A northeast wind beats against General Lee's tent. The flap opens, issuing a torrent of rain along with Colonel Bradford. Damp leaves adorn his hair and various parts of his olive pea coat which is caked with mud.

"What in God's name?" Lee asks, rising to his feet.

Bradford stumbles towards him. Uncorking the decanter of Madeira, he swipes a mug from Lee's bookshelf and fills it with the blood red wine. His muddy hands clasp the mug which he lifts it to his lips. With a quick head toss he downs the glass and pours another.

"Colonel Bradford!"

Bradford glares. "What?"

"Where have you been, and why in Heaven's name are you covered in mud?"

"Oh, I don't know Charles," Bradford replies, a look of feigned disinterest on his face. "Perhaps because I spent the night dragging that miscreant, Tallmadge, halfway through No Man's Land, only to get into a wrestling match with him, and have him escape!"

Lee steps out from behind his desk. "What do you mean, escape?"

"Escape Charles. As in, he assaulted me, and disappeared into the woods. He escaped."

"That's not possible, he was sick...he was injured!"

Bradford doesn't answer. He stares at the tent wall ahead. Lee reaches behind him until his hands grip the edge of his desk. He takes a seat on the ledge and glances around. The tent feels smaller somehow. Outside the wind howls. It's a low and lonesome sound. Overhead, lightning cracks. Lee shakes his head. "Tallmadge may have escaped, but he hasn't returned to camp."

Bradford looks at him. Something resembling hope glimmers in his eyes. "How do you know?"

"The courier, Brewster. He returned this afternoon after attempting a track with that pet of his, that Native man, Kachi or whatever. Word around camp is the track was unsuccessful. The Dragoons are readying to continue the search first thing tomorrow."

"Brewster was tracking me?"

Lee nods. "When he returned empty handed, I assumed the exchange was done and you were in the clear. But then, you didn't return and…"

"Yeah well, I wasn't expecting Tallmadge to get the drop on me. Bastard knocked me out cold. By the time I came too, he was gone." Bradford's face drops. "I'm lucky Brewster didn't find me!"

Lee nods in agreement. "This was much too close."

A flash of lightning illuminates the tent, followed by an angry crack of thunder. Bradford melts into the chair in front of Lee's desk with a long sigh. "Well, now the storm can finish him off."

The storm's fury increases. Angry drops of rain beat against the tent as heaven factures and rumbles above them. The sound is deafening and Lee takes refuge in the fact no man in Tallmadge's condition could survive these elements. He leans back on the desk, secure in the fact Mother Nature was cleaning up their mess and washing Tallmadge's blood from their hands.

"I'll drink to that," he says with a grin.

…

"Ben."

Ben cracks his eyes into tiny slits and Caleb's face comes into view. He groans. Go away.

His body jostles and the fiery pain awakes. He squeezes his eyes shut but the pain remains.

"Breathe Tallboy, just breathe ok?"

Ben clenches his teeth. Stop saying that. Half a dozen hands or so maneuver his body. He tries to scream, but nothing comes out. His blood runs hot, then cold. It feels like he's burning alive and freezing to death at the same time.

"Breathe Ben!" Caleb shouts. "Fucking breathe!"

And Ben tries, he really does but the pain is overwhelming. Darkness flirts at the edges of his vision, staining it inky black. A strange and wondrous fuzzy feeling settles upon him. He's jostled again, but this time it doesn't hurt. The hands retract, warmth encompasses him, and Caleb's voice fades.

There's darkness; then there's light.

…

With a large hunting knife the Medicine Man strips Ben of his clothing and a small army of women descends upon him. They dip rag after rag in a large wooden bucket, wringing them out and place them over Ben's naked body. Ben starts to wriggle, like a fish out of water. The women hold him down while Caleb strokes his forehead. He does his best to keep Ben calm by talking. Ben's eyes crack open, then close. His breathing slows, then stops. And time stands still.

"No." Caleb whispers. "No, Ben, no!"

Kitchi grabs him from behind and Caleb fights him with everything he has. It's not enough. Kitchi tightens his grip and drags Caleb from the teepee. Outside, Caleb drops to his knees. Gravel bites into his kneecaps as he lowers his forehead to the ground and prays to the God of Ben's father, Reverend Tallmadge.

Wind and rain whip around him. Kitchi tries to pull him to his feet but Caleb pushes him away. Rainwater saturates the earth beneath him. Maybe if he lies here long enough the storm will carry him off. Away from this dreadful world where men destroy men and best friends die at the hands of traitors, so very far from the battlefield and the cause they believed in. Caleb's heart breaks at the thought. It's hard to imagine any world without Ben. His one true friend. His family.

"Your friend's spirit is strong, but his body is weak," a voice calls out from behind.

Caleb lifts his head, hardly believing his ears. "Is?"

Tala stands in the doorway of the teepee. He nods. "Your friend lives."

The weight of the world lifts. Caleb positions his hands beneath his shoulders and pushes himself to his feet. He brushes tiny rocks and sand from his knees, legs feeling like pins and needles as he stumbles towards the teepee.

It smells like a grove of pine trees in Tala's home. Pine trees and tobacco. On a bed of bearskin lies Ben, chest rising and falling beneath bandaged ribs. A young woman sits by his side. Her face is round with the succulence of youth and her long dark braid shimmers in the firelight. She hums a tune Caleb doesn't know as she wipes Ben's brow and body with a damp rag. Caleb watches her with red rimmed eyes.

"Father says your friend's battle is his own now," she says. "All that can be done is done."

"Will he-?" Caleb can't bring himself to finish the question.

"I don't pretend to know the Great Spirit's intentions."

Caleb moves towards her and sits cross legged next Ben. Tala hands her a small tin cup which she hands to Caleb. The steaming contents have a pungent, earthy smell. The woman moves to the other side of Ben and slides a hand beneath his head, lifting it a few inches off the pillow. "It will help him sleep," she says, motioning towards the cup with her free hand.

With a steady hand, Caleb presses the rim to Ben's lips. Using her thumb, the woman gently pulls down on Ben's jaw and tilts his head back. Caleb elevates the mug and dribbles a bit of the liquid into Ben's mouth. To his amazement, Ben swallows. They continue the process until the cup is empty.

Tala crouches beside his daughter. Together they roll Ben onto his side and tuck blankets beneath him to keep him in position. Caleb brushes loose strands of hair from Ben's eyes. He's surprised to find Ben's forehead feels a touch cooler.

"You should rest," the woman says. "I will watch over your friend."

Caleb stifles a yawn and shakes his head. There was no way he'll be sleeping tonight.

She hands him a bowl and spoon. "Then eat."

The bowl is filled with a colorful assortment of beans and vegetables, most of which Caleb doesn't recognize. A small loaf of cornbread rests on top. His stomach rumbles, his mouth waters, and it doesn't take him long to polish it off. Satisfied, he hands the bowl back. "Thank-you, that's the best meal I've had in a long time."

A small smile plays on the woman's lips. She takes the bowl and sets it beside her before turning her

attention back to Ben. Her slender fingers tug a thin blanket into place. With the back of her hand, she checks his temperature, and nods at Tala who replies in Iroquois.

"He says, sleep. The sun will rise and your friend will need you then."

Caleb rubs at his eyes. I am tired. Across from him, Ben's chest rises and falls, steadier now than it has been.Ultimately, Caleb compromises with a bedroll next to Ben and Tala's promise to wake him if anything happens. His body betrays him the moment he lays down and he has to fight to keep his eyes open long enough to clasp Ben's wrist. "Remember our promise Benny. Don't you dare forget."

Ben doesn't reply. Bleary eyed, Caleb nods. "I'll take that as a yes then."