readjusted the bag on his shoulder and started toward one of the fancier houses when Reginald Keller staggeredinto the main street, his soaked clothes clinging to his body. Trailing behind Reggie was a little Indian who Duncan did not recognize.
“Hey!” Duncan called. “Babe! Where have you been?”
“Winter and I were captured, but we got loose,” Reggie said. He was shivering and his lips were blue. “We were held by some Confederate Indians.”
“Who the hell is this?” Duncan said.
“His name is Bill Bread,” Reginald said. “He says that he wants to join us.”
“He does, does he?” Duncan said. “Well, where’s Winter?”
“On the other side of the river.”
“What the hell is he doing there?”
“He’s with the nigger who sprung us loose,” Reggie said.
After hearing these words, Duncan felt as a mouse must when the shadow of a hawk passes by.
“Nigger?” Duncan said.
“Sorry, Mister Empire,” Reggie said. “I meant colored fellow.”
“What colored fellow?”
“His name was Freddy,” Duncan said.
“What did he say to you?” Duncan said, coming close to Reggie and putting his hand on the knife on his belt.
Bill stiffened. But Reggie was oblivious.
“He didn’t say nothing. He just turned us loose. Winter’s arm is busted and he couldn’t swim.”
“He didn’t say anything about how he came over there?” Duncan demanded.
“No,” Reggie said. “I don’t know where he came from.”
This one was too dumb to be lying, Duncan decided. Reggie didn’t know about what happened on the bridge. But there was no telling what Johnson had told Winter by now.
Duncan let go of his knife.
“Perhaps I’ll go look for him,” Duncan said. “You go on and find the lieutenant. Take this Indian with you.”
“Yes sir,” Reggie said. He walked down the street, hugging himself and shivering. Bill hesitated.
“Well, go on,” Duncan said. “Do you need a kick in the ass to get you moving, you reb turncoat?”
Duncan loped down to the edge of the water while Bill made his way back to the inn. The front door had been kicked in, the furniture knocked about. The innkeeper was nowhere to be found.
The keg of cider was gone, but after a frantic search, Bill found a bottle of brandy hidden away in the kitchen. The first swallow hit his nerves with soothing fire. He sighed, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead against the wallpaper. Then he walked back into the common room and sat by the window, where he had a fine view of the burning bridge.
He could see his uncle and Sevenkiller working with the other men to destroy the bridge. For three long years, he had done everything the Confederacy asked of him. Those days were over. He was free of the army, and free of his uncle. Free to drink, finally, drink the way he really wanted to. Without restraint. It was liberating and terrifying at the same time. Where would he go? What place was there for him in the peace?
His mind turned to Winter. He remembered the sound of the arm snapping in the barn. He saw the golden eyes looking at him, the pupils narrowed to black pinpricks, focused and drawn inward with hatred. That force of will. What could you do with will like that? Where would it take you? What could stop you? How would it all end?
Now Winter was waiting on the other side of the river. For what? Revenge against Sevenkiller? And the other man, the one who had asked Reggie
What colored fellow
and
What did he say to you
with his hand on his knife. Why was he crossing the river?
Bill took another drink. Strangely, he was not in as much of a hurry to get drunk as he would have expected. His mind kept drifting away from the drink, across the water, to what was happening there.
24
The Confederates made steady progress hacking up and burning the bridge, despite the rain splattering down from the slate-colored sky.
It was Early who first saw the slender strand of smoke rising fromthe mill. He walked to the edge of the bridge
“Hey!” Duncan called. “Babe! Where have you been?”
“Winter and I were captured, but we got loose,” Reggie said. He was shivering and his lips were blue. “We were held by some Confederate Indians.”
“Who the hell is this?” Duncan said.
“His name is Bill Bread,” Reginald said. “He says that he wants to join us.”
“He does, does he?” Duncan said. “Well, where’s Winter?”
“On the other side of the river.”
“What the hell is he doing there?”
“He’s with the nigger who sprung us loose,” Reggie said.
After hearing these words, Duncan felt as a mouse must when the shadow of a hawk passes by.
“Nigger?” Duncan said.
“Sorry, Mister Empire,” Reggie said. “I meant colored fellow.”
“What colored fellow?”
“His name was Freddy,” Duncan said.
“What did he say to you?” Duncan said, coming close to Reggie and putting his hand on the knife on his belt.
Bill stiffened. But Reggie was oblivious.
“He didn’t say nothing. He just turned us loose. Winter’s arm is busted and he couldn’t swim.”
“He didn’t say anything about how he came over there?” Duncan demanded.
“No,” Reggie said. “I don’t know where he came from.”
This one was too dumb to be lying, Duncan decided. Reggie didn’t know about what happened on the bridge. But there was no telling what Johnson had told Winter by now.
Duncan let go of his knife.
“Perhaps I’ll go look for him,” Duncan said. “You go on and find the lieutenant. Take this Indian with you.”
“Yes sir,” Reggie said. He walked down the street, hugging himself and shivering. Bill hesitated.
“Well, go on,” Duncan said. “Do you need a kick in the ass to get you moving, you reb turncoat?”
Duncan loped down to the edge of the water while Bill made his way back to the inn. The front door had been kicked in, the furniture knocked about. The innkeeper was nowhere to be found.
The keg of cider was gone, but after a frantic search, Bill found a bottle of brandy hidden away in the kitchen. The first swallow hit his nerves with soothing fire. He sighed, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead against the wallpaper. Then he walked back into the common room and sat by the window, where he had a fine view of the burning bridge.
He could see his uncle and Sevenkiller working with the other men to destroy the bridge. For three long years, he had done everything the Confederacy asked of him. Those days were over. He was free of the army, and free of his uncle. Free to drink, finally, drink the way he really wanted to. Without restraint. It was liberating and terrifying at the same time. Where would he go? What place was there for him in the peace?
His mind turned to Winter. He remembered the sound of the arm snapping in the barn. He saw the golden eyes looking at him, the pupils narrowed to black pinpricks, focused and drawn inward with hatred. That force of will. What could you do with will like that? Where would it take you? What could stop you? How would it all end?
Now Winter was waiting on the other side of the river. For what? Revenge against Sevenkiller? And the other man, the one who had asked Reggie
What colored fellow
and
What did he say to you
with his hand on his knife. Why was he crossing the river?
Bill took another drink. Strangely, he was not in as much of a hurry to get drunk as he would have expected. His mind kept drifting away from the drink, across the water, to what was happening there.
24
The Confederates made steady progress hacking up and burning the bridge, despite the rain splattering down from the slate-colored sky.
It was Early who first saw the slender strand of smoke rising fromthe mill. He walked to the edge of the bridge
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