Lincoln's Wizard by Tracy Hickman, Dan Willis

nodded.
    “Let the cows out into the south pasture, but keep that dragon of yours away from ’em or they’ll be off their milk for a week,” he said, pointing off behind the barn. “You’ll find my horse inside. If you take the road east from here, you’ll find a rail station after about five miles. You can send your message from there.”
    With that the old man turned and whistled. A young woman carrying a baby came running from the house and crossed the intervening space to steps that disappeared down to a root cellar. An old woman followed, walking stiffly in the damp air. Her gnarled hands hung down where her fingers were grasped by two little children. There were no men; they had all gone to serve in the war.
    “Good luck to ya,” the old man said as turned to follow his family to the safety of the underground shelter.
    “You, too, old timer,” Marcus said, then turned his attention to the barn.
    O O O
    Braxton fought the urge to pace for the tenth time in the last quarter hour. There just wasn’t room for it in the tiny lifeboat. The good news was that the wind continued to blow them east. The bad news was that they still had no idea where they were, and dawn was coming fast.
    “Captain?” Sergeant Young asked from the bow.
    Braxton leaned around the sleeping form of Private Wilson so he could see Young.
    “I see something, sir,” he said, keeping his voice low lest it carry to someone on the ground. “I think that’s the Tennessee River.”
    Braxton leaned over the side. The solid tree cover had given way to rolling hills and flat fields. A farmhouse sat squat on the edge of a little wood, but no lights shone yet in its windows. He looked along the line where Young pointed, and sure enough, a dark black patch of midnight seemed to wind its way through the countryside.
    “I see it, too,” he said. “Can you tell where we are?”
    Young stared over the side for a long time before he answered.
    “I think that’s Coalwood Bend,” he said pointing at something only obvious to him. “That means the bridge should be … there.”
    At the sound of his declaration, several men whom Braxton would have sworn were asleep, lunged up and crowded the rail. Unbalanced, the little lifeboat tipped dangerously.
    “One at a time,” Braxton hissed, diving into the port side of the boat.
    “You heard the captain,” The Sergeant said. “You men see to your gear.”
    “I see it, too,” Corporal Davis said. “We’re going to drift right by it.”
    “If we land here, it’ll only be a few miles walk to the bridge,” Young said. “There’s nothing but small farms and grazing land on this side of the river. Chances are we can hide the boat without being spotted.”
    With the men back in their places and the boat level again, Braxton dared to look over the side.
    “Will the wind take us across the river?” he asked.
    “I think so,” Young said. “But not until we pass the bridge.”
    “What if we set her down in the water?” Braxton said. “We can scuttle the boat and then there’s no risk anyone will find it.”
    “There won’t be any cover on the water,” Sergeant Young said. “Anyone looking is sure to see us.”
    Braxton looked up at the dark sky. Dawn was at least an hour off. “We’ll risk it,” Braxton decided.
    Young opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, apparently thinking better of it.
    A quarter of an hour passed as the lifeboat drifted slowly past the railroad bridge. The bridge was an old one, with dozens of trestles rising up to support the tracks in a latticework of support. The trestles converged on pylons driven into the river bottom, that was their weakest point. If his unit took out two adjacent pylons on either side it would cause a cascading failure that would bring the whole bridge down.
    “We’d better start losing altitude,” Young said. “If you still mean to hit the water, sir.”
    Startled out of his contemplations, Braxton realized that they had passed