The horses were all in use except for Martin, and he’d remain behind with Sydney. If for any reason someone needed to be reached quickly during the night, Sydney knew where they’d be and had Martin to get to them.
Mariah led the way on Pixie as they rode out, not starting her spiel yet, since they were riding single file on the forest trail.
They moved deep into the trees. Eventually they came to a clearing in the forest and Mariah reined in, allowing them all to break and dismount for a few minutes. She directed them to a little path that led deeper into the thickness of the woods, an area where the dying sunlight now brought about an eerie green darkness. Everyone had a penlight, while Drew, Aaron, Mason and Sandra carried lanterns.
Mariah said, “In a few minutes, we’re going to visit one of our small Confederate graveyards. You have to remember that when you go to a national cemetery, you won’t find any Confederates, unless they were pardoned and joined the Union army after the war. Confederate dead have their own cemeteries, or else they were returned to their hometowns. And certainly many soldiers—North and South—remain in unmarked graves on the fields where they died. While it was incredibly important for both God-fearing men of the North and South to retrieve their dead, it wasn’t always possible. They died on bloody fields that had to be abandoned, or they were beyond recognition by the time they were found.
“A side note of interest—what we celebrate now as Memorial Day was begun by Confederate women who decorated the graves of their loved ones. Many places lay claim to having the first true ‘Decoration Day,’ but most historians agree that the widows and other grieving women of the South began what became our national holiday before the end of the Civil War—or, as we were sometimes taught to call it, the War of Northern Aggression.” Mariah grinned. “No one get mad at me for getting my history wrong tonight, huh? Remember, Tennessee was always a divided state and we’re all darned glad we’re one Union now!” Mariah stopped speaking, reaching for the water bottle attached to her saddle. She looked at Olivia. “Want to take it for a minute?”
“Sure,” Olivia said. “Mariah was preparing you for the first step in the ‘ghost’ tour part of this. We’ll tell more stories when we’ve made camp. But right now, we’re in a little graveyard begun by locals who found their own boys, and other dead soldiers, left behind after the Battle of Nashville. In some instances, those who lived in this area stumbled upon the dead and did their best to bury them in accordance with whatever identification they found on the bodies—you know, sometimes they got them back to their states or buried them here with others from their homes or regiments, Feds or Rebs. Sometimes the dead they found were their own. Some of them were brought out here for burial.
“During the Civil War, the forest was different from the way it looks now. There’d been a farmhouse just up the ridge, and this had been land that belonged to a George C. Turner. George and one of his sons were killed in the battle, and when Mrs. Evelyn Turner discovered the bodies—and those of others—she got the local preacher and a stone carver to create a little cemetery. Actually, Evelyn Turner herself wound up in this little burial ground. It’s said that on a misty evening she can be seen walking through the trees, searching for more dead, determined that they be given a Christian burial. She’s buried just down that path with her husband and her son—and our area’s most famous ghost, General Rufus Cunningham. So we’ll take a walk down the path, pay our respects and then go on to the campsite. Once we’re there, we’ll set up our tents and start a fire, cook our dinner—and settle in for some good stories.”
She glanced back at Mariah, a question in her eyes.
“You want to lead them through with Mason? Drew, Aaron and I can watch the horses,” Mariah said.
“Let’s go, then,” Olivia urged. She noticed that Brent looked frightened.
“You don’t have to come,” she told him. “You can stay with Mariah and the guys and watch the horses.”
Brent shook his head. “I—I want to go.”
Dustin walked over and slipped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m a little scared, too,” he said. “We’ll go together.”
Olivia smiled at Dustin. “Well, then, we forge ahead.”
She accepted a lantern from Mariah and started through the pine-and leaf-covered trail. The others followed. They entered a small graveyard. Perhaps twenty stones remained, some broken, most at an angle, all shrouded with lichen. The break in the trees allowed the last light of the day to seep through, but it cast an aura of something mysterious, perhaps sacred, over the stones.
“Here!” Sean called. “Here, right here! I found Evelyn Turner’s grave—and her son’s grave and...here’s the dad!”
The other boys rushed over. Holding the lantern high, Olivia saw that Dustin—Brent close at his side—had come upon the most famous grave, the one with the largest stone and flowers strewn upon it.
“General Rufus Cunningham,” Dustin read aloud. He went down on his knees to study the writing on the stone. “‘Hero of the Battle of Nashville. To save lives, he gave his own.’”
Sean let out a creepy sound. “He’s here! I can feel him. Can you feel him? He’s here with us!”
“Where? Where?” Brent asked, alarmed.
“It’s all right, Brent,” Dustin said. “If his spirit’s still around, he doesn’t mean us any harm. He was an exceptional man who wanted the best for everyone.”
“Don’t mock the dead!” Joey snapped at Sean.
“Oh, come on, Joey,” Sean said. “Have some fun!”
Olivia hadn’t seen the general among them; Malachi had told her once that it didn’t really make sense for a spirit like Rufus Cunningham to hang around his grave. Malachi believed he still watched over the living. But just as she opened her mouth to speak again, she saw him.
He was on foot.
Maybe ghost horses couldn’t make it through the dense growth of trees and brush that now surrounded the little burial ground.
But the general was among them. He wore his uniform, passing by the others, pausing to give Sean a stern pat on the back of his head.
Sean jumped a mile high.
Matt burst into laughter. “Scared?” he demanded.
“Who did that? Stop it—that wasn’t funny!” Sean yelled.
“Neither is disrespect for the dead,” Dustin said quietly.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Can we go now? I’m starving,” Sean muttered.
“Everyone okay with that?” Olivia asked.
“One minute. Can I take just one minute?” Brent looked up at her.
She nodded. Brent went down on his knees and bowed his head, hands folded in prayer.
One by one, the other boys joined him. Olivia held the lantern and watched, deeply touched.
When they started back, Matt asked her, “How come we can read some of those stones so clearly?”
“Because volunteers come out now and then and see that the headstones are kept clean,” Olivia told him. “Some of the graves were known, and some weren’t after time took its toll, so the carving was scrubbed on all of them.”
“But everyone knew the general, right? And they knew about Mr. and Mrs. Turner and their son.”
“Right,” Olivia assured them.
When she reached the end of the trail and the boys had gone on ahead of her, she looked back. She could see the general; he stood in a military position, watching as they left.
She smiled. He was still keeping guard over the land. But then her smile faded. She’d seen him when Marcus died. What had he been trying to tell her? Had he come upon Marcus too late?
“Liv? You ready?” Mariah called.
“Coming.”
Brent was riding Battle-ax, a truly big boy, although gentle. She went to give him a boost up but Dustin was already with him, helping him onto the horse.