Spies Be Warned: Part Two

We’re back! Here’s part two of our story, Spies be Warned.

            He was upset and I knew it. Poor guy, I thought. No doubt he was mentally kicking himself at letting a confederate spy slip through a Union camp.

            Trevor and I were mounted on large two-bit draft horses. Trevor’s was a grey and mine was a black, both without markings.

            The second Trevor realized what he’d done, he’d instantly volunteered to go after the lad. “Let me do it,” he insisted when the officers proclaimed he had too high of a rank to participate in such a duty. “I’m a great tracker. I’ll find him and bring the plans back before they can get into confederate hands.”

            “We thank you for your generosity, Colonel, but we must refuse,” Major Teton said.

            “And as a higher ranking officer I order you to get me a horse for myself and the drummer boy.” Trevor leveled his eyes at the Major and the man shuffled his feet.

            “Yes, sir,” he sighed.

            Now we were well on our way into enemy territory. We’d shed the uniforms and donned civilian clothes. I was happy to be rid of the boy’s outfit and pleased with my bonnet and dress. This is much more like it.

            “I can’t believe it.”

            Okay, here we go. I’d been waiting for the self-scrutiny to kick in, and it appeared I was in for a session of reasoning with my good friend.

            “Trevor, it’s not your fault.”

            “But it is! I let him get away, I let a kid show me up! And I’m a Colonel!”

            I raised an eyebrow.

            “Okay,” he admitted, “so I’m a self acclaimed Colonel. But still! Those men look up to me, and I may have just changed the outcome of Gettysburg!”

            “Trevor, might I remind you that you were giving them pointers to win the battle?” I pointed out. “You kind of went and changed history already.”

            “But Marin,” Trevor exclaimed, “If the South wins the war, what does that mean for the rest of the United States? What would happen then?”

            I didn’t know. I was not familiar with American history, but I did know the Civil War had been an important turning point in the books. Would America still be involved in the first and second World Wars? Would the Axis or the Allies win, depending on if the South won the Civil War?

            Strange thoughts indeed for a Czech girl to contemplate, but this was all part of the daily life Trevor and I found ourselves in.

            “Maybe I should tell my future self to help us,” Trevor mused. “We could use as many searchers as we can get.”

            I grimaced at this. “Future self” was the nickname we gave Trevor in the future when he’d come back to the exact timeline we were on and participated with us. It was quite odd, to say the least. Trevor would write himself a note to tell himself to come back to where he was now, and poof! Another Trevor would appear, and we’d have double the amount of craziness.

Except the last time he’d done that, we’d ended up with twenty Trevors and a lot of chaos. “Uhh, Trevor, are you sure you want a whole multitude of yourself running around in enemy territory? What if one of them gets shot?”

            “Oh, good point. Don’t want that to happen.” He frowned and bit his lower lip. “Maybe we could just have one of them come…”

            Before I knew what was happening, my horse spooked and leapt sideways, sending me flying out of the saddle and onto the ground. Wham! I moaned and sat up.

            “Oww.”

            “Marin!” Trevor leapt out of his saddle and ran over to me. He helped me up and dusted off my dress. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you hit your head? Do you have a concussion? Should we find a doctor? Are you dying?”

            “Trevor-” I began, but he kept going on.

            “Tell me, how many fingers do I have? How many are there of me?”

            “Trevor-”

            “You’re not answering! Something’s wrong! Oh, no, what are we going to do?”

            “Trevor!” I exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m fine.”

            His blue eyes were wide open and wild looking, his hair stuck out at all kinds of angles. He looks like a mad man. I giggled at the thought.

            “What’s so funny?” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “You nearly gave me a heart-attack, lassie. I thought you were really hurt, and now you’re laughing at me! Are you happy?”

            “You look funny.” I giggled again and gestured to his hair. “Like a mad scientist.”

            He mumbled something under his breath, licked his hand and ran it through his unruly hair. “I can’t do anything with this mop,” he complained. “I never have. It always looks like that.”

            I walked over to my mount, who, after dumping me, had promptly gone to grazing. “This boy looks no worse for the wear,” I commented. “Wonder what he spooked at?”

            “I don’t know,” Trevor sighed. “Guess I’ll go find out.”

            He walked off into the wooded area we’d passed through and disappeared amongst the trees. I grabbed his horse’s reins and sat on a stump, letting the geldings graze while I waited for Trevor to come back.

            I waited. And waited…

            And waited some more.

            “Trevor, hurry up!” I called. “We need to get going!”

            There was no answer.

            This is somewhat frightening. What was taking Trevor so long? “Come on Trevor, please? Why aren’t you coming?”

            Still no answer.

            I started to count dandelions to ease my nerves, but the situation was beginning to bother me. Why wasn’t Trevor back yet? I hope he’s not chasing a deer, I moaned inwardly. Trevor had this thing about deer- every time he saw one he tried to catch it and ride it. One of his strange ideas he thought would be fun to do.

            I yawned and glanced at Trevor’s mount. The grey was chomping on grass like there was no tomorrow, while my black gelding ate slow and calculated.

            I noted their shadows and glanced up at the sun, figuring it was two in the afternoon. Trevor’s been gone about fifteen minutes. If he didn’t show up within three minutes I was going to-

            Without warning someone grabbed me from behind, jerking me off the stump. I screeched, but a hand shot over my mouth, muffling my attempts to cry for help.

            There was a click! Noise, one I was all too familiar with from my life in Czechoslovakia. Oh dear God, please, help me.

            “Make one sound and I’ll kill you.”

            Come back next week for the conclusion of Spies be Warned!