Last Ghost at Gettysburg (18 page)

“Carlton, Carlton, Carlton,” said Al Warren,
shaking his head with mock sadness. “Now just what in the world
brings you out here at this time of night? Hmm?”

“I, er, um,” was all he could muster.

“And what’s all this equipment for? Looks
like you got every gizmo in creation strapped onto you.”

“Sorry, Al,” he managed, looking at his shoes
like a third grader. “I know I’m not supposed to be out here.”

“You got that right. Tell you what, Carlton.
You get in the cruiser like a good boy and I’ll run you home and
we’ll forget this ever happened, okay?”

Elway looked relieved that Warren wasn’t
grilling him as to his reasons for being on the battlefield after
dark, but he cursed his own stupidity as he dutifully climbed into
the car .

As the cruiser’s red taillights faded in the
distance the three youths slowly rose from the bushes. T.J.
realized they’d been holding each other’s hands in a death grip.
They all relaxed and Bortnicker rubbed his palms together. “What
was that fake Elway doing out here?” he wondered aloud.

“You got me,” said T.J. “No way he could’ve
known what we were doing tonight.”

“Are you sure?” asked LouAnne.

“Positive,” snapped T.J., annoyed.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “So we keep
going?”

“Might as well,” said her cousin.

They pressed on, entering Pitzer’s Woods,
picking their way through the trees, underbrush and brambles, using
the flashlight sparingly. Deeper and deeper they went, so that the
outside world and its noise and lights seemed not to exist.

“Be lucky if we don’t get poison ivy,”
muttered Bortnicker.

Finally, they came upon a clearing and
plopped down. Before them was another copse of trees and then a
stretch of open space that had probably been farmland in the olden
days.

“I’m bushed,” said T.J., “though we haven’t
really walked that far, actually.”

“What now?” said LouAnne, rubbing the shin
she’d bumped on a fallen tree.

“We wait,” Bortnicker said quietly.

They sat side by side against a large rock,
LouAnne between the boys. The minutes ticked by, crickets chirping
occasionally. An owl in the distance hooted once, but apart from
that it was eerily still. LouAnne was the first to nod off, her
head easing down onto T.J.’s shoulder, the smell of her strawberry
shampoo filling his nostrils. Bortnicker was next, though he tried
hard to fight it at first, his head bobbing occasionally as he
would abruptly regain consciousness before slipping off again.
T.J. held out until around midnight then succumbed himself.

It was the vibration that awoke him, faint
but unmistakable. LouAnne must have felt him jump, because she came
awake, stretching her now-cramping neck. “What is it?” she
yawned.

“I’m not sure. I felt something. Like maybe
hoof beats...not too far off.”

“Bortnicker, wake up!” whispered LouAnne,
giving the boy a gentle shake.

“I’m up, I’m up. What’s happening?”

“Nothing yet,” said T.J. “Just listen.”

This time there was no doubting it. The hoof
beat tremors become more pronounced. Then they actually heard
it.

“How does he know we’re here, on this huge
battlefield?” wondered T.J.

“Why don’t you ask him?” countered
Bortnicker, trying to make a joke.

As the pounding came inexorably nearer, the
three teens again held hands.

“Get up,” ordered T.J., remembering his first
encounter with the mystery rider. “We don’t want to be in a
position where he’s standing over us.”

“I see him!” cut in LouAnne. “Just past the
trees!”

“Holy mother of God,” Bortnicker said with a
loud gulp. “How big is that horse?”

All the teens were afforded at this point
were glimpses of the rider through the heavy tree cover. LouAnne
was the first to catch a faint trace of the smell.

“Remember, don’t acknowledge it,” cautioned
T.J., steeling himself for the inevitable confrontation. Standing
his ground, gripping the hands of his cousin and neighbor tightly,
he had never felt so resolute, so connected, so
strong
in
his life.

And then the horseman was suddenly before
them, huge against the summer moon. He gracefully dismounted his
ebony steed, tied him to a nearby tree, and approached the
trembling trio.

“Young Master Jackson, ah believe?” he said
in a deep baritone.

“Yessir, it’s me.”

“And how is your injury?”

“My...oh, my ankle. It’s mending well,
sir.”

“And who are your comrades?”

“Well, this is my...closest friend,
Bortnicker, and my cousin LouAnne.”

The horseman nodded toward the boy then swept
his hat from his head and, with a flourish, took the girl’s free
hand and kissed it gallantly. “Ah’m charmed, young miss.”

LouAnne, whose knees almost buckled, managed
a faint “Th-thank you.”

The horseman turned back to T.J. and fixed
him with a withering stare. “You should not be here, none of you.
Please explain yourselves. Mr. Jackson?”

T.J. cleared his throat. “Well, uh, we are
here out of concern for you.”

“Concern for
me
? Based upon what?”

“Well, sir, if I may,” broke in Bortnicker,
“it would seem to us that it is
your
presence that needs to
be explained.”

T.J. felt the blood drain from his face. The
soldier’s eyes narrowed and his gauntleted hand began moving toward
his holster. “How dare you question—”

“Please, sir,” LouAnne cut in, slipping into
her finest Charney Inn persona, “what my dear friend means is that
while we know you deserve to be here more than any of us, you must
surely understand that you are alone on this vast battlefield. We
are here to try to help you find some peace... or, are you happy
with the existence you lead?”

The soldier shut his eyes momentarily and
shook his head, the long black ringlets of hair brushing his collar
and shoulders.

“Sir?” asked Bortnicker, assuming his most
masculine tone, “Do you even know what year it is?”

“I know what
day
it is, boy. July the
third, 1863.”

“But—”

T.J. flung out his hand to stop Bortnicker
short. “Would you be able to tell us your name and regiment,
sir?”

The cavalier threw his shoulders back proudly
and said, “Please excuse my deplorable manners. I am Major Crosby
Hilliard of Charleston, South Carolina, serving under the division
command of Brigadier General Wade Hampton, Army of Northern
Virginia.”

“Under the cavalry command of Jeb Stuart?”
asked Bortnicker.

“General
Jeb Stuart, reporting to
General Robert E. Lee,” he replied evenly.

Just then the horse snorted and began
restlessly pawing the ground. “Brutus!” snapped Hilliard, and the
animal was calmed.

Sensing their time was short, T.J. asked,
“Major Hilliard, we feel that we have been sent here for a purpose,
much as you have. That purpose is to reunite you with the brave men
of your regiment. Believe me, we mean no disrespect and only want
to put things right.”

“Are you a God-fearing man like your father?”
Hilliard asked.

“My what?”

“Your
father
, T.J.,” said Bortnicker,
“General Jackson. Yes, Major, we are well aware how devout Tom
Junior’s father was, how he prayed to his Lord before each battle
and abstained from drink and other vices as an example to his
men.”

The soldier seemed satisfied with this
response. “Very well then, young Master...”

“Bortnicker.”

“Yes. We must rendezvous again, for I have
many questions to ask.”

“As we do of you, sir,” said LouAnne.

He nodded, set his plumed hat upon his head,
and bowed deeply. “We shall meet again on the field, it matters not
where. I shall find you. But I warn you all. If your intentions
prove in any way to be duplicitous, you will regret the abuse of my
benevolence and wish you were never born. And that includes you,
young miss.”

LouAnne, displaying uncommon bravery, stepped
forward and proffered her hand. “I look forward to our next
meeting, Major,” she said warmly, a faint smile creasing her
lips.

Again he kissed her hand. Then he smoothly
mounted Brutus, gave him the spurs, and was gone in seconds.

A seeming eternity passed before anyone could
speak. It wasn’t until Bortnicker said, “If that isn’t a candidate
for Irish Spring, I don’t know what is,” that they finally relaxed
a bit.

“If you can get past the stench,” offered
LouAnne, “he really cuts a dashing figure.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said T.J. “But I think he’s
as confused as we are about all this. And on top of that, he still
thinks, or wants to think, that I’m Stonewall Jackson’s son. So
what now?”

“Well,” said Bortnicker, “Now I’ve got a
name. It’s time for some heavy duty research time. Back to the
Visitor Center Museum Library tomorrow?”

“Looks like it,” said T.J.

“It’s so far out I still can’t believe it
happened,” marveled LouAnne.

“Well, it did,” said T.J. “The question is,
are we going to be able to do anything about it?”

“You can count on it, Big Mon,” answered
Bortnicker. “One way or the other, we’re gonna get Major Crosby
Hilliard to wherever he belongs.”

The trio retraced their steps down Seminary
Ridge, stealthily climbed the ivy-covered trellis to the porch roof
and quietly said their goodnights. As Bortnicker slipped through
the window LouAnne stopped her cousin. “You were really brave out
there, Cuz,” she said, looking into his eyes.

“Well, it wasn’t my first time,” responded
T.J. “I kind of knew what to expect.”

“Makes no difference. You kept us all
together.” And for the second time, she lightly brushed his cheek
with her lips before padding away to her window.

T.J. stood there a moment in the moon glow,
the events of the night flashing by him. He sighed then turned to
face the hurt and accusation in his best friend’s eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next morning T.J. was up a little early
to use the bathroom when Aunt Terri intercepted him. “You dad’s on
the phone from Paris,” she whispered.

He padded downstairs to the kitchen and took
the receiver off the counter. “Hello, Dad?”

“Hey, son! How goes it there on the
battlefield?”

“Okay, I guess,” T.J. answered, thinking
if you only knew.
“It’s hot.”

“Same here. But I’ve got good news.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Well, my man, it looks like the project
won’t be taking as long as we’d estimated.”

“W-what?” T.J. stammered. “I thought you said
you’d be away all summer.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Son, I
thought you’d be ecstatic. The last time we talked you seemed
really bummed out.”

“Well, uh, I mean, I am happy you’re coming
back sooner,” said T.J., recovering. “When did you have in mind?”
he ventured, his mind screaming
Not till we solve this!
Please!

“Well,” said Jackson Senior, “I definitely
won’t be home for the Fourth of July. Maybe a couple weeks after
that. Sound okay?”

T.J. breathed a sigh of relief, his forehead
resting against the wall.

“Son?”

“That sounds fine, Dad. I’m looking forward
to it.”

“Me, too. We’ll go fishing out on Mohegan
Lake first thing. Just you n’me.”

“What about Wendy?”

“I get the impression baiting hooks and
cleaning fish might not be her thing.”

“Oh, okay.”

“You taking care of LouAnne and
Bortnicker?”

Oh, yeah, Dad. It’s just that I think I’m in
love with my own cousin and my best friend now hates my guts. I’m
really taking care of it.

“Sure. We’re having a great time.”

“Alright then. Don’t eat you aunt and uncle
out of their house. Speaking of which, I can’t wait to have a good
old, fat American cheeseburger. We’ll do some serious grilling when
I get back, right?”

“You got it.”

“Seriously, though, is everything okay? You
doing alright? I get so worried that you’re bored stiff.”

No chance of that, Dad. In fact, last night
I was talking to a one hundred percent authentic ghost!

“Nah, I’m fine. There’s more stuff to do than
you’d think.”

“Great! So I’ll call you when I have a handle
on when things’ll wrap up here, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, Son. Gotta go. Stay safe.”

“Will do.” T.J. hung up the phone, wondering
if he’d be able to keep his promise.

Creeping back into the bedroom past a snoring
Bortnicker, he scooped up his running stuff and dressed in the
bathroom, meeting LouAnne on the front lawn.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked while
executing a standing hamstring stretch.

“Kinda. How about you?”

“I couldn’t get that Major Hilliard out of my
mind. Tossed and turned for hours.”

“Guess I did, too. What are we gonna do?”

“Well, I guess you and Bortnicker have to get
a little more info on him, like you said. That poor man. Imagine
being trapped like him, not able to get released to wherever it is
you’re supposed to go when you die. Ugh.”

“I just don’t know what the three of us will
be able to do.”

“Well, we’ve got to do
something
.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’d feel bad if
we just let it drop. But, I don’t know, don’t you feel, like,
scared and excited at the same time?”

LouAnne raised her gaze to his. “T.J., if we
live to be one hundred, this is going to be the most amazing thing
we’ve ever experienced. I just have a fear that somehow we’re going
to get off his good side.”

They started on their run, their strides in
sync, side by side. “When Bortnicker and I overheard the police
chief and the ranger the other day, I got the impression Hilliard
had done some nasty stuff besides just scaring Weinstein. Bottom
line, he’s armed and dangerous.”