She stood up and walked into her bedroom. Pulling the mattress partially off the bedstead, she withdrew her money sock. Looking inside, she sighed again.
There were only ten dollars in it. That surely wouldn't last long, and her account at the Mercantile needed to be paid up soon or Loren wouldn't let her charge anything else.
She fell asleep clutching the sock.
Leaving the children with Matthew the next morning, she hitched up the wagon and set off for town. Might as well pay off Loren, she thought, so she could keep charging for awhile yet. She walked into the mercantile. "Mornin', Mr. Bray," she said as cheerfully as she could.
"Hello," said Loren, somewhat suspiciously. "Come for more supplies?"
"As a matter of fact, no," said Charlotte triumphantly. "I've come to pay up my account." She reached inside the sock for the $10. "I do believe you said last Saturday I owed $9.80."
Loren frowned and checked his records. "Yeah, well, not anymore, Charlotte. Now you're up ta $28.10."
"What?" Charlotte gasped, putting her hand to her heart. "But Loren, I was here just last Saturday, and you told me I only had nine dollars and eighty cents on there."
"Well, that's what it was last Saturday," said Loren, annoyed. "But Ethan came in here during the week and bought a whole lot of things."
"What kind of things?" asked Charlotte, her eyes narrowing.
"Well, let's see," Loren looked down at the account. "Tobacco, some ammunition, and a silver pocketwatch. Silver's expensive, you know."
"Yes, I know," Charlotte snapped. She put her hand to her head. What a headache! How could Ethan be doing this, especially when his own children were at home barely eating!
"I'm afraid all I have is $10," she said numbly. "I didn't know Ethan had charged more."
"Well, I'll take that for now," Loren said, taking the gold eagle from her. "Now you owe $18.10," he told her.
She wandered outside, not looking where she was going, and almost bumped into Olive.
"Charlotte!" Olive exclaimed. "Are you okay?" she noted
Charlotte's pale face. The story spilled out, and Charlotte's tears came. "How could he do this?" she asked her friend.
"That man surely needs straightening out," Olive said tightly. "I tell ya, why don't you send the children over to my place for the day, get them outta your hair for awhile."
Charlotte nodded. "Thanks, Olive."
"Charlotte!" She heard someone call her name. She turned around to see Horace Bing clutching an envelope.
"The mail's just come," he said. "There's a letter for ya." Charlotte was surprised. She had just sent a letter to Topeka the day before, there was no way she'd be getting a response. Who could it be?
She thanked Horace and took the envelope from him. Sitting down on a bench near the barber shop, she looked at it.
There was no return address, but the postmark showed it came from St. Louis. "St. Louis?" she whispered to herself. She didn't know anyone from there. She opened the envelope and took out its contents, gasping when she saw the greenbacks. $300! She read note that accompanied it:
Dearest Charlotte, Sully
Charlotte dropped the note in her lap. So Sully wasn't coming back. It had been the one hope she'd had, the thought that kept her going, that all he needed was time, and he'd be back.
"No!" she cried quietly.
She fingered the greenbacks. Why had he sent them to her? How had he gotten them? What was he doing in St. Louis?
The questions came together in her head, and all of a sudden she knew the answer. She knew why he'd sent the money to her. She knew what he was doing. The tone of his note had been that of a man who'd given up on life. She was right, he was never coming back. He was planning to die.
By now, I’m sure you know I’ve gone. I’m sorry I left without telling you. But I know you will understand why I had to go. The town, and Loren, just don’t understand. Please take care of Abagail and Hannah’s graves for me. I know you will. Please always know that I care about you and the children. I’m sure they’ll make you proud. Take care, all of you.
Saturday morning came. After eating in the mess hall, the Captain came personally for Sully.
He brought him to his quarters. Sully was deeply suspicious now. He hadn't seen any of the other soldiers picked out by the Captain personally. He wondered what was going on.
They walked together into the Captain's quarters. There, Colonel Steward stood again.
Sully saluted.
The Colonel smiled. "Why, Private Sully, you look surprised to see me! I told you I'd be back." He relaxed. "Come now, let's be more informal."
Sully stayed tensed.
"We were very impressed over your shooting skills," he continued. "We have an assignment for you."
"What kind of an assignment?" Sully asked suspiciously, now that they were being informal.
The man's eyes narrowed. "Well, it's very dangerous," he said mysteriously . "The Confederacy is working on a new kind of artillery shell in Georgia. It's an explosive shell, the most dangerous of its kind. Upon impact it explodes, killing or maiming many more people than an ordinary shell will. If they succeed in making it, it could spell doom for the Union Army, the Union, this country as we know it! Our soldier's lives will have been lost in vain, Private Sully," he said pointedly.
"What are you asking me to do?" Sully asked.
The man's voice lowered. "A classified mission. We need to stop their whole operation. The only way to do that is by eliminating this man," he flicked a sepia-tone photograph at Sully.
Sully took it in his hands. "What's his name?" he wondered aloud.
"Major Edward Pearson," the Colonel replied. "One of the most dangerous minds in the Confederacy. He's the head of the Georgia test site by Reed's Bridge." He looked intently at Sully. "We can't let this shell be made. If we eliminate him, it will never come into existence. It will be certain victory for the North."
Sully shook his head. He was doubtful. "It's dangerous, you say?" He liked the sound of that.
The Captain looked at the Colonel nervously and jumped in.
"You're one of the best shots this army has ever seen. If you go, we have no doubt you will be successful."
Sully was silent.
The Colonel continued. "Let me impress upon you how important this mission is. With Major Pearson 'out of the way', the lives of not only thousands of soldiers, but thousands of civilians will be saved. Do it for the people, Private Sully. Think how many will be alive because of what you did."
Sully stood still for a moment, thinking it over. Flashes of Abagail flew through his mind. If it were dangerous, he might die. But it would be honorable, and he would get to be with his wife and child. And if he didn't....maybe it would be a way to redeem himself.
He gave a quick nod.
The Colonel and Captain smiled and slapped each other on the back.
"Good!" said the Colonel. He produced from nowhere a paper which he handed to Sully. It read:
Lieutenant Byron Sully is hereby ordered to report to Lee and Gordon Mill, Georgia by the Eleventh of August, Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-Three.
Dated: 20 June 1863
By: Colonel George Steward "Lieutenant?" Sully questioned.
"Yes!" said the Captain. "Congratulations, *Lieutenant* Sully."
And so, Sully left his placement in Battery A, 2nd U.S. Artillery under General John Buford. He missed the Battle of Gettysburg by 11 days.
Army of the Potomac
The Cooper children were over at Olive's ranch, this hot day in July. Four-year-old Brian nuzzled his face into a calf's side as Colleen sat on the corral fence, swinging her legs and reading The Wide, Wide World by Elizabeth Wetherell. Matthew was nowhere to be seen.
"Children!" Olive called out, stepping out of her house. "Time for supper!" She rang the triangle. Colleen clapped her book shut and hopped off the fence, followed by Brian, who gave the calf one last hug before squeezing through the fence.
Olive frowned. "Where's Matthew?" she asked Colleen and Brian.
Colleen shrugged. "I ain't seen him all day," she said.
Brian piped up. "I saw him headin' towards the creek. He tol' me ta leave him alone, didn't want no one following him."
"Well, we'll see about that." Olive took off her apron and marched towards Beaver Creek. "You two go 'long without me. We'll join you in a minute."
Colleen and Brian looked at each other, shrugged, and went inside the house.
Olive found Matthew sitting on a rock by the creek, absent-mindedly skipping stones. Quietly, she sat down beside him, not speaking a word. He looked over at her, then went back to his stone-throwing.
"Ya want to tell me what's the matter?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Nothin'," he said. "Oh, c'mon," Olive scoffed. "Normally you don't want to leave the cattle alone, you're always ropin' them in."
Matthew shrugged again. "Just don't feel like it today, that's all."
Olive stayed silent for a minute. Then, "You miss Sully, don't you?"
He looked up at her, his eyes wide with surprise. "How'd you know?"
She laughed gently. "Matthew, I didn't know you too well before a couple of months ago, but Sully used to talk about all you children a whole lot. He cared - cares," she corrected herself, "about you very much."
"So why'd he leave then!" Matthew threw a stone at the water angrily. "He told me he'd be here if I ever needed him. Well, I need him! Where is he?"
Olive hesitated. "Matthew, he just needs to be a lone for awhile, sort things out. You gotta understand -"
"I don't wanna understand!" Matthew said selfishly. "He tol' me you don' ever * have* to be alone - that as long as you got friends, they'll be there for ya. Well, what about my Ma? They was best friends! And what about me? I thought we were friends!"
"Oh Matthew," Olive sighed, holding out her arms. He jumped into them, crying hard.
"I miss Miss Abagail," he sobbed. "And I'm real sorry Hannah is dead, but... he didn't need to go away. We all need him here."
I know, I know," Olive comforted.
"Who am I gonna talk to now?" Matthew continued.
"Why, you can talk to me," said Olive.
Matthew sniffled and sat up. "You? You promise you won't go away? Not for a long time anyways?"
"No, I will most surely not," she laughed. "Not for a long time anyways," she laughed. "I'll always be here, Matthew," she said. "I promise you that." She paused. "Tell ya what," she said. "Do you know what a godmother is?"
"Godmother?" Matthew repeated. He shook his head.
Olive nodded. " A godmother's kind of like a second mother. If you ever want someone to talk to, or just want to play with the cattle even, you just come over here. Charlotte will understand."
Matthew nodded. "I'd like that, Miss Olive. I'd like that a whole lot."
It took Sully 45 days to reach Lee and Gordon Mill, even though the distance was much shorter than his journey from Colorado Springs to St. Louis. Slung over his shoulder he carried his bedroll and a Whitworth rifle. The Whitworth was primarily used by Confederates, but the Yanks had gotten their hands on a few of the breechloaders, and liked them for obvious reasons. The Whitworth had a range longer than most rifles. Unfortunately, that was longer than most artillerists of the day knew how to use, but Sully was able to master it after only a few tries, impressing once again Capt. Taftner and Col. Steward with his dead-on accuracy. After he left, the Colonel remarked to the Capt., "Congratulations, Henry. Score one for us."
Lee and Gordon Mill ran by Chickamauga Creek in Southern Georgia. The confederates were camped out by there for the summer of '63, as of yet not seeing much action.
Sully arrived on the 9th of August - two days before his official due-date. He spent those days scouting out the camp, noting Reed's Bridge to the North, and other points such as Lafayette Rd. nearby. He kept his hands on the photograph of Major Pearson, looking for a man similar.
On the morning of August 12th, he finally spotted him. Major Pearson bent over his mirror, his face lathered with shaving cream. It was a daily ritual he had practiced since the start of the war. Sully raised his gun and aimed. But all of a sudden, another man walked into the line of sight, hiding the Major. Sully grumbled to himself. The two men continued talking while the Major shaved, then walked away. Sully didn't get another clear shot all day.
August 13th came, and Sully once again found the officer outside the tent shaving. He was about to lift his rifle when all of a sudden the man looked up in surprise. Sully thought for a moment he might have been discovered, but hurriedly dismissed the thought as the officer's head went back down. The Major wiped his face off with a towel, and walked into the tent. He reappeared an hour later only to be joined outside by the 1st Lieutenant Sully had seen the day before. Sully threw his rifle down in disgust.
Annoyed at the lack of action, he decided to take the risk and creep closer to the Major's empty tent. He peeked inside. Four cots were set up, all neatly made. A table was in the center. On one of the cots lay a wooden toy soldier, and on another a rag doll. Sully was surprised and stifled a laugh. What kind of men were these soldiers? He tried to justify the items to himself. A toy soldier, well, perhaps the Major liked to whittle in his spare time. But a rag doll? Sully couldn't figure it out. He finally decided to let it go and concentrate on finding the Major alone.
On August 14, he got his chance. The Major arose early that day, at dawn, and Sully was awake to see him. He came outside sleepily, setting up his wash basin. Lathering his face, he set to work.
Sully lifted his rifle into position. Perfect, he thought. "Pearson!" he heard a man shout.
The Major looked over and held a finger to his lips. Though Sully couldn't hear what was being said, it was something to the effect that people were sleeping.
The man, the same 1st Lt. that had disrupted Sully's work for the past three days, did so again, stepping into the line of fire and holding a big sheet of paper up. It looked like a blueprint to Sully, but he wasn't quite sure.
He heard Col. Steward's voice in his head. "If they succeed in making this shell, it could spell doom..."
He willed this annoying man who was blocking his shot from the Major. He had a job to do!
Then, as if by magic, the Major brushed the other officer away. By his body movements, Sully was sure he was telling him that he was shaving, to stop bothering him. The officer folded his paper and left.
Sully lifted his rifle into position. Something within him clicked, and it was as if he went into automatic pilot. He looked through the sight and saw the officer bent over his mirror, the razor gliding over his face. Then he abruptly squinted as the new sunlight hit his mirror, blinding him. He turned the entire makeshift table and mirror away from Sully, so that his back was to him. He proceeded with his work.
Perfect, Sully thought once again, grinning. It would be even easier now. He lifted his rifle again. His finger brushed over the trigger, and he pulled it slowly down.
The shot rang out and the man fell to the ground.
The world came to life now. Soldiers came running from all directions. The Major's tent opened up and from inside Sully heard the most god-awful scream.
A woman, around the age of 30, flew to the man's side, crying hysterically. A moment later, a boy around 8 and a girl of 12 joined her, throwing themselves by the body.
For one moment, Sully thought the boy saw him, and he lifted his gun for a second, then lowered it. What had just happened? He watched the events that lay before him as if through someone else's eyes.
The woman and children continued screaming and crying. Sully just sat there, rifle in lap, watching. Was that...could have... did the Major have a family?
Not once had he thought of that possibility, but all of a sudden the rag doll and toy soldier made sense to him.
He sat until sunset in the same place, not moving an inch, just thinking.
Night had come, but still Lieutenant Byron Sully, assassin for the Union Army, sat in the brush. Darkness had fallen hours ago, but that didn't matter to him. It didn't matter that the longer he stayed where he was, the more of a chance there was that he would be caught.
His thoughts after the killing had flown through his head, all jumbled. But after awhile, a feeling of numbness had take place, filling him. Now, nothing moved through. The very chirping of crickets in the distance didn't even register.
As the hours passed, some feeling came back to him. What had he done? Killed a man, with a wife and children - leaving them alone in the world? He was no better than a murderer.
But then, he thought, at least now the explosive shell would never be made, right? In the end, he had probably saved lives.
But guilt still consumed him. He sighed. He couldn't sit there anymore, he needed to do something. He needed to find out everything he could about the man he had killed - how evil he was - so that the killing could be justified, so that the fact that a mother and her children were now alone, were, if not okay, at least for a reason.
He crept silently among the tents at that ghostly hour, finding the one the 1st Lt. slept in. It was much like the Major's had been, with the table and a cot, only much smaller. The blueprints Sully had seen the day before lay on the table. He looked at the paper. Funny, it didn't look like the instructions for a shell. It kind of looked like...a map. For what, Sully couldn't tell.
He lifted the map and searched underneath, coming up with a handful of papers. By the glint of the moon he quickly read over them.
He stopped reading. Mr.? Sully was confused. Colonel Steward had told him it was Major Edward Pearson, an officer of the Confederacy. He remembered the 1st Lt. earlier that day had merely called him Pearson. He surely would have *never* done that to a superior officer....
So then, why was he there? Sully quickly read over the rest of the papers, his face growing white.
What?
The paper fell from his hands.
According to them, the Major was not who he'd been told he was. He was a simple businessman, with a wife and kids - just trying to make his living during this horrific war. There was a clause at the end of one of the contracts, stating that if, for some chance, he died, the contracts would go to someone else, but it didn't state who.
There was no new explosive shell.
He had killed an innocent man.
Sully felt sick. Replacing the papers exactly as he had found them, he raced back to his hiding place in the woods and purged the contents of his stomach.
He had killed an innocent man.
What? Captain Taftner had lied to him? As well as Colonel Steward? He just couldn't believe it. Likely they had been misinformed, or the whole thing was just a mistake.
But it boiled down to him. *He* had killed an innocent man. His stomach churned again, and he gagged, as there was nothing left in his stomach.
He wanted to forget. He just wanted his entire life until now to be gone, deleted from his memory. He *needed* to forget -everything. It had just all been so horrible. Leaving his Whitworth and bedroll behind, he flew through the woods, leaving it all behind. The Army, the murder, he deserted as never a man had before.
A little more than a month later, at the very same camp, the bloody battle of Chickamauga would occur. Within 2 months, Sully had come very close to being in two battles, and never participated in one.