But the horse was alive—breathing heavily, sick eyes half closed, but alive.
Well, some water would help him too.
Prissy climbed reluctantly from the wagon with many groans and timorously followed Scarlett up the avenue.
Behind the ruins the row of whitewashed slave quarters stood silent and deserted under the overhanging trees.
Between the quarters and the smoked stone foundations, they found the well, and the roof of it still stood with the bucket far down the well.
Between them, they wound up the rope, and when the bucket of cool sparkling water appeared out of the dark depths, Scarlett tilted it to her lips and drank with loud sucking noises, spilling the water all over herself.
She drank until Prissy’s petulant:
“Well, Ah’s thusty, too, Miss Scarlett,” made her recall the needs of the others.
“Untie the knot and take the bucket to the wagon and give them some.
And give the rest to the horse.
Don’t you think Miss Melanie ought to nurse the baby?
He’ll starve.”
“Law, Miss Scarlett, Miss Melly ain’ got no milk—ain’ gwine have none.”
“How do you know?”
“Ah’s seed too many lak her.”
“Don’t go putting on any airs with me.
A precious little you knew about babies yesterday.
Hurry now.
I’m going to try to find something to eat.”
Scarlett’s search was futile until in the orchard she found a few apples.
Soldiers had been there before her and there was none on the trees. Those she found on the ground were mostly rotten.
She filled her skirt with the best of them and came back across the soft earth, collecting small pebbles in her slippers.
Why hadn’t she thought of putting on stouter shoes last night?
Why hadn’t she brought her sun hat?
Why hadn’t she brought something to eat?
She’d acted like a fool.
But, of course, she’d thought Rhett would take care of them.
Rhett!
She spat on the ground, for the very name tasted bad.
How she hated him!
How contemptible he had been!
And she had stood there in the road and let him kiss her—and almost liked it.
She had been crazy last night.
How despicable he was!
When she came back, she divided up the apples and threw the rest into the back of the wagon.
The horse was on his feet now but the water did not seem to have refreshed him much.
He looked far worse in the daylight than he had the night before.
His hip bones stood out like an old cow’s, his ribs showed like a washboard and his back was a mass of sores.
She shrank from touching him as she harnessed him. When she slipped the bit into his mouth, she saw that he was practically toothless.
As old as the hills!
While Rhett was stealing a horse, why couldn’t he have stolen a good one?
She mounted the seat and brought down the hickory limb on his back.
He wheezed and started, but he walked so slowly as she turned him into the road she knew she could walk faster herself with no effort whatever.
Oh, if only she didn’t have Melanie and Wade and the baby and Prissy to bother with!
How swiftly she could walk home!
Why, she would run home, run every step of the way that would bring her closer to Tara and to Mother.
They couldn’t be more than fifteen miles from home, but at the rate this old nag traveled it would take all day, for she would have to stop frequently to rest him.
All day!
She looked down the glaring red road, cut in deep ruts where cannon wheels and ambulances had gone over it.
It would be hours before she knew if Tara still stood and if Ellen were there.