The Rough Rider by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris [Gilbert Morris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780764229626
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2012-01-22T18:48:59+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A Fragment of Destiny

The days had crawled by slowly, and no one was more impatient for the invasion to start than Lewis Winslow. It was on June 6 when he finally exploded. Aaron had been sitting on his bunk writing when Lewis stormed in, snatched his hat off, and flung it violently at his bunk. It missed and fell on the floor, whereupon Lewis kicked it, exclaiming, “We’re never going to get out of this blasted sandpit!”

Aaron looked up and took in the flushed face of his younger brother. Putting the stub of the pencil in his mouth, he chewed it thoughtfully, then said, “Calm down, Lewis! It’s just a matter of time.”

“I’d rather be back home watching the wood warp!” Lewis snapped as he snatched up his hat and tossed it under the cot. His face was a light shade of brown, tanned by the southern sun.

Aaron carefully put the pencil in his notebook and wedged it under his bunk. He lay back on the bunk, his fingers laced behind his head, and stared up at the fabric on the tent. A mosquito was snarling busily somewhere around his ear, but he thought wearily, There’s about twenty billion of them in this place—you can’t kill them all. Go on—have a bite! But then, as the mosquito sunk her proboscis into his neck, he slapped the pest and sat up abruptly.

Lewis grinned at him spitefully. “Why don’t you let it go ahead, Aaron? I gave up slapping the pesky things a long time ago.” He slumped down on the bunk and put his chin in his hands. There was a doleful look in his eyes as he said, “I’d like to get out of this place. I didn’t come down here to be eaten alive by bugs! And they say there have been some cases of yellow fever reported.”

“Dr. Burns told you that?”

“Yes, and I don’t want to miss the fight by being sick.”

The two men sat there idly, the heat sapping their strength, and finally through sheer lack of energy, they lay back until they fell into a fitful sleep.

They rose the next morning at the bugle call and were dressing when Isaiah Wilson, a black trooper attached to their unit as a hostler, opened the flap on their tent and stuck his head inside. His eyes were wide with excitement and he said, “Ain’t ya’ll heard the news?”

“What is it, Isaiah?” Lewis demanded. He’d become good friends with the wiry, young trooper over the past few days. Reaching out, he pulled him inside the tent, asking, “What’s happening?”

“While you two wuz sleepin’ yo’ life away,” Wilson grinned, “the orders done come through.” He was at once thrust back and forth between the two as they bombarded him with questions. Shoving them away, he grinned, “Here—don’t jostle me around. I done et breakfast. I don’t like my food to be all roiled after it’s et!”

“Never mind roiling!” Aaron said. “What’s going on?” His gray eyes were snapping and

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