Last Ghost at Gettysburg Read Free Page B

camos he’d ordered online. It was part of the
thrill he experienced every time he ‘went digging.’
    It was probably this extreme focus that
prevented him from sensing the man standing behind him. Instead it
was the smell, as he furtively dug on his knees for some trinket
that tipped him off. Something like a dead animal that’d sat in the
woods for a while. He turned and looked up—and smiled with
relief.
    “Lord, son, you had me spooked!” he said,
shifting to a sitting position and removing his headphones. “I
thought you were the Federales or somethin’. Say, that’s some
uniform. What’s your outfit?”
    The soldier’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your
pardon?”
    “Your regiment. What unit you supposed to be
with?”
    The cavalier stood erect. “I serve with
Hampton’s Legion, under the command of General Stuart.”
    “Wow. Very authentic, right down to the
material. Or is that a real uniform?” He let out a low
whistle of approval. “Boy howdy, that must’ve set you back a pretty
penny. Most reenactors just buy the repro duds and such. You
look...totally realistic. But I gotta tell you, man, that uniform stinks . Maybe you can air it out or treat it with some of
that Fabreze stuff you buy at the Winn-Dixie.”
    Suddenly a whinnying sound cut the air. Weeks
peered into the gloomy woods. “You’ve got a horse , too? I’m
impressed!”
    “State your business here,” the soldier said
evenly, seeming ten feet tall in his spurred boots as he towered
over the sitting poacher.
    “Well, heh, I’m kinda in the same boat as
you, son, someplace I’m not supposed to be after nightfall. Just
digging some artifacts, not bothering anybody.”
    “Artifacts? What artifacts? Please explain
yourself.” The soldier’s smell was becoming annoying, and it was
reflected in the tone of Jamie’s reply.
    “You know, buttons, bullets and whatnot. Artifacts . What I really want to find is a CSA belt buckle
like the one you got there. Primo piece. How much that set you
back?”
    “You are excavating this ground for the
personal effects of dead soldiers?” The cavalier looked both amazed
and disgusted.
    “Well, you don’t have to put it that way, man. I mean, I don’t begrudge you the right to parade around
in that uniform in the middle of the night. Whatever turns you on,
son. It’s cool with me. Now, why don’t you just jump on your horse
and get back to camp or whatever and let me get in some more work
before it gets light?”
    “That isn’t possible,” said the soldier,
drawing his pistol.
    “Whoa, now, podna, you got no right to be
pullin’ that piece on me. I got just as much right to be here as
you.”
    “I hardly think so,” the man answered. “In
fact, your actions are despicable and disgust me to the marrow. The
men whose effects that you turn the earth for died for a cause you
could not possibly fathom.” He cocked the hammer of the pistol with
his thumb. “And a man of the South as well. My Gawd. It is a
pleasure to cleanse this sacred ground of scum like you.”
    Jamie Weeks never had the chance to ask if
the Colt .44 was a repro.
     

Chapter Four

    Chief Al Warren raised himself up, slowly and
painfully, from the knee he’d taken next to Jamie Weeks’ splayed
corpse. It was still an hour or so till daybreak, and the CSI team
had cordoned off the area with plastic yellow tape while Doc
Lamberg, the Adams County coroner, went about his business. This
wasn’t good at all. Three murders in two weeks, and the summer
season was just kicking into gear. Warren brushed off his pants leg
and shuffled over to Rudy Herzog, who was leaning against his
cruiser, shakily smoking a cigarette.
    “Okay, Rudy, so let’s go over this,” grunted
Warren, tipping back his hat. “You were about a half mile north of
here and heard a gunshot. And then?” Warren’s meaty arms were
crossed against his barrel chest as he held himself in the
chill.
    “Chief, I radioed in the report of shots
fired. Then I