A moment later she continued. “But, as I said, it was important for the Union to hold the city. Protecting Nashville was Fort Donelson, which fell on February 16, 1862. As soon as the fort fell, Union troops came in and the federal occupation of Nashville began. And Nashville became the first Confederate capital to fall to the federal government. Again, something that was actually good for some—the Unionists—and not so good for others—the ardent secessionists. Remember, we were divided on the matter of secession. The state government moved to Memphis at that time. But the Union sent in a military governor. Anyone know who that was? I’ll give you a hint. A future president.”

“Andrew Johnson!” Matt called out.

“Gold star for that boy,” Olivia said. “Okay, so there was a Union Army of Tennessee and a Confederate Army of Tennessee. On December 2, 1864, the Confederate Army of Tennessee came to face off against the Union Army south of the city. On December 15, the Union Army arrived and started the Battle of Nashville. While the Confederates fought hard, they were badly defeated and had to retreat.”

“And that’s where we get our famous ghost!” Mariah said, beaming.

Matt set his flashlight beneath his chin so the beam would give him an eerie look. “General Rufus Cunningham!” he moaned.

“Hey, stop it!” Sean said. “Remember—we respect the dead.”

“Exactly!” Mariah then took over the story. “General Rufus Cunningham had a daughter and she was married to one of the Union lieutenants with the troops occupying Nashville.”

“Wow, the girl was kind of a traitor, wasn’t she? Ooh—maybe she hated her dad!” Sean suggested.

“No, no! It was very sad,” Olivia said. “The whole war was tragically sad. Many of the men—the foot soldiers and ranking officers—were good friends or relatives of the soldiers they fought. Cunningham’s daughter was named Eliza. She married Nathan Randall in 1858, and she met him because her father had been his commanding officer at the time. Many of the men went to West Point or other military academies together. Many of them had fought together in Mexico. The thing is, General Rufus Cunningham loved his son-in-law. But even if he hadn’t loved him, he would have tried to save him. He’d ordered that any man who’d been injured—whether wearing blue or gray—was to be given medical attention.”

“So,” Mariah continued, taking up the story, “Nathan Randall was injured. Seeing him—although he was already in retreat with his troops—General Cunningham stopped. In saving his son-in-law, he was caught in the crossfire between the advancing Union and the retreating Confederates. He died not far from where we’re camping tonight and he’s buried in the tiny Confederate Cemetery we just visited, where you saw his grave.”

“And,” Joey added, “it’s said that General Rufus Cunningham still rides these hills, watching out for those who are in danger, trying to save lives.”

“Yeah, well, he failed with Marcus, huh?” Matt said. His words were followed by silence.

“I’m sure he would have helped if he could,” Olivia said.

Brent rose and sat next to Matt. The tough guy smiled at the Down syndrome boy and placed an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, there’s a romantic story, too,” Olivia quickly offered. “The beautiful stream we can hear trickling. Know how that was formed?”

“Someone’s tears?” Joey asked.

“You bet,” she replied. “There was a beautiful maiden called Little Deer. She was in love with a warrior named Soaring Eagle. This was during a terrible time in our history when we were land grabbers—and we forced all the eastern Native Americans west, toward Arkansas. The two of them were torn apart because Soaring Eagle was with a peace delegation sent to argue out terms. He should’ve have been back before Little Deer was forced to leave. But the army was determined to get this done. There was a horrible mistake in communications. Soaring Eagle was only trying to reach Little Deer, but he was shot down because an army lieutenant thought he was trying to create an uprising. Little Deer heard the shot from miles away. She cried this stream that runs from the river down to the hills and plains. Sometimes at night you can hear the two of them calling to each other.”

“And,” Aaron said, rising, “sometimes at night, people go to bed. I say we call it a day and we’ll get an early start tomorrow. Then we’ll argue with the black rock!”

Dustin glanced over at Olivia. She wished she didn’t feel herself tense every time he looked at her now. Or that, in the middle of a group of people, she could tell him she didn’t give a damn what happened in the future, she’d like one night with him. Just one...

“The black rock is a natural boulder stuck out here, and it’s black because it’s aged,” she explained. “Okay, maybe it’s more of a dirty gray. The kids tell it everything they’re angry about—and throw water balloons at it. Believe it or not, it actually seems to help.”

“And it soothes the old soul,” Mason said. He stood, yawning. “I do have to say it feels great to be out here, huh?”

“Yes, and may I remind you all...bathroom visits demand clothing of some kind,” Mariah said sternly. “Boys’ bushes to the left—girls’ to the right!”

“Who wants to help rinse off the plates and pots and pans?” Olivia asked. “You can grab your toothbrushes and we’ll get water for face washing at the same time.”

Joey, Matt and Brent said they’d come with her.

Sean no longer seemed willing to be by himself and refused to leave a crowd.

The boys helped her with the dishes. When they returned to the camp, everyone was settling in. Brent, Sean and Joey were in a large tent with Dustin, whose sleeping bag was closest to the entrance—closest to where she was, in the second tent with Mariah and Sandra. Aaron, Matt, Nick and Drew were in the third.

“You think this was too soon?” Mariah asked worriedly as she lay on her cot. “I mean, too soon for one of these trips—after Marcus died?”

Sandra, ready to turn down their lantern, sighed. “Mariah, we have to go on as usual. You’re just telling stories that you grew up with. It’s fine.”

“I guess,” Mariah murmured. “What do you think? Did they all like the little cemetery?”

“They seemed to,” she said.

“No one ‘saw’ the general?” Mariah asked.

“Oh, we all see him one way or another, don’t we?” Olivia said.

“No,” Mariah told her. “I never have. I wish I could see him. I should see him. You can trace my family back in this area for two hundred years! You’d think he’d appear to me.”

“He’s an image in people’s minds!” Sandra said impatiently. “Let’s get some sleep!”

The tent went dark. The night was lit by an almost-full moon and the remnants of the fire in the clearing. Olivia lay still, listening to chirping of insects around them. There were coyotes in the hills, but they’d never bothered them, not here at the campground. The cows were sometimes in danger—the Horse Farm dogs occasionally came back with a piece of beef that hadn’t been processed. But there was really nothing to fear at their campground during the night.

She’d never felt edgy before.

That night, she lay awake in her sleeping bag.

Through the canvas walls of the tent she could see the shapes of distant trees, making giant shadows that waved and moved in the breeze, looking like monsters that might reach into the tent and drag someone out. She told herself that was a childish fantasy, but couldn’t quite dispel her nervousness....

She was just staring at the trees when she became aware of something moving outside—coming toward the tent.

She bolted halfway up, glancing over at the other women.

Neither Sandra nor Mariah was in the tent. She hadn’t heard them rise; maybe she’d dozed off, after all.

Whatever was coming toward her seemed to grow large with menace—as if a tree had uprooted itself and become a monster stretching its skeletal fingers toward her....

She jumped to her feet, ready to rush out and scream an alarm. But even as she did, she heard someone speak sharply. She recognized Dustin’s voice.

“Aaron!”

There were no monsters and trees didn’t uproot themselves to attack.

She hurriedly left the tent to see what was happening.

Aaron was out there.

And Dustin was right behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Dustin asked.

“Nothing—I think,” Aaron said. He looked at Olivia. “I heard something rustling over here. I wanted to see if you three were okay. We should’ve put the women in the middle tent.”

Sandra came walking out of the woods. “Aaron Bentley! You employ extremely capable women. I had to make a dash to the powder room, so to speak.”

“Where’s Mariah?” Olivia asked.

“Well, she must have taken a bathroom break, too,” Sandra said.

“I don’t like this,” Aaron muttered. “I want to make sure she’s in her tent before I go back to sleep. I thought...”

“What?” Dustin demanded.

“I don’t know. I thought I heard someone prowling around.”

“You did! Us. So much for privacy,” Sandra said, shaking her head.

“How long can a break in the bushes take?” Aaron asked.

He probably meant it as a rhetorical question, but Joey emerged from the tent, saying, “Um, it takes as long as it takes, doesn’t it? Especially for women...”

Aaron ignored that and walked toward the bushes. “Mariah!”

She didn’t answer.

“Mariah!” he shouted louder.

“Hey!”

They heard her call back to them. Her voice didn’t come from the bushes. Olivia saw that she’d been down to the stream; she’d apparently filled her canteen. Her face was damp and she was smiling. “What’s wrong?” she asked quickly, her smile fading.