Slocum and the Senorita by Jake Logan

Author:Jake Logan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

The burst of cannonballs deafened him. He rode a sorrel horse in a hard run, and the incoming rounds exploded around his flight. His mount shied from the closer ones, but he reined him back on course. Corpses of men in gray uniforms dotted the grassy ground. His command waited in reserve on the left flank. He returned with orders to take them around behind the Yankee artillery and overrun the guns. It was a long shot, but if it worked, the chances of the Confederate forces taking the hill would be good.

Slocum lashed the red horse on despite the whistle in the animal’s breathing. The horse was expendable. Despite his nagging conscience over the abuse, he had one obligation, to get behind the cannons and fast.

“Sergeant, mount up on the double!” he shouted, sawing the lathered horse to a halt.

In the confusion, his troops did well. Slocum took the lead on his hard-breathing charger, and started up the narrow farm road to the north. They should be out of the advance scouts’ view. Slocum had the sergeant send out skirmishers, and they hit a lope. Time was precious.

Then a minié ball from a sniper’s rifle sent the sorrel to his knees. Dismounted, revolver in his fist, Slocum looked about for the shooter. He ordered three men forward to find the shooter. A private brought him his own horse to ride.

Were the Yankees on to his scheme? Time clicked on, and their only chance was to overrun the artillery before troops were set up behind them. Scouts said the main force was three hours away—a crucial window that they needed to take advantage of, or more of his own would be slaughtered.

No time to check on whether there were reinforcements. When his men drew up to the left of the hill, he gave the order to charge and take the big guns at any cost. His troops rushed out of the woods like Indians on the war path. The small force of artillery men soon fell to his company’s arms, many surrendering.

“Turn those guns around!” he screamed at his men.

In what seemed to him like hours, the artillery at last was reloaded and the rounds began to whistle off to the north. No matter about the target—the firepower counted.

Slocum glanced back, and could see men in ragtag uniforms and armed with rifles begin to race over the field of their own dead. Their Confederate cheers and shouts filled the air. Soon the ridge swarmed with friendly forces. Southern artillery pieces came on the fly to supplement the captured ones.

“You took what?” Maria asked, shaking him awake.

“Oh, a ridge that we needed,” he managed, and scooted up. She stood wrapped in a white robe before him.

“Your back must be broken. Why did you not come to my bed?” she asked with a frown of disapproval.

“Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I like to be disturbed—by you.”

“I think I have Montrose stalled.”

“Stalled?”

“I have a plan to cripple his army. It may work. I’ll know soon enough.

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