Fire in the Ashes

“I don't know; I don't even know if there is one. A gut hunch tells me there is. Probably a person we would never suspect.” Again, he sighed. “Anyway, it's moot now, isn't it, Ben?"

“Yes. At least for a time."

“We're moving out tomorrow, aren't we?"

“Yes. We've tried arming the people, hoping they would find the courage and the brains to help us. That failed. We can't just stay here forever."

“Ben ... we could just turn our backs to the problem. Go on back to the Tri-States, or set up somewhere else."

“Sooner or later, Ike, we'd have to fight—you know that. Might as well get it done now and get it over with."

“I agree, Ben. But I had to point out the options. Ms. Hickman?"

“What about her?"

“What happens to her?"

“She goes with us."

“Ms. Olivier?"

Ben thought for a moment. “When we move, we're going to be hitting hard and fast. TV viewing is going to be limited. Besides, I think Hartline is stringing Ms. Olivier along. We'll give it another week. It'll take us that long to map out plans and pull out of the mountains."

“And what happens after a week?"

Ben looked at him. “We send someone in to get Ms. Olivier and daughter."

“Suppose she doesn't want to go?"

“I think,” Ben's words were soft, “that in a week she'll be more than ready to leave Richmond."

“Premonition?"

Ben shook his head. “I just know Hartline's reputation."

Thirteen

The sergeants were rolling out the troops at dawn the following morning, shouting out orders. The troops responded like the well-oiled machines their instructors had made them.

At 0800, Ben's field commanders showed up for the scheduled meeting. Ben had not informed them of the pull-out, and was pleased to see smiles on all their faces at the sudden activity in Base Camp One.

Ben shook hands all around, General Hazen saying, “Made your mind up, eh, Ben?"

“We're going to pull out gradually, Bill. Over a week's time. Let's start hashing out what's what and how and when."

“How, is easy,” Hector Ramos said. “We kick ass. I've been giving some thought to where."

“That's what we're here for, gentlemen,” Ben said, leading them to his big tent. He sent out for some coffee and was amused at the looks the officers gave Dawn.

“I swear I've seen her before,” Conger said.

“Me, too,” Hector echoed. “Damn, she looks familiar to me."

“Dawn Bellever,” Ben said softly, a smile playing around his mouth.

“Ahh!” Conger said.

“Bello, bello,” Hec said with a smile and a waggling movement of his fingers.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” General Krigel asked.

Conger told him.

Krigel looked at the retreating derriere of Dawn. “No shit!” he said.

Work halted briefly outside the tent as laughter erupted from inside.

“What's going on there?” a dark-haired, small young woman asked Dawn.

“Damned if I know. Dawn Bellever.” She stuck out her hand.

“Rosita O'Brien.” The women shook hands. “I'm with Colonel Ramos's detachment. Sounds like the brass is having a stag party in there."

“That ... very well may be true. Boys being what they are.” She had a pretty good idea what the men were laughing about.

“I heard that. What's going on, Dawn? Why all the commotion?"

Dawn opened her mouth, then closed it. She shook her head. “Beats me."

Rosita laughed. “Okay, I get it. Well, I'll get the word in time."

“Come on,” Dawn took the woman's arm. “Walk with me to the mess tent."

“Thanks, but I've already eaten."

“No, I've got to get some coffee for the brass."

Rosita stopped dead in her tracks. “I'm no goddamn delivery person.” The fire in her eyes was a smoldering emerald green. “And neither are you; you're a soldier, remember?"

“Sure. I also remember something else, as well."

“Oh?” the little Irish-Spanish lady stood with hands on hips. “What's that?"

“Ben said he wanted some coffee."

“Ben? Oh ... I see. I think.” Her face brightened. “Some people get all the luck. Come on, let's get that coffee. I have a million questions I'd like to ask you."

“If they're about General Raines, forget it."

“Aw, come on, Dawn! We're on the same team, aren't we?"

“Sure,” Dawn's reply was dry, then she joined in Rosita's laughter.

* * * *

Hartline ignored the girl's pleadings and shifted her into another position. “That's my little fox, now,” he laughed. “Isn't this way all better?"

She sobbed her reply.

“Oh? Well ... let's do it this way, then.” He grinned as he took her, his grin broadening as Nancy Olivier's cries filled the bedroom. She jerked under his assault and tried to pull away. His hands held her, clamped tightly on her shoulders and he bulled his way inside her. “You just hang on, now, baby—it'll start gettin’ good in a minute or so. Ol’ Sam Hartline guarantees it."

The girl groaned as his manhood filled her.

“Yes, indeed,” Hartline laughed. “Won't momma be surprised?"

* * * *