True Calling chapter 2

Manson was abruptly awakened by the shouts of his remaining soldiers. Groaning, he slowly sat up in bed and stretched. Commander Lance rushed into Manson's tent, out of breath.

“General Manson, we just received another telegram from Grant. The war is over! We can all go home!” Lance exclaimed. “Isn't that exciting?”

Commander Harold Lance was one of the tallest people in the Union Army, and was by far the tallest in Manson's battalion. He had a clean-shaven face, large fists, green eyes, and short, curly blond hair. In general he wasn't particularly enthusiastic, but this situation was an exception.

“It's great,” Manson said unemotionally.

“Something is wrong, isn't it?” Lance asked. “Would you like to speak with me about it?”

“No, Lance,” Manson responded.

“If you insist. You must come celebrate with us, though; it isn't the same without you.”

Manson smiled, then said, “I suppose I could celebrate for a while.” Manson got up slowly and followed Lance out of the tent, where the remainder of his battalion was jumping around and dancing to guitar music. Shrugging, Manson figured that he needed some fun and began dancing.

The celebrations went on for several hours. Many of Manson's soldiers came up to him and congratulated him for being such an efficient leader in their recent battle. Manson would always smile and thank his soldiers in return, but he couldn't help but feel guilty about killing Pater's brother. For the most part, this prevented him from enjoying himself.

As the celebrations continued, Manson eventually went back to his tent and sat on the edge of his bed. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, thinking about Pater again. He knew that his fear of being tracked by Pater was irrational, but he couldn't help but think that he really was going to be tracked, and that he couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried.

From outside, Manson heard Lance ask, “Has anyone seen General Manson?”

A different voice said, “He went into his tent.”

A few seconds later, Lance entered Manson's tent. Manson looked up at Lance.

“Sir, they're still celebrating outside,” Lance said. “Are you unwell?”

“I suppose you could say that,” Manson responded.

“Are you ill?”

“No, I just have much on my mind.”

Concerned, Lance asked, “Will you talk to me about it?”

“I suppose it won't hurt,” Manson responded. “Alright. Yesterday, I think I might have killed Commander Pater's brother.”

“What's your true concern?” Lance asked. “You've killed many men in the past and it hasn't affected you like this.”

“I know,” Manson said. “Pater saw me kill his brother and I'm afraid I'm going to be hunted by Pater.”

“You needn't worry, sir. Pater has other things to concern himself with.”

“Such as? To my knowledge, family is the primary concern of many men.”

“Perhaps you're right, perhaps you're wrong,” Lance said. “But you mustn't worry yourself to death about it right now. If it happens, it happens, and you shall deal with it. I have confidence that you will be able to dissolve the situation should it arise.”

“Thank you for listening, Lance, and thank you for the advice,” Manson said.

“Is there anything else bothering you?” Lance asked.

“There is one more thing,” Manson said. “I don't have a family to go home to, Lance. I live alone in a small home in New York City. I have little money, except for that which has been paid to me for doing this job, and I have no way of acquiring a new job once my battalion is disbanded.”

“Why don't you stay in the army then?” Lance asked.

“I've never particularly enjoyed my tenure with the army, Lance,” Manson said, his voice becoming melancholy. “I don't like killing people. I'll do it for the safety of our country, but only if it's absolutely necessary. And now that the war is over, it's no longer necessary.”

“Are you under the impression that you're the only one who will have no job soon? Once this battalion is disbanded, everybody in it will have no job. We will all have to find employment elsewhere.

“But there are other jobs that we can take. Have you read about the construction of a transcontinental rail line in a newspaper lately?”

“Of course,” Manson responded.

“Well, perhaps we could get jobs with the Union Pacific Railroad Company?”

“That sounds like it would be a very difficult and grueling occupation,” Manson said.

“So is being in the army, sir,” Lance responded.

Manson chuckled. “I suppose you're right. But how would we move? Where would we live?”

“If memory serves me right, the company provides tent housing, much like the army does now, and some railroad car housing. And occasionally, they come across actual towns where they can buy more food and things for their employees.

“It's definitely something to consider, sir. And as you said, it would be difficult to find any other job. I have made up my mind on the matter; you're welcome to join me should you choose to.”

“I will consider it, Lance,” Manson said.

“What other options do you have?” Lance asked. “I will allow you to choose your own career, but there are very few employment opportunities available out there. A job with the railroad is the best option.”

“But what of the Irishmen working on the railroad?” Manson asked. “I'd much rather put my head in a hot bucket of melted gold than work with Irishmen.”

“There are no buckets of melted gold around here, sir, so you will have to settle for a job working with them,” Lance said.

Manson bit his lip. He knew that he had to find another job, but he could guess that Confederates would work on the railroad too. And that meant he might encounter Pater. On the other hand, it would be very difficult to find a different job, and Manson needed a new job right away.

Finally, Manson agreed with Lance. “I'll take you up on your offer and join you,” he said.

“Great!” Lance said enthusiastically. “We will travel to the company headquarters tomorrow.”

Just then, Robert entered the tent holding a telegram. Even though he had survived the previous day's battle, he had been wounded, and his shoulder was bandaged with gauze. Blood stains on the gauze revealed just where Robert had been shot.

“General Manson, I have a telegram for you,” Robert said, handing the telegram to Manson.

“Thank you, Robert,” Manson said. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I'll be fine,” Robert said. “I must get my bandages changed again. Goodbye.” He left.

The telegram read:

General Manson:

On behalf of President Lincoln, I hereby present you with an invitation to a celebratory dinner, to be held at the White House, on Thursday, April 13. You may bring a guest.

Lt. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant

“Who is the telegram from?” Lance asked.

“It's from General Grant,” Manson responded. “He has invited me to a White House dinner to celebrate the end of the war.”

“When will the dinner be held?”

“This Thursday. And it says I can bring a guest. Would you like to attend this dinner with me?” Manson asked.

“I'd be delighted to,” Lance said. “We can travel to the Union Pacific headquarters the next morning.”

Manson nodded and stood up. “Alright. Now, I believe our party has not reached its end. Let's have some fun before we leave.”

Lance smiled. “Let's go, sir!” he exclaimed. Together, the two left the tent and began to party with the other soldiers.

***

Pater paced back and forth inside a poorly constructed tent, stressed out over the previous day's battle. He and his twin brother had fought side-by-side in many battles, but until now none of them had resulted in his death. He ran his hand through his thin brown hair and looked at his reflection in a small puddle of water on the floor. His normally dry green eyes were now tear-stained and red.

Another man was in the tent with Pater. Nathan Westergard was Pater's step-brother, and he, too, was stressed out over the death of his other step-brother. Nathan was a huge man with big muscles that were unequaled by most other men. He usually wore a wide-brimmed hat and a bandana around his neck. His eyes were golden brown and his voice boomed over most other sounds.

“Nathan, what are we going to do?” Pater asked, sobbing softly. “How are we to avenge the death of Garth?”

“I believe the answer is obvious, Henry,” Nathan said. “We must kill the man who killed him.”

“You are right, but how are we going to do that?” Pater asked. “We don't know where Manson is.”

“I think it is safe to assume that he is still with the rest of his battalion at the camp we attacked yesterday.”

“But there isn't a way into that camp!” Pater exclaimed. “General Lee ordered our battalion disbanded yesterday evening, and the two of us stand no chance against the remainder of a Union battalion.”

“What if General Manson's battalion was disbanded?” Nathan asked.

“I will not take that chance,” Pater said. “I want Manson dead but I want him dead while I am still alive. We must wait until Manson is alone before we try and kill him.”

“How will that information be ascertained?” Nathan asked.

“What the hell does 'ascertained' mean?” Pater asked.

“I apologize, I had forgotten that you weren't educated properly as a child,” Nathan said snobbishly. “I mean how will we learn when Manson will be alone?”

“I haven't any ideas,” Pater said. “Have you any ideas?”

“None, my brother,” Nathan said. There was silence.

“Let's not think about that now,” Nathan finally said. “We should be thinking of ways to acquire money now that we have no job with the Confederate army.”

“Do you have anything in mind?” Pater asked.

“Well, the Union Pacific Railroad Company is now looking to hire new employees,” Nathan said. “I was thinking of working with them.”

“I suppose that would be an acceptable job,” Pater said thoughtfully. “Would you mind if I applied for employment at the same time you do?”

“I was just about to suggest that,” Nathan said.

“Then it's settled,” Pater said. “Now we must find a way to kill Manson.”

“Slow down, little brother. I want Manson dead as much as you do, but we must be patient and wait for the right moment to strike.”

“The murder of my brother was unjust. I want him to be avenged.”

“God does not stand for injustice,” Nathan said. “If it is God's will for Manson to be killed, He will make it so. And if He plans for us to be at the forefront of Manson's death, then it will be so.”

“You're sounding like my preacher,” Pater said, chuckling. “But I suppose you're right.”

“I am right, Henry,” Nathan said, affectionately touching Pater's shoulder. “We can depart for the company headquarters immediately if you wish.”

“I would like that,” Pater said. As the two of them left the tent and prepared to dismantle it, Pater smiled, knowing that things would pick up for him soon.