Legacies (29 page)

The instant Sorrel uttered her bitter and vindictive denunciation, Temple lashed out, her hand striking Sorrel's cheek with a resounding slap. "Don't you say that." She grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard. "Don't you ever say that again, do you hear? The Confederates are not responsible for all the destruction and devastation around here. The Yankees have done their share of looting and burning, too—and the bushwhackers. If you want to blame something for the misery and suffering, blame the war.
Blame the war!”

When she started to give Sorrel another shake, Eliza stepped in. 'Temple, no," she softly reproved.

All in one motion, Temple released her daughter and swung away, her body taut and trembling. "How on earth did I raise such a child? How did she get this way? Alex, Alex, Alex," she said in a low, angry voice. "He is all she ever talks about— and it should be Lije. It should be Lije."

Sorrel glared at her, still stiff and smarting from her mother's physical and verbal slap. "I am not a child anymore to be talked about as if I weren't here. I have feelings, too!"

"Of course, you do." Susannah moved quickly to Sorrel's side, sliding an arm around her waist and steering her a few steps away. "But so does your mother."

"I don't care what she feels."

"Now you are talking like a child," Susannah admonished. "Sorrel, you are old enough to understand how thoughtless and cruel it was for you to say you wished your father and brother were dead. You don't really want them to die, do you?"

"No," she admitted in a small, subdued voice, eyes downcast.

"You hurt your mother very deeply when you said that. There is enough pain and suffering already without you adding more."

"I know. But Alex said—"

Susannah stopped her. "It doesn't matter what Alex said. You must learn to think for yourself."

"He wouldn't lie to me," Sorrel insisted.

"But he might not know the whole truth."

Behind her, Susannah heard Temple offer a fervent "I pray to God that Jed is right and the war ends soon."

Susannah added a silent prayer of her own.

 

 

 

18

 

 

Fort Gibson

Cherokee Nation

July 11, 1863

 

Three days later Jed Parmelee recovered sufficiently to move out of the hospital ward to his own quarters on the post. His soldier-servant Private Johnson opened the door when Temple and Susannah came to see him the following day.

The striker broke into an instant smile. "The sight of you is sure goin' to cheer the major's heart."

"How is he?" Temple studied the Negro's face, watching for the smallest reaction.

"See foh yo'seff." He swung the door open wide, ushering them into the main room's half-shade.

Jed sat in a chair, a blanket draped over his legs despite the day's heat. His uniform blouse was loosely buttoned, revealing the bandages that strapped his left arm to his side, creating an unnatural bulk around his middle. His face still had that drawn look of pain, but much of his color had returned, just as his striker had predicted.

The instant he saw them, Jed gripped the arm of his chair with his good right hand and pushed himself upright, paling slightly with effort and swaying for an unsteady second.

"Jed, no. Don't." Temple rushed forward, certain he would fall.

But he took the gloved hand she would have used to guide him back onto his chair and raised it to his lips. "I am quite capable of standing, Temple. This wound has stolen much of my strength, but it has not made an invalid of me."

She smiled in relief. "I'm glad to see that, but I hope you will humor me by taking your seat again."

"Of course." Jed released her hand and offered no objection when she took his arm, supporting him as he lowered himself into the chair. "Please, have a seat as well." He gestured to the worn sofa against the wall, the only other piece of furniture in the room except his chair and the wooden crate beside it "Our comfort is Spartan here, but it's better than what the hospital offered."

"Definitely." Susannah sat on the sofa next to Temple and automatically arranged the smooth fall of her skirts. "I wrote Diane that you were doing well, but it's clear I'll have to write again and tell her how much you've improved."

"I have started three letters to her myself." Jed rubbed his hand over the bulge his bandaged arm made under his blouse. "The doctor tells me it's unlikely I'll regain the use of it, but one-armed officers have served in the army before." He paused, lost in the privacy of his thoughts for a moment before he roused himself. "Johnson, fix some tea for the ladies. And bring a plate of that shortbread you made."

"Yes, sun. Right away, sun." The striker left the room, disappearing into the back quarters.

"I hadn't expected you to visit again so soon," Jed said, then frowned in sudden concern. "Are the roads safe for you to travel?"

"We were well protected," Susannah assured him, smiling easily. "From the moment we turned onto the Texas Road, we were within hailing distance of a full regiment of Union soldiers. They marched into the fort right behind us."

"It must be General Blunt with reinforcements," Jed said in satisfaction. "God willing, we'll go on the offensive now and hit those Johnny Rebs before they can regroup." Temple stiffened at the impatience in his voice, the hint of irritation that it might not happen. He caught her faint movement and immediately sighed his regret. "My apologies, Temple. I didn't think."

"That is not quite true. You did think—like a soldier, which is what you are." She sat with unnatural stillness, her hands folded in her lap.

"Still . . . with the war and all"—he chose his words with care, making reference to The Blade and Lije—"I would have understood if you hadn't come to see me."

Temple shook her head. "This war has torn apart too many families, severed too many relationships. I would hate to see our friendship become another victim of it."

"So would I." Jed nodded slowly. "So would I."

There were voices outside the door and the scuffle of footsteps. The latch clicked and the door swung open. Major Adam Clark, the army physician Susannah had met with Diane at Fort Scott, walked in, a carpetbag tucked under one arm, a valise gripped in his other hand. He turned back to look at someone behind him.

"Here we are." He stepped aside as Diane swept through the doorway, a hand tugging at her bonnet strings, a film of travel dust dulling the coffee brown color of her dress.

"Thank you, Adam." She reached up to pull off her bonnet and saw Jed in the chair. She faltered an instant, relief leaping into her eyes, the lines of tension smoothing from her face. "Well, Father, how wonderful to see you sitting in that chair." All smiles, she pulled off her bonnet and glided to him, her glance flicking to Temple and Susannah. "And entertaining guests, too, I see." Bending, she kissed his cheek, then straightened. "I didn't expect to find you two here, but I'm glad you are. It's good to see you again, Susannah."

"It's good to see you, too, Diane," she said, and meant it.

There was the smallest hesitation, the smallest hint of tension when Diane turned to extend a greeting to Temple, the woman who would have been her mother-in-law. "How are you, Mrs. Stuart?" she inquired, none too certain of her reception.

"I will be much better when you call me Temple, as you always did," she replied gently.

Diane's smile was quick and full of gratitude. "How are you, Temple?"

"That's much better."

She glanced back at her escort as Adam Clark set her bags down. 'Temple, I'd like you to meet Major Adam Clark, the physician assigned to General Blunt's regiment. This is Mrs. Stuart, Adam, and I know you remember meeting Susannah at Fort Scott."

"I do indeed," he confirmed, nodding to them. "Ladies."
 

"How are you, Major Clark?" Susannah searched for some indication that the relationship between Diane and the doctor had progressed beyond friendship. She didn't see one, but she knew it wasn't from lack of desire on the part of Adam Clark.

"Fine, thank you." His attention swung to Jed as he examined him with a clinical eye. "It's good to see you up and about, Major Parmelee."

"It certainly is," Diane chimed in, then directed her question to Temple and Susannah. "So tell me, has Father been behaving himself?"

Before they could reply, Jed caught Diane's hand to keep her by his chair. "Diane, what are you doing here?"

"What a silly question," she chided, still smiling. "I came to see how you were. You surely didn't think I would stay at Fort Scott after I was informed you were badly wounded. I half-expected to find you at death's door. I'm delighted to be wrong."

Jed dismissed her concern with an impatient shake of his head. "But how did you get here?"

"General Blunt was kind enough to escort me"—she paused, her eyes taking on an impish glow—"though, naturally, he was unaware of it. The minute I learned the general was marching to Fort Gibson, I threw some things in my bags and arranged to travel with a refugee family who planned to follow closely on the army's heels for protection."

"You are very resourceful," Jed said with pride.

"The daughter of an army officer has to be," Diane said with a laugh, then sent a brief, searching glance to the back quarters. "Where is Johnson? He is still with you, isn't he?"

"He is," Jed began, only to be interrupted by the striker's return.

"There you are, Johnson." Diane saw the enameled tray he carried and the mixed assortment of cups. "And you made tea. Wonderful."

"I thoughts I heard your voice, Miss Diane, and I adds a extra cup fo' you. But I didn't know the major was with you. I'll fetch another."

"Don't bother," Adam Clark told him. "I can't stay. I'm sure my services are needed at the dispensary. I'll stop by later this evening and see how you are. Ladies," he said, taking his leave of them before walking away.

Diane watched him for a moment, then pushed the wooden crate away from her father's chair and maneuvered it into position in front of the sofa. "You can set the tray here, Johnson."

"Have a seat, Diane." Temple shifted to make room for her on the sofa.

"After bouncing on that wagon seat for days, I prefer to stand," she insisted with a laugh. Jed chuckled. It was the first sound of genuine amusement Susannah had heard from him. She silently marveled at the way Diane brought life and laughter to every corner of the drab room. There was no doubt she would be excellent medicine for Jed. "Please, you pour, Temple."

"If you wish."

The striker placed the tray on the crate. "I'se sorry we ain'ts got no pretty cups fo' you to sip from, but the tea be hot."

"I noticed there are many things we don't have," Diane observed. "No curtains at the windows, no rugs on the floor, no pictures on the wall. I can see I'm going to be very busy these next few days trying to make this place presentable."

"Believe me, you won't recognize these quarters when Diane finishes with them," Jed declared. "As I said before, she is very resourceful."

"At an army post, that means I am an excellent scavenger." After the tea was poured, Diane picked up two cups and carried one to her father, turning it so he could grip it by the handle.

"You will have to be," Susannah said, "especially here, where even necessities are hard to find."

Diane sobered. "Yes, there are so many people all crowded together. The sanitary conditions are deplorable—refuse everywhere, open latrines. I shudder to think what the rations have been, as isolated as this post is, and as tenuous as its supply line is." She stood beside her father's chair, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

He smiled up at her. "Diane was very active in the women's relief organization in Kansas. Naturally, she did more than tend the sick, write letters, and collect bandages, clothing, and food items. She was extremely quick to draw the post commander's attention to any deficiencies in cleanliness, diet, or ventilation."

"I did make a nuisance of myself on occasion." Again her smile was back, making light of her contributions.

"And you worked hard, too."

"When it was necessary."

"With so many families living at the fort for protection, the needs are endless," Temple admitted. "Many lack even the basic necessities of food, clothing, and shelter. We brought all our spare clothing and blankets to Reverend Cole last week, but it was so little. And the crowding . . . there is so much sickness and disease, it's been difficult for the fort surgeon to cope."

"No single person can solve all the problems here. But several people working together can make a difference, and at least improve the situation," Diane stated. "Naturally, the first thing that has to be done is identify the points of concern. After that, steps can be taken to correct them. For that, you need a lot of hands willing to help." She paused, her glance running over Temple and Susannah in quick assessment. "I know it's a struggle merely to survive right now, but if you could spare a few hours every other week or so . . ."

"Listen to her," Jed declared, amused and proud. "She isn't here five minutes and she's already recruiting volunteers."

"Father is right." The comers of her mouth turned up in a rueful smile. "Forgive me. But there are so many things I am powerless against that when I do find something I can do, I tend to charge right in. It's a failing of mine."

Susannah laughed. "It's a laudable one. I, for one, will be happy to help whenever and however I can."

"We all will," Temple added.

"Good." Diane beamed with pleasure. "After all, it has nothing to do with the North or the South. It's about helping those who are suffering, those who are living in intolerable conditions."

Temple nodded. "I know Eliza has often lamented her inability to ease the work load Reverend Cole has taken upon himself, especially with the orphans."

"How is Eliza? And Sorrel?"

They chatted for a time about family, each of them skirting any talk of war that might lead to an inadvertent reference to Lije or The Blade. All the verbal tiptoeing soon created a strain.