Gettysburg , Pennsylvania , June 21 st

“Where did you say our hotel was, honey?” Hank asked as they drove down Hanover Road .

“On Chambersburg Street ,” Louisa replied with a smile. “Don't worry, hose jockey; I know where I'm going.” Twenty minutes later, she parked their rental car in front of a four-story building that took up most of the block.

The Captain's jaw dropped. “Wow, would you get a load of this place? It's incredible!”

“Wait until you see the inside ,” chuckled his wife. She pushed open the door and entered the spacious lobby. “I could get used to this,” she joked.

The desk clerk looked up when they came in. “Afternoon, folks!” he greeted. “I'm Arthur Dupree, the manager. How may I be of service?”

“We have a reservation under the name Stanley ,” answered the young woman. “Is there someone to help with our luggage?”

“Here it is, Captain and Mrs. Hank Stanley from Los Angeles ,” he said. “Welcome to Gettysburg . Is this your first visit?”

Louisa shook her head. “No, I've been here several times, but my husband hasn't.”

“I certainly hope you enjoy your stay, sir,” grinned Dupree. “Allow me to show you to your room. Corey, get their bags. We've booked you into the John Troxwell Suite. Do you know who he is?”

“He opened this place in 1804 as a tavern called Sign of the Buck,” she replied. “During the Civil War, it was known as the Union Hotel and used as a hospital after the battle.”

“Ah, a lady who knows her history,” chuckled the manager. “Are you a teacher?”

“No, she just reads a lot ,” said Hank. “Our den back home has more books on medicine and American history than the Library of Congress.”

“The abnormal psychology text comes in handy when dealing with your crew,” snickered the young woman. “Especially Chet.”

“He's a special case,” the Captain joked. “You think modern science will ever find a cure for him?”

“Doubtful, but a roll of duct tape could do wonders,” answered Louisa. “But a little elective surgery might be a better solution.”

“It's against government policy to cut a public servant's vocal cords, Dr. Frankenstein,” Stanley warned.

“I knew it wouldn't be that easy,” she complained. “That leaves us with either Plan B or Plan C.”

“I may regret this, but could you explain?” muttered Hank.

“Both have the same end result, but with different things,” said Louisa. “Plan B uses 3-0 silk and a very large needle, and Plan C uses roofing staples.”

The Captain's eyes widened and he burst out laughing. “Whoever said all medical professionals were sadistic was right!” he snorted.

“Nah, we just enjoy seeing people suffer!” she corrected, giggling wildly. “Especially hose jockeys!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“What would you like to see first?” asked Louisa, yanking on her cowboy boots.

“The inside of my eyelids,” answered Hank with a yawn. “I'm bushed. Aren't you even the slightest bit tired?”

“Nope, I'm too excited,” she grinned. “Come on, honey; let's do some exploring!”

“Later,” he groaned, stretching out on the bed. “Go ahead without me; I don't mind.”

The young woman bit her lip uncertainly. “Okay, then; I'll be back in a couple hours. She pocketed their room key and left the hotel, wandering aimlessly until she came to a large brick house with green shutters. A flash of movement in one of the upper windows caught her eye and she looked up. A bearded man wearing a gray cape and plumed hat met her gaze, raised one hand in a jaunty salute, then vanished into thin air.

A woman dressed in period clothing appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly. “Good morning, miss, and welcome to the Shriver House Museum .” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Something wrong, dear?” she asked. “You're white as a sheet.”

Louisa blinked, noticing the woman for the first time. “Huh? Uh, no, I thought I saw something, but it must have been just a trick of the light,” she replied, adding a mental ‘I hope.'

“Come inside and I'll give you the fifty cent tour. I'm Susan Nichols, a descendant of the Shriver family,” the woman answered, extending a slender hand.

The young woman nodded absently and followed Mrs. Nichols through the house, paying little attention as the guide related the history of the building. “And this is the attic,” the woman was saying. “Watch your step; some of the boards are loose.”

“I will,” Louisa assured, entering the room cautiously. “It's really stuffy in here,” she commented, stifling a sneeze. “Hot, too.”

Before Susan could reply, the downstairs phone rang. “I need to get that; wait here, please.”

“Go ahead,” murmured the young woman, busy studying the initials someone long dead had carved into the wooden floor. A sudden chill permeated the attic and she shivered, her pulse racing. “Okay, it's time to get the Hell outta Dodge.” She headed for the door, gasping in horror when the bearded figure she had seen earlier materialized directly in front of her. “Leavin' so soon?” it croaked in a thick Southern drawl. “Stick around; the fun ain't even started yet.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Kelly, stop bouncing that damn basketball and go to sleep!” growled Hank, sitting up in bed. The pounding continued and he realized that someone was knocking on the door. “Keep your shirt on; I'm coming!” He turned the knob and came face-to-face with a stranger. “Yeah, what do you want?”

“Captain Stanley? I'm Ted Vattimo,” the man replied. “May I come in?”

“Sure, be my guest,” muttered the Captain. “I must have dozed off. What time is it?”

Vattimo glanced at his watch. “Almost five o'clock ,” he said. “Where's your wife?”

“She went exploring,” answered Hank, “but that was a while ago. I don't even know where she was going.”

Ted bit his lip thoughtfully and picked up the phone. “Art, Ted Vattimo. Did you see Mrs. Stanley when she left the hotel earlier? Okay, let me talk to him. You positive it was her? Right; thanks, man.” He hung up and turned to look at the Captain. “The bell hop said he saw your wife go into the Shriver House not long after she left the hotel. She's probably still there.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Louisa stared at the apparition with wide eyes. “Can't I go anywhere without tripping over spirits?” she grumbled. “Okay, buster, you must have a reason for scaring me half to death. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The figure grinned. “Direct and to the point. Women sure are different nowadays. First, allow me to introduce myself. Lieutenant Elisha Wohlford, at your service,” he said, tipping his hat. “Confederate States of America .”

“No kidding, genius,” she muttered sarcastically. “The gray uniform was a dead giveaway. The rifle, too. It's a genuine Enfield , if I'm not mistaken.

Wohlford chuckled softly, then looked past her shoulder to the attic door. “Someone's coming, so I best make myself scarce,” he said. “Meet me near the Devil's Den at sunset, but until then, think about why you feel drawn to this place.”

“I'll be there,” Louisa answered. “Wild horses couldn't keep me away.” She left the attic, pulling the door shut behind her, just as footsteps sounded on the stairs. “I thought you were taking a nap, honey,” she said as her husband reached the landing.

“I was, until someone woke me up,” he replied. “Lou, this is Ted Vattimo. He's invited to dinner.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I can't thank you enough for sending us your tickets, Mr. Vattimo,” Louisa was saying.

“It was my pleasure and, please, call me Ted,” he smiled. “Did Kel ever tell you about the time he stapled a frog's nervous system to the inside of our anatomy professor's desk?”

“Why in the world would he do that ?” asked Hank.

“Because medical students have an incredibly twisted sense of humor,” his wife chuckled. “Joe Early said that he used to drop plastic eyeballs in people's drinks at student mixers.”

“Child's play compared to the stunt you and Rachel pulled at your nursing school graduation party,” snickered the Captain.

“Sounds like an interesting tale,” commented Ted. “What happened?”

“I made liverwurst spread for the buffet table,” the young woman grinned. “My friend Rachel decided to write a name on the bowl, just to see if anyone would notice. Well, someone did. It went a little something like this…….”

*The new graduates watched as Johnny dragged a cracker through the liverwurst and popped it into his mouth. “Lou, this stuff is great!” he called. “But why is there a name written on the side of the bowl? Who's Fred Greene?”

“I'm glad you like it,” answered Louisa with a smile. “Hey, Rach, Fred was the guy from the morgue, right?”

“Nah, that was Mortimer,” said Rachel. “You thought he was a bit too fresh, so we drove out to the cemetery and dug up old Freddy.”

“Oh, yeah,” the young woman replied. “His liver was at the perfect stage of decomposition.”

The paramedic gagged, his face turning white. “You mean you used a cadaver's liver? That's just sick!”

“What? I cleaned it first,” Louisa protested. “Formaldehyde enhances the garlic, don't you think?”*

Vattimo burst out laughing. “I may never eat liver again,” he joked.

“You're not the only one,” chuckled Hank. “To this day, Gage won't get near the stuff and I don't blame him. Anything that nasty isn't meant for human consumption.”

“This from a guy who loves raw oysters and Limburger cheese,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “How can you eat something that smells like old gym socks?”

“By plugging your nose and chewing really fast,” grinned the college professor. “If I had been in Mr. Gage's shoes, I wouldn't have let you get away with making me look foolish.”

“Believe me, he didn't!” snorted Louisa. “Johnny and I took the concept of ‘don't get mad, get even' to new heights!”

“With each prank more devious than the last,” Stanley guffawed. “By the end of the second week, half the guys in the Department were placing bets predicting just how long McConikee would turn a blind eye. I was sure he would step in after you put a live lobster in Gage's bed. Risk Management probably had a field day when they processed that accident report.”

“You should have seen Morton's face when Roy told him what happened!” the young woman giggled. “And the chart notes! ‘Examination of patient revealed a 2-inch laceration on the left buttock that was inflicted when he sat on a large crustacean. Wound was cleaned and dressed, after which nurse administered tetanus booster. Patient was advised to avoid using seafood as furniture and released. Diagnosis: assault by bad-tempered shellfish.'”

“That would explain why John was so grouchy when he got back from the hospital,” Hank commented. “Did Morton really put that in the chart or are you just yanking my chain?”

“I swear on the lives of our children,” Louisa answered, her eyes twinkling.

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” quipped Vattimo. “You're downright vicious !”

“You have no idea,” chuckled the Captain. “But I don't think she was acting alone. Who was your partner in crime, sweetheart?”

“ Partners ,” she corrected gleefully. “I had more than one; actually, there were four . You're pretty smart, honey; what is your gut instinct telling you?”

Stanley closed his eyes and thought hard. “Kelly, Stoker, and Lopez,” he said after a few minutes. “That leaves the fourth accomplice. At least give me a hint.”

“Who knows Johnny better than anyone else?” Louisa questioned, her lips curving into a cat-like smile.

“That's easy, his partner. You expect me to believe Desoto was in on it?” scoffed Hank. “No way, not in a million years. Next you'll be saying Gage was helping you, too.”

“Tell me something, hose jockey,” grinned his wife. “Every prank Johnny and I played on each other had one thing in common. What was it?”

“There were all childish and annoying?” he guessed. “How should I know? No, wait; they all took place at the station, except the first one.”

“Close, but no cigar,” the young woman teased. “Who was there when every prank went down?”

“I was, but what difference does that make?” said the Captain.

“Didn't that seem a bit odd to you?” she asked. “Almost like it had been planned ?”

“Not at all,” he retorted. “It was just coincidence.”

“No, sweetheart, it wasn't,” Louisa answered, shaking her head. “The whole thing was nothing but an elaborate practical joke with you as the target. Johnny was in on it from the very beginning. He came up with the idea after you said you would be able to see a prank coming a mile away.”

“And you twits just had to prove me wrong,” concluded Hank.

“Well, kind of, yeah,” she admitted sheepishly. “Are you mad?”

“Are you kidding?!?” he laughed. “Seeing a pissed-off lobster chomp on Gage's skinny butt was absolutely priceless ! No one will ever top that!”

“Probably not, but it might be fun to try!” the young woman giggled. “You up to the challenge, hose jockey?”

“I may have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Stanley replied, his eyes sparkling wickedly.

“Call me tomorrow and we'll have lunch,” said Vattimo as they left the restaurant. “My wife is dying to meet you. Did I mention that she grew up in Montana ?”

“Really?” smiled Louisa. “In that case, we should have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, like how to wade through snow up to your eyebrows,” Hank joked. “Come on, honey; let's hit the sack. Thanks for dinner, Ted.”

“You can, but I'm too wound up to sleep,” answered the young woman. “I think I'll take a drive through the park. Is that allowed, Mr. Vattimo?”

“I doubt the Rangers would toss a lady in jail for it,” he chuckled. “Just be careful. Some of the battlefields are hard to see at night.”

“Is that a fact?” Louisa grinned. “How observant, Professor. Any other pearls of wisdom you'd like to share?”

Vattimo mirrored her grin. “Let's see, don't talk to strangers, never pick up hitchhikers, and wash behind your ears.”

“You forgot take alfalfa pills to prevent hair loss,” deadpanned Stanley , making his wife giggle.

Ted stared at him quizzically. “I never heard that ,” he said. “How do you figure?”

“Well, horses love the stuff and they're covered with hair,” the Captain replied.

“Very true,” said the professor. “Equine alopecia is extremely rare, but there have been a few cases.”

“Right,” agreed Hank. “It's called mare -pattern baldness.”

“That stinks worse than yesterday's garbage,” groaned Louisa. “Quit while you're ahead, sweetheart.” She looked at Ted and smiled. “A while back, a guy on Hank's crew tried to convince everyone that alfalfa capsules prevent hair loss based on the fact that he's never seen a bald horse.”

Vattimo's eyebrows shot up. “Interesting theory,” he commented. “Your friend must be quite a character.”

“To put it mildly,” the young woman smirked. “Chet may be nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake, but he's a good man.”

The Captain nodded. “Life would be pretty dull without Kelly around,” he chuckled.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Louisa drove slowly down Taneytown Road , muttering under her breath. “Okay, I just passed the riding stables; it can't be much farther. Yup, there it is.” She stopped the car and got out just as the full moon slid out from behind a cloud, flooding the land with its pale radiance. As she crossed the deserted parking lot, wispy fog boiled out of the ground, glowing eerily in the moonlight. “What the Hell am I doing out here?”

“I'd like to know that myself!” barked a rough voice. A man stepped out of the shadows carrying a heavy flashlight. He snapped it on and shone the beam directly in her face. “Well, speak up, lady!”

The young woman raised a hand to shade her eyes, swallowing hard when she saw a gun poking out of his waistband. “I was out driving and saw the sign for Devil's Den,” she answered. “Take it easy, mister; I wasn't doing anything wrong.”

The man glowered and moved closer. “We'll see about that. Hey, Sylvie, I found the culprit!” he shouted.

“Who is it this time, aliens or Nazis?” asked a lilting feminine voice. “Land sakes, George, you act like we're being invaded by the Rebs again! It's just a tourist! What's your name, dearie?”

Louisa jumped when a tiny, gray-haired woman appeared at her elbow. “Louisa Stanley,” she replied. “I didn't mean any harm.”

“Neither did George, ain't that right, love?” questioned Sylvie with a sunny grin. “You go find that fool dog before he gets in Dutch with the neighbors again.” She waited until the man was out of hearing range before speaking again. “It ain't safe to be here after dark, young miss. Lots of strange goings-on and such. Mae Pierce claims she saw General Longstreet hisself marching on that field yonder not three nights ago! Scared her near to death, it did!”

The young woman resisted the urge to laugh at the old lady's antics. “I'm not afraid of ghosts,” she said firmly. “I've seen my share over the years and lived to talk about it.”

“Some haven't been so lucky,” the old woman answered cryptically. “Keep your wits and mind who you speak to up here, dearie. Not all who roam these hallowed fields serve a benevolent master.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Los Angeles , California

Johnny sighed in annoyance when the phone rang. He picked up the receiver and grumbled, “This better be good!”

“What's the matter, pal?” laughed Captain Stanley's voice. “Bad time?”

“Uh, not exactly, Cap,” answered the paramedic. “It's just that the Dodgers are on and….”

“I get the idea,” chuckled Hank. “I'm just checking in. There's no answer at home, so I decided to call you. Everything all right?”

“Sure, never better,” replied Gage. “Marco and Mrs. Lopez took the kids camping for the weekend. Chet and Rachel went with them. What about you and the Mrs.? Having fun?”

“So far. We had dinner with Brackett's friend tonight,” answered Stanley . “He told us some very interesting things about the good doctor.”

“Which my cousin will no doubt use to torment him,” laughed Johnny. “Let me talk to her.”

“Uh, she's not here right now,” murmured Hank. “She went for a drive around the park.”

“Well, have her call me when she gets back, unless you're busy, of course,” he teased.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” the Captain grumbled.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gettysburg

Louisa stood in the shadow of the Devil's Den, eyeing the formation uncertainly. She laid a hand against one of the boulders and felt a tingle of electricity race up her arm. “What was that ?!?”

“Most likely, a lost soul looking for peace,” replied a drawling voice. “Glad you could make it, Mrs. Stanley.”

The young woman turned to see Lieutenant Wohlford standing a few feet away, a broad grin on his handsome, if decades dead, face. “I said I would be,” she told him. “You're the one who's late, pal. The sun went down half an hour ago.”

Wohlford laughed. “Sorry, my watch stopped when my heart did,” he joked. “Not many repair shops where I am now.”

“Too bad it wasn't a Timex,” she snickered. “They're made to take a licking and keep on ticking. Unfortunately, the human body can't withstand that kind of abuse.”

“A fact someone in your profession knows all too well,” the soldier answered softly. He pointed to the surrounding countryside directly to the north. “A lot of brave men from both sides lost their lives here,” he said. “What does history call them?”

“The closest is called the Wheatfield and beyond that is the Peach Orchard,” the young woman murmured, a sudden breeze making her shiver. “My God, I was one of them. That's why we're here, isn't it?”

Before the lieutenant could reply, headlights flashed as a car turned into the parking lot. He vanished with an apologetic shrug. “Until we meet again.”

“Whoever you are, your timing sucks!” Louisa muttered crossly, looking over her shoulder to see a uniformed park ranger striding towards her. “Is there a problem, officer?”

“No, ma'am; I was doing my rounds and saw your car,” he answered with a friendly grin. “You all right?”

“Never better,” she replied. “I was just enjoying the peace and quiet.”

“That's why I like the nightshift,” chuckled the ranger. “It's usually pretty dull, other than Mae Pierce calling in with yet another ghost sighting. I'm Harold Nesbitt and you are?”

“Louisa Stanley. Let me guess. General Longstreet and the entire Confederate Army are camped out on Seminary Ridge?” teased the young woman.

“Great, who told?” Nesbitt muttered. He jumped when an undulating cry echoed out of the dark. “What in blazes was that ?!?”

“No, it couldn't be,” Louisa gasped, her eyes huge. “It sounded just like…..well, just like a Rebel yell.”

The ranger waved a dismissive hand. “No way!” he scoffed. “It's probably an animal or something.”

“Right, and the moon is made of green cheese. When I was a kid in Alabama , we lived down the road from an old codger whose grandfather rode with Stonewall. Mr. Bennett used to holler like that to frighten unsuspecting visitors. It worked, too,” she added with a chuckle.

“No kidding,” he smiled ruefully. “I gather you're speaking from personal experience?”

“Let's just say it's possible to literally scare the crap out of someone and leave it at that,” the young woman answered with a sly wink.

“Not a chance,” laughed Nesbitt. “This is one story I have to hear!”

“My husband and I are staying at the James Gettys Hotel on Chambersburg ,” Louisa said. “Meet us for breakfast and I'll give you all the gory details.”

“You're on. Did he witness the fiasco?”

“No, I pulled that little prank before we even met,” she grinned. “But he might be there for round two.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Next Morning

“You did what ?!?” exclaimed Hank, nearly choking on his toast. “To Buck of all people?!? How did he react?”

“Remember how mad Chet was after my fake vampire stunt?” giggled Louisa. “Multiply that by about a million.”

“As I recall, Kelly was out for blood, pardon the pun,” snickered the Captain. “A little birdie told me he's already cooking up something very special for Halloween. Better watch your back, sweetheart. This could be his year.”

“Don't count your chickens, my love,” answered his wife, flashing a wicked smile. “I have a plan that will drive the Phantom absolutely crazy .”

“Wow, you guys must really get into the holiday,” commented Nesbitt. “I'll bet it gets pretty wild around the end of October, huh?”

“It sure does!” the young woman laughed. “Chet and I torment each other all year , but we save our best pranks for Halloween.”

“Meanwhile, the rest of us try to stay out of the line of fire and wait for the carnage to end,” grinned Hank.

“And let those two have all the fun?” said the ranger. “I find it hard to believe you just sit back and watch, sir.”

“It's tough, but someone has to maintain some sense of decorum,” smiled the Captain.

“Unfortunately, that someone isn't you,” snorted Louisa. “Who put tapioca pudding in Roy 's helmet last Halloween? Before you deny it, let me remind you where the empty container was found, sweetheart.”

“All right, I admit it,” chuckled Stanley . “But it was rice , not tapioca.”

“Oh, that makes all the difference in the world,” she muttered sarcastically, turning when a waiter tapped her on the shoulder.

“Pardon the interruption, Mrs. Stanley,” he said, “but there is someone asking to see you. He said it was important.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she replied, getting up and following the waiter out of the room. “Where is he?”

“In my office,” answered the hotel manager, Mr. Dupree, his lips pursed in disgust. “Given his, uh, appearance, I thought it best to give you some privacy.”

The young woman pushed open the door and gasped when her mysterious visitor revealed himself. “Richard Allan Dunkirk, what on Earth are you doing here?!?”

The guitarist swallowed and reached out to hug her. “Lou, I know you're on vacation, but I need your help. It's a matter of life and death!”

“It usually is,” sighed Louisa, digging in her pocket and handing him a key. “I'll be along as soon as I tell Hank. Go on, move it!”

“Stop right there!” blustered the manager. “I won't have this person in my hotel.”

“Then my husband and I will find other accommodations!” the young woman shot back. “This person, as you call him, is my friend and has traveled a long way! If you have a problem with him being here, that's too damn bad!”

“Well, I never !” huffed Dupree. “Fine, just keep him away from the other guests.”

Louisa shoved past him with an angry sniff and charged into the dining room. “Harold, would you mind if we rescheduled our tour? I have a little problem to take care of.”

“Nothing too serious, I hope,” answered the ranger. “Here's my card. Call me when you're free.”

“Definitely,” she replied. “Hank, when you finish eating, come up to our suite. This involves you, too.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“A lot's happened since Rudy took over the band again,” Rick was saying. “I don't know where to start.”

“At the beginning,” said Louisa. “Why you guys would even consider working with that creep is beyond me.”

“Because he's got connections in the business,” answered Dunkirk . “Without him, the band never would have recorded an album and made a shitload of money. We're the hottest thing to hit Japan since the atom bomb!”

“Oh, and it shows!” the young woman retorted. “If you're so rich, why are you dressed like a bum?”

“I made some bad investments and lost most of it,” the guitarist muttered, avoiding her eyes.

“Bad investments, my foot!” Louisa snapped. “You got caught up in the lifestyle and spent it on dope, didn't you?!?”

“What if I did?” shouted Rick. “You've done your share, as I recall! Besides, that's in the past; I'm clean and sober now.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I didn't come here to fight with you. Paul is in serious trouble.”

“And too proud to ask for help, as usual,” the young woman finished with a humorless smile. “Knowing Paul, I'd say it's drugs. What's he been using?”

“It started with booze and a couple lines before a gig,” Dunkirk whispered. “A few months after that, I noticed he was losing weight and wearing long-sleeved shirts, even when it was hot. I didn't know why until I found a stash of bottle caps, matches, and empty syringes in his carry-on.”

Louisa turned white and uttered a low, choking moan. “Oh, God, and with his addictive personality,” she croaked. “No wonder you're freaked out. Where is he now?”

“At Wilder's house in the Valley,” answered the guitarist. “Toby and I thought it would be the best place to stage an intervention.”

“Good thinking; you're not as dumb as you look, man,” she teased. “Hank, I know this is a lot to ask…….”

The Captain smiled and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Getting Paul the help he needs is more important than our vacation,” he soothed. “I'm pretty fond of the guy myself, in case you haven't noticed. Who else has the guts to call me an old fart?”

“No one, sweetheart,” chuckled his wife. “At least not to your face.”

Los Angeles , The Next Day

“Why are we stopping here?” questioned Rick. “I thought we were going straight to Toby's.”

“I'm calling for backup,” answered Louisa, digging in her pocket for change. She plugged a coin into the pay phone and dialed. “Johnny, it's Lou. No, I'm in L. A. Can you get my safe deposit key and meet me at the bank? It's in the bottom drawer of my jewelry box. Oh, and don't tell anyone that I'm here. I'll explain everything when I see you. Thanks, cousin, I owe you one.” She hung up and ran back to the car.

“Mind telling me what you're up to?” said Dunkirk . “Who were you talking to?”

“The only other person I know besides my husband that can keep a secret,” she grinned.

The guitarist stared at her incredulously. “John Gage? I'm not doubting you, but why him?”

“Because he can help us restrain our patient long enough to get him to Rampart,” the young woman replied. “You know damn well that Paul won't go quietly.”

“And just how do you plan to restrain him?” asked Rick.

“Any way possible,” Louisa chuckled. “I happen to know that Johnny has a straight jacket in his Rover. We used it on Chet a couple weeks ago.”

“”Don't tell me why,” muttered Dunkirk . “I'm afraid of the answer.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Are you sure this will work?” said Johnny. “Paul can be pretty stubborn when he wants to be.”

“Maybe so, but it doesn't make a lick of difference,” answered Louisa, her voice cold. “I'm not going to stand idly by and watch that jackass kill himself.”

The front door opened and Toby came out, looking like he hadn't slept in days. “Lou, thank God you're here,” he said, drawing her into a warm hug. “I wasn't sure you'd come, given the circumstances.”

“Your faith is touching,” she grumbled sarcastically. “Paul has saved my ass more times than I can remember. I'm just returning the favor.”

“He's gonna fight you every step of the way,” cautioned Wilder. “It won't be easy.”

“I deal with temperamental doctors and paramedics every day,” smirked the young woman. “Plus, I know how to get under Mr. Roland's skin.”

“She's got a point,” interrupted Rick. “I trust her; question is, do you ?”

“Of course I do, but you're taking a huge risk, Lou,” Toby answered. “What if Paul gets violent?”

“Lordy, you're worse than Roy ,” she sighed, making Johnny laugh. “Relax, Tobe; if things get hairy, I'll yell or something. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“I'll have them put that on your tombstone,” joked the lawyer. “He's in the guest bedroom, end of the hall. Good luck.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Paul looked up when she entered his bedroom. “What are you doing here?!?” he demanded belligerently.

Louisa smiled, unfazed by his tone. “I wanted to see if you were really the drugged-out asshole everyone says you are,” she answered pleasantly. “Guess they weren't lying, huh?”

“So I use a little heroin to take the edge off!” the guitarist snapped. “Big freaking deal! I'm not an addict!”

“Do you honestly think I'm going to buy that line of bull?” the young woman shot back. “Come on, Paul. We've always been up front with each other, right? Why can't you just admit that you have a problem?”

“Because I don't!” he shouted. “Just get out and mind your own damn business for once!”

“Not if it means letting you ruin your life,” Louisa answered softly. “We've been down that road once before, remember? Or have the drugs completely fried your brain?”

Paul glared at her fiercely. “This is totally different! Charlie died from a gunshot wound.”

“From a dealer's bullet,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Do you want to end up like him?”

Roland swallowed, the blood draining from his face. “That won't happen,” he murmured.

“Maybe not, but no one knows for sure when they're gonna die,” the young woman said. “I could walkout of here and get crushed by a falling boulder.”

“Come on, Lou; be serious,” he argued. “You'll probably live to be an old lady.”

“And you better be right beside me, buddy,” Louisa grinned. “We'd be the terror of the nursing home.”

“Yeah, food fights in the dining hall,” snickered Paul. “Scaring the nurses with our dentures, wheelchair races after bed check. It would be a scream.” He met her eyes and they burst out laughing.

“We'll never find out if you keep abusing yourself with that crap,” the young woman replied, wiping her wet cheeks.

“Man, you're not gonna quit, are you?” muttered the guitarist. “You always were a royal pain in the ass, kid. All right, I'll try rehab.”

“I love you, too, weasel bait,” she giggled, giving him a playful swat. “I know, don't call you that. So, will you come quietly or do I have to beat you into submission?”

“That'll be the day,” he joked. “Is there a third choice?”

“Yeah, heavy sedation followed by a chic white dinner jacket with extra-long sleeves.”

“Sounds lovely, but I'll pass,” Paul chuckled, busy stuffing clothes into a duffle bag. He opened the door and came face-to-face with Toby. “It's okay, man. Lou convinced me to get my act together. We'll be out of here real soon.”

“Easier said than done,” Wilder gulped. “Rudy Martone is outside and he's not a happy camper. I suggest using the back door.”

Louisa snorted angrily and shook her head. She walked out of the house and leaned against the porch railing. “Why, if it isn't Rudy ‘Rat' Martone. What an unpleasant surprise.”

“For me, too,” answered the manager. “I've come to take Paul home.”

“He's not going anywhere with you, so get lost,” she responded coldly.

“Think again, dear,” snarled Martone. “Mr. Roland is still under contract with my management company. Either produce him or I'll retrieve him myself.”

Louisa's eyes took on a combative gleam. “Over my dead body,” she growled.

“That can be arranged,” Rudy shot back. He climbed the steps and grabbed the young woman's arm, intending to push her aside.

“Get your filthy mitts off her!” snarled Johnny, stepping forward to defend his cousin.

“Hold it, all of you!” shouted a gruff voice. Officer Vince Howard stood in the driveway, his hand on the butt of his service revolver.

“Vince, what are you doing here?” the young woman questioned.

“I called him right after Rudy got here,” answered Toby. “Lou, weren't you and Paul on your way out?”

“In a minute,” Louisa said. “Rick, could you bring the car around, please? Johnny, call Rampart and tell Brackett we're coming in.”

“Now, if everything is settled….” began Howard.

“Not quite, Vince,” she interrupted. “I have a gift for Mr. Martone.”

The manager's eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really? What makes you think I'll even accept it?”

“Because you deserve it,” Louisa replied. Before anyone could react, she threw a clumsy, but well-aimed, punch. Her fist slammed into Rudy's nose with a resounding crunch and blood flew in all directions. “I've wanted to do that for ages and, believe me, it was worth the wait.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rampart General Hospital

As soon as Paul was settled in the Drug Rehabilitation Unit, Johnny dragged his protesting cousin to the ER. “Park it,” he ordered sternly, taking the chair next to her. “Rick, see if you can find Mrs. Brackett. I'll stay here and guard the exits.”

Dunkirk nodded and walked toward the nurses' station, giggling under his breath. He returned a few minutes later pushing a wheelchair. “The lady at the desk said to put her in Four,” he said.

“You're really enjoying this, aren't you?” Louisa griped. “Who's on call today, Victor?” she asked the orderly.

“Morton is, but he's tied up,” said Brackett as he entered the room. “What happened to your hand?”

“I bumped it on something,” she muttered crossly.

“Or someone ,” answered the doctor, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Does the name Rudolph Martone ring any bells? He arrived shortly before you did.”

The young woman reddened. “So I clocked him. Trust me, Kel; that jackass had it coming.” She bit her lip. “How bad is he?”

Brackett grinned and leaned against the table. “Let me put it this way,” he chuckled. “Don't bother sending flowers, because his sniffer will be out of commission for a while, like your hand. I don't think it's broken, but we'll x-ray it just to make sure.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Toby, Rick, and Johnny were standing near the base station, chatting with Dixie . “I've known Lou for years, but I've never seen her that angry with anyone,” Wilder was saying.

“She had good reason,” said Dunkirk , his voice hard. “Rudy's lucky he's still breathing.”

“If I cross paths with him again, he won't be,” snarled Louisa, coming up behind them. Her hand was wrapped in elastic bandages and supported by a sling. “Especially after what Paul told me,” she added.

Just then, Dr. Morton approached the desk. “Dix, I'm admitting Mr. Martone for observation. No visitors, unless they've been cleared by me. That means you, too, young lady,” he said to Louisa. “I haven't heard that much cursing from a patient since we treated the Hell's Angels after their rumble with a rival gang. That guy sure hates you.”

“I'm not his biggest fan, either,” she answered. “Sorry you got stuck with him, Mike.”

“It's obvious you and Mr. Martone dislike each other,” commented Dixie . “The question is, why?”

“I'm guessing it has to do with Paul Roland's suicide attempt a few years ago,” said Brackett.

“Partially, but this goes way beyond that, Kel,” Louisa murmured. “It's hard to explain, but Rudy had a knack for getting people to do believe anything he said, no matter how ridiculous.”

“In other words, he's what my grandpa used to call a silver-tongued devil,” chuckled Morton.

“Exactly,” said Rick. “I mean, the guy could sell snow to an Eskimo.”

“Or get an unknown band gigs at the hottest clubs in L.A. ,” Toby added. “Remember when we played the Whiskey-a-Go-Go?” he asked Louisa.

“Oh, my God !” she exclaimed. “The manager kept telling us all these stories about Jim Morrison, then casually mentioned that Ray Manzarek and John Densmore were sitting at the bar right before we went onstage. It wasn't true, but I nearly wet myself just the same!”

“Gene was so nervous, he got hammered and puked on his snare,” related Dunkirk , grinning at the memory. “But we still kicked maximum ass!”

“Yeah, things really started to happen after that night,” Louisa agreed. “You know, if it hadn't been for our manager, we could have made the big time.”

“What are you talking about, Lou?” asked Wilder. “Rudy took our demo tape to every record company on the West Coast, but he said no one was interested.”

“He was lying and I have proof !” the young woman retorted sharply, handing him a folded document. “Go on, read it!”

Toby skimmed the paper, then passed it to Rick, his eyes wide with shock. “That's a recording contract from Phantasia Records,” he whispered. “Where did you get it?”

“From Paul,” she replied. “He was helping Peg clean out her attic and found it under a stack of old ledgers, along with a bank draft for twenty thousand dollars.”

“I don't get it,” said Kel. “A successful band can make a pretty good living. Wouldn't their manager be entitled to a share?”

“That's usually how it works, but Mr. Carlyle, the president of Phantasia, wanted to manage us himself,” the young woman answered.

“So he offered Martone twenty grand as an incentive to step aside,” concluded Dixie .

“Which he didn't,” said Rick, his eyes blazing. “Man, I can't even imagine what our lives how our lives would have turned out if we had signed with Phantasia.”

“A lot different than they are now, that's for sure,” Louisa grinned. “Actually, I'm kind of glad we didn't sign that contract. Sure, being rich and famous would have been cool, but think of all the things we would have missed out on.”

“I see your point,” Dunkirk answered slowly. “I never told you this, sweetheart, but I had a huge crush on you back in the day.”

“You did ?!?” she gasped, her jaw hanging open. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“'Cause I was afraid you'd laugh,” the guitarist admitted sheepishly. “You're beautiful and I'm, well….not exactly Prince Charming.”

“Says who?” the young woman questioned, patting his cheek fondly. “Looks aren't everything; it's what's inside that counts, and, baby, that makes you gorgeous. Would I lie to you?”

“If you are, don't stop, honey,” chuckled Rick. “The truth might crush my fragile ego.”

“Typical male response,” she joked, shaking her head. “Why do we put up with them, Dix?”

“Three words: cute, squeezable butts,” cracked the nurse, flashing a wicked grin.

“Especially in tight uniforms,” giggled Louisa. “Speaking of which, a friend of mine gave me season tickets for the Rams this year. Wanna take in a few games and check out the players?”

“Are you serious ?!?” exclaimed Johnny. “Talk about generous! Season tickets cost a bundle! Do I know this mysterious person?”

“Not personally, but you've probably heard of him,” she answered. “His name is Roman Gabriel.”

Dr. Morton's eyes widened. “How did you meet him?” he asked.

“His car broke down in the canyon and he asked if he could use my phone to call a tow truck,” the young woman explained. “It was lunchtime, so I offered him something to eat.”

“So how did you get the tickets?” questioned Brackett.

“Mr. Gabriel came by a few days later and dropped them off,” said Louisa. “He said it was the least he could do after I had been so nice to him and all. Oh, Roman invited Hank and me to his Christmas party, too.”

“Are you gonna go?” asked Toby.

“Of course, it would be rude not to,” she replied. “Hank and I are looking forward to it. Don't look so disappointed, Johnny. You'll get a chance to meet him. Roman and his wife are coming to our house for a cook-out Labor Day weekend. You're all invited, too.”

“I wouldn't miss it,” grinned Morton. “Thank you, Louisa.”

The young woman shrugged. “No problem,” she smiled. “By then, Chet should be ready for another lecture about his weird eating habits!”

Gettysburg , Two Days Later

“I wish I had been there to see you flatten Rudy,” laughed Hank after his wife told him about her run-in with the man. “If Vince saw the whole thing, why didn't he arrest you?”

“Once he heard my side of the story, he decided to pretend it never happened,” she grinned. “Getting Paul to the hospital was more important.”

The Captain nodded. “That's understandable,” he answered. “You think he'll beat this?”

“Don't worry, honey,” the young woman smiled. “Paul knows what's at stake here. I think he made up his mind to quit using before I even got involved.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked curiously.

“Convincing Paulie to enter rehab was a little too easy, if you catch my drift,” Louisa replied. “I expected him fight me tooth-and-nail, but he didn't.”

“At least we know he hasn't gone completely around the bend,” chuckled Hank. “No one in their right mind would want to argue with you.”

“Very funny,” muttered his wife. “What did you do while I was gone? Anything exciting?”

“Not really,” the Captain answered. “I visited that museum you went to and, well, something weird happened.”

“Weird how?” she asked, a sudden chill making her shiver.

“The guide was showing me around the house and everything was fine until we reached the attic,” he said. “The instant we stepped through the door, the temperature dropped a good forty degrees! It was so cold I could see my breath, but that's not all! I had the strangest feeling we were being watched!”

“It's entirely possible you were,” Louisa whispered, her eyes huge. “The Confederates had a sharpshooter's nest up there. Records from that time are sketchy, but historians speculate that at least two men died in that room, if not more. After the battle, the Shriver House and dozens of other buildings were used to house the wounded from both sides.”

“They actually went into people's homes?!?” exclaimed Hank. “With guns and everything?”

“What did you expect? Snowballs?” she retorted sarcastically. “This wasn't some childish game, it was war. Those men were fighting to stay alive!”

“I heard it was one Hell of a battle, too,” the Captain replied. “Just how bad was it?”

“Horrible, for soldier and civilian alike,” the young woman answered. “The battlefield was spread out over roughly twenty-five square miles, give or take. Phil Johnson and his neighbor, John Quincy, own about that much land between them.”

Stanley whistled in awe. “That covers a lot of ground!” he exclaimed. “How many soldiers were in each army?”

“Around seventy-five thousand on the Confederate side and about ninety-seven thousand on the Union side,” she said. “According to what I've read, it was the largest battle ever fought on American soil and one of the bloodiest. By the time it was over, there were more than fifty thousand casualties.”

“My God,” whispered Hank, his face ashen. “I had no idea the numbers were that high. That would have been about one in four, if my calculations are right.”

“Not quite, sweetheart,” murmured Louisa. “Closer to thirty percent or twenty-odd killed and wounded for each person who lived in Gettysburg at the time. Mind boggling, isn't it?”

“More like tragic. Your great-grandfather Sutton fought here, didn't he?”

“According to his diary, he served in the cavalry under Jeb Stuart,” she answered. “You know, I always wondered how an Alabama boy ended up in the Army of Northern Virginia!”

The Captain was about to reply when the phone rang. “Hello? Hey, Ted. No, we're not busy. What's up? You want us to come to your place and check out the horses for tomorrow?” He shot a questioning glance at his wife, who nodded eagerly. “Sounds like a plan. Okay, see you then.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Louisa parked the car in the Vattimo's driveway and climbed out, openly admiring the cobblestone house. She scrambled back when a massive Siberian husky streaked toward her, barking ferociously. “Whoa, chill out, pooch.”

“Naiche, cut it out!” shouted a gruff voice. “It's okay; he won't bite, just scare you half to death!”

The young woman didn't move as the animal circled her, growling softly. After a few minutes, the dog sat down in the grass and raised his paw. “Good boy,” she smiled, patting the animal's head. “How come Buddy doesn't do that, hose jockey?”

“Because you never taught him that trick,” laughed Hank. He stepped forward and Naiche jumped up, bearing his sharp, white teeth in a warning snarl. “What did I do?”

Ted grinned and shook his head. “He's obviously taken a shine to your wife. Can't say that I blame him, either,” he chuckled. “Come in and meet the little woman.”

“I'm fond of her myself,” answered the Captain, giving the dog a wide berth. The young woman followed them into the house, Naiche at her heels.

A slender woman with glossy black hair stood in the hall, smiling shyly. “This is my wife, Margaret,” said Vattimo proudly. “Honey, these are the people I was telling you about, Hank and Louisa Stanley.”

Louisa looked at Margaret with wide eyes. “It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am,” she said softly. “Your husband told us you grew up in Montana . Do you mind if ask what part?”

Mrs. Vattimo smiled. “Not at all,” she replied. “My parents had a cabin at the base of Badger Peak .”

The young woman's face lit up. “I worked on ranch near there several years ago,” she answered. “Do you know the Johnsons?”

“Phillip and Dorothy? My father's brother, Buck Red Deer, is their foreman!” exclaimed Margaret. “He taught me how to ride when I was a little girl!”

“You're Buck's niece?!?” questioned Louisa. “Don't worry, honey; I won't hold it against you!” she joked.

The Lakota woman beamed and moved forward to embrace her new friend. “My uncle mentioned working with a girl from California , but never told me her name,” she said. “Just that she was feisty and good with animals.”

“A skill that comes in handy when dealing with my husband's crew,” the young woman laughed. “And while we're on the subject, I'd like to thank you in advance for letting us borrow two of your horses.”

“My pleasure,” Ted replied as they walked out to the barn. “The conventional battlefield tours are nice, but I think viewing it from horseback is much better.”

“Totally,” agreed Louisa. “You can see a lot more, that's for sure. Plus, riding the same trails the cavalry used is pretty exciting.”

“I know what you mean,” Vattimo smiled. “Go ahead and have a look around, but don't get too close to the last stall on the left. One of our mares recently delivered a foal and isn't ready to show it off yet.”

The young woman nodded absently, busy studying a huge, milky-white stallion. “What a magnificent animal!” she breathed. “Judging by his size and bone structure, I'd say he's got Arabian blood.”

“He's pure Arabian, with the temperament to match,” the professor told her. “His name is Comanche, after the tribe.”

Margaret approached the stall cautiously, rolling up her sleeve to reveal a crescent-shaped scar on her left forearm. “Comanche did that right after we bought him,” she whispered. “I've been terrified of him ever since.”

“He seems docile enough now,” Louisa commented, reaching out to pat the stallion's neck. The horse turned his head to nibble daintily on her sleeve, then stood quietly. “Will he take a saddle?”

Hank's jaw dropped. “You mean you want to ride that beast?!?” he gasped. “Are you out of your mind?!?”

“Now wait a second,” Ted interrupted. “I'm not sure that's a very good idea, Mrs. Stanley. You could get hurt.”

“Let me worry about that,” the young woman shot back tersely. “Will Comanche take a saddle or not?”

“Of course, but he absolutely hates the bridle the former owner gave us,” Vattimo replied.

“May I see it, please?” Louisa asked. “No wonder! First of all, this is a pony bridle and way too small. Second, this bit is an accident just waiting to happen! It's not only the wrong type, but cracked to boot! Where's the rest of your tack?”

“Right over here, dear,” said Margaret, her eyes twinkling merrily. “I've tried to tell him that very thing, but you know how men are.”

“I certainly do,” the young woman answered with a grin. “They all have selective hearing, especially when it comes to chores.” She eyed the bridles hanging on the wall critically before choosing one. “This looks like the correct size. Let's see how it fits.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I've never seen anyone so good with horses in my life,” Ted commented to his wife as they watched Louisa ride Comanche around the small corral behind the barn. “How would you feel about letting Mrs. Stanley take him off our hands?”

“That's a wonderful idea,” answered Margaret. “Lord knows neither of us can handle that beast. I've invited them to stay for dinner. You can ask her then.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That Night

Ted waited until his wife had served pie and coffee before broaching the subject. “I was really surprised to see how Comanche responded to you, Louisa,” he said. “Usually, he won't allow anyone to get close, let alone ride him! What's your secret?”

“Horses just seem to trust me,” Louisa answered with a smile. “I don't know how to explain it.”

“Well, that one sure does,” he chuckled. “Margaret and I talked about it and were wondering if you would be interested in buying him.”

“I'd like to, but I have my children to consider,” she answered. “I'm afraid they could get hurt. What do you think, Hank?”

The Captain sat back in his chair. “Our kids are pretty smart, honey,” he said. “If you make it clear that Comanche is off-limits to them, I don't foresee any major problems. Besides, you seem to be able to handle him pretty well.”

“Does that mean you don't have any objections?” the young woman asked.

“I guess not,” he replied. “What are you asking for him, Ted?”

Vattimo released the breath he had been holding and grinned. “How does five hundred dollars sound? I'll even throw in his tack and pay half of the cost to transport him to California .”

“Then you've got a deal!” Louisa exclaimed, her eyes glowing with excitement. “I'll get my checkbook, unless you'd prefer cash.”

“And I'll get Comanche's papers out of the safe and make the necessary arrangements,” the professor answered. “One of my buddies owns a shipping company. I'm sure he'd be glad to help you out.”

The phone rang and Margaret got up to answer it. “Hello, Uncle! No, we're just finishing dinner. Do you remember that girl who used to work for Mr. Johnson? Well, she's sitting right here.” She handed the receiver to Louisa. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Hey, you old saddle tramp, what's new?” the young woman questioned. “Hank and I are here on vacation. Kel Brackett went to college with Ted and told us to look him up. How was I supposed to know your niece was married to the guy? Uh huh, it is a small world. Who? Sure, what about him? Are you kidding me? I'll bet that livened things up! Yeah, I definitely want copies, but you better mark the envelope personal and confidential. Okay, Bucky, talk to you later.” She passed the phone to Margaret and returned to the table, her lips twitching madly. “I knew we should have gone to the Memorial Day celebration in Lame Deer this year, honey.”

“Why do you say that?” Hank asked. “Did we miss something exciting?”

“The usual parade and carnival,” Louisa replied, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, and John Quincy rode a buffalo through the center of town.”

“So what? He does that every year,” he muttered, shooting her a quizzical look.

“Yeah, but not pickled to the gills and wearing nothing but a smile!” she said. “According to Buck, old Quincy was the hit of the parade!”

The Captain burst out laughing, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Before or after he was arrested for indecent exposure?” he howled.

“No idea, but I plan to call Sheriff Daniels when we get back to the hotel!” the young woman grinned.

“To get the bare facts, pardon the pun?” snickered Ted. “It was a full moon that day.”

“In more ways than one!” Louisa smirked.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Next Morning

“Come on, Lou. We've been married almost fifteen years!” grumbled Hank, standing outside the locked bathroom door. “Why all the secrecy?”

“It's a surprise , that's why!” Louisa answered. “Okay, I'm coming out, so get out of the way!”

The Captain's eyes widened when his wife appeared. “What in the world ?” he questioned, trying to control his giggles. “I thought we were going riding, not joining the circus!”

“Very funny!” the young woman snapped. “Haven't you ever seen a Victorian riding habit?”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” he laughed. “I thought you being eaten by a tent or something!”

“Keep it up, hose jockey, and I'll use this on you instead of the horse!” Louisa growled, waving her crop at him.

“Promises, promises,” teased Hank, unsuccessfully ducking his wife's small fist. “Ow! Okay, I take it back! It's just that you look so…..uh…”

“Choose your words carefully, buster, or you might end up sleeping in the bathtub tonight,” she muttered threateningly.

“Old fashioned,” the Captain finished. “Does that suit Her Ladyship?” he asked sweetly. “Where did you get that outfit anyway?”

“From a vintage clothing shop in L. A.,” answered Louisa. “I bought it a couple weeks before we left and Mami did the alterations. It fits pretty well, don't you think?”

“Too much cloth, if you ask me,” he chuckled. “Where are we supposed to meet Ted and Margaret?”

“The National Riding Stables on Taneytown Road ,” she replied, closing the door behind her. “Good morning, Mr. Dupree.”

“Good morning yourself, Mrs. Stanley,” greeted the manager. “The lunch you ordered should be about ready. Brenda was packing it up a few minutes ago.”

“What lunch?” asked Hank. “We're actually going to picnic on the battlefield?!?”

“Of course not, silly,” laughed his wife. “There are tables set up around the Park.”

“I knew that,” mumbled the Captain. “I was just kidding.”

The young woman rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, dear. Get moving or we'll be late.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two Hours Later

Louisa stopped her horse at the edge of the woods and turned in the saddle to look at her husband. “We're coming up on the Wheatfield and Peach Orchard, where Confederate General Longstreet's troops broke through the Union left on the second day,” she whispered, her face pale.

“Is this where you saw that, well, vision, for lack of a better word?” Hank whispered back. “The one you told us about when we were up at Limekiln?”

The young woman nodded, her eyes scanning the trail ahead nervously. The stallion, sensing his rider's fear, shifted restlessly, his ears flicking back and forth. “Easy, boy,” she murmured. “I feel it, too, but there's nothing to be afraid of.”

Margaret jogged her pony forward and laid a hand on her friend's arm. “The souls of the men who died here still linger,” she said in Lakota. “Their spirits are crying out, but you must not listen! Acknowledging their presence could endanger your life!”

The men shared a glance, wondering what was going. Just as the Captain opened his mouth to inquire, a deafening explosion split the air, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Before the others could react, Louisa spurred her mount and galloped off, disappearing around a bend in the trail.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The young woman burst from the trees and gasped, her eyes widening at the nightmarish scene before her. The historic monuments that had dotted the landscape were gone, replaced by running figures clad in blue and gray uniforms. Dozens of cannons were firing at once, sending thick clouds of smoke rolling across the battlefield, tinged red and orange by the setting sun. Gore-splattered corpses lay everywhere, some missing limbs. Others were nothing but lumps of pulped flesh and shattered bone, barely recognizable as human. The stench of death filled the air, making her gag. Frightened by the noise, Comanche neighed wildly and reared, almost unseating his rider.

Louisa screamed and pulled hard on the reins. “Whoa, Comanche!” she bellowed, her voice lost in the din. The stallion whirled and bolted back the way they had come, straight into an advancing cavalry unit. The officer in charge snatched at the bridle, stopping the horse in his tracks. “That's far enough, young lady!” he barked. “What in blazes are you doing here?!? Well, speak up, girl!”

The young woman stared at him in disbelief, taking in the man's bushy, reddish beard and icy-blue eyes. “Oh my God!” she breathed. “General Stuart! This has to be a dream!”

The officer's eyebrows shot up. “Let me assure you, madam, this is real!” he growled, dragging her from the saddle. “And how do you know who I am?!?”

“Trust me, General; it's a long story,” Louisa muttered, fighting the urge to laugh. “One I'm sure you'll find hard to believe.”

The General stared her for along moment. “I hardly think this a laughing matter, miss,” he finally replied. “Don't you realize that you could have been killed back there? Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Louisa Stanley and I don't know how I got here!” she answered sharply. “I'm not a spy, General. I give you my word.” She bit her lip, desperately trying to contain her fear.

“Just settle down, young lady,” Stuart murmured, his eyes softening. “We're not going to hurt you, but I insist that you accompany us to General Lee's headquarters. Back on your horse, lass.”

“I understand, sir. Before we go, I have one small request. It may sound odd, but what is today's date?” the young woman asked, dreading the answer.

“Why, it's the second day of July, in the Year of Our Lord, eighteen-hundred-and-sixty-three,” smiled the General.

Louisa turned white and swayed in the saddle. “I was afraid you were going to say that,” she whispered, an instant before losing consciousness.

To be continued…………………

Disclaimer: The guys don't belong tome; I just use them for my own twisted amusement. All original characters and situations are my own creation and cannot be used without permission.