To Buffy, it felt like they had been traveling for weeks, when in fact, it had only been days. She lay on her back in the dusty wagon, staring at the sky, looking to the heavens and praying that God simply take her life. Her wrists were rubbed raw from the rough rope that bound them, and her arms had gone numb from the awkward position. Her hair, still loose around her face, now clung to her skin, damp with sweat and tears. From somewhere beyond the walls of the wagon, she heard a single voice call out, announcing their arrival at a Union encampment. Her only thought, as the wagon slowly rolled to a stop, was that her end would come quickly upon arrival at the camp that she could only assume would become her prison.
William hurriedly dismounted, handing the reigns of his tired mount off to the nearest corporal, and strode to the officer's tent, located in the middle of the encampment. Recognizing the epaulettes and shoulder straps that identified him as a Major, many men stopped as he crossed their paths and snapped off a quick salute. Barely nodding his head in response, William pressed on until he reached the entrance to the tent. Pushing the flap aside, he immediately recognized two of the four individuals who stood bent over the map.
"Ah William, my boy. Perfect timing." Said Brigidier General Forrester, a man who had served as one of William's favored instructors during his time at Westpoint, a time that now felt so much longer than the brief two years that it actually was. "Major Chapman is one of our finest." He said, introducing William by his formal title to the other officers in the room.
"William, this is Brigidier General Fitzwilliam, Colonel Markham, and of course you know Lieutenant Colonel Burbank." William saluted respectively to his senior officers, but markedly less so to the last of the men. His blue eyes met Burbank's own in a cold gaze, but the animosity was quickly shielded and William saluted. The expression had gone unnoticed to the others though, and William was quickly drawn into conversation.
"Major, it is a pleasure to meet you. I fought with your father under General Taylor over in Mexico. He's a good man, a good soldier." Stated General Fitzwilliam, a big man with a gentle countenance. He shook William's hand in friendship, and then stepped to the side to allow Willaim to see the spread of the map they had before them.
"Thank you sir, that he is." William inclined his head respectfully, and took the position that was offered him. William scanned the map briefly, noting a circle in Pennsylvania, near what appeared to be the markers that signified several large blocks that represented the battle line, between two fairly large groupings of northern and southern forces. With a raised eyebrow, he lifted his gaze to meet Forrester's tired expression.
"Gettysburg, Pennsylvania" was all he said for a moment. Reaching down into his pocket, he pulled out a cigar, a rare luxury in these camps. After lighting it and taking a long, slow drag, he continued. "Lee gave us a sound beating at Wincester" he said, pointing to the area in Virginia. He slowly traced a weathered finger upwards from Virginia into Pennsylvania. "Then he moved northwards, with Meade in tow."
"Hooker resigned his post, so George Meade took command of the Potomac" Colonel Markham explained"
"I know Meade, he's a friend of my fathers, also from the Mexican conflict. He's aggressive, but smart about it." William said, recalling the man who had steered him towards West Point in the first place. Meade had never wanted a career in the military, but it seemed to William that the intelligent engineer had always been an exemplary commander, a thought embraced by many in the Federal Army.
"Well, Meade moved his troops up in pursuit, but his cavalry came upon a confederate infantry unit, and that was when it started. Lee retreated, but only after three days of hard fighting. It was bad" There, the older general trailed off.
"How bad?" William questioned, recognizing that there must have been heavy losses at the tired edge in the man's voice.
Colonel Markham spoke up. "Just under a third, we think."
Shocked, William staggered back a bit. "But the Potomac was 90,000 strong!"
"Aye. Lee's losses were about the same. Somewhere between 20,000 and 30,000 casualties. When he retreated, Meade didn't give chase. He is going to move his forces back down towards Warrenton. We can expect the wounded to begin coming in tomorrow or the next day. For the time being, I'd say things will be pretty quiet up here. Within a few weeks though, we will begin to push south. We need to reinforce the Potomac, not to mention try to keep the southern regiments at full ranks. Grant and Sherman are both on the move, and Sherman has his eyes on Atlanta. I am leaving tomorrow morning with a light cavalry, and two infantry divisions." Said Forrester, sounding resigned to the task. "General Fitzwilliam is taking several heavy artillery units a few days behind me, travelling with two more infantry units. Colonel Markham here will have command of the camp, alongside Burbank. I expect you to ready the remaining infantry. There is a fresh cavalry unit moving down from Massachucetts, and another infantry division from Maine. I want you to ready the reinforcements and then follow Markham towards Richmond. Lee won't be so foolish to move on Washington, but should he swing eastward, I expect you all to be ready to move."
"Yes sir" William repeated, saluting his father's old friend in permission to take leave of the group.
"And William?" He said, causing the young blond to halt in his tracks. "A post arrived from your father this morning. They have nearly arrived at the Tennessee-Georgia border. So far, all is well." He said, recognizing the look of immediate relief upon the young man's face.
"Thank you sir" William said, turning briskly on his heel and exiting the tent.
Before he got far though, a voice brought him to a halt. He spun to face Burbank, a shorter, stockier man who William had grown to despise.
"I'm glad to see that you've returned. I take it your mission was a successful one?" He said, his oily voice doing little to disguise his dislike of the younger man.
"Yes sir" William snapped, knowing that he would be guilty of insubordination if he reacted the way he wanted to.
"And how many of the suppliers did you discover?" He asked, condescension in his voice.
"One." The younger man ground out.
"That is all?" He said, an eyebrow raised in unhappy surprise.
"With all due respect, sir, I was too close to Richmond for comfort, and had no scouts to go before me." William said, clenching his jaw.
"And I trust he was dealt with exactly to my specification?" He said, already knowing the response at the pained expression on William's face. Lt. Col. Burbank, whose own son had attended Westpoint alongside William, had known William's fierce loyalty to justice, and had therefore known William's complete horror at the orders he had been given. Although wartime justice, which closely mirrored martial law, was in effect, he knew William was against it. William's sense of honor, which had driven him to report the indescretion of Burbank's own son to their superiors at the academy and thus had caused Burbank's own son to be permanently excused from the institution, led him to loathe the practice of the swift so-called justice. This sense of honor though, combined with the stict sense of obedience and adherence to decorum with which he had been raised, would not allow him to argue with his superior officers. Thus, Burbank knew that upon giving William Chapman the order to seek out the confederate suppliers, the young man would follow the order to the exact specification, and then hate himself afterwards for having done so.
"Yes sir" William said, his proud shoulders sinking.
"Good. You are excused" he said, smiling as William gave a hurried salute and strode off furiously in the other direction.
"Wake up girl" Elizabeth opened her bloodshot eyes, and quickly shut them against the harsh glare of the sun. A gentle hand on her shoulder brought her to a sitting position, and she felt a flask of cool water being pressed into her hand. Looking down, she nearly sickened at the sight of dried blood on her hands, her brother's blood. Her severe reaction was tempered though by her thirst, her parched throat burning. Her toungue felt swollen in her mouth, and she nearly cried as the stranger lifted the flask to pour some of the soothing water into her mouth. Before she could drink her fill though, the flask was pulled away to her dismay. When she looked at the person who had taken the water back from her, Elizabeth was shocked to see an older black woman smiling at her.
"I'm sorry Miss Elizabeth, if you drink too quickly, you'll be sick." She said softly, her sweet smile never waivering. "I'll give it back to you in a minute, just try to relax, the woman said, lifting a damp cloth to wipe off Elizabeth's dirty brow.
"Who are you?" Elizabeth said, shocked at both her own rudeness and the scratchy sound of her own voice. The old woman continued to smile though, and showed no notice of the young woman's lack of manners.
"My name is Rose" she said, her voice low and soothing. Elizabeth nearly leaned into her gentle touch as the woman washed away the grime and salt that marred her normally angelic face. "Now you can have som'more if you think you can keep it down." Her smile beamed wider when Elizabeth nodded furiously, reaching out trembling hands towards the flask. Rose handed Elizabeth the flask, and set about to untying the ropes that bound the petite captive's hands and feet. A young soldier leaning against one wheel of the wagon stood up quickly.
"She's a prisoner, you can't untie her!" He nearly shouted. Rose put her hand on one of her generously built hips and raised an eyebrow at the young man.
"Daniel, let me make something clear. I can untie her, and I will. She's just a teeny thing, and weak at that. Which one of you was man enough to tie her up in the first place?" She said sarcastically, and the young man quickly backed down.
"Sorry Rose, I was just following orders, I swear." He stammered, looking down at his feet.
"Whose orders?" Rose asked, her expression still more amused than angry.
"Mine" came Williams crisp low voice from behind her. She turned and glared at him, annoyed.
"I can expect it from jus' about anyone, but not you Major William. I'm surprised at you, I thought you knew to treat a lady better than that." She said reprovingly, tossing the makeshift handcuff's at his feet. Elizabeth finished the water in the flask, and then lowered it, her dull eyes settling on William's.
"I wanted to make sure she wouldnt hurt herself during the trip." He said flatly, but his expression softened when he followed Rose's pointed gaze to the sores that marred the young captive's wrists and ankles. "Are you ok?" He asked, meeting her listless gaze once more. As he looked into her eyes though, they suddenly lit up, blazing with anger. Using what little remained of her strength, Elizabeth threw the flask at the Union Officer that stood before her. He didnt flinch when the flask struck his shoulder, but merely turned on his heel and strode off in the other direction, barking at order that the men unload the wagon and make camp. Rose, shocked at the sudden action of the exhausted woman, turned to face Elizabeth, but found that once again, the life had disappeared from her eyes. Reaching out to take the woman's arm to help her from the wagon, Rose made a mental note to ask someone later what exactly had happened during their trip southward.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Back from vacation, sorry to keep ya'll waiting. I realize that a lot of you all are upset at whats happened in the last couple chapter, and many of you expressed horror as a reaction to a lot of what happened. I'm sorry for those that are upset, but the horror is a bit of what I was hoping to achieve. True, if much of this happened today, it would be completely 100% unforgiveable. My reason for setting this during the war though, is because this is a time when humanity was at its worst, and at times, its best. Terrible things happened, families were ripped apart, but this was a daily occurance. I'm not saying that Buffy is going to roll over and accept what happens, but I am asking that you wait this out a bit, and see where I am taking things. This is clearly not a fluffy story, but I hope that I can set the context of this in the time period. Either way, I appreciate ALL of the feedback that I've received, you guys are really helping me shape this (while recognizing what the boundaries of belief are as well). Keep up the reviews please!