Edge: Killer's Breed

Rhett winced, "Bet that hurt."

"Only when he laughs," Douglas countered.

"He ain't even smiling," Forrest pointed out, decorating his own grizzled countenance with an evil grin. "Reckon that's it. Captain Oliver Jordan won't be throwing his weight around and then riding out on us no more."

"How we goin' a tell it, Frank?" Seward said when they had all looked at Jordan's body, slowing in its swing, for several moments. "You didn't tell us about that part."

Forrest turned his glittering eyes towards Rhett and the others followed the direction of his gaze. The dandy suddenly realized he had become the focus of attention and swallowed hard as he recognized the omen in Forrest's expression.

"Guess some of the guys saw you leave camp with the captain?" His tone was even more ominous.

"Hey, Frank," Rhett stammered. "You said you had a plan to arrange this so it would appear the rebels were responsible."

Forrest nodded. "I have, Bob. But it needs a guy with brains to act it out so it'll be believed. Why I picked you, buddy. It might hurt you a little, but you ain't so yellow as he was, so you don't have to die..." The grin was wiped away, to be replaced by a hard-faced scowl. "...not unless you don't act your part right and make McClellan believe it was the rebs attacked you and your sweetheart. You tell it like this..."   

It was very quiet in the wood now and since they were upwind of the Union Camp it was just possible to pick up the occasional sound—a burst of laughter or a rattle of tin bowls. But the men only had ears for Forrest's quiet words, each one of which sent a new spasm of trembling through Rhett's thin body.

"Get the point?" Forrest concluded, his eyes boring into those of Rhett.

The New Englander swallowed hard and nodded. Forrest grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. At this signal Douglas stepped in close behind Rhett and drove a knife hard into an area just right of center between the shoulder blades. As Rhett opened his mouth to scream, Forrest landed a vicious uppercut, turning the cry into a hiss of escaping air. The unconscious man fell into his arms and he tossed him roughly to the ground.

"Yeah, he got it," Douglas said softly.

"Not dead?"

Douglas shook his head. "Dead men tell no tales. He better get found quick, though."

"So let's go find him," Forrest said, and led the men away from the hanging, mutilated body of Jordan and the crumpled figure of Rhett.

The Union army was as inept at sentry duty as in any other facet of war and getting back into camp unseen was no harder than it had been getting out.

It was less than an hour later when Hedges was roused by a corporal on McClellan's staff and summoned to the commander-in-chief’s quarters. There was a litter resting on the ground close to the large tent, with a blanket thrown over it, following lines which were unmistakably those of a human form. It was not the first such draped body Hedges had seen. In the nearby field hospital tent he could see several figures moving about, their shadows thrown against the inner canvas by oil lamps. Then the corporal held open the flap and stood side to allow Hedges access to the general. The commanding officer was seated behind a small table covered with maps and papers scrawled with ciphers. He looked smaller than Hedges remembered him: and older. His eyes were red with fatigue and his response to Hedges' salute seemed to require a disproportionate amount of effort. His expression was grave.

"At ease, Hedges," he murmured. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news. Unsavory and sad."

The lieutenant felt he was expected to offer a comment, but confined his acknowledgement to a mere nod. McClellan cleared his throat.

"Captain Jordan is dead. He was murdered in a most horrible fashion by a Confederate raiding party. He met his death whilst preparing to take part in an unnatural act with a soldier in his troop."

Hedges showed emotion by narrowing his eyes a fraction more as he recalled Rhett's mincing progress through the camp earlier that night. McClellan seemed irritated by the lieutenant's silence. "Do you understand what I'm saying, man?" he barked.

"Yes, sir," Hedges answered, snapping back to ramrod attention.

The general nodded. "Good. The trooper was wounded but survived. A search party of the Headquarters Troop discovered the man and Jordan after they had been reported missing. The man is of no consequence. His wound will render him incapable of active service for some time to come and I have already dismissed him from my mind. Captain Jordan will be buried without military honors."

"Yes, sir," Hedges said again when McClellan paused.