The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

the open flask of whiskey to his lips and drained the contents that eased his mind at seeing this great travesty firsthand.
    The faces that stared back at him and the sergeant major were not in the least hostile, but rather offered expressions of utter disbelief at what had happened just two weeks past in that small college town across the river. The men did not have the look of defeat on their tired, muddy faces; instead, those faces held the belief that Lee would see them through. No, the man thought, this army was far from defeated and he knew that was why he had been sent—for that day when this madness would finally end.
    The carriage was brought to a stop but not before the man inside saw the armed guards just outside his window. He braced himself as the door opened.
    “Sir, I trust you will comport yourself as a gentleman during this meeting. I do not believe I have to offer any dire warnings if you do not,” Jeb Stuart said as he took a quick step back and then nodded for an aide to take his place as an umbrella was held out for the occupant of the carriage.
    As the guest of the Army of Northern Virginia exited the carriage to curious looks from every man in view, Stuart tipped his hat and then turned to leave, his knee-high boots splashing through the water.
    “General, sir,” the sergeant major called out as he tied off the carriage’s reins on the seat and then expertly hopped down from the bench in a graceful leap. He adjusted his blue and gold cape and his uniform tunic as he waited for Stuart to approach.
    “How may I be of service, Sergeant Major Wilkes?” Stuart asked, slowly pulling off his gauntlets as he waited for the bearded sergeant to state his business. He was shocked when his old comrade came to attention in the driving rain.
    “You have my apologies, General Stuart, for acting the boor, and for not conducting myself properly as a noncommissioned officer in the United States Army. I must state that our past association was … is  … far more relevant than I led you to believe earlier.” The sergeant major half-bowed and then returned to attention. The soldiers who witnessed this man, who only weeks before was more than likely trying to kill the very man he was saluting, were mindful of what was really happening inside the camp of Robert E. Lee.
    The reputation of J. E. B. Stuart was that of a southern gentleman, and even back in his cavalry days in Texas he held firm that you always conducted yourself as such even when faced with adversity, and even defeat. All eyes widened when Stuart removed his famous hat with the ostrich feather cocked at the side.
    “Apology accepted, Sergeant Major,” was all he said, and then turned to leave, replacing his hat. It had been as if he had no response to his old friend.
    “Jeb?” the sergeant major said before Stuart could get too far in the rain.
    “Sergeant Major Wilkes?” he said as he slowly turned back to face the Union noncom.
    “You watch yourself and get through this, you hear?”
    “Always bossing me around and never knowing who outranks who,” Stuart said, but with a smile. He then straightened to the posture of a ramrod and brought his hand up to his hat to salute his old friend. “When this is over I’ll continue to teach you those etiquette lessons I started on the Rio Grande a million years ago.”
    The sergeant major slowly lowered his hand and watched his old friend walk into the rain-soaked world and into American history.
    As he turned, Sergeant Major Wilkes was confronted by three men. He came to an abrupt stop and then relaxed when he saw one of the men with as many stripes as himself holding out a tin cup of steaming liquid.
    “T’ain’t no South American coffee, only chicory,” the sergeant with the graying beard said as he held out the cup.
    “It would curl your hair to know what Captain Stuart and I had to drink hunkered down fighting the Comanche in North Texas, I ought to tell ya,” Wilkes said as he accepted