The Titans (38 page)

518The Waters of Wrath fleeing down to the Sudley Road. On the plateau the smoke was even thicker and more acrid. He caught sight of soldiers in red trousers and fezzes coming up the hillside on the regiment's left. Zouaves. But whose-his It was impossible to tell. The color bearers carried regimental and company flags and something that resembled the Stars and Bars. But all the banners hung limp. Stuart halted the regiment well beyond the trees and surveyed the scene. Gideon bent low over Dancer's neck as a stray Minie ball whined by. Suddenly the Zouaves coming onto the hill veered away from the First Virginia. They were heading for the Federal batteries. Stuart trotted toward the men in red, waving his saber: "Don't run, boys! We're here to help-was Major Duncan charged after him, shouting: "Colonel, are you sure those men are ours?" Stuart trotted a few yards closer. Abruptly, one Zouave rank knelt and fired at him. Stuart ducked. Major Duncan was blown out of the saddle. A Zouave color bearer whooped, waving his flag from side to side. "Son-of-a-fucking-bitch!" Jack Harris yelled. "Thirteen stripes-was "Lookit the regimental flag, Captain!" another man cried. "It's the llth New York!" "Fofaard-gallop!" Stuart howled, standing in his stirrups with his saber raised, indifferent to the musket balls whizzing around him. His saber slashed down, pointing at the enemy. Every man stood in his stirrups as the First Virginia charged. Gideon squinted into the yellow smoke, his teeth locked together. He tried to keep Dancer on a straight course, barely hearing the Zouave muskets because of the thundering horses. But he heard Jack Harris shriek, The Titans519 whipped his head around-and saw Hams" mount stumble, riderless- The First Virginia crashed against the front ranks of the Zouaves, horses rearing, sabers hacking. Men pitched from their saddles as the leading companies broke apart. Some troopers sheathed their swords and resorted to sidearms: shotguns; rifled muskets; pistols. Gideon saw a trooper blast a portly Zouave with a buck-and-ball. The Zouave seemed to Hft off the ground, his head bursting apart in a rain of gore and gristle. Now Gideon's own company was close to the melee. The smiling nonentity, Sunderlind, riding next to Gideon, flourished his saber: "Get "em! Kill the bast-was Abruptly, Sunderlind's eyes bulged. His blade jerked down, nicking Dancer's neck. The stallion lunged to the left, nearly unseating Gideon. Gideon booted the horse ahead, out of the way of the second lieutenant who was slipping sideways from the saddle, still staring at the fighting but not seeing it. A Zouave ball had torn Sunderlind's neck open. Spurring blood- That was why Gideon's cheek felt wet and warm. Sunderlind fell, lost amid the charge. The whole right side of Gideon's jacket was stippled red. He twisted around; saw Sunderlind lying in the parched and trampled grass. Troopers of J Company rode right over him, cracking his skull open. The 11th New York fired another volley. Gideon felt a ball pluck his left sleeve. I Company had reached the enemy; formations on both sides had already disintegrated. A stubble-faced Zouave lurched against Dancer, cursing. The man tried to jam the muzzle of his musket beneath Gideon's chin. Gideon brought his saber across and down; felt the blade hack cloth and flesh and bone. 520The Waters of Wrath He wrenched his head away as the musket discharged barely a foot from his ear. Then the Zouave dropped it, staring up at Gideon with astonished eyes. All at once the pain in his hacked arm penetrated his mind. He opened his mouth to scream. Gideon ran him through the throat. The quick charge had broken the Zouaves. They went scrambling away across the hill or back toward the Turnpike. Gideon rallied his men and followed an enemy company fleeing down to the curve of Young's Branch. There was no orderliness to the pursuit. Four troopers rode on Gideon's right flank, three on his left. Two of the retreating Zouaves threw down their weapons and flung themselves on the ground. One screamed, "We're done. It's their black horse cavalry-to " Saber in his right hand, Gideon cocked a Colt with his left. He rode close enough to a Zouave to shoot him through the chest. Stupid damn Yanks, he thought as the soldier fell. The First Virginia rode bays and roans and grays. Disorderly bands from the 11th New York reached the Turnpike and ran in the direction of the stone bridge. The rout was complete. Gideon signaled his men to a halt just this side of Young's Branch; looked back and saw soldiers in gray swarming over the two Federal batteries, shooting and bayoneting horses and men. The 33rd Virginia had charged from the pines where Jackson stood. He heard bugling. The signal to reassemble. He led his men-perhaps twenty of them-toward a thicket at the western edge of the Henry House Hill. Noise on the battlefield distorted sound, but he thought the bugling had come from there. He was wrong. Reaching the thicket, he saw no sign of Stuart Men on lathered horses crowded around him. A private shouted, "Where's the regiment, Lieutenant?" The Titans521 "I don't know. I can't see the colors anywhere-was "How many men lost, Lieutenant?" "I don't know that either. I saw Sunderlind fall. And Harris-was "Horses, too. Fifteen or twenty-was A hand pounded Gideon's shoulder. He looked around at Rodney Arbuckle's grinning, dusty face: "Hell of a fight, huh?" Rodney's eyes shone as he displayed his revolver. "I got me two for sure." Gideon had gotten a couple himself. But he felt no joy because of it; and he was too shaken for more than a touch of pride. The First Virginia had prevented the 11th New York from rushing to the defense of the two Federal batteries he glimpsed through the smoke clouds. The 33rd Virginia was swarming all over the Yank arr tillerymen, locked in vicious hand-to-hand combat. But when Gideon gazed back at the bodies of the Zouaves on the hillside, his eyes were bleak. Those were men, not dummies of straw- A scout galloped past the thicket, halting long enough to shout that President Davis had reached the field; had come on the cars from Richmond because he'd heard the battle was going badly and hoped to rally the men- Gideon wasn't interested: "We're part of the First Virginia. Have you seen our colors?" "On the Sudley road," the scout cried, then galloped on. Gideon sagged in his saddle, aware of the men watching him. The charge and pursuit had separated them from the main part of the regiment, and he was uncertain about what to do. He had no idea whether the scout's information was reliable. In the smoke it was easy to make a wrong identification of flags or uniforms. He hid his indecision by delaying. He shoved the Colt's back into his sash. Reached for the canteen hanging from his saddle and discovered 522The Waters of Wrath both sides of the canteen had been drilled through by an enemy ball without his even being aware of it "Lieutenant?" "What?" "We going back to the Sudley road?" "I guess we should. Form up. Column of twos-was The men maneuvered their mounts, congratulating one another. But Gideon knew the Yanks weren't licked yet. On the far side of the Henry House Hill another wave of blue infantry was charging the summit in a rank that seemed half a mile wide. He tried to close his mind to the sounds of cannonading; musketry; the eerie counterpoint of men moaning and crying out all over the field. No, the Yanks weren't licked by a damn sight. There was still plenty of time left for a man to die- He wanted to lie down and rest. But Stuart had taught his troopers to call on strength they didn't know they had. Though Gideon's arm felt leaden, he raised his saber: "Foraard-fro!" Five minutes later, they found the colors. Holding a position on the Sudley-Manassas road, the First Virginia saw more heavy fighting during the rest of that incredible afternoon. Endless companies and regiments and brigades surged back and forth contesting possession of the Henry House Hill. The regiment launched a second charge at fresh Union troops on the road, and scattered them. Gideon killed one more Yank, wounded two and narrowly missed being gutted by a bayonet. As the riders turned back, Stuart brought up a light battery and wheeled it into the trees overlooking the The Titans523 body-littered highway. The cannon blasted Yank brigades from Heintzleman's division attempting to turn the Confederate left. The First Virginia thundered forward in one more short, devastating attack and cleared the road again. It was impossible to find out what was happening elsewhere, though it seemed to Gideon that more and more Yanks were retreating up the Sudley road or across Young's Branch to the Centreville highway. Still, there were conflicting reports: McDowell had been swept from the Henry House Hill. No, he hadn't. The two Federal batteries-Ricketts" and Griffin's-had been lost and retaken three times. The action was still fierce, the outcome uncertain. Then Gideon heard Colonel Jubal Early's brigade was quick-marching from the extreme right end of Beau- regard's original line. And a last brigade from Winchester -Kirby Smith's-was coming off the cars to reinforce Early. Finally, Early's brigade appeared on the Confederate left, muskets spouting fire and smoke, bayonets at the ready. One of the strangest sounds Gideon had ever heard pierced the smoke pall: As Early's men charged to secure the Sudley road, they began to wail. Wail-that was the only word for it. The cry started deep in the throats of a few men, then spread, rising in pitch, growing louder and louder-a terrifying yell of rebel defiance- Gideon heard it from Early's left flank, where he was galloping through more of those oak trees with eleven men left under his immediate command. He'd again become separated from the regimental colors. He listened to the yell and shivered. It was savage cry; a defiant bay rising from a thousand throats- That was the beginning of the end. Early's brigade hit 524The Waters of Wrath the Union troops. Shooting, clubbing, stabbing. The Yanks broke and ran for the Turnpike. Gideon and his troopers swung back to the road. Caught up with one of Early's companies. Saw exultation on young, bearded faces. "Where's Stuart?" he shouted. He got more answers than he wanted: "Chasin' the Yanks up to Sudley Springs." "Naw, he's runnin' them down the Turnpike. We're gonna have that bridge over Bull Run in half an hour!" The battle had degenerated into near-leaderless confusion on the Confederate side; total confusion on the other. Lacking reliable information, Gideon decided on pursuit toward Centreville. Soon he was north of the Turnpike, leading his eleven men northeast They were reduced to ten by a Confederate marksman in some briars at the foot of Matthews Hill. He had confused the soiled hussar jackets with Union blue and shot one of Gideon's men out of the saddle as they rode by. The troopers wanted to go after the marksman isiond kill him, but Gideon held them back. Enemy soldiers were streaming northeastward, their army totally destroyed. Near Bull Run, Gideon disand his men caught up with a panting Union corporal. Gideon iidn't flinch when Rodney shot the corporal in the back of the head. The troopers reined in and surveyed the stone bridge. Now the Confederates occupied it, moving artillery up and blasting shells into the smoke clouds hiding the hills where those Washington picnickers were supposed to be gathered. The bridge was impassable. Gideon led his ten up the brown stream to a ford, crossed there and cut back to the Turnpike. Near the highway they dismounted and holed up in a thicket, to rest and pick off Yanks running wildly toward Centreville by themselves or in groups. The Yanks The Titans525 no longer had any semblance of organization-or even any officers that Gideon could see. The time in the thicket was a respite and a turkey shoot too. After a while he tired of emptying his revolvers at the demoralized Yanks. He also had an uneasy f eeling he'd led his troopers in the wrong direction. He saw no more men from the First Virginia. Perhaps Stuart was up on the Sudley road after all. Sick of watching the Yanks fall, he ordered his ten to mount. They'd turn west again and try to locate the regiment. The Turnpike was temporarily clear. Down by the stone bridge, cannon boomed. A shell went screaming overhead, invisible in the murk. Gideon trotted his men out of the thicket. An instant later a Union platoon appeared on the road to the right. Gideon wheeled his riders, drew his saber and shouted the command to charge. Most of the Yanks scattered to the shoulders of the Turnpike, but kept going. A few stood and fired. Gideon lost three more. The Union soldiers vanished and Gideon's remaining troopers scattered in pursuit Soon he was alone. JH-EVERY hallooed into the drifting smoke. Got a faint answer far to his left. He searched the south side of the road for the next ten minutes but found no one. With a terrible thirst scalding his throat, he headed Dancer back toward the highway. The three men who had fallen were dead. What to do now? He'd lost his command. But he still had ammunition for the brace of revolvers. He still had his saber. And he was unharmed. Since the Yanks were running east, he'd go that way, too. See whether he could find some of his men. He didn't really want to go. But he felt he had no choice. 526The Waters of Wrath As the steaming July Sunday drew to a close, Gideon rode up the Warrenton Turnpike through clouds of smoke hanging between the hills in the still air. Occasionally, out on either side of the highway, he glimpsed men in blue moving in the same direction. Not a one of them paid any attention to him. The Confederate pursuers seemed almost as disorganized. Frequently Gideon spied groups of them chasing the Union stragglers north and south of the Turnpike. He passed others on their knees beside Yank corpses. The Confederates were manhandling the bodies; stripping them of equipment. Ammunition. Canteens. Even buttons. Drawing close to a slight curve in the road, he heard screaming up ahead; screaming so raw and full of hurt, the cries of the wounded on the battlefield seemed like lullabies by comparison. Shortly, he jogged by the source of the hideous noise-a tent erected at the roadside. The canvas facing the highway was pinned back. Inside, hazy lanterns burned. Men thrashed on wood trestle tables. Surgeons with forceps probed for bullets. Others were busy sawing off injured limbs. The arms, faces and aprons of the doctors were slopped with the blood of their shrieking patients. At the eastern edge of the tent he saw a four-foot- high pile of amputated arms, legs, hands, feet. Fly- covered. Stinking. He kicked Dancer ahead, reined in and leaned to the left, vomiting. Sour fluid spattered his left leg. It took him some time to stop retching. Afterward he felt faint. He encountered a band of jubilant
Confederates sur The Titans527 rounding eight miserable prisoners. One of the men in gray called to him: "You better hurry up if you want to catch any Yanks, Mr. Cavalry. Most of "em are in Centreville already. They ain't gonna stop till they're safe in Papa Lincoln's arms-ain't that right, you pig-fucker?" The man gigged one of his prisoners with a bayonet The prisoner lowered his head and kept walking; tears trickled down through the dirt on his cheeks. A little further on, a familiar figure came lurching out of the darkening smoke. Gideon sucked in a breath: "Jesus-Rodneyl" Rodney Arbuckle stopped on the shoulder as Gideon rode to him. Suddenly Gideon's stomach began hurting again. The lower left side of Rodney's hussar jacket showed blood. A corner of the Stars and Bars he carried next to his belly hung down to his crotch. Rodney had three canteens slung over his right shoulder. He held a rifle in his right hand, and something small in his left. A pair of oddly shaped iron plates connected by a link chain dangled over his left forearm. Though he was weaving from side to side, Rodney grinned: "Damnation, Gid. Where'd you come from?" "From where we hit that Union platoon and got separated." He jumped down and rushed to Rodney's side. "You're hit-was "Scratch, that's all. Guess Jeb was right. Doesn't pay to lose the rest of your company. Couldn't help it, though. Wanted to chase those Yanks." "So did I. Wasn't smart." Gideon meant it. He'd permitted his little band to violate the very rule he'd lectured Rodney about "Where've you been since we broke up?" he asked. "Up an" down the fields alongside this road. Hunting souvenirs. Gid, you've never seen such a mess as there is up ahead!" 528The Waters of Wrath "Where?" "That little wood bridge over the next creek. Cub Run, I think it is. A couple of shells hit just as some Yank wagons were crossin'. I was right beside the bridge when all hell tore loose." "What happened?" "The Yanks went crazy. Cut their teams free. Left everything-includin" ambulances with wounded inside. Then a lot of buggies started comin' down from the hills and that made the jam all the worse. I had to ford the creek "cause there was no way to get over the bridge. God, you never saw such a commotion! Our boys started haulin" prisoners in right and left. Not just soldiers, either. Ladies and gents in those fancy rigs-was "The sightseers." "Yessir. I heard we even caught a New York Congressman." Gideon thought his friend was about to fall. He grabbed Rodney's arm. Rodney pried his fingers away: "I don't need any help, Gid. It's nothin' but a teeny nick in the ribs. I lost Red Eye, though. Some blasted Yank teamster took a shot at me while I was splashin' across Cub Run. Drilled poor Red Eye square in the head. Second shot-was He lifted his left arm. The peculiar metal plates clanked together. "comwent through here." With horror, Gideon saw the hole the ball had torn above Rodney's left hip. "Not bleeding much any more," Rodney added. "Better let me look at it anyway." "No, you go on and try to find some of the others." "You haven't seen any of them?" "Nope." "Nor Stuart either?" "Not a sign." "Then I did pick the wrong direction. Damn." greater-than The Titans529 Rodney licked his lips. "You go on now, Gid-was "Not till I take care of you." "Dammit, it's a scratch, that's all! I feel fit as a spring peeper comin' out to croak in the moonlight." He didn't look it. His face had broken out in a sweat that streaked the dust on his cheeks. He dropped the rifle on the ground and touched the bit of flag sticking out below his jacket: "Bled a little on this, though. "Course, that doesn't hurt. When I send the flag along to Nancy with the rest of this stuff, the blood'll prove I saw the elephant and looked him square in the eye." "Rodney, you listen to me. There's a field hospital a little ways back. You stop and have a surgeon check you." Rodney ignored him. "Just feast your eyes on this gear I picked up for Nancy-was He drooped his right shoulder. The canteens rattled and clacked. Then he kicked the rifle. "The Yanks are throwin" it away! Look-was He opened his left hand. Gideon saw some sort of implement resembling a clasp knife. "Those blue boys sure travel better'n we do. This here's a knife, fork and spoon all in one. Folds up nice and neat, doesn't it?" Gideon tapped the other souvenir-the sculptured iron plates. Originally they'd been connected by two link chains. One of the chains was broken. "What the devil is this thingamajig, Rodney?" "Don't you know a vest when you see one?" "A vest-to " Finally the contours of the iron plates made sense. "Guess someone sold "em to the Yanks to protect 'em from bullets. Weighs half a ton, but Nancy'll be tickled to have-was He swallowed. Squeezed his eyes shut. He seemed unsteadier than ever. Gideon grasped both his arms. 530The Waters of Wrath "comto have it," Rodney finished, opening his eyes. Again he wriggled free of Gideon's hands. "Maybe I will stop at that hospital and have 'em slap on a dressing. It hurts a little bit." "Be careful. There are still Yanks moving out there." "Moving! They're runnin" like hell. We whipped "em, Gid. We whipped 'em for fair!" "Yes," Gideon nodded slowly, "it's" beginning to seem as if we did." "See you when the regiment's together again." Gideon looked sour. "Whenever that is." Rodney picked up the captured rifle, wincing. Gideon frowned but said nothing. He watched his friend wave and stagger off. When Rodney finally disappeared, he walked back to Dancer. Pulling his body into the saddle was an excruciating chore. He felt older than Methusaleh. iv At Cub Run, the bridge was still blocked by wagons marked U.s. Army. Some were upright, some overturned. He met soldiers escorting bands of Yankee prisoners. One group consisted of two elegantly dressed young women and a Federal officer whose uniform bore no marks of battle, only dust "A few of the picnic crowd?" Gideon asked one of the boys in gray. "Yes, sir. This here major spent the afternoon ex- pla*" to the young ladies-Miss Partridge and Miss Claire of Washington City-how General McDowell was gonna beat the tar out of us. The major an' the ladies were packin' up the last of their fried chicken when we come across "em. We ate the chicken an" caught the birds." The Titans531 Laughter. One of the young women began to weep. The major put his arm around her, staring at his captors with sullen eyes. Gideon forded Cub Run upstream from the bridge. He couldn't believe the tangle of overturned carriages and Federal wagons blocking the road on the other side. One civilian wagon-an odd, oversized wooden box on wheels-gave off a hideous chemical stench. Wide pieces of black cloth dangled between splintered rear doors. The staved-in side bore an arch of lettering-M. BRADY PHOTOGRAPHY. A smaller, horizontal line centered beneath the arch said Washington City. Smoke drifted over the wreckage. A wheel on an empty Federal ambulance still revolved slowly, squeaking. Gideon tried to guess the time. Five o'clock or later, to judge from the slant of the sun. He heard a faint rattle of musketry from the direction of Centreville. He knew it was his duty to continue that way and search for his remaining men. But he was tired. Tired and alone and wishing he were standing close to Margaret; touching her; telling her yes, God, yes, she was right, it was cruel and dirty business, even when a victory was won. While Dancer drank from Cub Run, a company of Confederate infantry came along. The men scrambled through the shallow water on the other side of the bridge. The foot soldiers were whistling; joshing; exchanging obscenities about the Yanks. The first disciplined gray unit Gideon had seen in hours. The infantrymen hailed Gideon as he knelt beside the stallion, scooping water to his parched mouth. He returned the hails with a listless wave. Dancer kept lapping the water; couldn't get enough. The soldiers reassembled beyond the wrecked wagons and marched away toward Centreville. Suddenly, on the opposite bank of the creek and some twenty yards 532The Waters of Wrath north, a man in blue dashed out of the underbrush. He leaped into the shallows, his rifle clutched in front of his chest. Too late, he saw Gideon. Gideon reached for one of the Colts in his sash. The Yank stopped in the water, white-lipped. Gideon pulled the revolver. Drew the hammer back. The Yank's hands whitened on his weapon. An immense tiredness and a sense of futility overcame Gideon. He couldn't bring himself to fire. The Yank stared at him a moment longer, then bolted back to the bank and raced upstream. He vanished in the smoke. Presently Gideon heard splashing. The man had crossed. He didn't care. Riding back toward the stone bridge, he still felt thirsty. He could tell from the foam on Dancer's muzzle that the stallion needed more water, too. He took to the shoulder as four Confederate ambulances came grinding up from Cub Run. Each canvas- topped two-wheeled vehicle was drawn by a single horse. The uniform of the first driver showed blood from shoulder to knee. The other three drivers were only a little cleaner. Inside the ambulances Gideon heard the incoherent voices of men in pain. The left front wheel of the leading ambulance hit a large stone, bounced over and down, hard. A man shrieked. "Godamighty," Gideon whispered. The shriek dwindled away. The ambulances rolled on. He raised one hand to cover his face. "Godamighty." The Titans533 vi About a quarter mile further on, he was riding slowly when he saw a lanky figure in a filthy light blue uniform lying face down, legs on the shoulder, head in the ditch. He reined Dancer to a halt. A few feet this side of the body, two vest-shaped iron plates lay in the dirt. A foot closer, the rifle and the canteens. Almost under Dancer's muzzle he spied the combination utensil. Gideon's throat filled with bile as he dismounted and started walking. He could tell Rodney was dead; his back showed no signs of breathing. The little nick hadn't been so little- Gideon rubbed his eyes. They seemed unusually blurred and wet. He raised his head at the sound of boots tramping on the road. A disorderly column of Confederate infantry appeared from the direction of the stone bridge. He wanted to run away. Run as fast and as far as he could. But he clenched his hands and took a step toward the body. Another- At last he knelt and reached for Rodney's shoulder. His mind was a jumble: Souvenirs for Nancy- Separation means risk- My fault. "Hey, you!" a sergeant shouted from the head of the column rapidly drawing abreast of him. "What unit you from?" Without glancing up, Gideon said, "First Virginia Cavalry." "Come along an' join the fun. Old Stone Wall says-was "Who?" 534The Waters of Wrath "Old Jackson. He says if he can rally five thousand boys, we can be in Washington City by morning. Wouldn't you like to get to Washington City?" Gideon stared at the passing faces. An enormous rage was building within him. A rage directed at everything in creation: the marching men with their idiot grins; the heat; the smoke; the slaughter that wasn't glorious, but ghastly- His fatigued face had the look of a skull. Other soldiers shouted: "Comin'?" "Hey, what do you say?" was say go to hell. I don't give a goddamn if I never see Washington City." Several men swore at him before the column disappeared. To reach the flag under Rodney's jacket, he had to roll him over. Look at his open eyes. At the lips already a little blue and peeled back from his teeth in what might have been a puzzled smile. Carefully, he pulled the Stars and Bars free. As Rodney had said, the flag was bloodied; still damp. Some of the blood smeared Gideon's fingers. Clutching the flag against his side, he staggered into the ditch, vomiting up the water he'd swallowed at Cub Run. vii The closer he came to the stone bridge, the more traffic he encountered. He rode past couriers; advancing units; ambulances. Rodney's flag was folded over his sash on his right hip. He was feeling a little better. Less lightheaded- But no less guilty. He'd led Rodney and the rest away from the regiment; away from the safety of numbers. The Titans535 When he came to Boll Run, he decided to water Dancer again. And try to drink a little himself. The spasms in his belly had eased. After the stop, he'd ride to the junction and search for his regiment northward on the Sudley Road. He didn't want to go back to the regiment. It was his duty. Nothing else would have influenced his decision. He'd seen too much in the hours since the boom of the great Parrott gun had awakened him before dawn. He'd survived the day. He'd fought without letting his fear get the better of him. But he'd seen too much, and most of it he loathed. He cut away from the Turnpike at the bridge, hoping to go down to the stream near the arches. The way was blocked. By dead bodies. Scores of them-all in Union blue-lay along both banks. He presumed the men had been shot down while retreating. Here and there among the corpses he saw a hand twitch. A shoulder lift. Beneath a mound of five or six corpses, someone was crying. Bodies floated in the stream as well. The water was more red than brown. How many more streams would be reddened before all this was done? How much more wrath would be unleashed? How far would it spread? To the Deep South? Across the West? Into the North? Over the entire country? Would there be death and suffering along the waters of the whole nation before there was an end, and peace among Americans again? You've got to remember comwhy you're fighting. Independence. The right to be let alone- He tried to remember. But he only kept thinking of the price. It was exactly what Margaret had promised. Angry at his own weakness, he bowed his head and 536The Waters of Wrath held Dancer's rein until the worst of the chaotic feelings passed. Then, despite the litter of dead, he found a path to the edge and dismounted. Bull Run smelled foul. Maybe it was the stench from men whose bowels had loosened as they died. But he knew he couldn't swallow a drop of that scarlet water, even if he perished of thirst. Dancer shied. Kept backing and bumping against him, as unwilling as his master to taste the tainted stream. Finally, the gray put his muzzle down. But he kept backing and bumping his hindquarters against Gideon, and twitching his tail as he drank the water and the blood. vui About four yards behind Gideon, the Massachusetts boy opened his eyes. He blinked, puzzled. His genitals felt wet and hurt like fury. He knew he was gone. Gradually a little feeling returned to his right hand, which was still curled around the muzzle of his rifled musket. His eyes focused. He saw a yellow-haired man and a horse directly in front of him at the water's edge. The man seemed to be trying to get the balky horse to drink. It would lap a little, then shy and switch its hindquarters, bumping the man- The boy's tongue edged