Gabriel's Journey by Alison Hart Page B

Private Murphy was one of us. I remembered your words, sir. ‘Never leave a man behind.’”
    â€œI’m thankful for that. And it sounds as if you weren’t the only one who remembered those words. You and the rest of your pa’s squad did a fine job last night. Private Murphy is resting well.”
    â€œCaptain, permission to ask a question.”
    â€œPermission granted.” He picks up a curry comb and rubs at a smear of mud on Champion’s flank.
    â€œWhat will happen to the horses when we meet the Rebels at Saltville?”
    Captain Waite frowns. “From any other soldier, I would say that’s an odd question. From you, Gabriel, it makes perfect sense. Your love for the horses is commendable. Many Federals think of them only as transportation. I used to feel that way, too, but I’ve grown quite fond of Champion. To answer your question: The soldiers will likely fight on foot, and the horses will stay behind the line.”
    â€œThank you, sir.” His answer soothes me. Using a brush, I work on a stubborn spot of dirt on Sassy’s coat. “Captain, have you fought Confederates before?”
    â€œUnfortunately I have not yet seen combat. I graduated from college just this spring.” He chuckles. “I studied philosophy, which prepped me well for the realities of camp life.”
    I have no notion of what philosophy might be, but I can tell by the jest in his voice that it has nothing to do with hardtack and leaky tents.
    â€œArmy life has been a learning experience for me—one that I could never have imagined when I was in college,” he says, dropping his voice. “So every night I must study the manual on cavalry tactics.” Then his tone turns solemn. “You know, don’t you, Gabriel, that officers ride their mounts into battle?”
    My gaze shifts to Champion. The soldiers and horses of the other regiments have all seen fighting. Only the Fifth is untried. How will we, and horses like Champion, react when faced with the blaze of gunfire and the sight of blood?
    The thought makes me shudder. I attack Sassy’s rump with the brush until she swishes her tail. Last night, dangling from that rope, I was more afraid than ever before in my life. Some of the white soldiers say that the coloreds are cowards. They may be right about me. Last night, if someone had given me the choice, I would have hightailed it back to Camp Nelson rather than dangle over that cliff.
    And now that I’ve experienced marching and bivouacking, I believe that maybe next time I’ll forgo the adventure and choose mucking stalls and a nice straw bed instead.
    A coward?
Yep, that’s me.

Chapter Ten
    R eveille blows. I roll over, bumping into Pa’s back. On the other side of me, Private Black mutters the names of his sons. Last night, we slept on damp leaves, fully clothed, our bodies spooned together and covered with two blankets. The three of us were so tired that our slumber was as dreamless as that of the corpses in the dead house.
    Pa stirs first. Sitting up, he tucks in his shirt and slips on his jacket. I watch him button it. “Pa,” I whisper. “Do you miss Ma?”
    â€œWith all my heart.”
    â€œCaptain Waite says we may face Rebels today. Are you afraid?”
    â€œI’d be foolish not to be.” He gazes down at me as he wrestles with his boots. “Last night when I had to lower you over that cliff, my fear for you almost won out over my duty as a soldier. I should have gone in your place, but I doubted the men could hold my weight. Yet knowing I put you in harm’s way nearly bested me. So, yes, Gabriel, I have been afraid every moment of this march.”
    He clears his throat and says in his sergeant’s voice, “Wake Private Black. He needs to stoke the fire and fix breakfast. I’m going to roust the men. And then you need to help feed the horses.”
    â€œYes, Pa. I mean Sergeant