Edge: Killer's Breed

"Any other man surrenders, you capture him," Hedges snapped, and looked into the face of each trooper, not moving on until he had received a nod of acknowledgement. "Now, let's move out."

He led the way up out of the dip, keeping low, but although there was still a great deal of shooting, none of it was in their direction and a glance down the hill showed that the Confederates were concentrating their fire on the final thrust of the Union assault. Captain Jordan had reached the trench and its litter of sprawled bodies. He had dismounted and was stooping down, examining the right foreleg of his horse.

"Christ, will you look at that line-shooter," Bell muttered. "He must be the biggest load of crap West Point ever turned out."

"He'll get his one of these days," Forrest answered with low-key venom.

Hedges glanced at him and saw the hatred shining in the cruel eyes.

"Be a real pleasure to blast that crud."

"He's got the wrong color uniform, Frank," Seward said. "And there ain't no bounty on his head."

Forrest's grin was as hard as granite and as mirthless as a widow's tears. "Some things a man's got to do, Billy," he said softly. "Ain't a question of money."

"Forrest?" Hedges called.

"Yeah, lieutenant?"

"I ever hear Jordan bought it, I'll be sure to take a look at the body. If he's hit in the back, you'll be in front of a firing squad."

"That ain't fair," Rhett put in, recovering his courage now that he was not being fired upon. "Jordan ever, gets shot, it'll be in the back 'cause he'll be running away."

Seward giggled.

"Right," Douglas agreed.

Hedges' expression showed no sign of softening as he crept forward, eyes raking the trees  and undergrowth for movement.

"He'll never get close enough to the enemy to have to run away."

Forrest grunted. "You don't like him much; either?"

Hedges shot a glance over his shoulder. "Lot of men I don't like. But there's a war on."

"Wondered what all the shooting was about," Rhett said lightly. "Isn't he a funny man, lieutenant?" Forrest asked with a grin.

"Yeah," Hedges answered. "I saw him shaking with laughter back there."

"Yellow, but funny," Forrest agreed as Rhett's face became flushed. "Jordan ain't funny."

"Neither is a firing squad," Hedges returned as he spun at great speed and knocked the Colt from Seward's hand.

The man's finger had been curled around the trigger and the revolver exploded into sound, sending a bullet thudding into the ground as Captain Leaman and a group of troopers burst through the trees ahead.

Color blind?" Hedges snapped.

A giggle burst from the trembling mouth. "How'd I know?"

Forrest lashed out a fist which smashed into Seward's jaw and knocked him sideways. "Idiot!" he spat out.

"I couldn't see," Seward protested as he scrambled to his feet.

"That could have been me coming out there," Forrest hissed.

"We've got them on the run," Leaman called, brandishing a saber, his excited eyes flashing almost as brightly as the blade caught in the sunlight shining through the trees. "Take these men and any more you can find and keep on this side. I'm going up the center and Jordan will lead the attack on the left flank."

Leaman ducked back into the trees as the men he had brought with him crossed the open ground towards where Hedges and his group waited.

"He's got a lot of faith, that feller," Forrest muttered. "If Jordan's leading it, we ain't got a left flank."

"He's your troop commander," Hedges pointed out. "You want to go over there and tell him how to fight this war?"

Forrest grinned. "All the same to you, lieutenant, I'll stick with what I've got and take my chances."

Hedges looked around him as the other men formed up and he saw he had close to forty troopers under his command. Most of them had just experienced their first taste of war without glory and the horror they felt was reflected in haunted eyes and trembling hands. Notable exceptions were Forrest and the five men who seemed to regard his as their leader. Excluding Rhett, whose weak features were set in a mere facade of grim resolution, they seemed to be the most determined of all the troopers to see the battle through. As a distant command from Leaman signaled the advance further up the mountain and Hedges moved his troop forward, he tried to conceal a flicker of admiration for Forrest and the others. For although he respected their proven ability in battle, he knew they were little better than dangerous animals. A few short weeks ago he would have regarded such men with distrust and, probably, a little fear. But history was in the process of changing the world and men had to change with it. Hedges had changed, his new character wrought by the traumatic baptism of fire at Philippi. And the man he was now recognized in other men only those qualities useful in killing.

Thus, as the next line in the Confederate defenses of Rich Mountain opened up with artillery pieces, Hedges was glad that Forrest and his group were backing him.