Caleb sucked in a breath as the knife cut the flesh on his inner thigh. "Cut faster, Jeremy."

"You want it done right, not fast."

Caleb grasped the stick he was offered. "Get the blasted thing outta my leg."

"Bite down."

Caleb did as he was told, crushing it between his teeth. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as Jeremy probed the wound. A metallic clank sounded as the ball was dropped into a tin cup. He almost breathed a sigh of relief until a burning sensation shot through his thigh. "Argh!"

"Sorry."

He winced as the needle bit his skin and again as the thread pulled through the flesh. He reached up and pulled the all-but pulverized stick from his mouth. "Say you're done," he growled

"One more."

"Dear God, Jeremy. Can't you sew any faster?"

"I'm not a seamstress, Caleb. If you'd wanted a professional, you shoulda gone to a camp doctor."

"Those butchers woulda taken my leg. Instead of a hole, I'd have been dead."

"Maybe the washer women then," Jeremy said as he tied the knot.

Caleb shook his head. "They'd have wanted more than just my leg." He let out the breath he'd been holding. "With them around, you'd think there wasn't any married men in the regiment."

"You'll just hafta be happy with me then. You can also be happy it was just a ball and not a minie. Those things expand when they hit and we would be taking your leg off. This is just a hole."

Caleb groaned as the last stitch pulled the flesh together. The liquid burned once more. "Save some for later," he complained.

Jeremy chuckled. "You're such a baby, Caleb."

"Put the bottle away. It's the captain," someone hissed.

Jeremy stashed the whiskey as Caleb wound a bandage around his thigh.

"Kirkland!"

"Yes, sir." He tucked in the end of the fabric before looking up.

"That was either the dumbest thing I've ever seen or the bravest."

"I'd go with dumb, sir," Jeremy quipped.

The man stepped down into the trench and crouched next to him. "How's the leg?"

Caleb grimaced as he pulled his pants up. "I'll live, probably."

"Good. I need the two of you to deliver this to the general. He should be at the church, two towns over."

Caleb took the pouch, then looked at the teenager sitting across from him. "How's my horse?"

"Not a mark on him, sir."

"Good." Caleb staggered to his feet. "You ready Jeremy?"

Jeremy sneered. "Sure. Ridin' through a war zone is fun."

Caleb groaned as he swung into the saddle.

"Quit belly-aching. You're worse than..."

"Remind me to hit you later."

"You gotta catch me first," Jeremy called as he spurred his horse forward.

Caleb grinned, knowing his horse was faster. The minute they cleared the first fence, he regretted accepting the assignment. Every step, every jump, every movement made him wish he were dead. Pain lanced through his leg. As he pulled the horse to a stop next to the church, his friend's face became etched with concern.

"Caleb, you don't look so good."

Caleb shuddered. "Let's deliver the message. I'm gonna need some whiskey."

Jeremy snatched the parcel from his grasp. "Stay on the horse. I'll deliver this, then we'll find some food and a tent."

Caleb closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain. He slumped forward in the saddle, his nose almost brushing against the horse's mane.

The church doors burst open as Jeremy rushed out. "Ride, Caleb! Ride!"

Jeremy slapped his horse's rump making it bolt. Caleb clung to the pommel as the horse thundered through the trees. He could hear at least one more horse following. He desperately hoped it was Jeremy and not some Reb.

Caleb watched a man lean over and grab his horse's bridle, leading it off the trail. Strong arms lifted him down. He heard a clucking and watched the horse lie down in the dense underbrush. He fought back the bile that threatened.

"Caleb, I need you to hold your horse down."

Caleb nodded, trying to fight his way through the fog billowing across his senses.

"That's it. Just like we practiced. Now keep him quiet."

Horses thundered nearby. Shouts echoed through the trees. He heard a pistol cock near his ear. His eyes fluttered closed. A prayer repeated through his mind.