Free Chosen by Shay West Page A

it sounded to his own ears.
    “I'm here!” He tried again, this time with more force. He saw the light from the torches before he caught sight of the riders.
    “I found him!” Lieutenant Robert Marshall galloped toward the General holding his torch high. General Smith could hear the shouts as the others relayed the message that he had been found. Soon, the once quiet night was filled with shouts of excitement, snorting horses, and the jingle and clanking of bridles and tack. He fought a wave of disappointment. He had been so sure the voice had belonged to Sloan. Despair threatened to overwhelm him.
    “Praise God we found you!” Lieutenant Marshall grabbed the large bearskin coat he had tied behind the saddle and threw it around the General's shoulders. “We had all but given up the search.” He handed the General a waterskin.
    General Smith brushed aside the concerns of the men. He was more worried about No Name. He directed the men to clear a large area of snow next to the mare and to scour the area for anything they could burn.
    He knelt back down on the ground and held her head in his lap again. He bent close and whispered words of encouragement to his friend and constant companion. Her breathing was growing slower by the minute. He shouted to the men to hurry, panic evident in his voice.
    The men returned, breathless from their efforts, and piled several items made of wood, mainly old tree branches that had fallenoff inside the buildings they grew inside, as well as broken pieces of what used to be furniture, near the fallen mare. One of the Protectors lit the large pile and soon it was blazing. The men stepped back from the intense heat and kept their eyes on the General and his mare.
    Ted kept his eyes glued to No Name. The fire was putting out great amounts of heat. The General found himself shrugging out of his bearskin coat and laying it gently across the mare's neck. No Name seemed to be breathing easier, and was soon able to hold her head up for a few moments.
    One of the men brought the General some dried beef and a piece of hard yellow cheese. Ted took the food and thanked the man absently, distracted by the mare. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed the man's arm.
    “You are not one of the Protectors. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
    “Begging your pardon, General, sir…” The man stammered as he tried to pull his arm from the General's vice-like grip. “My name is Edwards, James Edwards. There are several of us townfolk out here searching for you.”
    The General let go of the man's arm. “I apologize, Mr. Edwards. These last few months have made me even more suspicious than usual.” Ted indicated a log next to him, asking the man to sit. The General noticed the man's age for the first time. His back was stooped, and his head was covered in wiry, snow white hair. His face was also covered in white hair, a contrast to his nearly black skin.
    “Why did you and the others volunteer for the search? Has something happened to the other Protectors left at the encampment?” Ted held the man's brown eyes with his blue ones, demanding an answer.
    “The Protectors are fine. Only exhausted, same as you and your horse.” The old man gave the General a sideways grin, waiting for the grizzled man to deny being tired. “Me and some of the other men and older boys decided that it was time to lend a hand. It hasn't escaped notice that you and those Protectors have been doing a lot of fighting these days.” James Edwards turned his face to the fire. He picked up a stick and poked and prodded at the embers and coals, causing sparks to lazily spiral upward.
    “The Horde and Cowboys have sure been up to some bad business lately. You boys ain't had a chance to do much, 'cept fight. It don't take no genius to see that you can't keep that up for long. So.” He turned back to the General, the fire reflected in his brown eyes. “We decided to lend a hand where we could and give the Protectors a chance