Page 105 of After 5

“You have germs,” I explained.

“Germs?”

“Pasteur’s germ theory hasn’t been accepted yet. That was quick thinking, Jen. I mean Jeb.” Gertie winked at me and moved to stand next to Marco. She held a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

Marco rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his mouth. “Great, I need a drink.”

“It’s not for you to drink.” Gertie smiled down at him. “This is medicinal whiskey. Now, take your pants off!”

While Gertie changed Marco’s bandages, I spoke with Sam about the best place to find Sergeant McGregor.

“If’n he’s at General Longstreet’s camp. I heard Major General Pickett is restin’ his men at his bivouac near the Cashtown road. I’d say the Sargent we met in the woods is a scout sent ahead to retrieve the general’s orders. Don’t make no sense him being so far ahead of his regiment.”

I hoped it made perfect sense.

I sent Sam to secure horses for our reconnaissance trip. While he was away, I informed Marco and Gertie of my plans to infiltrate Longstreet’s camp, each giving me their take on how completely insane I am.

I snuck out the back of the tent with my childhood mantra playing in my head. I’m spunky and I’m fierce and I’m smarter than most men, bad guys run and hide ’cuz here comes SuperJen.

* * *

We rode south keepingSeminary Ridge to our left. Confederate patrols stopped us along the way demanding to know our destination. Sam’s story of escorting the doctor to Longstreet’s camp by General Lee’s command was never doubted and papers never demanded. The soldiers knew Sam and they trusted him.

He swatted at a mosquito. “Damn gallnippers! They’re fierce in these woods.”

I mentally thanked Jake for the bug repellent he made me lather on before our journey.

“How did you come about being General Lee’s aide?” I asked him.

“My uncle served under him in the war against Mexico. He asked as a favor to select me from my regiment, the Seventh Tennessee, and serve as his aid.” Sam’s voice shifted and I caught a touch of anger. “I’m sure my ma had made the request.”

“I see. Can’t blame her, kept you away from the front lines of the battles.”

“I’m a good shot. Better than most of my friends serving in the Seventh.” Sam was obviously upset by his lack of active participation in the fight.

“You’d rather be getting shot at?”

“I’d rather be serving my country alongside my friends.” His words held the resentment of a boy wanting to do more than deliver messages. A man breaking free of a boy’s shell by proving his worth to his peers.

“The war can’t survive without communication, and I’m sure your friends recognize the danger you encounter taking messages to the generals.”

“My friends have tales of battles, and wounds to show for their bravery.”

I wondered how many of his “friends” would be able to share their tales after tomorrow. I took another tactic and changed the subject.

“What will you do after the war?”

“I don’t know, probably go back to my family’s farm in Tennessee, if there’s anything left of it. My ma wrote she’s gone south to stay with her sister in Texas because the Federals have confiscated our homestead. The livestock and the finery were taken.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said, but actually I was thrilled. If he ended up in Texas, I hadn’t screwed up his life, yet.

“I’m sure we’ll get it back. General Lee will win this battle here and we’ll march down the Baltimore Pike toward Washington. Lincoln’ll mess his britches when he hears the rebel yell coming for him.”

Jeez. I was grateful the last patrol stopped us, and Sam knocked his reverence for the Rebels down a few notches.

Arriving at the base camp was like entering a small town. Hundreds of tents were erected west of Seminary Ridge.

“We need to find a place to rest, maybe find your soldier in the morning. He’ll be difficult to locate this time of night.”

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