7

What’s the matter with you, Worth?” Jake White crouched down beside the little fire Gideon had coaxed to life. “You lost your smile?”

“Hard to smile on a day like this.” Gideon rubbed his arms to warm them. The cold drizzle that had fallen all day was freezing in the air now that the sun was gone.

“You’ve got a fire.” Jake held his hands out toward the promise of heat from the flames. “That’s something of a miracle on this wet day. And welcome it is. Our tents will be coated in ice come morning or I miss my guess.”

The flames spluttered in the damp air before bravely flickering back up. Gideon stared at his coffeepot on the fire as though he could will it to heat faster. His back was wet. The skin between his toes was rotting, and he wasn’t sure he’d kept his gun dry. What good did it do a man to march to battle if he didn’t even know whether his gun would fire?

The tents stretched out over the flat expanse of a farmer’s field littered with cow pies, but no cows were in evidence now. Farmers had a way of making their herds disappear when an army was coming through. Gideon shut his eyes and imagined beef sizzling on a spit over his fire. But there was no fresh meat this night. Only hardtack and salt pork.

Gideon fed the fire a little more wood. A cup of coffee might make the night bearable. He was hungry. He was always hungry. He had hardtack. Another reason for the coffee. He needed to dunk the hardtack in it so the weevils would float to the top. He’d eaten the stuff often enough, weevils and all, but he preferred full dark to do that. Even then he felt the little creatures wiggling on his tongue. And here Jake White was, expecting him to smile.

He looked across his struggling fire at Jake. “Tell me, what do you miss the most about home?”

“That’s easy enough on a night like this one,” Jake said. “Warming my bones by the stove, a blanket around my feet and a hot drink in my hands. Then again, a few months back I guess I would have been wishing for a cool shade by a blue lake. The weather can change a man’s mind quick.”

“Weather don’t matter all that much when somebody’s ready to shoot at you.”

“You’re right there, lad, but you’ve got to remember you’re wanting to shoot back.”

“Wanting to? I never wanted to shoot anybody.” Gideon speared a piece of salt pork and held it directly in the flames. Grease from the pork caused the fire to flare up and gave him hope for the coffee. He’d gladly exchange the salt pork for a hot cup of coffee.

“But we do. Shoot back.” Jake stared at the fire as he pulled some hardtack out of his pocket and bit off a piece without even checking for weevils. “We have to. It’s what soldiers do.”

“I want to go home, Jake.” The meat was shriveling to nothing as grease kept spattering into the fire, but he didn’t pull his roasting stick back.

“That’s the other thing soldiers do. Think about home.” Jake took another bite of the hardtack and chewed awhile before he went on. “Your trouble is you had home with you and now she’s gone.”

“Gone,” he echoed Jake. He pulled his roasting stick back and blew on the crisp of meat the fire hadn’t stolen before he ate it off the stick.

“She’ll be all right,” Jake said after a minute. “The girl marched with us for months without once having the vapors.”

“But what if the baby decided to come early? Or who knows what might happen.” He poked the stick into the fire.

“True enough, lad. But if it does, it’s better for her to be in the bosom of her loving family than here where bullets can start flying.” Jake pulled a tin cup from his pack and held it out. “Let’s give that coffee a try if you’ve got a wee bit to share.”

Gideon folded his handkerchief to grasp the coffeepot, lift it from the fire, and pour their cups full. They both took a few sips of the bracing liquid and then dumped their hardtack into their cups. After a few seconds, Gideon held his cup closer to the light of the fire to skim off the weevils that had risen to the top. Then he fished out the hardtack and wished he’d asked Heather to send him a box of sugar cookies. Maybe she would. Maybe the mail would catch up with them after a few weeks. Before Christmas. It would be nice to have a taste of Christmas instead of only hardtack.

“Do you think we’ll still be fighting at Christmas?” Gideon asked.

“It’s likely. I’m just hoping we’re not still fighting come the Christmas after this one.”

“But isn’t Christmas supposed to be a time of peace?”

“Tell that to the generals. In a war, one day follows another and one soldier runs up the hill after another falls until one side gives up.”

“But there are things worth fighting for, aren’t there, Jake?” Gideon took another drink of the coffee and was glad for the slightly sweet, yet bitter taste and the warmth it shot through him.

“We aim to keep the Union together.” Jake sipped his coffee too. They were both quiet a moment before he went on. “Even if we have to kill our brothers to do it.”

“Or let them kill us.”

“You’re wrong on that, lad. We aren’t letting anybody kill us. Certainly not you with a baby on the way.” Firelight danced on his face as he leaned toward Gideon. “Think of it, lad. By Christmas, you’ll be a father.”

“What do I know about being a father?” Gideon stared down into his cup. If weevils still floated there, the darkness blessedly hid them.

“Enough, lad.” Jake said. “You’ll know enough.”

“If I live long enough.”

“There is that,” Jake said. “The weather don’t kill us, the rations might.” He threw the dregs of his coffee out on the ground.

After Jake left to go climb into his tent, Gideon stared at the fire and remembered the way Heather looked on that last night they were together. Would he ever feel her head resting on his shoulder again?