Suddenly Solomon saw the flash of movement. How many times had he watched, lying in wait for enemy soldiers trying to gain ground by stealth? He knew the look of men as they advanced through the trees, melting into the dappled shadows. He knew them, and...
A flash of color.
“God in Heaven.” He was running, running as fast as he could.
Clara hiked up her skirts and hastened after him. “Solomon! What is it?” But she saw it too, before long, and he heard her scream Cecelia’s name, her voice taken by the wind.
They skidded to a stop at the edge of the field. Cecelia’s shawl, a heavy knit thing she’d taken to wearing in the last week or so, was lying trampled in the dirt, and as they looked up the hill, they heard the pound of hooves and the last of the men disappearing over the hill.
“I’ll saddle Beauty.” Solomon grabbed Clara’s hand and ran for the house.
“Who are they?” her voice came out too high, hysterical. “Solomon, we have to go after them!”
“I’ll go after them. You get some supplies from the kitchen. Bread, cheese, apples. Anything. I’ll get the horse.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You’ll slow me down,” he said brutally. ”We have one horse, and one rifle. Get supplies. I’ll go. Call on Cyrus.”
“Cyrus?”
“He may help.”
“He won’t,” she gasped. She was holding her side, but she did not stop running, even though she could hardly speak.
“Anyone you can think of.”
“Who would...who would...?” She was losing her breath, swaying. “Why would they take her?”
“It wasn’t her,” Solomon said. He swung around to a stop, taking her by the shoulders. “If it was her, they...” He had seen what men did in times of war. They wouldn’t bother carrying Cecelia away. “They came for Jasper,” he said finally, thinking it best not to worry Clara with those particular facts.
“Who would come for Jasper? Men from the town?” She looked down the road. “But they came from the forest.”
“No one from town would take Cecelia,” Solomon said, thinking fast. An idea was forming in his head and he did not like it. “There’s only one person it could have been. It’s...oh crap! It was the Confederate army.”
“What?” Her voice came out in a little cry.
Solomon gave her a tiny shake. “Listen to me. You need to go get supplies. I’ll go after them. Two of their horses must be double-loaded, they’ll go slower than I will. Clara. Clara.”
“What?” She was trying to tear away from him, her face already wet with tears. She fairly snarled the word at him.
“I’ll get them back,” Solomon told her. And then, in a rush, because it fit together: “I told mother I would atone for this. Jasper’s a good man. He brought me home. If my life is what it takes to get him and Cecelia back to you...”
She stared at him, her lip trembling, and she could not seem to find the words to argue with him. He pulled her into a rough hug and felt her fingers dig into his back. She was desperately afraid.
“I’ll meet you out front in a moment,” he told her, and he gave her a little push towards the kitchen.
She went, wiping her face and breaking into a run, and Solomon hurled himself into the stable. He hauled the saddle and bridle down from the wall, cursing their weight, cursing that he hadn’t kept himself in the habit of being in the saddle. His musket was out here as well, kept polished by...well, Jasper, Solomon supposed. He could hardly bring himself to look at it.
He led Beauty around the front of the house to find Clara waiting, white-faced. The bundle of food, she slid into one of Beauty’s saddlebags, and she gave the horse a little pat on the nose; Beauty snorted and stomped.
“Come back safely,” she said softly, and Solomon knew that was the only kindness she could give him now. He was the reason Jasper was gone, and she knew it. Jasper, and Cecelia.
“Is mother...?”
&nbs
p; “I’ll tell her when you’re gone.” It was a sound decision. Clara knew they both hated goodbyes, Solomon and Millicent. “I’ll tell her—”