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The figure by the horse had begun walking towards us, and as it moved our way another dash of motion suggested we might have more company coming. In the field beyond the tower the grass rustled and parted, but I could not see what disturbed it. I returned my attention to the first faint, chalky-pale figure and saw that he’d come much closer, much faster than I expected.
“A man,” I gasped.
Benny nearly dropped the recorder. “What?”
“A man,” I said again, though when he drew nearer I thought I must be wrong. He couldn’t have been any older than fourteen when he’d died, if his present form was any indication. Around his cheeks there was a softness, and his skin showed no signs of shaving.
“He’s in a uniform. ”
“Blue or gray?” Jamie asked, seeking the object of my attention but apparently seeing nothing. “Where is he?”
“It’s a little dark to tell,” I scolded. But he shifted as he approached, and I saw the glint of a Confederate States logo on a low-riding buckle. He squatted down a few feet in front of the bench where I sat, meeting my eye level. “He’s a Confederate. ”
Following my lead, Benny aimed the recorder in the direction of my gaze. “Hello and welcome. ” His words cracked around the edges, and his fingers shook around the recorder’s buttons, but he held it together all the same.
The ghost nodded as if he understood.
“What’s going on?” Jamie demanded, and the soldier tried to answer.
His mouth moved but I could detect no sound, and it was too dark to lip-read with any real success.
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” I asked.
He straightened to his full height, then shook his head.
Jamie poked at my ribs. “Ask yes-or-no questions. ”
“Good point,” I conceded.
The ghost looked up and over my shoulder, stretching out his neck to see around the tower.
I chased that gaze into the field behind us and saw that another two or three trails were whisking and parting their way through the knee-high grass. Our guest did not appear concerned, so I decided not to worry about it…but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of urgency as the others closed in. We were getting the attention we wanted, but before long we might also glean some attention that we didn’t.
I asked the first thing that popped to mind. “Green Eyes is gone, isn’t he?”
Benny thrust the recorder forward even farther, nearly under the nose of our visitor.
The ghost seemed surprised that I knew this. He mouthed a few words and heartily bobbed his head in the affirmative.
“He says yes,” I translated for my companions.
“Why would Green Eyes leave?” Jamie wondered aloud, echoing our earlier conversation on the subject.
The ghost heard the question and tried to answer it, but again I could hear nothing. I hoped Benny’s voice recorder was picking up something I wasn’t.
“Yes or no, Jamie. Yes or no,” I reminded him. “Are you upset that Green Eyes is gone?”
Yes. A definite yes.
“And you want him to come back?”
Another yes.
“Do you know where he’s gone?”
No.
“If you did know, could you go and get him?”
