Saints Save a Sinner by Dawn Douglas

Author:Dawn Douglas [Douglas, Dawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2015-05-25T16:00:00+00:00

WHATEVER I had expected, the reality was worse.

Trying to hold the French in Elvina long enough for our forces to escape was a living nightmare. General Moore, arm torn nearly off by shrapnel from cannon fire, was gone. No one was in command. All was chaos. Officers and troops alike were scrambling to fight the wave of French pouring over us. At Corunna, the transport ships had finally arrived, but not in time. We’d destroyed most of the stores at the port, knowing their loss was imminent, and we were loading our wounded on the available ships when the French attacked.

“God damn you, get some gunners on that cannon!” I screamed at Captain Forsythe. “Fire, damn it! Tell the men to fire!”

Truly, though, it didn’t matter. Fire or not, it was going to be a massacre.

Below, men died before my eyes. Out of the fray, a horse in French livery charged toward me. Instead of bearing a French officer, though, Duncan sat atop it, covered with blood and eyes gone mad. For half a heartbeat, I thought perhaps he’d finally been overcome by bloodlust and lost his mind. Insane or not, the sight of him froze the breath in my chest. He was a hairsbreadth from riding over us when, at the last second, he reined in the horse and looked at me, gaze burning. “This way,” he ordered. “We ha’ na a hope if we do’na rally and return to the lines.”

“Mermet has cut off the first and third foot regiments!”

“Saints save a sinner, lad! Ha’ I taught ya nothing!” He started to turn his mount and called over his shoulder, “We need the Ninety-Fifth Rifles, damn ya! Get General Hope to move them forward. I’ll make for the fifty-ninth. We’ll hold the ridge, but we canna wait!”

“I can’t leave my men, I—”

He reached forward and fisted his blood-covered hand in my filthy cravat. “If ya do’na do as I say and go, ever’ man here will die and you along with them. Get the Ninety-Fifth Rifles—ye’r the only one now who can! We will hold for ya.”

“Duncan—”

“Now, Will. Go!” Then he reached up and laid his palm on my check. For one second, time stopped. It was the first time he’d touched me in nine months. Then he wheeled the horse the rest of the way around and was gone.

I looked around wildly. My own mount was lost, bled out from a ball through the neck. My eyes landed on one of the draft horses used to pull the cannons. I sprinted across the field toward it. In the background, I heard one of the cannon gunners screaming, but I ignored the sound.

And did as Duncan told me.

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