Memorial Rain
by Nesciri

For the purpose of this story, The Kid's last name is assumed to be Hughes. And the standard discalimers apply - I don't own the character, mnerely use them for non-profit fun.

It was the rain that brought forward his mood. It was the rain that brought forward the memories. It was bitter cold and the worn-out tents did nothing to keep the wetness out. In fact they were so soggy and leaked so much that he might as well be outside. It had been three years now. Three years that he had lived in this hell, far away from those he loved and cared for. The ones that had loved and cared for him. He wasn't so sure they still did. Three years was a long time. Three years ago his reasons had sounded so right, had made so much sense. And now? He couldn't care less. Three years ago he still believed in the words, words from another time, which now repeated itself in his mind. "Whatever happens, do not forget: we are Virginians born. She is truly our alma mater - our nourishing mother. People may speak of the South, or of the Union, but we must always be loyal to her, Kid - to Virginia." That was what he had believed for a long time - and he had cherished the memory of the land - the same land that now was covered in mud and blood, the same land that was threatening to take his life as the regiment struggled for survival. Shivering from the cold he wrapped the blanket around him. Not that it helped against the cold, but it gave some comfort. They had been on the move for several days now, and he was no longer sure if they were advancing or retreating.

Not that it seemed to matter. Wherever they turned they found Union troops and canons. It didn't matter how many battles they won, or many Union soldiers that were slain on the fields - there were always more. Their general had cursed the Union commander that seemed to treat his men as canon food, knowing that there would always be more men. And somehow it worked - seeing the dead and the slaughtered took its toll on their own men. The numerous killings slowly depraved them of their own humanity until the taking of yet another life didn't mean anything. Finding the tent depressing, Kid rose and left. Or rather lieutenant Hughes did. Kid wasn't a name he had used in a long time. Nobody here knew him by that name. To them he was lieutenant Hughes, or simply the lieutenant. He was an officer now - not by any education, simply by doing his best and the fact that their lieutenant had been killed not more than a month ago. Not having anyone else, Kid had received a quick promotion and the lieutenant's things, including the tent. But right now, Kid preferred the company of his men, whom sat huddled under what cover they could found. A few of them nodded as they saw him, others didn't care. Finding a somewhat dry spot under a large tree, Kid sat down to wait for the dawn or the rain to end, whatever came first. The soft chatter died as the night wore on.

A sound made several of the men stare in the direction of a private by the name of Semmes. He had opened his spare ration, the one that was supposed to be saved for emergencies. Semmes was already in the progress of opening a can of ham and Kid knew he should tell him not to. It was his duty as the commanding officer to make sure that the rations were saved. But somehow it didn't matter and Kid remained silent. The man could get killed the next day and if he was hungry now, why wait?
"Don't you know that's forbidden?" Private Daniel stated dryly.
Semmers smirked.
"It's forbidden to kill too. Ain't that in the fifth commandment? Opening a tin is nothing compared to that."

The others turned to Kid, waiting for his position until they decided what they should do. Kid had been sitting in silence, listening to their conversations. He felt an uneasiness when he noticed that the men were looking at him and waited his judgment. Suddenly Kid felt a sudden irritation over the fact that they couldn't decide for themselves and just open their own rations if they were hungry. He sighed and looked up, and stated monotonously:
"Do as you please. Doubt the hunger gonna be worse than it already is. They say that after 24 hours you don't feel it any longer, so you might say that we have the right to use'em."

He fully understood that his reasoning was wrong and that the men saw that too, but still it sort of hidden the fact that they were breaking given orders.
Suddenly there was a general opening of the rations and the silence was shattered by the munching. Kid could have lived with the hunger, but even so he followed the others example and opened his ration, as to sanction the action of his men. With a hint of sadness Kid remembered the roast that Rachel served on Sundays as he slowly eat the tasteless ham. He would have given anything to taste that again - he would even gladly have eaten the burnt steak that had been Lou's first attempt in the kitchen after they got married. Compared with the ham, it would have been delicious.

A broad smile marked the face of private McMillan as he wiped his fingers on his trousers.
"That was good - guess I'm ready to do battle again." The statement didn't bring out any smiles. The men were tired of the fighting and needed not to be reminded about it. They would all do their best when needed to, but right now they were enjoying the temporary calmness.
When they had finished, someone managed to find some dry tobacco in his pouch and soon a cigarette were passed around the men. Kid took it gratefully and inhaled the smoke. Had somebody asked him before he joined the Confederacy if he was a smoking man, he would have said no. He had never found the habit inviting or interesting. Now the smoke held off the constant stench of death from his clothes and his nose and he found that he enjoyed it. He let the smoke roll in his mouth, savouring it as he passed the cigarette to the next man. One of the soldiers begun to describe his run-in with a Union troop earlier. The tale brought hightened nervousness among the men. The Union soldiers could be close and a surprise attack might already be on the way. Several of the younger soldiers nervously gazed out into the drizzling rain, imaging the enemy hiding behind every shrubbery every tree. It brought Kid back to reality, interrupting his thoughts of brighter days - of a happier time. He cautiously stared out in the rain and his alertness paid off. Raising himself into a more upright position he whispered: "Down."
Carefully he withdrew his gun from the holster and pointed.
"There's somebody moving over there."

The men loaded their rifles and tried to avoid the sound of the clicking of the locks. The rifles were aimed in the direction Kid had pointed out.
"Make a chain. Move forward, silent." Kid whispered the orders to the man on his right and a soft whisper told him that the order was transferred down the line. Silently they moved from tree to tree. A twig that broke under a foot sounded in their ears as a gunshot and rendered the culprit an angry look from the man closest. Then somebody fired. Curtis had fired and the name slowly was passed around the men. "It was Curtis."
"What do you see?"
"There he runs."
A blue-clad man disappeared behind a tree. He stumbled and fell, but was quickly back on his feet, running.
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"
The Union soldier suddenly appeared with his hands over his head. He looked from one man to another and slowly approached them. His dirty face was so pale that it was white and he trembled with every step he took. His eyes moved skittishly from one to another of the men closest to him, but his face told them that he hardly saw anything, so consumed was he by some greater tension. Obviously he was scared that at any moment a rifle would be raised and aimed at him. He stepped forward waiting for death and yet hoping that it wouldn't come.
"Search the bushes in case he's not alone." Kid's voice sounded oddly detached in the still rain that still poured down over them. But the surroundings were clear and soon all of them were gathered around the prisoner, who by now appeared somewhat calmer. He was still standing with his trembling hands above his head and smiled weakly at them. Instinctively he smiled in an effort to seek contact with the human in them, pass the soldier. As if he wanted to say: Don't hurt me. Let's laugh and be friends. I'm smiling at you as if we just met by accident and in the friendliest of places.

He looked to be no more than 24 years old. In his face they could see the signs of the same hardships they have endured. He was dressed in the blue uniform of the Union and on his feet he was wearing a pair of worn out lace-up boots.
"That belt of his is off fabric," one of the men commented.
"Looks like the mighty Union running out of supplies too, he?" another sneered.
"Are there any more Union soldiers out there?" Kid interrupted the comments.
The prisoner shook his head.
"You carrying any gun?" Again the man shook his head.
"Don't ask - look for it." Private Semmes, a veteran around his thirties, commented and reached forward to search the man's pockets.
"Stop that," Kid ordered. The man had surrendered and there was no need to further humiliate the man. "If he says he ain't got a gun, I'll believe him."
Semmes sneered, but stepped back.
"What do we do with 'im?"
"Guess we should take him back to the command place," Kid stated and looked around. "Who'll take him?"
"I'll do it," Semmes volunteered and pushed the man in the back with the butt of his rifle. "That way."
The prisoner looked around before he hesitantly started to move in the indicated direction. Semmes followed him with the rifle safely under his arm and the others turned to get back after having search the area once more. Semmes and the prisoner had hardly disappeared out of sight until a gunshot was heard from their direction. It was followed by a horrible, high-pitched death scream and then another shot. Agitated they run towards the spot. The prisoner was lying on the ground, face down, and Semmes pulled back the rifle lock so that a cartridge case fell out.
"What did he do?" Kid asked in a strained voice.
"He died." Semmes' lips were nothing more than two thin lines.
"He tried to run away?"
"Yes."
Kid gave Semmes a quick side-glance. When he spoke his voice wasn't so much accusing but rather more a bit avoiding.
"That was not necessary. He wasn't that kind of man."
"I'll be damned if I'll start sorting 'em out." Semmes laughed, a piercing laugh that the others found repulsing.
"You shot him in the back. He wasn't trying to escape." Private Daniel was upset. The despairingly scream had shook him and besides, he, who was the most sensitive of them, had already taken in the pleading look in the prisoner's face. For him the prisoner had actually been a living person, and not just a creature that had been changed into a concept just so that it would be easier to kill him. Semmes flared and turned to him.
"In the back, yes!" he growled. "Better from behind than from the front. Less trouble. So cry now, damn you. Read the damn bible for him."

Smith turned trembling away from the sight. He couldn't stand looking at the man with the two gunshots in his back. Daniel turned his back to Semmes.
"Shot then, if you want to. I ain't no judge. But the poor man was scared out of his wit."
"Let's not get all crying here," private Collins stated with forced manly voiced.
"What is it to cry about," private Henley stated disdainful. "A few miles away a man loads a canon and kills another several miles away and he can't do a damn thing about it. And now you want us to play - like what - like 'em gentlemen? Don't fire on an unarmed man and all that. It's just the generals' way of trying to make this blasted war look noble. This war is madness - ain't nothing that ever gonna make it noble. Not all the world's rules of conduct gonna make it sane."

"Let's go back." For the first time the men heard a hint of anger and disapproval in their lieutenant's voice. His walk was more briskly than usual as well. Some of them thought Semmes was the reason, others thought it was Henley. In reality it was all of it. The incident and the emotions around it had brought feelings to life, feelings that Kid had thought he had lost after three years of constant fighting. He had worked hard to forget about death, his own and others, in hope to keep himself sane in the madness that surrounded him. He guarded that saness with all his might and now he was upset because his cautiously built up defence was trembling in its foundations. So far he had managed to keep his head clear enough for him to see the madness of war, and he knew that when no longer could see that, then the war would have won. He had seen it among his men, among other soldiers. They stopped caring, and after a while, all they could do was continue the killing. Void of human emotions they kept on killing. Kid didn't want to end up like that. He fought it, fought harder than most, but every despicable act and every attempt to brag about death brought forward the judge in him, longing for a moral and fairness that the war didn't allow. He had tried to do his duty and forget the foolishness in it, but that had been taken away from him. Slowly he calmed down as he begun walking in a slower pace and his breathing was back to normal again. He calmed down as the impressions faded away from his mind, and soon he was back to his own self. Maybe he was the only one of them that had realised the lowliness of Semmes' action, and yet after a few minutes it no longer pained him. So faded the act away, without anybody learning from it. By forgetting about it, they approved it. But then, that was the war.

The sombre mood remained over the men for some time. Semmes' face was dark and if anybody dared look at him, he stared defiantly back at them. He volunteered to release the guards that had been forced to stand on post longer than anticipated due to the incident. Sporadic fighting was heard not far from them and now and then bullets hits the trees under which they were hiding. The men didn't return fire - it was useless when they couldn't see the enemy, and they weren't in the mood for fighting. They knew that the firing would soon end and the enemy would withdraw, as they had before. Nobody in his right mind attacked in the rain. There was too much risk of getting lost. So the men crouched as low as they could and waited for dawn. All except Semmes. Henley ordered him to take cover, but the only response he got was a disdainful smirk.

Kid rested with the men until the firing ceased and they knew that the enemy had moved on, or tired. Whatever the reason, the rest of the night would be calm and each man tried to find a comfortable position in hope of getting a few hours of sleep. After confirming that the guards were alert, Kid decided to return to the tent. He suddenly felt tired of the others' company and he didn't care if they thought he was abandoning them. He had not asked for the promotion, nor had he wanted it, but right now he was glad he had it. Finding a corner of the tent that provided some dryness, he pulled out an envelop from his inner pocket.

He had received it two years earlier. It was the last letter that he had received from her. His wife. He still had a hard time realising that she was his wife - that she had let him marry her. As if it wasn't hard enough to get use to her being Louise rather than Lou. His Louise. Carefully holding the letter away from any dampness he looked at it. In the almost non-existing light, he could barely make out the address on the envelope. Part of it had already been smeared out into a blue blur. Fighting the urge to read it, he finally succumbed and even if he knew that he shouldn't he lighted the lamp next to him. Minimising the flame he held the letter close to the light and started to read.

Beloved,

This is a moment of both joy and sorrow. Sorrow because you are not here to share it with me - with us. I've asked Rachel to write this, because I can't.

Our son lies on my arm. It's such a tiny weight on my arm, hardly noticeable. And yet it weighs more than the earth and the sky and the stars. Should I die now today, I'll have that memory of that sweet tiny weight to take with me to Heaven, knowing that I haven't lived in vain. No, I'm not crazy, honey, and I will not die.

I'm just trying to describe how I'm feeling right now. Our son is lying on my arm. He has such tiny, tiny hands. One of them is closed around my finger, and I hardly dare to move. He might loose his grip, and right now, that would be unbearable. That tiny hand is such a miracle, that tiny little hand with its five tiny fingers and five tiny nails. I know that children have hands, but I hadn't really understood that my child would have it too. Because I'm lying here looking at that tiny rose petal that is my son's hand, and I can't seemed to stop being amazed.

He's lying here with closed eyes and is burying his nose next to my chest, he has dark, fluffy hair and I can hear him breathe. He's a miracle.His grandfather was here a few minutes ago and he thought too that he was miracle too, and I know that Rachel is agreeing with me (I do, Kid, he's wonderful), so I guess he must be a miracle then since all of us think that.

A minute ago, he cried a little, our son. He sounds like a sad, baaing kid when he cries and I can barely stand to hear it, it breaks my heart. He's so defenceless, my little kid, my nestling, how am I ever going to be able to protect him? As I close my arms around him I know that they have been waiting for just this moment, that this is what they were meant for, to be a nest for our little nestling, our baby.

I wish with all my heart that you could be here and share this with me. I believe that our son has your nose, beloved, and he definitely has your eyes. Even if you are hundred of miles away from me, I have a part of you right here with me. And right now, our son is all I care about. Right now his mine, his fluffy head, his tiny fingers and piteous cry and small mouth that searches for me. Right now I'm all he got, until his father comes home to join us. I hope that you will be returning soon, Kid. We both need you.

There so much I want to tell you, but it will have to wait until I can write to you myself. Rachel smiles at me and tells me that she doesn't mind, but even so I prefer to write it myself. I believe our son is hungry so I better finish this now.

You're a father now, darling, so you better take care of yourself.

I love you,

Louise

PS. Louise insisted that we wrote you directly after your son's birth so if you find this letter a bit confusing, don't let it disturb you. This is an emotional moment, for all of us. I swear I saw Teaspoon shed a tear earlier. You have a wonderful son, Kid, and he will be dearly looked after until you return. Ride safe, Rachel.

Kid turned out the light and pressing the letter to his chest he sank down on the bunk, ignoring the sound of fighting in the distance. It was the last letter he had received. He had no clue to what Lou had wanted to tell him in her own letter. He hadn't known she was pregnant when he had left her and he briefly wondered if it would have made a difference. He hoped it would have. Little Jed had been born eight months after his departure and it had taken the letter another four months to reach him. He still remembered the letter in which Lou told him that she was pregnant. When it had reached him, he was already enrolled in the Confederate army and there was no way he could turn back. He wished he knew what his son looked like. He wished he were able to hold the boy in his arms. He would be two years old in a month or so and Kid pondered that he was probably getting to big for being carried around. He wasn't really sure when children started to walk or talk, but private Curtis, a father of five had given him some ideas. He sighed and gently placed the letter back in his pocket. He should get some sleep. The last thought on his mind was if it was raining in Rock Creek too.

The rain cloud faded into brighter wisps of clouds and the grey morning was lighted up when the sun started to shine through them. It glittered in the wet grass and it felt strange to walk through it as it still made them wet up to their knees. The dampness in their clothes started to disappear in the heat of the sun, and the freshness and beauty of the morning forced the dark mood of the rainy and heavy night. The regiment was ordered to march at dawn and the supplies were quickly packed as where the few tents they still had. The camp was broken and they marched in silence. The longer they marched the closer the sounds of canons became. Eventually they adapted to this strange mood where death rules in the background, sometimes strongly, sometimes only vaguely. The fight ahead became a reality for them. They met transports with fallen and wounded soldiers. Those that marched into battle before them had suffered heavy casualties. At first they were luckier and reached the first positions without casualties. And then they waited.

Around four o'clock they were ordered to be prepared for attack. The men placed themselves on the ground, scouting the area ahead of them - the area that they soon would be running across. Nobody wanted think about the possibility that the enemy would be equipped with machine guns, which easily could kill several of them in just a few bursts. Machine guns were still rare, but they had encountered enough of them to know their lethal powers.

A silent chatter emerged as a few of them tried to hide their nervousness and Kid hissed at them. "Silence," he ordered in a tensed voice. He hated the wait even more than he hated the killing. He hadn't more than said the word until the world cracked open behind him.
"Canons!" somebody called out as they covered their heads to protect themselves from the splinters. Kid knew that there was only one way out and he got to his feet.
"Forward!"

The men rose and begun running towards the other side. They hadn't taken many steps until they suffered the first loss. Another man stopped and stumbled until he fell into a small pool of water that immediately was coloured red from his blood. A few of the new ones tried to turn back in their confusion but they were immediately forced back onto the battlefield by the next regiment. The sound of a machine gun forced them to take cover and they crouched close to the ground. Those that had yet to realise what the sound meant would never learn from their mistake. They fell without even knowing what had hit them. Kid closed his eyes and counted the seconds. If they were lucky the they only had one or two machine guns against them and the bad thing about machine guns, or good, depending what side you were on, was that you needed to cool down the pipe regularly - which took it's time. Even before the last bullet had been fired, Kid was already on the move with his men following him. He knew that they only had a few minutes to cover as much ground as possible before the Union soldiers opposite them would get the gun back in order. They run up for a small hill. The enemy fire came from the farthest side of it. The smoke from the guns and canons begun to fade away, but the sight was still bad, and Kid called out to his men to keep together. A man appeared at his side.
"Hey, lieutenant. Don't let 'em start crawling. Head straight for those Union Jacks - best way to get 'em to run."

Kid threw the man a hasty side-glance and recognised him as one of the more experienced in the group and nodded. He continued to run. Soon he could see the enemy position and in the same moment the man next to him was hit by a lethal bullet. Now it was no longer a choice and every man sought cover. From the cover they began firing, hoping to get one of the enemies in their sights. Curtis was already firing for all he was worth, ignoring to take proper cover, as if he wanted to show the others that he wasn't scared. Kid ignored him, knowing that he could take care of himself. And if he couldn't, there was nothing he, Kid, could do about it anyway. Instead he concentrated on his target - the Union position on the hill. The machine gun appeared in their view and Larsen got his coat, which he had rolled up to lean on, pierced by two bullets. Private Archer, who was next to him quickly took aim and fired. Two of the three heads behind the machine gun disappeared. The third fell forward over the gun and Kid took the opportunity to order his men to advance. With a yell they urged forward, over the fence and came face to face with the enemy. Two dead soldiers lay behind the defence fence and a third raised his gun at Archer, who had been the first over. He was dead even before he had thought about pulling the trigger. In the next wave three more enemy soldiers met their fate. Archer advanced calmly and safely and those of the Union soldiers that stayed met one of his bullets. Kid had a problem keeping up with the man and he found time to admire the man's fearlessness. When the second regiment joined them it was almost over. They had won and the enemy was already on the run.

And in the process Kid had won more of his men's trust. He had learned to stay calm in the heat of battle and he didn't give up. That, and his calculating mind, prevented his group from suffering from heavy losses. He did not endanger his men unnecessarily. But the first reason for the respect was his behaviour. He could have been any one of them. Those who saw him in battles or on the marches would not have taken for an officer unless they saw the grades on his coat. But the horrors of war took its toll on him as on everyone else. Semmes became even grimmer. A shot fired next to his ear made him partially deaf for a while. He was still deaf when he shot a wounded enemy with the motivation that he couldn't stand hearing the man's moaning. Nobody paid much attention to it. They were already seasoned veterans of war. Once they had been forced to leave a wounded man during a retreat and when they returned they had found him in his long johns, killed by a bayonet thrust in his side. In retaliation, one of the men killed three Union soldiers as they surrendered. Two days later that man was killed by canon fire. Death ceased to be a moral problem.

But they weren't always lucky. Kid would always remember the day the orderly was killed. The orderly had been a young boy, no more than fifteen years old. Kid and a few of his men made a desperate attempt to take an enemy post when the boy had been hit by a bullet in his stomach and the attacked was postponed. Kid dragged the boy into cover behind a large stone. The boy was in severe pain as the bullet had torn his stomach to pieces. Kid couldn't suppress a moan of his own at the terrible sight as he tried to stop the bleeding.
"Don't move," he said tenderly. "That only increases the pain. They'll be here with a stretcher in a minute. Just hang in there."
Blood ran from the boy's mouth.
"I'm gonna die, ain't I…there won't be any stretcher...where's my dad? Mother…I…oaaah…it's burning, it hurts.."
Kid cried openly.
"You won't die. Just stay calm, they'll be here."
The boy was filled with childish terror of death. He tried to get away and Kid had to hold him still.
"Please, pray with me…sir…I can't remember the words…it hurts…I'll die…"
Kid didn't know what to do. He wasn't aware of him praying, but he tried confusingly to do as the boy asked and stumbled over the words.
"Our Father in heaven…hallowed be your name…your kingdom come…"
The boy moved his bloody lips.
"Our Father …our Father …in heaven…"
Then his body twisted a few times. His back bent so that he was laying in a curve with only the neck and heels touching the ground. His face turned blue and his body stiffened. Then he was gone. Kid wiped his eyes with his sleeve and then he crawled over to his men. There was nothing more he could do for the boy. Later that day he was writing his first letter of condolence.

The days turned into weeks. Time no longer mattered to them. Kid tried to keep track of the days, thinking of his son, wondering how old he was, and what he was doing. In quiet moments he found a peace of his own in imaging his son learning to walk, his chubby legs carefully trying each steps until he would reach the safety of his mother's arms. He could see Lou smile at her son, as she would pick him up into the air, a joyous laugh sounding from his mouth. In his dream she would turn and smile at him, the boy securely on her hip. In his dream she was standing on a field of wild flowers with the sun shining from a clear blue sky. In his dream there was no horrors of war, no deaths, just the presence of his family. But his dream was constantly interrupted by the harsh reality of the war around him. Constantly they were forced into battles and Kid feared that he would run out of luck, that one day it would be he that lay on the ground, soiling it with his own blood. He knew that it was dangerous to think that. If you thought too much of death, you lost your concentration and that could lead to the loss of not only his own life but others' as well. The last week they had been under constant enemy fire. The days became a routine where they dug down to get cover, made a fire in the group and started to boil potatoes. The fire was hidden with bushes and then they sat there, crouched together in the cold night and the rain. They ate their poorly washed potato, ignorant of the mud that stuck to it. They had run out of food three days ago and the potato was stolen from an abandoned farm. As soon as they had eaten, those that didn't have guard duty threw themselves down under a tree and slept, despite the rain. There demands were not high. Williams slept in pool of water. He had happened to lay down there and hadn't the energy to change place. But down deep inside them the fear lurked. If the shooting became more intense or appeared closer they woke up and listened. When the sound faded away or stopped he leaned down again and was asleep before his head reached the ground. They were retreating.

The medical tent was full. The easily wounded and the unconscious dying had been carried outside. A soft moaning was heard from a small shrubbery next to the tent. The medical aids sat down with apathy and tried to shield themselves against the misery. The doctor was nervous and agitated. It was hard to see the men die and at the same time knowing that a surgery might have helped many of them. But there was no possibility for that out here. The only thing he could do was dressing their wounds and to give them laudanum.
One of the wounded was about to give up his breath. He had been wounded the previous night. The bullet had hit him below the stomach and the man had been in great pain until a temporary unconsciousness appeared and gave him some comfort. It took the doctor one look to know that he was about to die. When he saw that the man was conscious he called for the priest.
"He will not make it," he mumbled and left the man to do his job. He didn't like sending the priest into the tent to talk with the man. It was not easy for the other wounded to hear it. That's why he tried to remove the dying from the tent. It wasn't easy to hear a man die next to you, knowing that all you waited for was the same thing. But at the same time he hated to bring them out into the rain. The doctor turned as he cursed over the war. The priest was leaning over the man - the doctor believed his name was Johns. Johns was twenty years old and would never be older. There was a dark shadow under his eyes as if the pain had taken a visible expression. He was thin, he had probably been under-nourished most of his life. His parents had been poor dirt-farmers and hard work and poor food had sat their mark on his development, but despite that he fought death with a stubbornness that only could come from a hard life. He had had one goal in life, to be able to buy himself a suit and a horse, but the poor harvest from the farm had merely been enough to sustain the family. The priest watched how the life that had nourished those dreams slowly faded away. Turning away from the all too familiar scene, the doctor turned only to be aware of a young lieutenant that hesitantly stared around him. From the corner of the tent a man started to cry as the priest started to read over the dead Johns.
"Can I help you, lieutenant?"
"One of my men was brought here yesterday," Kid said. "Private Daniels…"
"Sorry." The doctor shook his head. "There was nothing we could do - he died a few hours ago."
Kid stared down on the ground as a man close to them started yelling and screaming in pain.
"Thank you, doc," he mumbled and left the tent and the agony that it harboured. He desperately hoped that when it was his time that death would come quickly.

He walked back to where his group was resting and gave them the news. They weren't too upset. Death was a part of life and soon enough there would be somebody to replace private Daniel. Collins asked if he knew if anybody had taken care of his shoes and Kid shook his head. He hadn't bothered to ask. The negative answer caused Collins to rise, saying that he would go and find them, since Daniel had promised him them should he die. Kid knew that it was a lie, but he didn't care. Boots were hard to come by and Collins' were in a poor state. And God knew that Daniel wouldn't need them anymore. Kid left them and walked aimlessly around the camp. He found a piece of wood and sat down. A man not far from him looked at him and then he handed him a bottle. Kid nodded his thanks and didn't hesitate in bringing it to his mouth. The strong liquid burned in his throat, but it felt good. The liqueur warmed his chilled body and he shivered slightly before handing it back. They were fighting a loosing battle. He didn't really know when he had come to realise it. All he knew was that it was the truth. He wondered if Cody was experiencing the same thing he did. If the fighting was as bad where he was as it was here. Somehow he doubted it - Cody would have better sense than to get himself involved in anything like this. He wondered what the others were doing. From Lou's letters he knew that Teaspoon had remained as the marshal of Rock Creek, enjoying the taken roll as grandfather for his and Lou's son. The thought warmed his heart - Teaspoon would make a great grandfather. The last he had heard from her said that Buck had stayed too - working as a deputy. Jimmy had apparently returned to Kansas, but Lou hadn't known what he was doing. Kid thought he knew. He was fighting too. There was no way Jimmy would be left out. But he would be doing his fighting close to home - in Kansas. He might even have joined the militia. Just as Jesse had done. They had all taken a stand in this bloody war - all except Buck and Lou. And somehow Kid had a feeling that they were the most likely to get hurt by it. Shivering he ran his hands through his dirty hair when he heard somebody call his name.
"Lieutenant Hughes?"

Kid looked up into the questioning eyes of a young orderly and for a second he remembered the young boy that had died in his arms. Shaking the disturbing memory from his mind he nodded.
"You've found him."
"There's a letter here for you. It's been here for sometime now, when somebody said that you had returned…"
Kid more or less pulled the envelope from the boy. The envelope was dirty and the post mark impossible to read, but not the address. The orderly discreetly disappeared, but Kid didn't notice. He kept reading the sender's address over and over again: Louise Hughes, Rock Creek, Nebraska.
He wanted to open it and he wanted to wait. He hadn't heard from her in two years and suddenly he was holding her letter in his hands. A soft moan from the shrubbery by the tent made him aware of his surroundings. Clasping the letter close to his heart he rose and tried to find a more secluded spot, away from the pain and the fear. He found it by a small creek. With hands that were trembling he opened the letter. Soon he held several pages with Lou's neat handwriting in his hand as he felt something else in the envelope. Carefully he pulled out a photo. It was a simple photo of a woman sitting in a chair with a toddler on her lap. Kid stared at it. The young woman was smiling at the camera with that same smile he had been seeing in his dreams. Her hair was longer than when he had last seen her, but otherwise it was the same Lou that he loved. She looked happy. He turned his gaze to the child on her knee and he felt tears run down his cheek. His son. He didn't know what to feel or to do as he looked at the image of his son. Lou had been right - he had his nose and eyes. But there was so much of Lou in him too.
"Oh, Lou," he mumbled. "He's beautiful."

Beloved,

I miss you so much. I haven't heard from you in a long time and it scares me. Teaspoon keeps telling me that there are numerous reasons for you not being able to write and that no news is good news.

I keep thinking of you, of how your life is. The reports that we get from the war are terrifying, and, God forgive me, but every time your name is not on any of those dreaded lists I feel happy.

Mrs. Emerson lost her youngest son yesterday, so now the war has taken both her boys. Do you remember him? He used to help us out during the Express days. His name was Jake.

But I didn't write you to talk about the war. Jed turned two one week ago and Rachel took us to Denver for an early present. She took us to a photographer. The photo turned out rather nice, so I enclosed it in this letter. He's starting to be a big boy now and he surely keeps his mother on her toes. He is very smart too, and he got grandfather Teaspoon wrapped around his finger. I keep telling him that he's spoiling him, but Teaspoon just laughs at me. You better come home soon, or he'll be spoiled beyond hope.

He's been asking about you. He knows his daddy is off fighting, but he doesn't really understand it. He's got your interest in horses. He's been nagging me to take him down to the stable all day. I don't dare to let him run around there on his own, even if the horses seem to know he's there. But if anything should happen, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself.

Oh Kid, I wanted this to be a happy letter, telling you all about Jed and our lives, but the words just don't come out right. I miss you so much. If it hadn't been for Jed I don't know what I've would have done. I miss your touch and your voice. I miss feeling your arms around me. I miss wakening up with you in the morning and going to bed with you in the evening. I even miss our arguments. I miss those silly little things that made me so upset with you. I've even started to talk to Katy so that she won't miss you so much either.

Teaspoon is still the marshal and he refuses to get a new deputy. Rachel is worried about him, saying that he's taking on too much work. By that I guess you already realised that Buck is still missing. I told you about that in my last letter. Teaspoon's more worried than he admits, mostly because of the Indian trouble of late. We've heard from Cody last week, and at least he promised to keep an eye out. He's getting married by the way. Can you imagine Cody married? I've seen a photo of his fiancée and she is beautiful. I can't help wondering why she chose Cody.

Jimmy passed by here three months ago. He stayed for a month while Teaspoon was sick. He was great around Jed, and Jed called him 'uncle 'immy'. He joined in the war for a short while, but he said it wasn't for him. He's decided to give the job as a marshal a try and has returned to Kansas. But he promised to keep in touch and to visit now and then. It was good to see him again.

But it doesn't matter how many friends I've got around me - my life is not even close to complete without you. I love you, Kid. There's not a single day that goes by without me praying for your safe return. We need you. Please come home soon.

I love you,

Louise

He read it over and over again. He missed her too, missed her more than he could say. He should write her. He had to write to her. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her and loved her. He didn't know what else she was talking about. He didn't know what Cody or Jimmy had been doing, nor did he know why Buck was missing. But the fact that she had continued to write to him sent a flutter through his heart. She hadn't forgotten about him. Despite the fact that he hadn't written, she had continued to write. He felt a stab of pain in his chest when he realised just how much he missed her. He even felt a hint of jealousy reading that Jimmy had met his son before he had. But it didn't matter. Not if it made Lou happy. He desperately wished that this war was over, so that he could be back with his family again. He didn't want his son to grow up without knowing him. Carefully folding the letter and photo he placed it back into the envelope before placing it in his pocket. Briskly he walked back to the camp, where he managed to get some paper from one of the medical aids. Finding a spot behind the officer's tent, he retrieved the photo and started to write.

Beloved Lou,

I'm sorry for not writing earlier. Life hasn't been easy here and I fear that we're fighting a loosing battle. You, and our son, are the one thing that keeps me alive. You're like a ray of hope in this madness they call war. In a world of death and darkness you are the light.

There's nothing more I want than to be able to be home with you, watching our son grow. I saw the photo. He's beautiful, Lou. It's hard to believe that he's part of me. That something that wonderful could come from me.

I miss you too, Lou. I miss you more than I can say. I love you. I've always loved you and I always will.

The mail is not exactly reliable out here and your letter with the photo is the only one I've received for over a year. I'm sorry to hear that Buck is missing, but I'm happy that you keep in contact with Cody and Jimmy. Send Cody my best wishes for his wedding - and no, I can't believe he's finally settling down.

I'm grateful Jimmy stayed with you for a while. He has always loved you, you know. It was a time when I would have beaten him for just being near you, but that wouldn't change anything. He's a good friend and I know that he would do anything he can to keep you safe. In fact, that's a comfort to me.

I wish I could tell you how much I love you and our son. 'I love you' doesn't even say half of what I feel. I guess I'll have to wait until I can show you just how much. I long for you, for my family and I pray that this dreadful war will be over soon so that we can be together again.

Kid was still writing when order came. He carefully folded it and placed the letter in his pocket with the intention that he would finish it later. He ran over to his group just as the first men started to march down the road.
"What is it?" Curtis asked as they grabbed their gear.
"A large regiment of Union soldiers are heading for General Shaw's camp. Our job are to intercept them," Kid replied tensely.
"How large?"
"I don't know. Guess we'll find out when we get there."

They were five in the group that silently made their advancement in the night. The fighting had gone on throughout the day and the Colonel had ordered that some of them made an effort to silence a machine gun on a small hill. Curtis, Semmes, Calhoun and Davis had all volunteered to join Kid on the mission and now they were crouching in hopes of advancing towards the post. Kid walked first. There was something in the air that threatened to suffocate him. He could feel the fear in the air and he knew that it came from himself. What would he meet in the silent darkness ahead of him? It was too silent. Even the sound of fighting seemed to have disappeared. He was sweating and he stopped with a dreading feeling that something was wrong. But never did the thought of returning enter his mind. Instead the fear gave way for something else, a strange bitter hate. He would not turn back. He had chosen and he would stand by it. He hated this war, yet he would continue to fight. His son would not have a coward for a father. Driven by his sense of loyalty and duty he continued forward, peering into the darkness and straining his ears to hear anything unusual. He could see the road ahead of him. He realised that they would be visible for anybody hiding by the road and he was just to tell the others to take cover, when he heard somebody call out almost at his feet. He saw the sharp light from the muzzle of a rifle, felt a paralysing thud and fell with a soft moan escaping from his lips.

When he regained consciousness he wasn't aware of anything but pain. Then the merciful blanket of unconsciousness wrapped itself around him again. But his will to live and stubbornness would not let him give up so easily, and forced him once more back to a conscious state. At first he didn't remembered anything, didn't understand where he was or what had happened. He felt a tearing and burning pain somewhere near his stomach and chest. Then he remembered walking along the trail and understood where he was. He was laying on that same trail.
He defied the pains and searched his own body. He was bloody beneath his chest, and his back felt wet and warm too. When he moved he felt as if somebody had twisted a knife in his intestines. He couldn't feel his legs nor could he move them. Slowly he realised that his spine was injured and that he was paralysed in his legs.

It was then he realised that his time had come.

He moaned softly and lay still for a moment in an apathy and despair. For the first time in his life did he break down for a moment until the pain brought him back to action. He didn't call out for help, as he realised that he wouldn't have many hours left. Even if anyone in his group would be nearby, he didn't want to prolong the pain. He realised that several bullets had hit him in the stomach, which convinced him that he would die. Laying still, he stared up at the sky where rain filled clouds passed before the moon as life slowly ran away from him. a soft rain started to fall and he could feel the raindrops wash the dirt from his face before the joined the rivulets that ran from his body, mixing the water with the blood. Feeling oddly detached from his body, Kid stared up into the gray sky. Suddenly he saw Lou's face before him. She was smiling at him and beckoning for him to follow her. Standing up, he let her take her hand and they walked until they reached the field of wildflowers he had dreamt of so often. His son was running towards him and he reached down to pick him up. He cried as the image faded away and he once more found himself back on the trail, fighting the pain.
"I love you," he mumbled with the last of his fast ebbing strength. "Lou, I love you - and I'm coming home."
Silence settled over the trail as the gunfire faded away. The fighting was over. And a life had ended.

THE END

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