Brings the Lightning (The Ames Archives Book 1) Read Online Free

hill.
    There was a small Union Army garrison in Crossville. As he rode up to it, he reminded himself to speak as simply as possible. He didn’t want to sound like an educated man to these soldiers. There weren’t many in these parts, and he didn’t want to be remembered here. Better to play the country bumpkin on his way back to a hardscrabble hill farm. Fortunately, he’d served with many such men, and could imitate the way they spoke. His heavy beard, thick, straggly hair and well-worn shabby clothing should suffice to disguise his appearance.
    He stopped at the entrance and looked down at the sentry on duty. “I wuz told t’ see th’ Officer of the Day when I got here. I need my parole recorded.”
    “Reb, are you?”
    “Was. Ain’t no more. War’s over.”
    “Yeah.” The soldier raised his voice. “Sergeant of the guard!”
    An NCO clumped out of the guardroom. “Yeah, what is it?”
    “Another Reb wantin’ his parole recorded.”
    “Uh-huh.” The big, burly man came over, looking suspiciously at Walt. “What unit?”
    “First Virginny Cavalry.”
    “How’d you get here?”
    “I wuz sent with a message to the 43rd Battalion in northern Virginny in late March. Took me a while t’ get there through your pickets an’ patrols. I’d jes’ delivered it when word came of the surrender at Appomattox. Th’ Union garrison at Winchester hadn’t got the details about th’ parole terms, so they gave me a letter tellin’ me t’ report to th’ garrison here soon as I arrived, t’ sign the paper.”
    “Let’s see it.”
    Walt reached into his shirt pocket and brought out a grubby, well-creased form. The NCO took it, unfolded it and read.
    “Yeah, I’ve seen a few like this already. Took you long enough t’ get here, though. It’s halfway through May already.”
    Walt shrugged. “Hoss wuz plumb wore out. Had t’ travel slowly so’s not to founder him. He still ain’t in great shape.”
    “Yeah, I can see that. Give him some grain t’ fatten him up and he’ll soon be right again.”
    “Man needs money t’ buy grain. Guess I’ll have t’ sell my sidearm.”
    “Sidearm?” The sergeant looked up alertly. “You ain’t supposed to have one. The terms of surrender say only officers get to keep ’em.”
    Walt had expected that. He’d figured that if he gave the authorities something small to bite on, they’d probably not worry about anything else. He shrugged again. “The Winchester garrison didn’t say nothin’ ’bout that. They took my rifle, but not my revolver.” He’d chosen the Starr, least valuable of the bushwhackers’ weapons, for this encounter, after cleaning it so that it at least looked serviceable.
    “I’ll have to take that.” Beside the sergeant, the sentry hefted his rifle in readiness for any trouble. The click as he drew back its hammer to full cock was clearly audible.
    Walt tried to look reluctant. “I guess I ain’t in no position t’ argue. It’s in my saddlebag.”
    He made as if to reach back, but the sergeant stepped forward, his hand up. “I’ll get it.” He opened the saddlebag, reached inside and took out the revolver, stripping the percussion caps from the cylinder nipples. He glanced at the brand on the horse, and his eyes hardened. “That’s a Union Army horse you’re riding.”
    “That’s what they issued me, two years back.”
    “Well, you lost, an’ now we want our horses back. You’re sittin’ in a Union Army saddle too. I’ll have to take ’em both.”
    “I got a long ride still t’ get home,” Walt objected angrily. “How’m I supposed to get there without my horse?”
    “That’s your problem. I’m keepin’ the horse an’ saddle. I got my orders.”
    Walt glared at him, ready to argue further; but he knew he couldn’t win. The sentry was standing ready with a loaded rifle, and he was now disarmed. He slowly, reluctantly dismounted and handed over the reins, doubly grateful that he’d hidden the other