried to grab the rifle barrel, but the colored soldier was too fast, too well trained.  As soon as the bayonet flashed by and missed, Selmer stepped in and bashed Will in the face with the butt of the heavy rifle, sending him crashing to the cabin floor.

  Will saw stars and was dazed by the blow but was not knocked unconscious.  The colored soldier was very good, another bayonet thrust barely missed him, landing with a solid “thunk” into the thick beams of the wooden floor.  While Selmer tried to remove the bayonet from the thick boards, Will hit him and they went sprawling.

  For a full five minutes or more they fought tooth and nail like wild animals, kicking, clawing, hitting, biting, even scratching.  Finally, the extremely powerful Selmer had him pinned to the floor, choking him.  He could barely breathe; his vision started to fade.

  Suddenly, Selmer went flying backward and landed with a “thud” against the wall.  Laura was standing over him, the rifle in her hands.  She had used it like a club and bashed the side of Selmer's head in.  It looked as if he were dead for she had reopened an older wound and his head was bleeding profusely.

  Laura helped Will to his feet then hugged him and started sobbing uncontrollably.  They had endured so much and now it was all finally over.  Now they could be together and be united as man and wife forever.  For long moments they held each other, their hearts beating rapidly as one, their thoughts of love, of children, of eternity to share.  Nothing would ever part them again.

  Suddenly, Laura felt a sharp stinging pain in her abdomen.  She looked up into Will's eyes and saw both surprise and agony on his face.  Slowly, his grasp on her faded away and she took a step backwards.  As she backed up, the three-inch tip of the bloody bayonet came out of her stomach and disappeared into Will's.  He had been stabbed through the back and the tip of the wicked weapon had gone all the way through him and several inches into her.

  She could feel the hot blood pumping out of her stomach, and like a child, she put her hand against the wound to stop the blood from flowing.  The bayonet was suddenly ripped from Will and he fell to his knees onto the hard floor, then slowly collapsed onto the stone fireplace.  Laura looked up to see Selmer standing over her, his face glowing with triumph and agony at the same time, the bayonet held high in his hand for a final thrust.

  Suddenly, a loud shot rang out in the small room.  Selmer was hit solidly in the center of the chest and he fell to his knees on the floor.  He looked at the man who had shot him, a puzzled expression on his face, then at the blood pumping from the ragged hole in the center of his chest.  As he fell to the floor, Laura looked at the huge man who slowly walked over to where she stood.

  Sergeant Major Hooker bent down and held Selmer in his arms, throwing the pistol he had found outside into the corner of the room.  As he looked into Selmer's eyes, tears began to stream down his own rugged face.

  "Forgive me, Father," Selmer whispered with his last dying breath, his body going lax as his lungs slowly emptied of air.

  Hooker glanced up and looked at Laura who was still in shock, then back at the door to the small cabin.  Sergeant Major Stiehl stood in the door, his pistol pointed at Hooker.  When he spotted the pistol lying in the corner of the room, he holstered his own and stood, waiting.

  "He was my son," Hooker whispered, laying Selmer's body down on the cold dirty floor.  "The boy was eaten up inside with hate and it finally killed him.  I saw him bring the girl in here, then I saw the young lieutenant enter.  I had to shoot him, I had no choice, he was preparing to kill this young child."

  Monday walked over and looked down at Will lying on the cold stone fireplace.  He bent over to check his wound, then stood up and looked at Laura.  With a silent nod of his head he told her that Will was dead, then reached for the girl who was still in shock.

  "No!" Laura exclaimed, going down on her knees next to Will.  "He's not dead.  Not ever."  She pulled Will's head up into her lap and started sobbing and rocking back and forth.

  "Come," Monday said, reaching out his hand for her.

  She hit it with a savage blow that splattered him with blood then screamed, "No!.  Not without my Will!  Not without my Will!" she said it over and over, her body shaking with sobs, tears flowing freely down her agonized face.

  Monday stood up straight and looked at Hooker, then pointed to the door.  "We'll give you a few moments alone," he said, as he and Hooker left and stood outside in the early morning light.  Several guards, alerted by the shot, started to join them but Monday waved them away.

  "Name's Stiehl," he said, offering his hand to Hooker.

  "Hooker.  My name's Hooker, Sergeant Major," he replied, taking the huge hand offered and squeezing it.

  "Give her a few minutes," Monday muttered, nodding back towards the cabin.  "A bad situation, a good boy."

  "Both were good boys in their own way," Hooker replied, taking the plug of tobacco Monday offered and biting off a large chunk.  Monday did not reply.  He knew what the colored Sergeant Major meant.  For five minutes or more they talked of little things, of the war, of life and death, of freedom and what freedom meant to different men.  Finally, Monday remarked, "I'm goin' back west after this here war.  Be nice to have a good man covering my back."

  "Is that an offer?" Hooker smiled back.  "You willin' to partner up with a darkie?"

  "Hell, been partners with Indians, Mexicans, Frenchies, Chinee, what's wrong with a darkie?"

  They smiled and turned to go back into the small cabin.  Laura was still sitting on the cold stone fireplace with Will's head in her lap.  Selmer was lying on his back with an uncommonly gentle smile on his dead face.  "Come on, Laura," Monday ordered.  "There's nothing you can do for him now, he's in the hands of the Lord."

  Monday reached down to pull Laura up, but froze as he touched her.  She was cold to the touch, a feeling Monday knew only too well.  When he looked closer, he could see the tip of the bloody bayonet sticking several inches out of her back.  She had recovered the deadly weapon and finished the job Selmer had tried to do.  The final words she had
spoken as he left the room came to mind at the same time tears sprang into his old eyes.  "Not without my Will."

  Monday sat down next to her and cried, trying desperately to force the tears back, but they came in a flood, which would not stop.  Hooker patted him on the shoulder and pointed to the body of Selmer.  "I'd like to bury my boy," he whispered, "then I'll go back to the prison compound."  Monday nodded his head, too choked up to answer. He sat on
the cold floor for a long time, often cursing himself for his inability to protect or save the two young children lying cold near him.  Finally, he felt a hand on his shoulder again and turned to look up into the eyes of General Forrest.

  Nathan Bedford Forrest was a tough man, but even his eyes were misting over as he kneaded Monday's shoulder.  He had never seen the tough Sergeant Major weep over the death of anyone before and his own voice was broken as he spoke.  "Many a good boy gave his life these past few days.  They will not be forgotten."

  "Together they will rest," Monday replied.  "What God has joined together, let no man put asunder."  He then stood and followed General Forrest from the cabin into the warm rays of the rising sun.


******


  The Tyree family was shattered when they learned of the deaths of Laura and Will.  Reverend Tyree wanted to rush to claim her body, but Monday talked him out of it.  In collusion with General Forrest, he told the family that she had been badly disfigured and that an open casket ceremony was out of the question.

  In truth, rocks had been substituted for her body and placed inside the coffin.  At Monday's insistence, Laura and Will had been placed together in the same coffin and would be buried together to fulfill Laura's dying wish.

  The burial ceremonies that afternoon were extremely sad and touching.  A hundred young men were lowered into their final resting places.  Only Forrest and Monday knew that Laura and Will shared their final spot of earth together.

  To make the situation more ironic and sad, Monday realized that the two youngsters were being buried in the exact same spot, near the dogwood tree, where they had sat on the grass during the latter part of the social.  Where they had sat, planning their bright future and talking of great-grandchildren, oblivious to what sad fate had in store for them.

After the rock-filled coffin was lowered into the ground, Reverend Tyree and his heartbroken family turned and slowly walked away.  Margaret could barely stand and had to be supported by James Thomas on one side and John Philip on the other.  Thankfully, both brothers had miraculously made it through the terrible battle safely.

  Elizabeth Jane stubbornly refused to leave the burial site.  She could not believe that her little sister, whom she had hugged and cried with mere hours before, was forever gone.  She had no tears left in her eyes, just a shocked, cold expression on her face.

  What seemed like hours went by, but she still refused to leave.  She felt a hand on her shoulder and tried to shrug it off.  She was certain her father or brothers had returned to force her away from young Laura.

  The grip was persistent and she angrily turned around to yell at them to leave.  To her surprise, her husband Captain Jones, thought to have been killed in Georgia, stood there, his arm in a sling, a wide blood-stained bandage on his head.

  Elizabeth Jane grabbed him around the waist and held on tight.  There was only one thought in her mind, this was one soldier who was never going off to war again.


******

  "Well, that pretty much tells it the way it happened," Monday muttered to himself, throwing the pencil down on the rickety old table and rubbing his tired eyes.  He had tried to write the story the best way he knew how, but he was well aware that he wasn't a well-lettered man.  Major Anderson would just have to make it sound better.

  Monday suddenly thought of one last thing he wanted to include in the manuscript.  After talking about the hard campaign, which started around mid-February, old Bedford got us together and gave us a right purty speech.  Reckon this here is how it went:

  "General Sturgis and General Grierson were at the head of one of the best appointed forces ever equipped by the Yankee nation, complete in infantry, cavalry, artillery, and supply trains," Forrest said.  "The foe came forth with threats of vengeance towards us, for the bloody victory at Fort Pillow, made a massacre only by dastardly Yankee reporters.  We met the enemy at Tishomingo Creek and victory was never more glorious, disaster never more crushing and signal.  A proud and defiant foe, which had advanced with declaration of no quarter to us, was beaten, defeated, routed, and destroyed.  We have driven the boasted minions of despotism from the battlefield and inflicted frightful losses in men and material.  Survivors of this debacle are still wandering in the bushes and bottoms, forever lost to
the enemy.  There were not over 3,000 of you who achieved this victory over 10,000 of the enemy.  Do not forget the dead on these fields of glory."