No Rest For The Wicked

July, 26th, 1862
Widow Nelson's House, Myersville, Maryland


The cool night air finally brought some relief to General Georgia and the men of his corps.  Sitting on the front porch, drinking someone's fine sipping whiskey, he listened to the cicadas singing in the trees.  They were nearly as loud as the battle itself.  His ears still rung with the screams of Palmer's Hairlifters as they charged past him and fell upon the near helpless Texans.  Those poor devils never really had any chance.  The lodge poles would be well decorated as Palmer was wont to say.

Even General Eden managed to stay alive once again.  And once again he managed to get his command all but destroyed.  That man always managed to blunder into the hottest spot on the battlefield and proceeds to send his men into the grinder.  Well, at least he made for fewer hands to share in the spoils.

Today's pickings were rich indeed.  General Newton captured the Father General's baggage train whole.  Beneath those bibles and sack cloth was a sizable amount of gold coin and silver ingots.  So the rumors were true after all.  That lunatic had made off with a portion of the Confederate treasury.  Georgia would have shook Neal's hand for his pluck, had Newton been a little quicker and captured him.  And after the handshake, of course,  he'd have had the Father General escorted to the Hairlifters' camp for an overdue trim.

Major Martin suddenly appeared in the lamplight and came up the stairs with his ubiquitous sheaf of papers in hand.

"Yes, major, what is it?"

"Sir, I have the final casualty totals.  It was a glorious victory, general, but a costly one. One third of our force, killed, wounded or missing."

"That's true Martin, but the return on our investment has paid off handsomely.  Not only did we rub out Seitzinger and that crazy fool, but we were well compensated for it too.  Best of all, those nattering windbags in Washington City will stop with their incessant demands that I save them from those nasty rebels that threaten their squalid town.  Have you got Goldberg tallying the take?"

"Yes, general.  He says it will take a bit of time, given the amount."

"He's got all night, major.  Make sure the sergeant keeps an eye on him.  Goldberg's fingers might get a little sticky and we can't have that."

As Martin was about to answer, a courier rode up.  Judging by the fresh looking uniform, it was obvious the man came from the War Department.

"Damn it!" the general fumed, "Can't I have one peaceful evening?"  As the courier saluted, Georgia waved him up onto the porch.

Martin intercepted the man and took the dispatch. The courier quickly retreated back to his horse and disappeared into the night.

Martin recognized the handwriting on the letter immediately.  "It's from your cousin, Mary."

"Go ahead and read it, major", Resigned to his fate, Georgia knew this would be expensive.

"My dearest Cousin Marcellus,  Abraham has word that you are involved in a great battle.  He has gone over to the telegraph office to wait for the report of your efforts.  I do hope this letter finds you well and victorious.  As you know, I am embarked on a great undertaking.  The upstairs of this dreadful house is beyond description.  Would you be a sweet dear and find two or three things I need?..."

"Sir, the next three pages are full of items she requires.  Shall I read them?"

"No, no, just give the list to General Howe.  He can fill the consignment.  That woman is going to drive me into bankruptcy."

The general settled back into his chair, again sipping his drink.  Footsteps crunched along the gravel path, this time lighter.  Soon the fine figure of the widow Nelson appeared, came up the stairs, across the porch and into the house.

Georgia rose, stretched, took a silver bracelet from his pocket and said, "I guess I have company.  It would be rude not to pay my respects.  See that I'm not disturbed, major."

The general was through the door before Major Martin had a chance to reply.