A DISASTER ON THE ROAD
To me she was merely a woman whom it had become my duty to protect, and
whatever of chivalrous feeling I may have held toward her was based upon
nothing deeper than this knowledge. She had come to us undesired and in
darkness, her form enveloped in a cavalry cloak, her face shrouded by
the night. As to whether she was young or old I had scarce means of
knowing, saving only that the tone of her voice and the graceful manner
of her riding made me confident that she had not lost the agility of
youth. But beyond this vague impression (it was little more), and a
fleeting gleam of the starlight in her eyes as she faced me in anger, I
was as totally unaware of how she really looked as though we had never
met. Her very name was unknown to me. Who was this Major Brennan? Was
he father, brother, or husband? and was her name Brennan also? For some
reason this last possibility was repugnant to me. Yet I knew not why.
I turned these thoughts over in my mind, speculating idly upon them, not
because I felt any interest in their solution, or in the woman riding at
my side, but because they seemed to fall into order to the steady
music of my horse's feet and the darkness of the night. “No,” I said to
myself, “there is certainly no leaving her except in a disciplined camp;
young or old, Yankee or what not, she is in our care, and we'll keep her
out of the hands of those cut-throats between the lines.”
I glanced toward her, wondering what the morning light might reveal as
to her appearance. She was sitting erect and easy in the saddle, yet
seemed to ride with her face averted from me.
“You ride as though born to the saddle,” I said pleasantly; and although
I spoke low, we were so close together that my voice carried distinctly
to her ears. “We have been sufficiently conceited to suppose that to be
an accomplishment peculiar to our Southern women.”
“I have been accustomed to ride since childhood,” she replied rather
shortly, and I was conscious of a restraint in her manner far from
pleasing. Yet I ventured upon one more effort at conversation.
“Is Major Brennan an officer on Sheridan's staff?”
“I was not aware “--and I could not mistake the accent of vindictiveness
in her voice--“that prisoners were obliged to converse against their
will.”
My lady certainly possessed a temper of her own, and I was obliged to
smile there in the dark at her high head and quick retort.
“I ask your pardon, I am sure,”--I returned soberly. “But my question
was not altogether an idle one. I have chanced to meet several of
General Sheridan's staff, and thought possibly Major Brennan might
have been of their number. Seeing that we must associate for a time,
I naturally felt it would prove pleasanter for both of us if we might
discover some mutual tie.”
There was no response. Her eyes were fastened upon the road ahead, and
evidently my lady possessed no desire for the discovery of any such tie.
Watching her, I pressed my lips together, and held her as a proud and
silly fool.
I would perform my full duty toward her, of course, but beyond that I
would go no further.
The pace we were travelling had already told severely on the horses,
although hers was by far the best and freshest of the three. My own
brave sorrel had stumbled several times already in a way that gave me no
small uneasiness, yet I durst not venture to draw rein or even slacken
speed. Already, beyond a doubt, the patrol in our rear had missed the
picket stationed at the crossroads, had searched until they found the
lifeless body where Craig had hidden it, and were now hot upon our
trail. Hard, continuous riding alone could save us--riding with a
thoroughly aroused enemy at our heels, and yet another picket line to
pass before we could even hope for a clear sweep into safety.
The road we were following here took a sudden trend downward, and we
could tell from the sharper ring of the hoofs, and the spitting of
flinty sparks beneath us, that we were among rocks once more. Then our
horses suddenly splashed into water, and I held them up long enough to
drink. I felt thirst strongly myself, and slipping out of the saddle,
filled my canteen.
“Would you care for a drink?” I asked, stemming the stream to reach her
side, and holding the vessel within easy grasp of her hand.
I actually believe her first impulse was to refuse haughtily this
proffered civility from an enemy of her country, but the deep sense of
need conquered foolish pride and caused her to accept the offering.
“I am very thankful to you,” she said, handing back the canteen; yet the
words were spoken in mockery. I ignored them, and swung into my saddle
without response.
Another hill followed, and then another, and finally we swept swiftly
down a long slope densely bordered by trees and with irregular piles of
rock uprearing ugly heads on either hand. A little edge of the waning
moon began to peep over the ridge of the hill, and yielded sufficient
light to enable our eyes to discern dimly the faint track we followed.
I remember remarking the blacker figure of the Sergeant ahead of us,
and already halfway down the long decline. I caught a swift glimpse of
a rough log house on the right, so set back among trees that I half
doubted its real existence, when--there was a slip, the crunching of a
stone, a long stumble forward that fairly wrenched my hand loose from
the woman's rein, and then, hopelessly struggling to regain his feet,
my horse went down with a crash, head under, and I was hurled heavily
forward upon my face.
Severely bruised by the shock, but fortunately without broken bones,
I recall half-wheeling even as I fell, wondering if my prisoner would
grasp this opportunity for escape. Quite probably the thought never
occurred to her; perhaps her woman's heart, in the stress of such
accident, held her motionless. But Craig, startled at the sudden crash
behind him, spurred back to learn the full extent of my disaster. By
this time I had regained my feet.
“I'm all right, I think, Sergeant,” I said hastily, “but the sorrel has
broken her neck.”
He began to swear at our ill luck, but I stopped him with a gesture he
knew better than to ignore.
“Enough of that,” I commanded sternly. “Bad fortune is seldom bettered
by hard words. First of all, help me to drag this dead body out of
sight.”
On one side of us the bank fell away with such precipitancy that when
we once succeeded in dragging our load to the edge, we experienced no
difficulty in sending it crashing downward. The body plunged through the
thick underbrush at the bottom of the gorge, where I knew it would be
completely hidden, even in the glare of daylight, from the prying eyes
of any troopers riding hard upon our track. With a branch, hastily
wrenched from a near-by tree, I carefully raked over the track, so that,
as far as I could determine in the dim light, all outward trace of my
accident had been fairly obliterated.
As we rapidly worked on this disagreeable task, I thought and planned:
two horses and three riders,--one of these latter a woman in need of
protection,--a despatch to be delivered by daylight, at all hazards.
It was indeed a difficult proposition, and I saw only a single possible
solution. One of our number must press on; two of us must remain behind.
Which one? what two? If I rode with the despatch (and how eagerly I
longed to do so!), and succeeded in bringing Lee's message safe to
Longstreet, it meant much to me--promotion, distinction, honor. On the
other hand, if I remained behind, and Craig successfully carried out the
duty which had been especially intrusted to me, I should be fortunate
indeed to escape with a reprimand instead of more serious consequences.
If failure resulted, it meant certain and deserved disgrace. Yet I could
absolutely trust him with the despatch; he was a soldier, and would
faithfully perform a soldier's duty. More, he would carry the message
with even greater certainty than I, for he knew the roads much better,
and--I write the words hesitatingly--I could not trust him there alone
with the woman.
I glanced aside at him as I thus turned the perplexing situation over in
my mind,--a tall, gaunt mountaineer, whose sole discipline of mind and
body had been the army; hardened by service until every muscle in his
lean, sinewy frame was like steel, a cavalryman who would follow his
leader into the very jaws of hell, but whose morals were those of the
camp, and whose face revealed audacious deviltry such as no man would
care to see in one to whom he intrusted the welfare of sister or wife.
Recalling to mind certain idle stories that circulated through the camp
from time to time, in which his name had figured, I glanced backward
to where the woman sat her horse in silence and loneliness, and made my
resolve: I would risk the censure; if there must be sacrifice it should
be mine.
“Sergeant,” I asked, flinging aside the improvised brush, “how far do
you suppose we are from Longstreet's picket line?”
“Ten miles at the very best, sir,” he answered promptly, “an' I reckon
with another Yankee outpost atween.”
“With fair luck and good riding it might be made by daylight?”
“I reckon as how it might, Captain, if we only hed sum fresh hosses,” he
said glumly; “but it's bin mighty hard on my nag; I've looked fer him to
roll over like yer sorrel did fer the las' two mile.”
“Well, Craig, you shall have both horses. Ride the woman's, it is the
fresher of the two; but you are to get through if you kill them both and
then walk.”
His face brightened, and he raised his hand in salute.
“And you?” he asked wonderingly.
“I remain with the woman; there is no other way. Wait here a moment
while I speak with her.”
I left him standing there, and moved back to where she waited. As I came
up she faced me, and for the first time (for the night had lightened
somewhat) I could see her eyes and discern some faint outline of her
face where the night wind flung back the upturned cape. It was a winsome
sight to soldier vision, but with a certain semblance of pride and
reserve about it that caused a hesitancy in my speech strange enough to
me. I felt oddly like a bashful boy, and involuntarily lifted my hat
as I approached, to cover my confusion. Some trick of the dancing
moon shadows made me imagine that she smiled, and the sight nerved me
instantly to speak bluntly the words I came to say.
“Madam”--I rested my hand upon her horse's mane and looked up at her
with a glance as proud as her own,--“it might be as well for you to draw
the cape closer about your face at present. There are rough men in all
armies who would consider your beauty a lawful prize. The life we lead
is not conducive to gentleness; virtue is not born in camps, and it
would be better not to provoke a danger which may be so easily avoided.”
A wave of sudden color swept her cheeks at my plain speech, and her hand
sought the collar of the cloak, yet paused there irresolute.
“You claimed, I believe, to be an officer and a gentleman,” she said
coldly.
I smiled, even as I felt the full chill of her words, and my purpose
stiffened within me.
“Even as I yet claim, and trust to be able to prove to your
satisfaction,”--my eyes looked unfalteringly into hers,--“but,
unfortunately, I have one with me to-night who is neither. I would that
he were for my own sake. However, madam, let that pass. The fact is
here, and we have no time to argue or quarrel. I have already told you
that we ride with despatches for Longstreet. These must go forward at
all hazards, for thousands of human lives depend upon them; yet I dare
not leave you here alone and unprotected to the mercies of the wolves
who haunt these hills.”
“You are exceedingly kind.”
The tone in which she spoke was most sarcastic, “I thank you for your
approbation,” and I bowed again; “but I venture to tell you this merely
because I have already fully determined to despatch the Sergeant
forward with the message, and remain behind myself to render you every
protection possible.”
“Do you mean that we are to remain here alone?”
“There is no other way.”
She made no reply, but her proud unbelieving eyes were no longer upon my
face.
“I beg you to believe, madam,” I pleaded gently, for I confess my
interest in her good opinion was growing stronger, “that I do this only
because I believe it to be a duty, and not that I desire in any way to
distress you with my presence.”
She swept my upturned face suddenly with questioning eyes.
“As your prisoner I presume I have no choice in the matter.”
“I should prefer that you took a different view, but in a measure you
are right.”
“Very well, sir; I simply yield to what I am powerless to avoid, and
will obey your orders however distasteful they may be. What is your
first command?”
“That you dismount. The Sergeant must ride your horse, as he is the more
fit of the two.”
Greatly to my surprise and relief she placed her gauntleted hand in
mine, and, without so much as a word of protest, permitted me to swing
her lightly from the saddle to the ground.
“Craig,” I called, “come here”; and turning to her, added quietly,
“Kindly draw up your cape for a moment.”
I noticed her hands fasten the clasps, which had become loosened, and
that she turned partially so as to look backward up the road as the
Sergeant drew near.
“You know your work,” I said to him briefly. “And now the sooner you
are at it the better. Ride this horse and lead your own. As soon as
you deliver Lee's message at headquarters, hunt up the cavalry brigade
commander and report to him my position. Get a detail, insist upon one,
and be back here by to-morrow without fail. That is all.”
He saluted, wheeled about, swung lightly into saddle, and rode off on
a rapid trot, grasping, as he passed down the hill, the rein of his own
mount, and leading it, lagging, behind him, until the night swallowed
the figures, and even the sound of the hoof-beats could be no longer
heard. We were alone.