“How many dead?”
Head dropping, she started to walk him toward the entrance to their little alcove. The way her shoulders stiffened beneath his arm told him he wasn’t going to like her answer long before she spoke. For a while, though, all he could focus on was the lancing pain each step sent up into his side.
“A lot, Sean.”
The familiarity with which she spoke to him, along with the sorrow darkening her voice, told him everything her hidden face wouldn’t.
“So where is it you are from, Ms. O’Brian?” He had to say something to drown out the sound of his manic heart.
As if sensing his distress, Cliste pushed her huge head higher beneath his hand. Her soft gray fur caressed his rough fingers, soothing him in the way only an animal could.
“New York.”
Thoughts torn between her and the battlefield they moved closer to, he had to force a smile. “Thought I recognized that accent. But for a moment there, I swear I almost heard a touch of Irish in it.”
She made a sound that was close to a laugh. “Aye, but my family has not immigrated as recently as you, from the sounds of it. My teachers in New York insisted on weeding out the ‘detestable brogue’ in my voice, as they put it. But upon hearing you, I find I rather like it.”
A true and easy smile came to his lips. “English bastards they must have been.”
“Aye, they were. Careful of the brush now.”
They left the small alcove behind and worked their way through the leafy green brush that choked the riverbank. His skin began to crawl and his muscles tightened with the desire to turn back to the safety of their hidden place. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Swallowing hard, he pushed through the last of the brush and laid eyes on Malvern Hill. His breath sucked in hard.
Bodies numbering in the hundreds lay strewn across the small hill and the field before it, painting the once green landscape crimson with blood and gore. Of those close enough to him to make out, he didn’t see any blue uniforms lying among the gray. A few living moved among the dead, gathering them up and hauling them off. In the fading light of dusk it was hard to tell, but Sean thought their uniforms were gray. Thankfully, none of them seemed close enough to see him and Ashlinn hovering by the river’s edge.
“We collected the dead as we returned to Harrison’s Landing, and as you can see, the Rebels have begun to collect theirs as well,” Ashlinn whispered.
“Then that means…” He couldn’t finish, couldn’t force the words out his constricted throat.
From the amount of bodies still on the field and from what he remembered of the battle, there had to have been thousands dead on both sides. Thousands. The realization struck him with the force of a cannon.
So many of his men dead… His knees went weak, making him rely on Ashlinn to hold him upright. Whining, Cliste pressed close to his side and rubbed her head against his leg. Both the warm woman against him and the concerned dog at his side helped bring him back from the brink of a breakdown. Now wasn’t the time to lose it, not when his life wasn’t the only one at stake.
“We have to get out of here,” he whispered, gaze darting about in search of the best route.
Plenty of brush grew along the river that they could dash into and hide if need be. Ashlinn nodded and started to move that direction as if reading his mind. Her arm was firm around his waist, offering as much support as her small frame could. Just enough of a drizzle came from the gray clouds above to leach the worst of the heat from the day. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to obscure them. But, considering the closest living person Sean could make out was too far away to even shoot at, chances were good that he and Ashlinn would blend into the scenery. He hoped.
As if sensing what they were about, Cliste slinked along before them, tail low, head swinging back and forth, checking the scents in the air. Each step was like a fresh stab in the side, but Sean took the pain and buried it deep within, not letting out so much as a whimper. He didn’t want to make Ashlinn worry. They couldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to risk her trying to talk him into it. By the time they reached the edge of the first forested area, he was gasping from the pain, unable to hide it any longer. Ashlinn pulled him into the cover of the trees and leaned him against the rough bark of a pine.
As she moved his coat aside to check his wound, his gaze traveled back to the field of battle. The hill still loomed in the distance like a nightmare that refused to be banished. They were far enough away now that he couldn’t see or smell the bodies, but such things were etched upon his memory. From the looks of it, they had barely traveled over a mile and already darkness began to steal across the land. While night would bring much needed cover, it would also make traveling on unknown terrain more difficult. They could follow the swath the Union army had cut through the landscape, but then they risked discovery by Rebel troops.
Even alone Sean would be reluctant to take such a risk. Knowing what the soldiers would do to Ashlinn if they captured her, there was no way he would risk it. During the past week of fighting, he and his regiment had traveled around this area enough that he was confident he could find his way back to Harrison’s Landing without the use of the marching road.
“You are bleeding again. We need to find somewhere to stop for the night,” Ashlinn whispered.
“Aye, but we have to find a better place to hide.”
She nodded and ducked under his arm again. Pausing only to relieve a dead soldier of his pack and gun, they traveled deeper into the forest. They communicated with gestures and looks instead of words whenever they could. The way she looked around, listened, and the ease with which she kept quiet impressed Sean. But it also made him wonder how often she traveled in enemy territory and why. Traveling with the medical wagons in the regiment surely wouldn’t imbue her with such skills.
Soon the forest surrounded them, the river birches becoming so thick the rain scarcely fell upon them anymore. The patter of it upon the diamond-shaped leaves overhead began to lull Sean into a sleepy daze. His feet were soon stumbling along in the near dark. When one boot caught beneath a fallen branch, Ashlinn’s strong hands were all that kept him from sprawling face first to the forest floor. Agony shot through his side as his muscles bunched in preparation for an impact that didn’t come.
“’Tis enough; we have to stop. Your wound is bleeding again,” she whispered as she inspected his side.
Out of breath as he was from the pain, he could hardly argue.
The panting of a dog preceded Cliste’s emergence from the dense undergrowth that choked the tightly packed birch trees before them. Tail wagging, she dashed up to Ashlinn, licked her nose without so much as a foot leaving the ground, then dashed back the way she had come. The dog’s antics were a stark reminder of her sheer size, which suddenly made Sean very grateful that she had taken to him. Ashlinn turned them to follow the hound.
Shrubs and ferns pulled at them from every direction as they plunged into the thick undergrowth. The deeper they went, the darker it became as the trees formed a complete canopy overhead. Even the small drizzle of rain that had been making it through ceased to fall upon them. Unfortunately, moisture was so thick upon the air that it coated everything and brushed off onto them. Despite the warm July evening, a chill began to creep across Sean’s skin and into his bones.
They came upon the twisting branches of a sycamore tree, many of which were low enough that they nearly touched the ground. The tree was so choked in by birch that he didn’t see it until they were nearly upon it. Leaving him to lean against one of the lowest branches, Ashlinn began digging in the pack they had picked up off the battlefield. Smooth bark supported him while the huge fanlike leaves with three points tickled his arms. Moisture transferred from the leaves to him, making him shiver when it touched his bare forearm. He drew