Chapter 10

Marc dressed in the Civil War uniform, put a toiletries bag together, and shoved it in a backpack with a camera and his laptop. He checked the directions that Benjamin had texted him one last time. Then he stopped to consider.

Maybe I should take the Jeep.

Really? How far could it be? It’s just on the other side of our house. Besides, Donna might need a car while I’m gone.

Marc left at noon, hoofed it across the park, and made it to the campsite at two-thirty. He hadn’t taken the brambles and rocks between his house and the park into consideration. Or the distance from the park entrance to the campsite. When he got there, his uniform already grass-stained from a slip he’d taken, he walked around the outskirts of the crowd searching for a familiar face.

Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to find Benjamin talking to a group of about fifteen high school students sitting on the ground near the battlefield’s edge. A couple of easels with visuals and maps were arrayed behind him.

Marc smiled, then frowned. Benjamin seemed different for some reason. The face was the same, the beard was the same, the voice was the same—everything was the same, except he stood there in a gray officer’s uniform and his voice sounded like…

Well, like a military man. Marc smiled. He’s really getting into character.

Benjamin’s arms moved rapidly, pointing to the maps and out onto the battlefield as he described the battle that had taken place behind them. He made explosion sounds with his mouth, and from where Marc stood, it seemed like Benjamin was describing every battle as a win for the Arkansas unit that fought there.

Marc crept closer so he could hear what Benjamin was saying.

A redheaded, gangly boy asked about the number of dead in that battle. Benjamin removed the hat from his head and held it over his heart. “Many men lost their lives during this battle. Estimates run as low as eight hundred, but a recent study said it was closer to two thousand.”

A boy about Ralphie’s age raised his hand. “My Pa said we would’a won too if we paid more attention to the supply carts, but that lily-livered Van Dorn ran away because we didn’t have no ammunition.”

Benjamin put his hat back on. “Yes, young Master Upshaw, your father is correct. We definitely lost the battle because our supplies were low. But none of us were there, and we don’t know what was going through Major General Van Dorn’s mind at the time.”

Elmer stood up, as though he were about to battle it out with Benjamin. “My Pa knows everything there is to know about that battle!”

“I have discussed this with your father, Elmer. Thank you for the information.” He pulled a watch on a chain from his waistcoat and then looked around at the classes that were being held around him. “Are there more questions?”

“Were women really enlisted in the armies?” a blonde girl shouted.

Benjamin nodded. “Yes, they were. One woman in Arkansas dressed as a man and fought alongside them. Her name was Loreta Janeta Velazquez. She fought at Shiloh. Over the course of the war, we know of over four hundred women who did that. One group of forty women in Georgia fought for the Confederacy from 1861 to 1867.”

The girl smiled and socked Elmer in the shoulder. “I told you women were strong enough to fight.”

“My Pa says that women didn’t get invited to fight,” Elmer objected. “They just pretended to be men and they lied to fight.”

The blonde girl opened her mouth to retort back, but Benjamin signaled to the drummer boy beside him, who started a paradiddle on the snare drum. Sharp, bright raps cut through the noise of the camp as the drumsticks bounced off the tight drumhead.

“That drum call is the call to move forward. Sorry, guys, that’s all we’ve got for you today. You’re welcome to come out to the official battle at the end of the month where we’ll reenact the battle of Pea Ridge.”

“Why would we want to watch the losers?” Elmer sneered as the surrounding kids ran towards the school buses in the park’s lot.

“Tell your father that he’s welcome to join us anytime he’s available!” Benjamin shouted after Elmer.

“My Pa is a winner, not a loser like Van Dorn!” Elmer shouted back and turned to follow his classmates.

Benjamin set his hat down, rubbing his forehead as Marc approached.

“Hey, I thought I saw you over there.” Benjamin walked towards Marc.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but it was awesome! You can hear the passion in your voice. You really understand this stuff.”

Benjamin shrugged and smiled. “I studied it in college, but I’ve loved it since I pulled on my first uniform. I’ve had conversations with friends who I met here, and we’ve discovered family things, things that make me want to learn about all of it. Every aspect of the camp life, the battle, even the life and death that flooded the field.”

“Do you need help?” Marc asked as Benjamin folded up his maps. Benjamin nodded to the maps on the other easel, and Marc moved to take them down. He looked at Benjamin over the wide paper. “Was that little brat Albert Upshaw’s kid?”

“Yeah. He’s just as loud as his dad,” Benjamin said.

“I noticed. He seems to know a lot about the battle at Pea Ridge,” Marc said, handing Benjamin the folded map. They each picked up an easel.

“He knows just as much as the next guy that opens the battle websites,” Benjamin corrected. “You want negative information on any aspect of the battle, it’s out there along with some guy’s opinion. But you can’t know how it worked until you’ve lived the life of a soldier, trekking through the battlefields and falling where your ancestor fell. Dying on this battlefield is just as powerful today as it was that first weekend in March 1862.”

“You should have told Elmer that,” Marc joked. “Maybe he could have convinced Albert to come and die on this battlefield.”

“No chance,” Benjamin said. “Albert wouldn’t come here if you paid him. Until he shows up and learns what it’s like, he’ll forever believe that random guy on the internet.” He picked up a box of papers and balanced it on his hip. “Grab that box over there, would you?”

“Sure,” Marc said as he picked up the other box and followed Benjamin away from the battlefield.

“If you make it to the actual battle at the end of the month, you’ll see how many minds we’ve changed. How many kids’ll show up with their parents in tow, and how many will want to sign up as drummer boys to get started.”

They stopped at a large, white canvas tent. Marc stood looking around. “Should we put this stuff back in your car?”

“No, just put it into the tent here,” Benjamin walked to the right side of the tent. “This is my tent, my home for the weekend.”

Marc turned to get a closer look. It had a peaked roof, like a house would. As he walked the boxes to the open doorway, his eyes grew wide. On the tent’s other side was a big bonfire, already lit, and in a square around the fire were nine or ten other similar peak-roofed tents. Open door flaps revealed a variety of interiors: from one with nothing but a wooden cot, to another with piles of bedrolls, to the more elaborate furniture in Benjamin’s tent.

Benjamin had an actual wood bed frame with bedding and a blanket on it and two pillows. The floor was covered with a patterned rug. A large flat-top chest, bound in iron, sat at the foot of the bed, and another chest stood at its head.

Two triangular camp stools sat to one side, and a camp chair was set before a wooden folding table that served as a desk. On the table, an unrolled map, a cloth-bound journal, and a quill sat next to a stoppered bottle of ink. A couple of brass lanterns hung from the ridgepole, and another, smaller table had toiletries and a shaving kit set beside an enameled bowl. Canteens, coats, bedclothes, and a tapestry hung at the far end.

“Like it?” Benjamin asked as Marc stared.

“You’re practically glamping,” Marc said, and Benjamin chuckled.

“Well, this is my place. I’m an officer, so I have a lot more stuff than the regular soldiers.”

“I’m stunned,” Marc said, continuing to look around. “You said it was just one night of camping. I thought you’d have, you know, a pup tent set up.”

“There are some behind the officer tents,” Benjamin said. “It’s an honor to be included in the square. We’ve got visiting officers this weekend; some are from the Union units as well as our Confederate units. We weren’t planning any maneuvers, but a lot of guys like to find an excuse to camp before the big official campout. And like everything else, it’s good practice setting up and tearing down.”

Benjamin placed his hat on the bed and sat at the larger table. “Let me make some notes, and then I’ll introduce you to the gang. Some guys you met at the bonfire, but there are others I’d like you to meet too.”

“Sure,” Marc said. “Mind if I look around in here?”

“Go right ahead,” Benjamin said as he shook the ink bottle with brisk snaps of his wrist.

Marc looked in a small wooden chest under the bed. Inside, forest-green velvet squares were set up to hold crystal glasses, silver tableware, and a small stack of pewter plates. “These have got to be worth some money,” he said. “They look like antiques.”

“Those are family heirlooms,” Benjamin said. “My aunt gave them to me when she died. They’ve been in the Adams family since before the Civil War.”

“The velvet looks pretty new,” Marc said. “Preservation techniques?”

“Oh, no,” Benjamin laughed. “No, they replaced the velvet several times. It’s changed colors over the years, but my family is just as organized as I am, and there are family records on color changes and repairs.” Benjamin grinned wryly. “I know how obsessive that makes me sound.”

“Family heirlooms? I understand the record-keeping,” Marc assured him. “Frankly, I wish my Grammom had kept better records. Can you believe we found a car in the garage?”

“A car you didn’t know about?” Benjamin raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. The booklet in the glove box said it was a 1955 Ford Fairlane.”

“Wow,” Benjamin said. “Does it run?”

“We don’t know. We haven’t been able to get to it yet, but I can’t wait to check.” Marc followed Benjamin outside to the bonfire area.

Benjamin grabbed a boy with his drum and had him smack the drum with three short bursts of sound. “Gather round, unit!”

From the tents surrounding the square, men and women emerged in various states of costume. Most were at least partially in uniform. A few were still in sweats and T-shirts. They all stood more or less at attention as Benjamin spoke.

“Some of you may have met Marc Shelby at the bonfire last weekend. He’s here to see what a camp night is like. He’s uncertain where he’ll lay his head, but wherever he is, let’s make him feel welcome. And cooks, where’s that dinner you promised me?”

Men and women of all ages and walks of life came up and welcomed Marc. Talk ranged from his Grammom, who many of them had known, to the maneuvers planned for the coming weekend. Within a few minutes, he had pulled up a cut chunk of log to sit on, following the example set by several others. Soon he held a pewter mug full of mead, a plate of ribs with a thick sauce that soon covered his face and hands. As night fell, the area remained lit only by the large bonfire and the glowing lanterns swinging in the tents.

I could get to like this,he thought as he watched the last of the people disperse to tents and bedrolls. He looked into the fire a little longer, happy just to stay where he was.

Benjamin squatted down next to Marc as a boy walking around with a large wooden washtub claimed his mug and plate. “Tomorrow starts early. Did you decide where you would camp tonight?”

Marc looked up. Only a guy with a large bucket of water stood watching them.

“Um, I’m not sure,” Marc admitted. “What are my choices again?”

“Well, the nurses offered you a cot in the hospital tent. You’d play one of the injured and you can see what it’s like during the night.” Benjamin pointed to the large white pavilion tent at the other end of the square.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” Marc said.

“Or you can bed down with the infantry in the field behind us.” Benjamin turned Marc toward a group of thirty men laying out their bedrolls about ten feet in front of the bonfire.

“Do you have a spare bedroll?”

Benjamin grinned. “No. So that leaves you the third choice.”

“What’s my third choice?”

“You can come back to my tent and sleep in there.” Benjamin smiled.

“With… with you?”

“With me.”

Marc stood up on unsteady legs, the mead having gone straight to his head. “I think I’ll sleep in your tent. The rug looked comfortable, and if I can borrow one of your pillows, I should be fine. Do you close the tent flaps?”

“Of course I do! Otherwise I’d freeze.”

Benjamin led Marc towards his tent.

“It’ll be a tight fit. As you can see, the servants have brought in my furniture,” Benjamin joked. He steered Marc inside, then closed the flap and tied it shut.

“Okay, with the flaps shut, it is a little warmer in here than outside.” Marc knelt on the floor. “This’ll be fine.”

“No, you can’t sleep on the floor,” Benjamin objected. “Flaps or not, it’ll be cold, and we don’t know what the weather will be like overnight.” Benjamin tossed Marc a linen nightshirt. “Here. When lights go out, you can put this on. It’ll only be cold for a bit, and then we’ll get in the bed. I’ve got one sheet and a blanket that can cover us both.”

“Are you sure?” Marc said.

“Absolutely. This is normal for camp. Practical. We’ll be warmer beside each other.”

Marc opened his mouth to ask again if Benjamin was sure when a loud voice bellowed, “Light out!” Other voices picked it up and it echoed through the campsite. On the other side of the canvas, a splash of water was followed by a loud hissing sound. The light coming through the canvas disappeared.

“There goes the bonfire,” Benjamin said, hurrying into a long linen nightshirt of his own. “Come on, get in bed.”

“All lights!” Benjamin reached up and turned down the flames in the lanterns hanging from the ridgepole. They guttered and winked out.

“Come on, slip the night shirt on. It’s far easier to sleep in than the uniform,” Benjamin said.

“Why’d you get this great tent again?” Marc asked.

“My great-great-uncle was an officer. I researched everything about him and got involved in our group. One thing led to another, and when I had the money, I jumped in with both feet. Come on, it’s freezing.”

Marc kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned the coat. He pulled it off and laid it over the camp chair, followed by the red shirt and the loose suspendered pants. He stood in the middle of the room in a white T-shirt and blue plaid boxers and pulled the linen nightshirt over his head. With his socks still on, he moved to the bed. “I’m ready. Are you sure that cot can hold both of us?” Marc asked.

“Yes, because it’s not a cot. It’s a full bed.”

“But I’m larger than you are, Benjamin.”

“Bragging now?” Benjamin laughed.

“I didn’t mean that. Man, it got hot in here.” Marc sat on the edge of the mattress and drew his legs under the covers. Benjamin was already lying beside him.

“Have you shared this tiny bed with anyone else? Are you sure it can hold two people?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.” There was silence for a moment. “I had just gotten the tent, and I brought a guy from college to one of our events. Later, I found out he had just led me on. Grant said he wanted more than holding my hand in my car in secret. So I brought him on a weekend like this and he fit in. We fit.”

“College? Were you smaller, or was this Grant smaller than me?” Marc asked, still thinking about whether the frame would hold them both.

“I was smaller.” Benjamin’s voice was low. “It felt right going to bed with him beside me, until I woke up. Everything was gone. My violin, my wallet, and my car. He took it all. You’re the first guy I’ve brought to my bed at an event since then.”

“I’m sorry.” Marc felt stupid. Here he was worrying about whether the bed would break, and Benjamin was sharing something painful and intimate with him. Pay better attention, Marc. You don’t want to lose this one.

Marc leaned in to kiss Benjamin’s cheek, but his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness. Benjamin turned, their lips met, and the quick kiss erupted into giggles. They both turned their heads to the pillows to muffle the sounds. When they had themselves back under control, Marc whispered, “I’m sorry for that too.”

“Why?” Benjamin whispered back. “It was nice until we couldn’t stop giggling.”

Marc leaned forward and their lips connected again. And then again.

They lay wrapped in each other’s arms, taking gentle tastes of each other’s lips. Their hands began to roam, and Marc gasped as Benjamin’s hand brushed the front of his boxers.

But then Benjamin pulled back, his finger placed on Marc’s lips. “It’s almost time. Wait for it.”

“Wait for what?”

They didn’t have to wait much longer. The same loud voice bellowed, “Spoon right!” and was echoed around the campsite by other voices.

“What?” Marc asked.

“It’s what they did to keep warm. We both roll right, and you hug my body to warm me up.”

Marc blinked but went along with it. “They weren’t just gay men copping a feel?”

Benjamin snorted. “No. It’s companionship and warmth on the colder nights. Everyone in camp is doing this. Like I said, it’s practical.”

Marc held onto Benjamin, acutely conscious of his own arousal, trying not to rub against him.

Practical. It’s just practical. Keep him warm.

He focused on keeping him warm, pressing his chest against Benjamin’s back, rubbing his arms, holding him close.

About twenty minutes later the same voices echoed around the campsite. “Spoon left!”

“So now we…?” Marc asked.

“Yep. Roll over,” Benjamin answered.

Both men rolled over, and Benjamin wrapped his arms around Marc, his breath warm on the back of Marc’s neck. He was warmer now, and Marc relaxed, cupping a hand over his own boxers and willing himself to calm down. It didn’t take long; the sheet was flannel and the blanket was heavy wool. He started to nod off in spite of his arousal.

Then he shook his head. “How many more times do we do this spoon thing?”

“That’s it,” Benjamin said. “Here, let me pull the blanket back over us. Good night, Marc.”

“G’night, Benjamin.”

It didn’t take long for Marc to fall asleep. He had to admit he was comfortable.

And warm.