As she continued to walk beside him in a silence that became heavier with each step, he was more aware of all the soldiers they passed, sitting in the shade, laughing or silent. The smell of sweat and tobacco smoke and worse filled the air. He regretted upsetting her and nearly reached out to touch her shoulder. Then he watched as she unstoppered the small vial she wore on braided twine around her neck and lifted it to her nose. So near her, he also breathed in the sweet and soothing scent of lavender. Finally she replied without looking at him. “Shiloh is Honoree’s younger sister. Born free, she was kidnapped and sold south three years before the war.” She recited this in a way that did not invite him to pursue the topic. Shock hit him. No wonder the black girl hated slaveholders. “I’m so sorry.” The words were totally inadequate to address the seriousness of this evil act. Why couldn’t people just obey the laws? Follow orders? And then he recalled that he himself was breaking military law by harboring the enemy in his tent.
