The Bells of El Diablo Read Online Free Page B

light.
    “
Oh, God!
” James heard himself shout. It fairly exploded from his chest.
    The eye before him—the familiar orb he’d know anywhere, for it owned the familial blue of his mother’s eyes…the blue of even his own eyes—dulled. It was like a lamp being turned down in the one lit window of a house he’d just recognized.
    Quickly, he grabbed the handle of his knife and pulled. When it slid free of the young lieutenant’s chest, he released it, letting the creek take it. The man before him groaned, winced, and bobbed toward James in the current that carried them both downstream. The Union soldier opened his mouth, gasping.
    Only vaguely, James heard the rifle shots of his own men behind him. They were trying to ignite the dynamite. The pops and booms dwindled quickly as the current carried him farther away from the bridge. Justas vaguely, he was aware of the explosion of the dynamite, saw the orange radiance push back the darkness around him and reflect like rubies off the black water.
    “Little brother,” he wheezed, now pulling the Union officer toward him, kicking his legs to keep them both afloat as the man became nearly a deadweight in his arms. “Ah, shit, Willie.” His voice rose shrilly, cracking as he started to maneuver toward the creek’s left bank. “
Willie!
”

Chapter 3
    James felt the creek bottom thrust itself against his kicking feet, and he set both feet down, finding himself in hip-deep water, ten yards from shore.
    The young Union officer—who unbelievably appeared to be one and the same Willie Dunn, James’s brother two years his junior, though with an unfamiliar patch over his left eye—slumped down on his knees in the shallow water, head hanging. His longish blond hair was pasted to his neck and cheeks and the black eye patch.
    “Willie,” James said, breathless. “Willie…”
    James dragged his brother to shore, back-and-bellied him up onto the steep bank, and collapsed beside him. He vomited water, brushed his forehead against his arm, and then turned to the young man, who he was still hoping was not really his brother but only another soldier who merely looked like Willie Dunn.
    After all, it had been three years since they’d last seen each other right before Willie had packed a satchel and ridden off on his Morgan-cross in the wake oftheir long, heated argument in their father’s study back at Seven Oaks….
    “Willie!”
    James pushed the lieutenant’s left shoulder up. The man’s blond head lolled back, and the single eye met James’s. Even in the darkness, the dark blue orb betrayed a confused, puzzled expression. Then gradually, just as James himself realized, horrifically, that he really was in the presence of his brother—a man he’d most likely mortally wounded—young Willie’s lips stretched in a wry smile of recognition. He blinked his lone eye, shook his head.
    “Well, well—Forrest’s Rapscallion.” Willie chuckled raspily. “Fancy meetin’ you here, James.”
    James pushed himself up on an elbow, thrust his brother’s shoulder back farther until Willie reclined against the soggy, fern-cushioned ground on his back, wincing and grunting, flat belly expanding and contracting wildly as he tried to catch a breath. James looked at the blood pumping from the two wounds in his brother’s chest. It was frothy, and it came in dark spurts, trickling down the soaked tunic toward the ground.
    James’s mind spun. The horror of what he’d done had a taut grip on his mind while the rational part of him tried to figure out what to do about it.
    James had heard of such a nightmare happening before, and at times he’d imagined what it would be like to meet his younger, more idealistic brother on the field of battle. But those had been anxiety-inspired fantasies. Surely, it would never happen!
    But it did, and James could not shake the feeling that it was all merely a nightmare. He could not maneuver through the shock and confusion that visited him now for