Traveller (24 page)

I guess she was right there, Tom, too, as I'll tell you if you'll settle down and keep still. Oh, yeah, sure you can wash—that ain't no disturbance. ‘Going to wash behind your ears? They always say that's a sign it's fixing to rain.

Now what was I telling you last night? I remember—'twas how the weather got warmer, warn't it, and how the Blue men came back over the river into the town? And how Cap-in-His-Eyes was crazy to attack ‘em, but Marse Robert wouldn't ‘low him. He figured that would be a waste, on ‘count of that was what they wanted us to do. Them coming over into the town—that was what us soldiers call a stratagem, Tom, you see. ‘Twas s'posed to deceive us. Only it didn't work. Marse Robert was a sight too smart for any o' that sorta hogwash. He waves his hand upriver, pointing.

“The main attack's coming from above,” he says. And then he tells Cap-in-His-Eyes he has to get all his fellas up and away that very night.

I remember that night well. ‘Twas full moonlight, near'bouts bright as day. The Fat General's men went first. He was one of Old Pete's commanders—General McLaws. Myself, I always liked the Fat General, ‘cause he usually had a word and a pat for me, however busy we was. He was real short and stout, dark and swarthy, with a big black beard. And the way I sized him up, he warn't one of our cleverest generals, but his men thought the world of him and he was what you'd call stubborn. In fact, I don't remember that him and his fellas was ever once shifted by the Blue men. Where they was put, there they stayed put. Marse Robert had a lot of confidence in him.

When his fellas had marched off, Cap-in-His-Eyes followed. Jest as they'd got under way, Jine-the-Cavalry rode up and Vot-you-voz along with him, and they evidently had a whole lot to tell Marse Robert— stuff they'd found out ‘bout the Blue men upriver, I reckon. I was ‘longside Skylark for a while, so I asked him what was a-going on.

“Why,” says Skylark, “there's a whole power of the enemy upstream in the forest—horse, foot and guns—this side of the river, too, and they're reckoning on rolling us up.”

“D'you figure they will?” I asked. Next moment I felt real ‘shamed. As a soldier I shouldn't ‘a said any sech thing, but it jest slipped out.

Skylark looks at me out'n the side of one eye.

“D'you ever hear the story,” he says, “‘bout the vet who was going to give a big pill to a horse? He'd got this pill in a tube, and he was countin' on blowing it down the horse's throat. Well, he put one end in the horse's mouth and he was all set to blow.”

“What happened?” I asked, ‘cause he'd stopped.

“The horse blowed first,” said Skylark. “If you want to have a good time, Traveller, jine the cavalry.” I was still thinking ‘bout that when his master unhitched him and off they went.

By morning there come a thick fog—that place seemed to specialize in fogs—but this time it favored us, ‘cause the Blue men down by the river, they couldn't nohow tell what we was up to, you see. Marse Robert and me spent the morning fixing the guns, jest to give ‘em a few surprises if'n they happened to try anything when the fog lifted. It warn't till afternoon we set off upstream on the same road I came down when I'd given Marse Rob sech a hard ride, ‘time we arrived in the storm. It looked different now, but you know, Tom, a lively horse that's interested in his work can always recognize anywhere he's been before.

It warn't long ‘fore I heared musketry. I figured it must be Cap-in-His-Eyes and his fellas firing at the Blue men, and I was right. But ‘fore we reached him we overtook Red Shirt's lot—the Light Division, as they called ‘em. Oh, Tom, you should ‘a seed the way them marching men was jest eating up the miles! They warn't singing—jest marching ‘long mighty quick, thousands of feet beating down the dust of the road, and their ‘coutrements jingling as they went. Then they halted a while, and as we rode past—Marse Robert and me and all the rest of headquarters—they cheered him like you never heared in all your born days. Marse Robert, he seemed—well—touched that they was so glad to see him, and I remember him doing something he never done till then. He raised his hat to ‘em and held it over his head. All them fellas jest went wild. They was shouting, “See that glorious head! God bless it! God bless it!” When they started up to marching again, Marse Robert halted the whole of headquarters to stand and watch ‘em go by.

‘Twas some time after that when we come up with Cap-in-His-Eyes. He was wearing the uniform he'd had on for the battle in the snow. His fellas was all strung out, firing into the woods, and best I could see, the Blue men was falling back in front of ‘em. Marse Robert left him and rode off to have a bit of a scout around, but I somehow felt he didn't like the look of that there forest. I didn't blame him, neither. You couldn't see no ways on ‘count of the trees and all the brush, and I reckoned that for us to try to go forward into that place, with the enemy already in there, was the quickest way to get us all shot to bits. It reminded me of them little creeks and thickets where I'd seed my first battles the summer before, ‘cepting the swamps was smaller.

‘Twas twilight—well after sunset—when Marse Robert rode back to Cap-in-His-Eyes. We caught up with him at a crossroads in the forest, I remember, and him and Marse Robert went over by some pine trees and sat theirselves down on a log to talk.

Me and Sorrel, we was both hitched nearby. Sorrel seemed depressed, and after a while I asked him what was wrong.

“That's jest it,” he said. “I wish I knowed. Traveller, there's something badly wrong.”

“You can't mean we're going to be beat?” I asked him.

“No, ‘tain't that,” he answered. “‘Tain't as bad as that—and yet it's worse, too. I jest can't make it out rightly, Traveller. You—what d'you think o' this here how-d'ye-do?”

All I could see was our two masters talking together, Major Taylor's soldier grooming his horse and Bryan and Perry getting supper ready; and that's what I told him. But Sorrel didn't perk up none. ‘Twarn't like him to be gloomy, and I said so.

“Maybe it's jest this dad-blamed wilderness,” he said. “I never did like a lot of thick trees. Jest no telling what's in among ‘em. Might be our fellas, might be the enemy. Best to shoot first and ask afterwards. Yes!” he said suddenly. “Yes! That's what I can see now, Traveller! Men who shoot first and ask afterwards.” He stopped. Then he said again, “Men who shoot first and ask afterwards. It's bad—
bad
!”

Later on, Marse Robert called Major Talcott and another officer and sent ‘em off to see what the Blue men was getting up to. ‘Peared like there was a whole lot of scheming a-going on, ‘cause pretty soon after that, Jine-the-Cavalry came up and began talking real serious to Marse Robert and Cap-in-His-Eyes. “… a very
good
way round,” I heared him say. Sorrel and me didn't get no chance to talk to Skylark, though. He was hitched a fair ways off.

There was no question of sleep that night. Officers kept coming and going all the time; I lost count how many. What I do remember is Marse Robert and Cap-in-His-Eyes a-walking through the trees towards me and Sorrel. When they come close-to, Marse Robert, he clenched his fist and said, “But how can
we get
at those people?” Oh, I've heared
that
before, I thought. If'n I'm any judge, there's going to be real trouble. I turned my head to look at Sorrel, but he seemed to be in a daze.

All of a sudden he says to me, “Do you remember me telling you how a good horse often knows some things his master don't know he knows?”

“I remember,” I answers him back, “and I remember you saying all I needed was experience. I guess I've had some.”

“They're both on edge,” says Sorrel. “Both our men—strung-up. This forest is a bad place.”

“It's going to be a sight worse for the Blue men soon,” I says.

“That's your Marse Robert talking,” says Sorrel. “What I mean is this is a dark, hit-or-miss kind of a place. There's something I can't see yet. Men shooting in the dark at—Traveller, something's wrong! There's something badly wrong!”

“‘Tain't like you to say so,” I answers him. He was jest a-trembling all over, and sweating in the cold.

Marse Robert and Cap-in-His-Eyes had stopped talking together. Cap-in-His-Eyes was smiling. He saluted and said something ‘bout he'd have all his fellas ready to move. Then they both walked off.

Marse Robert, he didn't go far, though. He talked a while to some other man. Then he laid out his saddle blanket under a tree near the fire, covered hisself with his overcoat and went to sleep right there on the ground.

Later on, some officer came up and waked him. I recollect Marse Robert was teasing him and havin' a laugh on him. Then Cap-in-His-Eyes came back over to the fire, and this man that had been talking to Marse Robert ‘long with him. They sat together on a cracker-barrel and talked, kind of disputing ‘mong theirselves. I knowed right then there must be big trouble coming. I was afeared myself, and the whole place was full of disquiet—everyone on edge, even Dave. ‘Twas ‘nuff to unsettle every horse round there. I can see that dark place now—the fire of branches burning and crackling, the flames flickering low, Cap-in-His-Eyes putting questions to this man, stabbing with his finger, and the man answering him real quiet. Every now and then, somebody'd toss another branch on the fire.

After a while I dozed off on my feet. When I woke up, it seemed to have turned colder; the man was gone and Colonel Long was talking to Cap-in-His-Eyes while he drank some coffee. All of a sudden I heared a clatter. It was Cap-in-His-Eyes' sword had fallen over, where he'd left it leaning up agin a tree. Colonel Long picked it up and gave it to him, and he fastened it on.

I seed Sorrel looking over to Cap-in-His-Eyes as he buckled the sword belt.

“Men shooting in the dark,” he said again. “Then it all stops.”

I asked him what he meant, but he didn't seem to know he'd said anything.

It was getting on to morning now, near as I could tell, and the camp was beginning to stir. Marse Robert woke. He came over and sat on the cracker-barrel beside Cap-in-His-Eyes. They began talking again and kept pointing this way and that.

At last Marse Robert stood up and put his hand on Cap-in-His-Eyes' shoulder. “Well,” he said, “go on, then! Go on, General!”

At that Cap-in-His-Eyes called to his soldier to bring Sorrel. Neither of us said any more to each other. Cap-in-His-Eyes mounted and rode off. It was daylight now, good as. I was hoping for a bite to eat, but there warn't no more'n a drink and a mouthful or two of hay.

All the same, I did see Sorrel once more that morning. Marse Robert had moved headquarters a little ways, and me and him was a-standing ‘side a dirt road leading off through the trees. Cap-in-His-Eyes' fellas come marching past, heading into the woods.

Cap-in-His-Eyes was riding at the back, and as he reached us he pulled Sorrel in, came up and spoke to Marse Robert—jest a few words. Us two horses was right up agin each other, and Sorrel nuzzled my neck.

“Good-bye, Traveller,” he said. “You was born lucky. I can see green grass and daisies growing under your hooves right now.”

Then they was off. The peak of the general's cap was right down over his eyes, jest the way I'd always thought of him; jest the way he'd looked that first day when he rode up to headquarters and stood leaning agin the fence all by hisself and spoke to me and stroked my nose. He could a been any one o' the soldiers.

I never seed Sorrel or Cap-in-His-Eyes again.

The rest of that morning was mighty quiet. I couldn't bottom it out, no way. You see, Tom, I figured that by this time I was getting to be an experienced soldier. I'd larned how things usually went from a horse's point of view—I mean, bein' strung out and bein' able to take it easy; times of danger and times of quiet. And what beat me was that though I could sense we warn't fixing to attack, I'd never knowed Marse Robert so edgy in all the time we'd been together. The whole feel of him was tense—his knees, his hands, his seat, the tone of his voice—even though I reckon I was the only one who could tell it. The Blue men warn't aiming to make no trouble on our front; I felt sure ‘nuff of that—there warn't one o' them to be smelt or seed. And yet Marse Robert—well, all I can say is that if he'd had a tail, Tom, it would have been a-twitching like yours at a rathole.

We was waiting. We was waiting for something to happen—I knowed that much. But what was it? It warn't like that time in the snow when we was waiting for the enemy to come up from the town and the river. When there came the sound of a few guns in the forest, off'n the way where Cap-in-His-Eyes had gone, Marse Robert ‘peared as near to shying as I'd ever knowed him do; and every time an officer rode up to headquarters, seemed like he couldn't wait to hear what he'd got to tell him. He'd listen hard and ask questions, and he kept tap-tapping one of his gloved hands agin his leg. But no one else could see—I was the only one who knowed. Now and then he'd be speaking jest to me. “Oh, Traveller,” he said once't, real low, “only a little longer! Lord God, only a little longer!” He quite often used to call me “Lord God” when he was strung out and we was by ourselves. Maybe that was some other horse he'd had way back and he was a mite confused— I don't know.

Every now and then there'd be firing along our lines, close to where we was—mostly musketry, sometimes a gun. But ‘twarn't that as had Marse Robert high strung. As the day went on, he kept looking up at the sun. He didn't want the daylight to end—I could tell that. Horsemen came and went, and Marse Robert talked to each one of them, but still nobody was telling him whatever ‘twas he wanted to hear.