“You did the right thing,” the woman said. She put her arms around the girl. “Let me get my husband. He’s the minister here. He’ll want to speak with you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Pritchard said, tipping his hat. “We have to be ridin’ on.”

“Do you know her name?”

“We don’t,” Pritchard said. He and Ditch swung back into their saddles.

The girl suddenly left the woman’s embrace and ran over to Pritchard, stepping in front of his horse.

“Caroline,” she said, in a voice almost too soft to hear. “My name is Caroline.”

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

When Pritchard and Ditch rode into Washington, Arkansas, they were relieved to discover a Confederate hospital had been set up there. They walked Snake and Rusty up to a sentry, keeping their hands in view, and inquired if any cavalrymen attached to Shelby’s Missouri Iron Brigade might be located within one of the tents.

The sentry called for his sergeant. A noncommissioned officer arrived, and Ditch again explained he was seeking his brother.

“There’s plenty of fellows here assigned to Shelby,” the sergeant said. “I can have one of my men escort you into where they’re convalescing, but you’ll have to leave your arms outside.”

Pritchard put his revolvers in his saddlebags, and Ditch hung the Hawken over the pommel of his saddle, before tying their horses to a tree. They were led into a vast tent by an orderly wearing a blood-soaked apron. They beheld rows and rows of men lying on cots.

There was an overwhelming scent of blood and infection permeating the place. The sounds of men in grievous pain could be heard everywhere. Pritchard and Ditch followed the orderly past many horribly wounded soldiers. The vast majority were missing at least one limb.

“This here’s Major Turner,” the orderly said, as he introduced them to a bearded man missing his left arm at the elbow and left leg below the knee. He was smoking a corncob pipe and was propped up in his cot. “These two fellows are looking for someone from your regiment.”

The orderly took his leave. “Who’re you looking for?” Turner asked.

“My older brother,” Ditch said. “His name is Paul Clemson.”

“Pony Clemson,” Turner said, appraising Ditch. “Damned, if you ain’t the spittin’ image of him.”

“You know him?” Ditch exclaimed, ecstatic to hear the nickname only someone who was acquainted with his brother would know.

“I know him well. He’s one of the best horse wranglers in the Confederate army.”

“Horses are his calling,” Ditch said, “that’s a fact. Do you know where I can find him?”

“He’s with B Company, Fifth Regiment. They’re called Witherspoon’s Rangers. Captain Jedediah Witherspoon, that’s their commander. They just got back into Arkansas from raising hell up in Missouri.”

“We raised a little hell in Missouri ourselves,” Pritchard said.