Horrible Harvest

The ground beneath my feet sloped downward as I come up on the banks of the lake. When I reached a fat tree trunk, I took a position flatback behind it and scanned the ever-darkening shoreline from left to right. There I spotted the members of my company in the lake washing away the dirt that had offended Mr. Stockton so. Amongst’em was Kenneth, who scrubbed himself with a handful of sassafras leaves. Three armed soldiers stood on the shore some eight feet from him and give him taunts, throwing small rocks and jeering at him.

“Daddy has got your number, boy. Every word to come out his mouth about you don’t amount to nothing more than a hill of spit and shit.”

“Says your momma raised you sissified.”

“The general says you’s more woman than man, he says.”

I skirted the bank under the cover of trees just beyond the shoreline. Quick as a cat. Quiet as a mouse. I held the revolver at the ready. Just as I was about to step into a clearing and gun down the three sumbitches, a large black hand appeared out from behind a tree to my right and yanked me to my ass. Before I could pull back the hammer on my weapon, my attacker’s foot pinned my wrist to the ground.

“Steady, boy,” a voice said in a raspy whisper.

I stopped struggling. I recognized that voice right off. “Tate?” He was as strong as ever. Sturdy as a mountain. He only spoke two words, but I felt the calm in them two words. Even in times of urgency, he stood firm against the winds.  

“Keep your fool voice down.” He reached out and helped me to my feet. “You’re lucky I spotted you in time.” He pointed to a row of trees on the other side of the cove, revealing a dozen men sitting and drinking and making merry. “Drunk as they are, they’d put you down easy enough.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Saving your white behind.”

“No – I mean here – In Mr. Miller’s Brigade? I figured you’d be far gone by now.”

“Where the hell am I going to go?”

“I expect anywhere else but here.”

“Well, you expect wrong. You’re as pigheaded as ever, I see. You were two and a half feet from finding yourself full of holes. It’s a miracle you’ve lived this long with your persistent pursuit of half-cocked schemes.”

“Kenneth’s in trouble.”

“Kenneth’s fine – for now. Master Miller’s got plans for him that don’t take effect until Mrs. Miller arrives tomorrow.”

“What kind of plans?”

“The kind he needs to miss.”

“Where’s Mr. Miller?”

“Holed up in a house a mile or two west of here. He doesn’t encamp with his men. They’re nothing but a gaggle of Brutus’ and Cassius’ as far as he’s concerned.” Careful to stay hidden, Tate stepped onto a game path. He waited for me to follow, but when that didn’t happen, he threw a stern look my way. “Kenneth will be fine. They’ve orders to keep clear of causing him injury – Serious injury, anyway.”

I couldn’t force myself to look away from Kenneth. A lump formed in my chest as I fought the urge to burst out from the tree line and fire my weapon in a devil-raising rage at the three soldiers on the shore. I found myself not caring a lick what would befall me after that.

“Good judgement, Augustus. That’s what will save Kenneth. Use it or you’ll both be dead by this time tomorrow.”

I give pause as I fought the fire in me. It took all I had not to scream the clouds out of the sky. Eventually, I stood and followed after Tate down the game path.