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Author's Chapter Notes:
For all of you that I nearly scared off with last chapter, here is a bit of insight into the real story with William...
things are going to be a bit rough for a while, but please hang in there. Keep up the great reviews! Since I am writing this chapter by chapter, your feedback really helps to keep me going!
As the first light of dawn began to show on the horizon, the group of soldiers had completed their raid and loaded up a wagon full of the firearms and ammunition, and then harnessed the Summers'chestnut draft gelding to pull the load. Raven and Duchess were saddled up for William and his second-in-command, a second lieutenant named Bryant, and Hank's old gray gelding was being bridled hurriedly. The two men conversed in hushed tones while the others worked, eager to leave before someone from town happened upon them. The air, though still mild, was growing heavy with humidity and warning of the higher temperatures still to come. Everyone had a task. Everyone, that is, except for the pale blond who remained on her knees, her tear-streaked chin lowered in defeat.

As Elizabeth stared on in shocked silence, the only home she had ever known collapsed in on itself, sending sparks high into the morning sky. Her tears dried as a numbness settled over her as heart broke. Completely overwhelmed, she remained quiet and still, even when she was pulled to her feet and unceremoniously dumped in the wagon. Huddling next to a powder keg, Elizabeth curled up on an old horse blanket, her normally bright green eyes dulled in grief. Standing nearby, william had to tear his eyes away from the broken young woman, and focused instead on what was left to be done.

William surveyed the packing carefully. Finally satisfied that everything was taken care of, he then nodded to Bryant that the time had come to make their way towards Washington, to meet up with the rest of the federal troops, and pass along the knowledge that had been gained during their spy games throughout Central Virginia. With a sharp whistle, Bryant commanded everyone's attention, and the wagon was off and rolling. Bryant led, relying on the scouts who had left an hour earlier to find the clear path. A sergeant drove the wagon, and two corporals walked on either side, rifles casually drawn. William and Edmund, the young corporal who still wore Matthew's blood, stayed behind. William thrust Raven's reigns at the young man, who nearly shook with fear at the possible punishments that awaited him. Ignoring him, William stalked away, towards the rising mist of the river.

His long legs quickly carried him to the spot to which he wanted to return. He faced the same rock where he and Elizabeth had shared a moment of peace, the only moment of truth he had allowed himself to experience in her presence. Approaching it slowly, he sat down and gazed out over the James, whose calm waters were almost hidden beneath a blanket of mist. Turning away from the water, he allowed his eyes to settle on the two fresh graves who had been dug near the rock. When the soldiers had finally torn Elizabeth away from her brother's body, she had collapsed, unable to deal with anything further. While she had been taken to the wagon and bound, William had selected the spot that he felt she would have wanted. Having seen the venom she possessed, the lethal anger that had been aimed directly at him, he didnt want to have to face her again, and so he had buried her family with quiet respect. Weary, William let his head sink into his hands, and allowed himself a brief moment of quiet reflection.

Henry Summers had been the target all along. For some time now, Union spies had been relating information that suggested townspeople scattered from Richmond through Northern Virginia were hoarding supplies to pass along to the frontline, when the time came for a raid on Washington. During the few Union victories in the area, armories had been captured, but found to be nearly empty. There had to have been some method that the confederates were using to hide and store their supplies. What better way then to hide them in unsuspecting places, in the hands of farmers and innkeepers? While pouring over maps of the area, Union spies had pinpointed the Summers' tavern as being the most likely hiding place in the area. However, a full-scale invasion would have meant bringing a battalion over a hundred miles south into Confederate territory, within the grasp of the forces led by Robert E. Lee which were, at the time, pushing northward towards Pennsylvania. General Meade, who had only been given command several days before, was feeling trapped by the advancing southern army. He gathered his senior officers, and it was decided that a small attachment be sent south, to slip around the approaching forces, and to clear out their reserves behind them. William Chapman, the eldest son of General Joseph Winstead Chapman, was their likely choice. Within two days, William was racing Southward, clad in confederate gray and armed with fake dispatches supposedly from Brigadier General P.G.T. Beauregard, commanding officer of the western theater. On his second day of the journey, a stop for food and water had led to an ambush. William survived, killing his three attackers, but was wounded. Close enough to the tavern, William formulated a plan in his mind, and decided to test the boundaries of southern hospitality, turning an unfortunate inconvenience into a seamless cover.

To William, Hank Summers was just as much the enemy as the men he fought on the battlefield. Matthew and Elizabeth though were unfortunately casualties, or so William tried to convince himself. As his gaze settled on the grave of the twelve year old, William's blue eyes filled with burning tears. Standing up, William gathered himself and took a deep breath, allowing his steely resolve to fight down the lump that had formed in his throat. Pausing for just a moment though, William took a deep breath and reached behind his neck to grasph the chain that held a gold cross. Removing the cross, the young man knelt and placed the object on the freshly dug grave.

"Sleep well, Matthew" he whispered, emotion rendering his voice deep and nearly hoarse.

He straightened, brushed off his pants, and then walked back out to the front, where Edmund still stood the two horses. Although the grey was grazing happily, Raven was fidgeting. Without a word to the younger man, William took the young mare's reigns and tugged gently, getting her attention. He leaned forward, and blew gently on the horse's muzzle. Ceasing her stomping, Raven lowered her head, sticking her velvety nose in William's waiting hand. He stroked her face softly, and began to speak quietly.

"When we are in combat, you are allowed to use every weapon at your disposal to defend yourself, and your fellow soldiers." He continued to stroke the animal's nose, calming her. Although his tone was soothing, his words were far from. "If I ever see you use force unnecessarily again, so help me, I'll kill you myself. Am I understood?" William straightened, and looked Edmund straight in the eye. For a moment, the young man maintained eye contact, until he dropped his head shamefully.

"Yes sir" he said, his manner apologetic.

"Good. Now keep up." William said curtly, grabbing a handful of Raven's mane and swinging himself gracefully up into the saddle. Without waiting for Edmund to follow, William wheeled Raven around and galloped off, following the old dirt road that would lead them away from Richmond.





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