Faith of the Heart (11 page)

“Land sakes, Caleb. Nobody’s come around here for years. You included.”
She tucked the scratchy blanket up around his narrow shoulders and frowned at his
bony frame
.

             
Caleb winced. It was true. As he’d grown he’d neglected his old friend. He began to apologize, but she cut him off
.

             
“Never you mind, I didn’t expect you anyways. A man’s got more important things to do than chatter with an old lady. Like
fightin’ in wars
and killin’ other men.
” She spit into the fire
,
before
pour
ing some
soup into an old cracked bowl.
            

             
“Here now, drink some of this soup
up
. Nobody’s gonna know yore here. I can keep my trap shut.
I’d ruther talk to the birds and squirrels anyhow. They got more sense th
a
n most people I knows. Now listen here, boy,
you gots to swallow some of this soup. It’ll do you good.”

             
Caleb struggled to a sitting position and allowed the old woman to
spoon feed him the nourishing broth. After just a few spoonfuls, an overwhelming weariness came upon him and he shook his head at the spoon. “No more, Cass, I’m so tired, I just want to sleep.”

             
“Okay, my boy, that’s alright. You j
est
sleep now, ya hear?”

As he settled in
Cassie looked down at her old friend and sighed. The day before while he was unconscious, she’d been able to remove his filthy uniform and sponge him clean. She’d been dismayed to see how thin he’d become due to the poor food and living conditions he’d endured over the last couple of years. She managed to wrangle him into one of her late husband’s soft old nightshirts and it seemed to swallow him up.

Never mind
, she thought,
it’s warm and soft and in a few weeks I’ll get some weight on the boy.
He’s young, his wounds
will
mend and he’ll be jest fine
.
Fine as long as them soldiers don’t come lookin’ fer him
.
I’ll jest have to keep an eye out fer them, that’s all.
             
             
             
             
             
             
She stood up
, stretch
ing
her aching back
as she
shuffled
over to the
ancient
hunting rifle she kept by the door. She made sure it was loaded and propped it in the corner.
Iffen they come around I best be ready.

             
Cassie peered outside of the cabin
. Her faded blue eyes squinted against the bright sunshine
.

Looks clear
, she reasoned, picking up an old willow basket.
I’d best be gathering some more herbs. Them dressing
s
are gonna need to be changed soon.
Gathering her courage
s
he stepped outside
.

             
The next few weeks sped by as summer slid into autumn. Caleb grew stronger and managed to gain some weight from a steady diet of Cassie’s nourishing soups and stews. Her small vegetable garden provided corn, beans, and potatoes. Her excursions into the woods resulted in berries, nuts, and early apples.
Caleb
began a daily exercise routine and slowly felt his strength return. The leg wound was healing
,
but he was left with a
n agonizing
limp.

             
The caliber of the bullet that had hit him was large, probably a .44, and it tore a chunk of calf muscle from his leg. The wound was drawing in on itself and was clean, but that muscle was gone for good. His head wound was just a shallow gash and
healed completely, but as Cassie had warned him, he was left with severe headaches, especially when the weather was cool and damp.    
             
       
             
       

             
He began to get weary of being cooped up in the
stifling
cabin,
but
he didn’t want to risk being spotted out in the woods. If someone saw him and recognized h
im as
a soldier, he would be hauled back and tried as a deserter. The penalty for desertion was death and after having escaped that fate once, Caleb wasn’t eager to t
est
his luck
again.

             
One afternoon that autumn, Cassie rounded up his uniform and army boots and burned them in a bonfire.
She buried his metal belt buckle and
canteen
in the garden.
She
knew
they
needed
to eliminate any evidence of him ever having been
in the war
. Caleb also made the difficult decision to change his name
.
He knew the steps he took now to
e
nsure his survival would prevent him from ever
making
contact with Claire
, or his parents
again. Though he had already made the decision to sever all previous contacts, save Cassie, the finality of his actions was like a dead weight added to his shoulders.
Inwardly he raged
how
the war, Lincoln’s war
,
had deprived him
of his dreams of being a successful lawyer and politician with the sweet and
beautiful
Claire by his side.
  Still frowning
,
Caleb shaved off his beard and mustache and Cassie sheared his shoulder-length hair short. Caleb Davidson was gone and Calvin Moore stood in his place, weak and pale, but alive.

             
The next day, Cassie
went into
town
to trade herbs for flour, coffee, salt and sugar.
  Early that morning she loaded up a two-wheeled cart and set off into town. Before she left, she warned Cal to stay inside and keep the rifle handy. There had been distant noises of gunfire
recently
and troops of soldiers had been known to pass through the wooded area near her cabin
.

             
It was a beautiful
October
morning
and the leaves had just begun to turn. The sky was a brilliant azure and the trees a breathtaking mix of red and gold. From the chair by the window
,
Cal could see the geese high above as they flew southward toward warmer climates. He was unsettled and weary
and
wanted out of the cabin.
He felt
a need
to move and stretch his body and wander through the woods. He was downright bored.
E
very book and old newspaper in the cabin
had been read and reread
. 
What was going on with the war? Where were his troops?
For all he knew the war could be over. Cassie had promised to bring him newspapers and maybe even a book
,
but he couldn’t wait.
Cal
had to get out of that tiny room.

             
Dressed in Cassie’s husband’s clothing, he pulled on the man’s worn leather boots. The fit was a bit large, but they would have to do
since all his personal effects had been burned
or buried.
All but the
half-heart
chain around his neck
.
He would not let
Cassie
remove that. No one but Claire knew about it, so he figured it was safe. It
wasn’t as if
the delicate gold charm was going to give away his
identity.

He shrugged into an ancient coat and pulled a wool cap down low upon his brow.
His own
mother wouldn’t recognize him
,
but
he still had to be careful. He’d grown up in Gettysburg and there was always
some
small chance
a person from the past might
re
cognize
him. By now he would have been reported dead or missing, and he truly believed it was better that way, but the thought of someone thinking him returned from the dead made him shiver. The army would get word, and they would know what had really happened
.

Yes, it was better if everyone thought him dead. Even Claire. The thought of
being without her
made him cringe once more, but he pushed it out of his mind.

             
Slowly opening the cabin door, he peered outside. The birds were singing and the squirrels were busily gathering nuts and berries to hoard in their treetop homes.
Tucking the rifle under his arm, he moved quietly between the cabin and the tiny outhouse
and then
into the deeper woods. Gradually
,
Cal began to relax and loosen his guard. He spent a pleasant afternoon gathering berries and nuts to add to Cassie’s larder. He’d eaten so much of her food that he wanted to
try
to contribute, even in this small way.
While limping
home
Cal
spotted a doe
. She looked up from grazing and froze,
her
brown
eyes
lamplike.
Sucking in a breath Cal swung the rifle up to his shoulder, squinted down the barrel and squeezed the trigger. The deer fell, shot cleanly through the heart. Cal took no pleasure in killing for sport
,
but
venison
was
tasty and would be a welcome addition to their diet of fruits and vegetables.
 

             
He stooped to dress the deer and
envisioned the look of pleasure on Cassie’s face when she saw all that fresh meat
. Staggering, he hauled the carcass over his shoulders and made his way back to the cabin.  Cassie was waiting for him when he returned,
standing hands on hips in front of the cabin, hopping mad.

             
“I declare!” she
hollered
, eyes snapping,
“I declare Cal, I know I tole ya to stay in the cabin, I done tole ya
. What if you gone and hurt yourself after I fixed you up so good?

             
Cal grinned. “Now, Cass. I’m not ten years old anymore. I only wanted to stretch my legs
and I feel fine. Good, actually.
I was on my way back when
this little doe crossed my path and the thought of fresh venison was just too much to pass up.”

             
“How’s about me roasting us some of this meat for our supper?”
He
dumped the carcass onto the ground and reached for his knife.
Cassie shook her head and had to smile at his enthusiasm. He was getting back to normal.

             
Later that evening the two sat comfortably before the fire. They’d feasted on roasted potatoes,
venison
and white flour biscuits. It had been a successful trip into town for Cassie. She’d traded all of her dried herbs and roots for enough provisions to get them through the winter. While at the general store, she had overheard conversations about the war and learned that Cal was considered dead. The newspapers she carried back reported his company was fighting further south near Chattanooga, Tennessee.
He should be safe now.

             
The news was conflicting for Cal. He was relieved to know the troops were out of the area, but he felt
a
stab
of
sympathy for his parents. They must be grieving for their only child. He told himself that it didn’t matter, if they did know he was alive
,
he was as good as dead anyway.
Let all those generals and majors fight the war without him. Hadn’t he done his part? After all he’d been wounded in two different parts of his body. He’d darn near
bit the bullet
!
Cal
rubbed the pendant that hung from his neck, his fingertips tracing the inscription from Claire. He was giving up so much because of the
war
;
his hopes, his dreams, his wife-to-be. It just wasn’t fair!
Bile rose in his throat and he forced himself to
swallow
. He certainly didn’t need another headache and getting angry would
only make matters worse.

             
Fall blew into winter and the
duo was
snug in their little house in the woods. On dry days Cal would chop firewood and hunt for game. Deer, rabbits
,
and squirrels were welcome additions to the stew pot. Cassie would bake bread or make dried berry pies. Evenings were spent reading the Bible, or the books Cassie s
urprised Cal with at Christmas.
Cal also began to write down his opinions about the war. Experiencing the pain
,
hunger
,
and
danger
firsthand, he knew that the people deserved to hear what war was really like, and why it was
a hindrance to the
things that really mattered—love and freedom
, family and friends.
             
Cal
was beginning to think of a time when he’d have to leave Cassie and strike out on his own. In addition to using his new name and appearance, he’d have to craft a new
occupation
for himself
. H
e had always enjoyed reading and writing. In
his previous
life, that meant be
coming
a lawyer or a politician. Now he could aspire to write books or newspapers. Cal had studied the writing styles of the editors in the Gettysburg paper and knew he could write as well as they could, probably even better.
He began to practice, writing editorials and articles on scraps of paper, defending positions as he had done as a law student.
A plan was beginning to form in his mind.