A Thousand Shall Fall by Andrea Boeshaar

Author:Andrea Boeshaar [Boeshaar, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8254-8606-7
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Published: 2015-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

Incessant shaking caused Carrie to open her eyes. Joshua knelt over her.

“Wake up.”

“But it’s not morning yet.” Her body cried for an additional hour of rest.

“Carrie Ann, you are the laziest thing on God’s footstool. You know that?”

“The Yankees never complained.”

“Get up! Major Roddy wants a word with you before we set off.”

Joshua pulled her into a sitting position. Carrie groaned. She hadn’t felt this sore since the day after her fall off the bridge and into that sycamore.

“Whatever you do,” Joshua said, tossing her bonnet at her, “don’t let on you’re the same serving girl from Woodstock who we saw running wild down Main Street last week.”

“Hasn’t he recognized me?”

“Nah, you’re forgettable—except for that hair color of yours. Just put on your bonnet and watch that sharp tongue of yours.”

“You got trouble over there, Brown?”

Joshua stood and walked over to the small campfire where his crony sat, drinking what smelled like coffee. “Some females have rotten dispositions when they first wake up.”

The man snickered.

Carrie donned her bonnet and tied it beneath her chin. Clambering to her feet, she stretched, taking her sweet time. She even made a trip into the woods to take care of her personal needs before strolling over to Joshua and Rodingham. Once she reached them, she leaned against a tree trunk and folded her arms.

“Sit down, Miss Bell,” Major Rodingham—that is, Roddy—invited.

“No, thank you.”

“Sit, Miss Bell.” Rodingham stood and his voice took an edge. “Or I will sit you down myself.”

But he needn’t have bothered. Joshua made good on the threat by grabbing hold of her left arm and yanking. Carrie’s backside hit the ground hard. When she tried to backhand him, he caught her left wrist.

“Don’t twist it,” she begged. “I injured it recently.”

Joshua released her with a warning. “Behave yourself or you’ll be suffering from more than a sore arm.”

“You’re a devil.” Tears stung, and she massaged her wrist. Was Joshua playacting for the benefit of his comrade? She’d never known him to be so cruel.

“We only want some information from you, Miss Bell.” Rodingham was obviously the leader, while Joshua was the muscle. “Approximately how many men do you think comprise General Sheridan’s army?”

“Wouldn’t you know that better than I?” Carrie couldn’t contain her simmering indignation and it bubbled right out of her mouth. “You’re supposedly one of the general’s scouts.”

“Miss Bell …” Warning hung on both syllables. “I hate the thought of your tortured, lifeless body lying on the side of the Valley Pike.”

“Your job, Major Roddy, is to see me safely to Winchester. Remember?”

“How many men do you suppose Sheridan has, Miss Bell?” Joshua asked in a more mannerly tone.

“I don’t know.” She’d die before she’d tell these men anything. “I volunteered as a nurse, so most of my time was spent in the field hospital, tending to dying men.” She glared at Rodingham and imagined walking away from his battle-beaten body without so much as offering him water.

But, no … if it ever came down to it she’d probably, out of a sense of Christian duty, give him at least a sip.

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