Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia by Jessica James Page A

arms around her to
comfort her and she responded by burying her head against his shoulder as if in
desperate need. Daniel drew her even closer then, surprised at her softness and
fragile vulnerability.
    She pulled away after only a few moments and
stared at the ground as if confused. “I think I’d better say good night,
Colonel Delaney.” Removing the saddle and placing it over a post, she turned
and started walking toward the mill.
    “It’s Daniel. I wish you wouldn’t be so formal
when we’re alone.”
    Andrea stopped, looked back over her shoulder,
and smiled. “Well then, good night—Daniel.”
     “That sounds better. Good night—Andrea.”

Chapter
11
     
    “Madness in great ones must not unwatch’d go.”
    –  Hamlet, Shakespeare
     
    The camp lay wrapped in deep silence a little
before dawn when Daniel stumbled onto the wide wooden porch of the mill and
stretched. Drawing in a deep breath of the fresh, cool air, he pulled his
suspenders over his shoulders and started down the steps. The flickering light
from a campfire caught his eye, followed by the sight of a solitary figure
silhouetted against the flames.
    Daniel could tell upon his approach her mind was
miles away. She seemed to be staring into the fire in deep—and
private—reflection. “Sinclair,” he said in case anyone was about. “You get any
sleep?”
    Startled, Andrea looked up and shrugged. “Yes,
sir. A little.”
    Daniel pulled a pot of coffee off the fire,
cursing under his breath when he burned his fingers, and poured the warm liquid
into a battered tin cup. He wondered why she sat up awake when she looked so
dreadfully tired.
    “Well, I’m glad to see someone’s up keeping the
coffee hot,” he said teasingly. Andrea nodded slightly, but her gaze remained
locked on the fire.
    Glancing up at the sky, as all soldiers do when
they know they have a ride ahead of them, Daniel smiled when he saw a few
stars. Good. No rain—for a little while anyway.
    “I ah, need a guide,” he said, taking a sip of
coffee and grimacing at its strength. “Was going to wake up Logan, but since
you’re up—if you’re willing.”
    He did not have time to finish. Andrea jumped to
her feet, took a final gulp of coffee, dumped the rest, and limped quickly to
the picket line.
    “I didn’t even tell you where I’m going,” Daniel
said after catching up.
    “Doesn’t matter,” Andrea answered. “I don’t like
sitting around camp.”
    Yes, I’ve noticed that, he thought as he
spread a map on his horse’s rump and lit a match. “I’m heading here.”
    Andrea nodded, barely giving the map a glance.
“I’m familiar. Let’s go.”
    After refolding the map, Daniel gave her a leg
up on her prancing beast, then swung into his own saddle with easy grace.
Riding a few paces behind the silent figure, he watched her drift into the
night with the ease of one familiar with its depths.
    Daniel
remained silent, but noticed Andrea took her business seriously, constantly
scanning the terrain and studying the ground. Instead of following the road as
he assumed she would, she directed him into a grove of pines. He followed her
by sound, not sight, for under the cover of the trees he could barely see his
hand in front of his face.
    After a few miles, Andrea reined in Justus while
pulling a spyglass from her saddle. When she finished looking at the horizon,
she handed it to Daniel, then circled her prancing horse back into the shadows
of the trees.
    Pointing the spyglass in the same direction,
Daniel saw the image of shadowy horsemen about a mile away, standing in bold
relief against the sun rising behind them. He watched in disbelief as they came
row after row over a hill, the Southern Cross fluttering proudly in their
midst.
    “I saw tracks when we crossed the road a ways
back.” Andrea’s voice was low and hushed. “Their advance must have come through
right before us. I figure about two hundred cavalry and at least one
fieldpiece. What thinks