Edge: Killer's Breed

Doubt etched her husband's features for a few moments, then was gone as he turned to walk back towards the house. "He was delirious," he explained. "Ain't likely a man sick as he is would recall all his actions. Now get supper, Maggie. And tell me what it is you got to tell Layton when he gets here."

The woman and her son went into the house behind Tom and as she prepared the meal she rehearsed her story for the sheriff. Out on the range the horse continued to canter northwards, leaving easy-to-follow tracks in the rain-softened ground. Five miles to the east along the trail the posse led by Sheriff Layton and Deputy West caught up with Grace Hope's buggy and slowed the pace to escort it.

CHAPTER NINE

THERE was a lull in the fighting as summer gave way to fall and fall retreated under the advance of winter. General McClellan raised his army and trained and drilled it into a body of professional soldiers in well organized camps around Washington while the Confederates regrouped after their Bull Run victory and dug in to defend their line.

For Hedges—and many like him who had found war to their taste—it was a period of bone-deep boredom. But at least he could gain relief on the submissive body of the ever-inventive Jeannie Fisher and it was her willingness to act as a receptacle for his frustrations—all of them channeled into a single driving lust for her—that held his killer instinct in check.

Then, early in '62, action flared in western Tennessee. Navy gunboats blasted their way south down the Mississippi River as Brigadier-General Grant led fifteen thousand troops and another fleet of ironclads in the same direction, on an almost parallel course along the Tennessee. On the Mississippi, Fort Pillow fell to the Union advance and Grant took Fort Henry and Fort Donelson. The push south was on and Brigadier-General Buell swung south west from Nashville with twenty-five thousand men.

Hedges' troop of cavalry were among the reinforcements assigned to join Buell's force, and they rode with a will, anxious to avenge the rout of Bull Run. Hedges allowed little time for rest and the hard training program he had put into effect drew dividends in the stamina of the men under his command. They complained, but they kept moving, sweeping across western Virginia, through Kentucky and into Tennessee. The speed of their advance took them south of Buell's columns and, not realizing this, Hedges pressed on, expecting each minute to spot the spectular sight of a massive army on the march. But it was not Buell's brigades he saw, hut Grant's. It was the evening of April 6 and as he rode up to the east bank of the Tennessee River it was to look across to the far side and see the blue-coated Union soldiers falling back under heavy attack from the Confederates.

"God, don't we ever do nothin' but lose?" Seward demanded. "I'm in the wrong army."

"Where are we, sir?" Douglas asked, as the whole troop came to a halt to gaze in shocked amazement across the swirling water of the river.

Hedges dug for his map. "Pittsburg Landing," he muttered.

"Never heard of it," Forrest growled.

"That wasn't where, they was supposed to be," Douglas said. "Was it?"

Hedges shook his head and consulted his map again. "No, Corporal. General Grant was supposed to be camped close to a meeting house called Shiloh Church."

"Guess he was caught praying by the rebs," Forrest said cynically, unbuttoning his holster. "Reckon he needs a hand, Captain?"

"Reckon he'd be obliged," Hedges answered and heeled his horse forward, into the rapidly flowing water of the muddy river.

"Yippppeee!" Seward yelled, plunging in after the captain as the rest of the troop moved forward.

Horses whinnied and spray flew from their struggling hooves as the riders dug in their heels and thwacked at hindquarters, driving them to the far bank, where cannon roared and small arms cracked. Their approach was seen by the. Confederates and some of the rebel artillery was ordered to raise its sights. Great spouts of water began to rise up around the advancing troopers, terrifying the horses into greater efforts.

"Hell!" a man shouted and Hedges glanced to his right and saw a trooper staring down in surprise at the bloody patch where his left arm had been. Another trooper angled over to help his comrade and was smashed from his horse as he took a shell, full in the chest.

"You with Buell?" a lieutenant in one of Grant's divisions demanded as Hedges came clear of the water.

"We missed him," Hedges snapped back. "What the hell happened here?"

"Rebs caught us off-guard," the lieutenant shouted, pressing himself into the ground as another barrage of heavy shells arced overhead and splashed into the river, now clear of troopers. A Union barrage replied, whining across the open countryside towards the rebel line, distinguishable in the gathering darkness by the flashes of exploding powder.

"Many losses, lieutenant?" Scott asked.