‘Aw, I knew Ross was going to get cowhearted on us,’ Sully says.
‘I ain’t getting cowhearted. I ain’t the cowardly one, getting other folks to do the dirty work I ain’t got the balls for.’ Sully takes a step back, shrugging like he don’t know what I’m about but I just keep on, madder than even I thought after all this time. ‘Don’t you for one second think I’ve forgotten what you were playing at down at the creek, setting Hiram and Edward on me. Trying to get me clapped in jail.’
‘You think it was just me? You don’t think I was put up to it—’ Sully starts.
‘Jeremiah,’ Henry says real loud, ‘I told you we can’t keep Ross safe! If you can’t go through with sending—’
‘You keep your traps shut,’ Jeremiah says, an edge to his voice, giving a sharp look at Henry and a sharper one to Sully. ‘Both of you. Not one word. We’ve got packing to do and there ain’t no use in wasting time with more bickering. Save it for the Rebs.’
It gets me wondering, though, what Jeremiah has said to those boys. If he has told them he aims to send me home. If there is more to what Sully tried at the creek.
Henry and Jimmy slink off in their own direction down Company B’s street. Sully peels off after a few more paces, Will tagging along behind, and then it’s me and Jeremiah on the main aisle, only a few groups of men ahead and behind us, too busy being excited to pay us mind.
‘I’ve got to talk to you, Rosetta,’ Jeremiah says low.
‘Ain’t nothing to talk about.’ I make my spine a ramrod and walk fast for our tent.
‘We agreed,’ Jeremiah says, making his steps match mine. ‘You said you’d take what pay you’ve a right to and go home safe—’
‘I ain’t entertaining no more talk about this. I’ve got to pack, remember?’ I turn away to go down the row toward our tent, but he grabs my arm and drags me after him. I fight against him until Ambrose Clark stands up from where he was sitting outside his tent, that flask in his hand.
‘Stop it, Jeremiah. People will see.’
‘You come with me then,’ he says, and I do.
We’re silent for a good long while, so long we walk past the latrines and toward the river.
‘You promised,’ he says the instant we are under the trees.
‘I don’t want to go back there! You think they’ll be proud to have me there, after what I’ve done?’
‘It ain’t so bad as all that. My Ma says she’s forgiven you for leaving like you did,’ Jeremiah says.
We stare at each other, neither one of us budging.
‘You heard Henry. The boys—I can’t keep you safe,’ Jeremiah says.
‘Captain Chalmers ain’t worried about keeping his wife safe! He ain’t sent her back home.’
Jeremiah don’t say a thing. Maybe he knows how to tell I’m bluffing.
‘I ain’t sitting in church with all those people judging me. And Eli—’ It is like bird wings flapping inside me, thinking on Eli, just saying his name, knowing Hiram might be worse. Jeremiah must see something in my face because he takes my hand in both of his. I lean into him.
‘Ain’t you nervous?’ Jeremiah asks, his voice going low again.
‘All the time,’ I say. ‘But going home ain’t going to stop that. There ain’t a thing for it, except do what we’ve got to.’
‘But you don’t have to do this thing!’ Jeremiah says.
I think of marching to the South, to the Rebels, and of the wounded lying in hospital beds and Joseph Brown dying. I think of that last letter I wrote for him and if it were my letter instead, if it were Papa bringing it to my Mama, and what it might be for her to hear it read. But then there’s Jeremiah lying alone on the battlefield. I shake my head.
‘Yes,’ I say, and grab for his hand. ‘I do have to. My place is with you.’
JEREMIAH’S VOICE IN my ear wakes me.
‘Rosetta,’ he whispers.
It is late. I don’t say anything, so he’ll leave me sleeping. There is a rustling as he moves under his blanket and his arm comes around me.
‘Rosetta, wake up.’
‘What?’
‘We’ve got to get up,’ he says.
‘Why?’
‘Just get up.’ He moves, getting to his feet and taking my hands to help me.
‘That ain’t nice,’ I say, and there is the glimmer of his smile in the dark.
‘You’ll like it.’ He drags me after him through the opening. ‘Look at that moon.’
It is almost straight over our heads, shining on the tent peaks like they are snow-covered roofs, almost as light as the moment before dawn breaks, but it is still deepest night.
The fort around us is quiet, only the sound of men snoring and grinding teeth and coughing as we pad down the tent row. I don’t know what Jeremiah is about, but he keeps hold of my hand.
‘Where we going?’ I ask.
‘I ain’t telling if you don’t know.’
We are almost to the trees when there is a scuffling noise behind us, coming from the latrines. There ain’t time to pull away from Jeremiah.