XII
The last two weeks of May had been exceptionally mild in Wheelerville, and several gentle, soaking rains had made the growing crops of corn and tobacco lush and green. The scars of the battle were disappearing, the last of the missing townsfolk and most of Lavinia's people had returned, a little the worse for wear and ashamed, but otherwise unhurt. Lavinia had greeted them all with a level look and a hot meal, and soon the fields were being tilled and weeded as before.
South of Wheelerville, the Chattanooga railroad was secured and Sherman's supply lines lengthened when George Stoneman's Federal cavalry captured the important pass at Allatoona on the first day of June. Farther to the south, Miles Stanley's Army of the Monongahela was pressing toward Kennesaw Mountain against the stubborn resistance of Dillon's Alabamians, who were looking to join the shifting defensive lines of Joseph Johnston's Army of the Tennessee.
The long, warm days of June were unwinding into summer like beads dropping one by one from a necklace, each day bringing some new piece of news. And yet it all seemed distant to Wheelerville, left far behind in the wake of the armies. The guns at Allatoona were heard in Wheelerville, but the town had seen no further activity apart from a column of dark smoke that had risen to the southeast, just two days after the capture of the pass. A squall of rain had doused the smoke after some hours; no one thought of it once it was gone.
** ** **
"You take a good-sized pinch between your thumb and forefinger. That's right. Now cram it firmly into the bowl. Not too firmly, or you won't be able to light the pipe: you need some air space or the fire won't catch. Let me see." Abner Wigfall handed Sergeant Sheppard the pipe and watched as he looked it over. "Did I do it right?" he asked anxiously.
"Looks fine to me," Sheppard said, setting the pipe between his teeth. "Now strike a match for me and hold it to the bowl while I get the thing to draw."
The match scratched along the tree bark beside Abner's knee and flared into sulphurous flame. He offered it to Sheppard, who raised his hand and held him off.
"Hold it a minute," Sheppard said. "If you don't let it burn a few seconds, whatever you smoke will taste like the fumes of hell. All right, now."
Abner held the match to the pipe and watched as the tobacco began to glow. He had escorted Judge Prescott to Fairlawn that afternoon. The judge was closeted with Lavinia, and Abner, who had all unintentionally become one of Asa Sheppard's friends and admirers, had gone in search of the sergeant. He had found him sitting at the foot of the large willow tree and gazing out over the newer graves with a thoughtful frown.
Sheppard had smiled at the boy and moved over for him, and the talk had turned to tobacco.
"Thanks," said Sheppard. "That's perfect." He sat back against the willow tree with a sigh and gazed out across the green fields to the mountains, lying to the northwest. Smoke trailed from the corner of his mouth to curl lazily up through the leaves above him. "There's nothing to match southern-grown tobacco," he said. "And nothing more annoying than not being able to light a pipe properly."
"You could try a segar," Abner suggested.
The sergeant cocked an eye at him. "They're a pain in the neck to carry about," he said. "They're always getting crushed or wet, and by the time you dry them out, or wrap them in paper like the Mexicans do, they're ruined. It's easier to carry a pipe."
Abner looked doubtful.
"And there's one other thing," Sheppard said.
"Yes, sir?"
"I'll kill you if I ever catch you with one of these blasted things in your mouth! Understand me?"
"But why - ?"
"Because tobacco's a filthy, expensive habit and you're better off never starting, that's why!"
Abner grinned and drew his knees up. "You sound just like my pa," he said. The grin faded as his lip quivered.
Sheppard climbed to his feet. "Can you get your hands on a riding animal other than a mule that should be six feet under rather than eating good fodder?" he asked.
"A - ? Y-yes, I think so. Why?"
"I want to ride out westward and scout the area, and I'd be smart to have an escort." He smiled at Abner. "It'll shake the fidgets out of you. Come on: scare up a nag and meet me by the smokehouse. There are some things I want to look into."
"I told you to get a horse, boy," Sheppard said as Abner tried to lift his mount, a calf-kneed bay gelding of indeterminate age, to a trot. "I wasn't looking to be disobeyed."
"You said you wanted a riding animal other than a mule," Abner said.
"I didn't expect you to come back with a jackass!" Sheppard returned. He considered and then added, "A broken-winded jackass."
They had been riding for over an hour, going slowly, testing the lay of the land. Sheppard had ridden in a wide circle that curved to the southeast, and while he had talked easily with Abner, he had been constantly listening, his eyes moving across the landscape, missing nothing. They were moving along the edge of a pine wood. A stream rippled just at their horses' feet, spilling down from the northwest.
"This is my aunt Celie's favorite horse," Abner said with dignity. "She says he's comfortable."
"That's because he doesn't move," Sheppard said, flexing his left hand and settling the sling more comfortably. "What I want to know is, why doesn't she just sit on a sofa and save the cost and effort of feeding him?"
Abner grinned and kicked the animal again. "Besides," he said, "we can't all have nice horses this time of year, unlike some Yanks I've seen."
"Dixie's an exceptional animal," Sheppard said, slapping the chestnut mare's neck. His eyes narrowed as he turned to stare into the wood. Abner could see that he was uneasy about something by the set of his shoulders, and his unease was being communicated to the mare, who was sidling and shaking her head.
Abner laughed and turned his face into the rising wind. "It's picking up a mite," he said. "Maybe we're due for a change of weather."
"Maybe," Sheppard said. His nose wrinkled as the wind sent the pine needles tapping and clattering softly about him. The sun was sifting down through the pine boughs, awakening a faint scent of turpentine that almost overlaid a strengthening odor of burnt wood and metal.
Abner hauled his shambling mount to a stop and sniffed. "What is it?" he asked.
Sheppard was frowning. "I'm not sure." he said. "If I didn't know better..." He stopped, his frown deepening.
"Smells like burnt, spoiled meat," Abner said. "That and rusty metal, maybe."
"That's a good way to put it," Sheppard said. He looked around at the trees. "Where's Wheelerville from here?" he asked slowly.
"It's northwest," Abner replied. "We've made a circle to the south and east."
Sheppard nodded and turned his face into the wind.
Abner watched him lift his head and turn his head slowly from side to side. The chestnut mare's ears pricked and she snorted softly and backed a step.
Sheppard looked over at Abner. "Stay here and keep watch," he said. "I want to look things over, and I need you to stand guard. I'll be back." He turned Dixie and nudged her to a trot.
Abner watched him go and then turned away to listen to the wind sighing among the trees with the sound of mourners at a wake. Clouds were skittering overhead, pushed by the wind. The trees were showing their silver petticoats. Rain was coming, most likely, he thought. It would be a good growing season.
He heard the thrum of approaching hooves and looked up to see Sheppard riding toward him at a gallop, white-lipped and pale. He had lost his cap.
"Quickly!" Sheppard said, throwing himself from the saddle. "Change horses with me and mount up!"
"W-well, sure," Abner stammered, dismounting and taking the reins that were thrust into his hands. "But--"
"Get on the mare and ride back to town at a gallop!" Sheppard commanded. "Dixie can do it, and there's no time to waste! I'd go myself, but lives are at stake and I'm not strong enough right now to do what needs to be done! And even if I were, I might get lost along the way! Listen to me: I want you to find Dr. Meacham and tell him to get things ready at Miss Wheeler's house. No delay, mind you: he'll need to have everything on hand and be ready to work fast! That's the most important part, and you must do it first. Then get together about a dozen able-bodied men and send them back to me, ready to do some hard work! Tell them they'll need strong stomachs!"
"B-but what's wrong?" Abner demanded.
"There's no time to explain," Sheppard said. "Mount up! Wait a minute, I'll help you adjust the stirrup leathers. There. Now tell Dr. Meacham you need shovels, axes, some sharp knives and a pile of blankets. Dear God! And send two wagons, too! Tell them to hurry! Meacham had best take his full kit to Miss Wheeler's. And tell the men to bring their guns with them, there's no saying who may be about."
"But what's happened?" Abner said.
"Bushwhackers," Sheppard said grimly. "Remember that smoke everyone saw a couple days back? I've found the cause. Now get going!"
Abner gathered the reins.
"Abner! Wait!" Sheppard called.
"What is it, Sarge?" Abner said.
"You: when you're done, go to Miss Wheeler and tell her to get beds ready for two people. Stay with her and give her what help she needs. Warn her that it'll be really horrible. I'm depending on you: I know you won't let me down!"
"But you'll need me here!"
"She'll need you more there," Sheppard said. "Now go on. You can look another day, the wait won't kill you! Ride!"
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