Rebel Red

There once was a girl who loved her older brother very much. When he went off to fight the war of Northern Aggression, to keep her and her family safe from the tyranny of a government too remote to understand them or their lives, she was so proud she thought she’d bust. When he sent her an authentic artillery kepi, just like the one he wore while fighting the damn Yankees, she treasured it more than her little china doll. She wore it every day, in spite of her mother’s protestations, and was secretly delighted when she overheard herself being referred to as “that little red-cap girl”.

The war did not end as quickly as everyone had thought it would. Years passed, and during those years Little Red-Cap did a lot of growing up. When word came down that her brave older brother was missing and presumed dead, she did not join her family in mourning. No, indeed she did not. Instead she cut off her hair, packed up some vittles, and set off to find the Confederate Army wearing her regulation kepi. She knew that the other soldiers were too busy fighting the war to look for one who was lost, so she figured she’d just have to track him down herself.

As it turns out, she didn’t have much of a chance to look for him at first, being too busy learning to fight and then actually fighting alongside her fellow artillerymen. But eventually all her looking and listening paid off, and she heard tell of a man matching her brother’s descriptions being held in an enemy camp not sixty miles off. So off she went through the woods to find him.

She had not been traveling more than two days when she came across a young man who, unbeknownst to her, was actually a deserter. He began to chat with her, and when he discovered that she was on a rescue mission he thought to himself, Well now I don’t think this boy is a boy at all. But he did not dare do anything while she carried her rifle. So he acted amazed and said he knew about a soldier looking like the one she’d described, who had escaped from the Union and was making his way back to his comrades. The deserter said he’d encountered him not long ago, holed up in a little abandoned shack and regaining his strength. Then he gave Little Red-Cap a set of convoluted directions, and said he must be on his way, himself.

Now of course the deserted had never met anyone at all like Little Red-Cap’s brother, but he got himself as quick as he could to the shack he’d told her about, smeared his face with some ash, and hid all of himself but his eyes beneath some old rags. Soon enough Little Red Cap came along, calling out for her brother.

“I’m here,” said the deserter, making his voice weak. Little Red Cap put down her gun and rushed to his side.

“Oh brother, I knew you weren’t dead!”

“Is it an angel?” said the deserter. “Have you come to take me to heaven? Come closer, angel- I’m ready for you.”

Now, Little Red Cap did not entirely know what to make of this. Her brother had never been particularly religious (much to their mother’s despair) but she reckoned that war changed a man. Hell, it had changed her, hadn’t it? So she moved a little closer to him and said,

“I’m not an angel, brother. I’m your sister, come to take you home.” She laid a hand on his arm and said, “My, brother, the war has made your arms so big.”

“The better to hold you again, sweet sister,” said the deserter, and slipped them around her.

“And my, brother, the war seems to have sweetened your voice some.”

“The better to tell you how much I love you,” and he smiled at her. Little Red-Cap felt her blood turn to ice.

“And… and brother, it seems the war has replaced the tooth I knocked out when we were little.”

“The better- what?”

At which point Little Red-Cap jerked her knee into a most sensitive area of the deserter’s anatomy.

He howled in pain and anger, but did not release her, for he knew the moment he did she would make straight for the rifle. The two wrestled, but the unfortunate truth is that a man is generally stronger than a woman, even if she has spent the past few months marching as one. Just when it seemed as though things might go the absolute worst for Little Red-Cap, a rough drawl came from behind them.

“I’ll thank you to take your hands off my sister,” and the deserter found a revolver pressed firmly against his temple.

“Well I’ll be God da-” said the deserter, but he did not finish his blasphemy before Little Red-Cap’s brother blew his brains out.