Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (51 page)

             
“What are you doing?”  Pemberton snapped.

             
Carrie sat back impatiently.  “I have to take the bullet out.”

             
“What about chloroform?” Pemberton growled.  “You aren’t just going to operate on him.”

             
“It’s happening all over the South,” Carrie said.  “I’m afraid your blockade has made it almost impossible to get the drugs we need.  I would gladly use it if it were available,” she said harshly, then softened at the look of pain on the captain’s face.  “He won’t feel a thing,” she said more kindly.  “He’s completely unconscious.  He will hurt afterward, but he won’t feel the operation.”

             
Pemberton gazed down at his brother’s face and then nodded.

             
Carrie sighed with relief before she bent back to her work.  It took almost thirty minutes of deep probing for her to finally locate the bloody bullet concealed deep in his chest cavity.  Thankfully it had gone in far enough away from the heart and lung not to do damage there.   As she carefully sewed the wound shut, she prayed.  Chest wounds were the most dangerous.  If infection set in, there was no possibility of amputation to save their lives. 

             
She went to work on the leg wound next.  The bullet had not gone as deep, so it took her only a few minutes to remove it.  The torn and ragged skin surrounding the wound was another matter.  There was no way she could sew it up. 

             
She turned to Opal who was standing close by.  “Bring me some flaxseed and red pepper.” She paused.  “And please bring me some of the red oak bark decoction I made.    Then she glanced up and spoke to the captain before he could ask his question.  “They are herbal remedies, Captain Pemberton.  They have proven to be quite effective against infection and gangrene.”

             
For once, Pemberton didn’t react.  Using the rags and hot water to clean all the other wounds on his body, Carrie turned back to Clifton.   His color, now that all the bleeding had stopped, had slightly improved, but his breathing was still shallow and fast, his skin still clammy.  Carrie stared at him silently, praying he would live - not just for himself, but for Hobbs as well.  Her mind flew to him.  What would she find when she was done with the captain’s brother? 

             
Opal flew back into the room, and Carrie carefully applied all the herbal poultices to Clifton’s wounds.  When she was done, she covered him carefully with several blankets before she stepped back.  “That’s all I can do,” she said quietly. 

             
“Is he going to live?” Pemberton asked anxiously. 

             
“I certainly hope so,” Carrie said fervently.  “Only time will tell.  Have one of your men keep an eye on him.  If he moves or wakes up, let me know.”

             
“Where do you think you’re going?”  Pemberton growled.  “My brother still needs you.”

             
“There is nothing more I can do for him right now,” Carrie said firmly.  “But there is a young man lying in the room next door who also needs my help.”  She took a deep breath.  “I believe that was our agreement,” she reminded him.

             
Pemberton hesitated then nodded curtly.  “My brother better live.”

             
Carrie felt another surge of compassion at the pain on his face.  She stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm.  “I hope he does, Captain.  This war has already claimed too many lives.  Your brother looks like a fine man.”

             
“He is,” Pemberton choked, his defenses falling away.  “He saved my life up at Gettysburg.  I owe him the same.”

             
“I’ll do my best,” Carrie promised, then turned, and left the room.  

             
She found Hobbs lying just as still as when she had last seen him.  The two soldiers guarding the room stared at her but made no comment.   Carrie ignored them and examined Hobbs’ head carefully.   She breathed a sigh of relief when she found no cuts.  There was indeed a huge lump on his head, but upon closer inspection she realized his breathing was steady and deep.  He would have a raging headache when he woke, and he would probably be disoriented but would recover.  Carrie covered Hobbs with blankets then returned to Clifton’s room.

             
“Anything?” she asked when she entered the room.

             
Pemberton shook his head heavily.  “Nothing.”  Then he looked up.  “How is your driver?”

             
“He’ll live.”

             
“If my brother lives.”

             
“Right,” Carrie snapped, leaning over Clifton.  She was encouraged.  There was even more color in his face, and his breathing was a little steadier.   She glanced up at Pemberton who just stared at her stonily.  Carrie took a deep breath.  “Are you hungry?”  He nodded abruptly.  “I’ll get you some food.”

             
“Don’t bother to try anything,” Pemberton replied.  “Your driver’s life is dependent on my brother’s, you know.”

             
Carrie was tired of playing games.  Exhaustion dogged every movement.  “Look, Captain Pemberton, even if my driver and friend wasn’t lying in the other room, I would still do my best for your brother.  He is a human being.  He is an American.  That still means something to me.”

             
Pemberton sat up straighter in his chair.  “You’re a Unionist?  Why didn’t you say so?”

             
Carrie shook her head.  “I didn’t say I want the North to win.  Quite frankly, I’m confused about the whole mess.  I don’t think this war should have ever started.  It’s done nothing but multiply the problems in this country.   All I know is that too many men are dying or being horribly wounded.  I just want it to end.  Whether I end up living in the United States or the Confederate States of America means little to me right now.  I just want the killing to stop.” 

             
“Why are you in the South, Miss Cromwell?  You don’t believe in slavery, do you?” 

             
Carrie looked at him.  For the first time, she felt they were communicating as two individuals.  “No, I don’t,” she agreed.   “If I had my way, every slave would be free.  But,” she continued, “the South is my home.  My father is here.  My...,” she broke off, shocked to realize she had almost told the captain about Robert.  She turned to leave the room.  “I’ll go get some food.”

             
A broad shouldered soldier suddenly blocked her way. He was holding papers in his hands.  “I found out who her father is, Captain Pemberton, sir.”

             
Pemberton pushed away from the wall, but his voice lacked any real interest.  “Who is he?”

             
“He works in the Virginia state government.  He’s one of Governor Letcher’s top men.” 

             
“That true?”  Pemberton asked Carrie.

             
Carrie looked at the papers the soldier was hiding.  What good would it do to deny it?  “Yes,” she said simply.

             
“We’ll take her back north, Captain,” his man said eagerly.  “I reckon she’ll be a real prize in the prisoner exchange game.”

             
“She’s a woman,” Pemberton snapped.

             
“Yes, sir,” the soldier agreed. “I reckon that will make her even more valuable.  The Rebels aren’t going to want anything to happen to her.  Especially not with her daddy being a bigwig.”

             
Carrie had heard enough.  She moved past the soldier and headed for the kitchen.  There was nothing she could do.  She might as well eat.  The idea of waiting for the right time to escape through the tunnel had entered her mind, but she had cast it aside.  She would never leave Hobbs. 

             
Opal was stirring a pot of soup over the stove when she entered the kitchen.  “You okay, Miss Carrie,” she asked anxiously. 

             
“I’m fine,” she said wearily.  “Just hungry.”

             
Opal sprang into action.  “I’ll fix you something.” 

             
“Take something to the captain first,” Carrie replied, sitting down and letting her head drop on the table. 

             
Sam walked into the room just as Opal was leaving.  He sat down next to her and watched the soldiers standing next to the door.  Knowing he would interpret the question on her face, Carrie stared at him. 
The children?
  Sam nodded comfortingly. 
They be fine
, his eyes said. 

             
Carrie dropped her head back down.  She was confident the Union soldiers would not harm Sam and Opal.  When they were gone, the children could come out of hiding.  She didn’t really think the soldiers would harm the children, but there was no sense in taking a chance.  

             
Carrie didn’t know when Opal put a bowl of soup in front of her.  She was sound asleep.

Two days later Clifton was still unconscious.  Captain Pemberton refused to leave his room
and demanded his meals be brought to him there.  Carrie had a bed moved in for him.  She checked Clifton every thirty minutes even though she knew there was nothing more she could do for him.  Only time would tell whether his body was strong enough to pull him through.  Hobbs was conscious but suffering from a headache and still under constant guard.

             
Carrie sat on the porch swing and gazed out over the fields.  At least she hadn’t told her father when to expect her back. 
Within the week
, she had told him in her letter.  Then she frowned, realizing she could be well on her way north before anyone sounded the alarm.  She had struggled for the last two days to keep her mind away from the idea of going to prison.
For smuggling contraband
, one of the soldiers had told her.    In spite of her best efforts, images of Matthew during his stay at Libby Prison sprang into her mind.  She could see him - terribly thin, with that look of deep sadness in his eyes.  She shuddered at the idea of being locked up.  Thank goodness, Matthew had been released. 

             
“Miss Carrie!”  Opal ran out onto the porch.

             
“What is it?”  Carrie asked, alarmed.  The soldiers sitting nearby sprang forward.

             
“It’s the captain’s brother.  He’s woken up!”

             
Carrie smiled and ran into the house.  She slowed as she approached the patient’s room and walked in slowly.  Captain Pemberton stood by the bed and grasped his brother’s hand.

             
Clifton raised his eyes slowly and stared around, puzzled.  His gaze fell on Carrie.  “Where am I?” he whispered.

             
“You’ll have plenty of time for questions later,” Carrie said soothingly.  “How about something to drink?”  She reached for the pitcher of fresh water she had been keeping by his bed. 

             
“Thirsty...,” Clifton agreed weakly.

             
Carrie held the water up to his lips while the captain supported his brother’s shoulder.  Carrie glanced up at the captain.  She saw the first look of hope in his eyes.  He looked up, met her eyes, and then smiled slowly.  Carrie smiled back; then she motioned for him to lay Clifton back.  “We’ll take it slow and easy,” she said. 

             
Clifton nodded slightly then closed his eyes. 

             
Carrie set the water pitcher down.  “He’s asleep,” she said gratefully.  “That’s all he needs now.”

             
“He’s been asleep for over two days!”  Pemberton exclaimed.

             
“This is a healing sleep,” Carrie explained, pulling the bandages back again to make sure there was no infection.  She sighed with relief when she saw no angry red spots spreading out from the wounds.  “He’s going to be fine.  It will just take some time.”