What's New in the Saddletramp Universe (2024)

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Elijah Jones, Eli to his friends and family, wiped the sweat off his forehead with an already-soaked bandanna. The southern states were beautiful but sweltering in summer, nothing like his native Indiana. It was nothing like the dry heat in south Texas, where he lived with his wife, parents, and two brothers for several years.

He pulled out the metal case Lizzy gave him before he left Indianapolis and read the inscription on the back: “To my dearest Elijah. May God keep you safe and bring you back to your one true love. Your loving wife, Elizabeth.”

Eli opened the case and pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette. Lighting it with a stick from the small campfire before him, he took a drag as he looked at the picture inside. It was a photo of him and Lizzy taken during happier times. He thought of the last time he saw her, the last time he felt her soft, smooth skin against his.

He smiled as he recalled their last tryst. Lizzy was always so prim and proper in public, but she was a wildcat in bed. He loved running his hands through her long blonde hair as he immersed himself in her scent. He missed kissing her sweet face as she wrapped her long smooth legs around him, pulling him deeper into her.

Eli especially loved kissing and fondling her breasts and her sensitive nipples. The same breasts that once nourished his two young sons gave him so much pleasure. He loved how she moaned as he licked and sucked on her enlarged nipples.

Smiling at the memory, he finished his smoke, then saw to his equipment and his steed when he got word the column was heading back to meet up with the army. They had spent most of the last two days raiding supply and communication lines south of Atlanta. That accomplished, they were supposed to meet up with Gen. Stoneman’s cavalry before moving on to Andersonville, where they planned to free the Union soldiers held captive there by the Confederates.

But for some reason unknown to him, Stoneman never showed up. So, after destroying hundreds of supply wagons and tearing up railroad lines, Gen. McCook ordered the column to turn around and head back. Elijah understood the need to disrupt the enemy’s supply line. Still, it seemed to him that McCook liked destroying civilian property just a bit too much.

Eli was more than a bit uncomfortable with McCook’s cavalier attitude, encouraging the men to go after civilian private property. He thought they were supposed to be soldiers, not common bandits, remembering the sentiments he expressed in his last letter to Lizzy.

“This war will be over one day,” he wrote. “And we’ll need to welcome these people back into the Union. But I’m afraid winning the peace will be much harder than winning the war with the tactics we’re being encouraged to use. What will these people think of us in a hundred years? Will they hate us, or will they see us as liberators?”

Such was the nature of his correspondence with Lizzy. Sure, they always exchanged sweet, loving endearments. Still, they often waxed philosophic about current events, just as they did when he was back home. Nothing was off the table – they discussed everything from politics to religion and even recipes as they sat in their parlor at the end of the day, enjoying the fire with a golden toddy and, at least for him, a cigar.

He missed that almost as much as having her in his arms in bed. In several of their letters, they talked about how the war was dividing families. So many had soldiers serving on both sides in this conflict. He felt sad about that, and it hit home when he got word from her that his brother, Travis, was now with a rebel unit out of Texas.

He wondered if he would be able to face off against his own brother if their units came against each other. Then he heard Travis’ outfit was marching north into New Mexico. The Confederacy already had a hold on the southern half of the territory, so marching north and possibly west made sense to Eli. But he also had a feeling the war was nearing an end.

At least Bill, his other brother, would be spared the horrors of this God-awful war, he thought. Bill had been shot in the leg by a weasel from New York named Jackson Abercrombie. As a result, he couldn’t walk very far or very long and used a cane to get around. He still helped their father on his farm in Hard Rock, Texas, but it was a challenge.

Eli snapped out of his reverie when the word went out, and the cavalrymen mounted their horses. Things seemed relatively quiet until they reached a point just a few miles south of Newnan, Georgia. Then all hell broke loose as they came under attack by Confederate cavalry. Being part of McCook’s advance guard, they were all exhausted but continued on to Newnan.

Early on July 30, they noticed the road was blocked by a trainload of Confederate soldiers. They dismounted and crept up to see what they were facing.

“How many you reckon they got, Sergeant?” an officer asked quietly.

“I’d say at least 500, Lieutenant,” Eli said after scouring the area. “Probably a lot more behind them as well.” Then they heard a loud, high-pitched whistle coming from the train.

“sh*t,” the lieutenant said. “We’ll be up to our necks in rebs before you know it. We’d better take them out now while we can.”

“But we’ve only got two companies,” Eli said. Two companies of the 8th Indiana Cavalry, D and E Companies, were McCook’s advanced guard and numbered less than 200 men. They were all excellent troopers, but the rebels had far more men in front of them.

“But we’ve got the element of surprise,” the lieutenant said. “Let’s go.” The cavalrymen mounted their horses, and before Eli knew it, the two companies of the 8th Indiana Cavalry were charging over the hill. The startled Confederates grabbed their rifles and met the incoming Union soldiers with a withering fire.

Eli felt something slam into his chest with enough force to throw him backward, off his horse. He fell to the ground, knowing that he had been shot. So, he thought, this is how it ends. On the side of a road in Georgia. As his lifeblood left his body, he felt weak. His final thoughts were of his beautiful wife in Indianapolis, Elizabeth, and their last night together.

It was the most intense night of lovemaking he could remember. But the intensity of their coupling made him wonder if she had had a premonition and was saying goodbye, or giving him a golden memory to ease his passing. Or just a wife laying claim to her husband’s fidelity and warning him off any hapless or accommodating southern belles - though she had nothing to worry about on that score, no other woman could hold a candle to his Lizzy.

He chuckled as the pain ebbed with the faltering of his heart, leaving a few bloody bubbles on his lips. Strange what thoughts flashed through one’s mind, dying on a field sown with carnage. He vaguely sensed, rather than saw or heard, the scuffling of men and mounts around him as the color drained out of his vision and darkness began to close in.

“I’m sorry, Lizzy,” he whispered as the darkness began to take him.

He couldn’t move a muscle. Apparently, the bullet fragments must have torn at his spine. He was amazed at the damage a Minie ball could inflict on a human body. He mumbled the Lord’s Prayer as he eased into death, getting as far as, ‘forgive us our trespasses’ before his soul could no longer hang on to its earthly shell.

The next thing he knew, he was floating over his body as it lay on the ground. He felt nothing, physically. He watched the battle rage around his now lifeless body, almost as if it wasn’t there. Then he felt as if he was being sucked up into a strange white tornado.