Blue Honor Excerpt – K. Williams






Joseph sat atop his mount with his jacket across its rump. Above his waist, he wore a collarless cotton shirt, and the hat of his trade. He wrapped the reins of his horse tighter around his wrist. The air clung to them, sticky and hot.
Joseph reined Manny in, detecting danger along the road without his mount’s sense of smell. The satiny charger stopped and thrashed its great head, confirming the call. Joseph patted his mount’s mane while the men behind halted.
A strange odor permeated the air. Joseph studied his surroundings, failing to place the source. His mind warned him to stay back, sensing the road ahead might prove deadly for his unit and those behind. Joseph gave the men a glance over his shoulder. He gestured, wanting them to go slowly and form a line to the left side of the road. They complied, understanding there might be danger ahead. Joseph turned back to the road with their eyes
on him. Moving ahead, he went to draw out whatever was hiding.
Joseph viewed the road, flicking his eyes back and forth. Manny moved forward slowly and cautiously. Something hid in those trees, wanting to change their future. The horse’s hooves clomped hollowly.
A twig snapped. The horse protested. Joseph pulled his mount up short. His men ranged back along the left side of the road, unmoving. Manny lifted his head and his ears twitched backward until they lay flat. His nostrils flared and he pawed his hooves, wheeling backward. Joseph reacted to the horse in seconds and charged back to his men.
“Get to cover,” Joseph screamed. His men vanished into the forest, and the rifle fire began. “Get to cover!”
Joseph ducked the bullets that whistled past his head and he drove his mount into the cover of the trees. In moments the three units hid in the brush among the tree trunks, surrounded by crackling rifle fire. The fog cleared around his head and he realized he lay on his stomach with a rifle in his hand. Shots burst from enemy barrels. Less than a breath later bullets bounced off trees, rocketed into the ground, and some hit flesh. Cries of agony beat his ears.
Joseph examined the expanse, desperate to spot his men. The men peered around the base of trees and shrubs, fallen trunks and limbs. Joseph checked his gun. He concentrated back on the men. Sergeant McGuire’s face came into focus. Joseph nodded to him. The sergeant gave the word to return fire. The horses screamed and bolted, their skins shivering with fear. Joseph saw the wild eyes and the flaring nostrils. The animals turned their muzzles into each other for protection from their unseen attackers. Then, they bolted. When the brush separated to Joseph’s left, he saw the dirt-smeared face of Second Lieutenant Conrad. Joseph fired his gun across the way. A man fell on the road, his uniform nearly matching the beach sand clay. Joseph watched ahead, waiting for the moment when he might use his gun again. To Joseph’s right, Evan leaned against a large oak. His friend breathed heavily, clutching his rifle for dear life. Joseph turned his attention back towards the man he shot in the forest range. He listened to the volley of shots and the men reloading weapons.
Joseph closed his eyes and prayed, let this not be the last time we see each other in this life. The words resounded in his mind. When Joseph opened his eyes, he signaled the men to stop firing. Everything turned chokingly silent. Joseph watched the road, sweat pouring from his brow. His heart beat like a clock. His breath quickened and he licked his lips. With widened eyes, he saw gray ghosts emerge from their cover across the dirt tract. Joseph drew another dry, unsteady breath. The rebels acted cautiously, bending slightly and checking both directions as they crossed the open road. Joseph counted six. Jerking his arm to signal the men to fire, he lifted and aimed his rifle. He hoped the rebels believed they all lay dead. The six dropped. Their blood poured from their wounds, soaking the gray-brown road. More rifle shots from the other side of the road hit the trees above their heads.
Flinging himself back against his tree, Joseph just caught sight of Evan jerking back violently. He drooped at the base of the oak tree and dropped his rifle. Joseph’s heart raced, fearing the worst. His friend’s eyes were closed, as if he slept.
The shots paused and he crawled on his belly to where his friend lay as still as death. The shots rang out again, just before he took cover beside Evan. Sitting up, he propped his rifle against the tree. He had prayed too late to protect him.
