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Fort Temperance, 3 March 1871
The horseman clapped a hand over Claire’s mouth when she screamed, and the stench of blood made her gag. Her glasses had hung on valiantly during the first part of the ride, but she lost them when the horse jumped a stream, and the world passed by in a blur. The thud of the horse’s hooves mostly shut out the moans of the wounded, but she could still feel them, their fear and despair in the dark. Where were the Confederate field teams? Would they leave their men to die?
Finally after what seemed like hours, they arrived at their destination. The horseman rode through a set of open doors, which were closed after them with a clang. She was handed down to rough hands in what looked like a courtyard, at least from what she could tell without her glasses. She
