Love Inspired Historical October 2013 Bundle: A Family for Christmas\The Secret Princess\Taming the Texas Rancher\An Unlikely Union (75 page)

He signaled for the steward. “Fetch me some ice,” he told him.

“Yes, sir.”

He’d see if that would bring the swelling under control. If not the reb’s brother would have to return to the operating room.

* * *

Emily stepped into the corridor. Her heart was still pounding. Try as she might, the breath she repeatedly drew just didn’t seem to be enough to fill her lungs. Heading straight for the small window, she pushed it open. The air drifting in from the harbor was not fresh by any means but at least it was a little cooler.

Contrary to what Dr. Mackay may think, the sight of blood had not caused her distress. It was thinking of how the poor wounded man had come upon his injury. She did not know where Billy and his brother had been during the recent Pennsylvania battle, but she knew by looking at them that their experience had been just as horrific as Edward’s and Stephen’s.

Oh, Lord, I beg you. End this war...please...

“Em, are you all right?”

She turned to find Julia standing in the hall.

“What troubles you? Is it that poor soldier? He looks much improved now.”

Emily sighed. Julia was the last person she wished to burden with such distressing news, but she realized she needed to know. “I have received some information concerning Stephen.”

Her friend’s shoulders dropped with a long sigh of her own. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“I suspected such. Especially when Edward wouldn’t speak. Poor Sally...but why would Stephen have been reported as ‘missing’?”

“A misidentification, I suppose.”

“Then it’s likely he is buried somewhere on the battlefield?”

“I would imagine.”

Sorrow fell over them both like a shroud. The sound of wounded soldiers groaning echoed through the halls. An armed sentinel passed by on his way to duty, and they could hear an officer shouting orders on the floor below.

“Private Stone saw him fall,” Emily said. “He told me the entire story.”

“What did he say?”

She explained what she had learned. When Emily got to the part about Maryland men fighting their own neighbors, in some cases their own flesh and blood, all color drained from Julia’s face.

“Gracious,” she breathed. “Edward chose to fight in
defense
of his state and now battle lines have forced him to fire upon our own citizens? Does he know this?”

“Apparently so. Private Stone says Edward feels responsible. He overheard him remark it was all his fault.”

Julia wiped her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. Emily dabbed at her own eyes with her apron. The sights and sounds of war continued to swirl around them.

“We need to tell Sally,” Julia finally said.

“Yes.” Though Emily dreaded having to be the one to do so, she volunteered anyway.

“No,” Julia said. “It should come from me. I will tell her when she returns. Do you think Private Stone would mind if I spoke with him? I would like to hear the story for myself.”

“I don’t believe he would.” Emily paused. “There was one other thing.” She told Julia how Private Stone had asked her to deliver a message to Edward. “But I am not certain now that I should.”

“What kind of message?”

As Emily explained, tears spilled over Julia’s long, dark lashes. “Tell my brother what the soldier said.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. I believe it will help.”

They both turned back for the ward. Emily introduced Julia to Rob, then stopped to check on Billy. Crushed ice had been placed around his neck. Dr. Mackay was nowhere in sight, but Jeremiah Wainwright was sitting at the soldier’s bedside. Emily asked if he had need of any assistance. When the steward politely declined, she moved on to Edward.

Her friend was staring at the dust-covered rafters above him. She surveyed his tight bandages but only with her eyes. Then she poured him a fresh cup of water and drew close. All he did was blink.

Setting the cup aside, Emily quietly moved in closer. “Edward,” she said softly. “I understand that you do not wish to speak to me or to Julia right now, but know that we are here should you change your mind.”

She waited, hoping for a response of any kind. There was none.

“And know this...God waits patiently, as well.”

His lips tightened into a thin line. His jaw twitched. It was the first real indication he had given that he was listening to anything she said.

Emily leaned a little closer. She could see the pain in his eyes. Her heart ached for him. He had been her schoolmate, her childhood friend. He had teased her and tugged at her curls. She had once bandaged his wrist when he’d cut a gash in it after jumping from the tree in her backyard.

I mended his wound then, but how do I do so now? How does one even begin to ease the guilt a soldier feels over the death of his friend?

There was no change in his eyes, but she felt compelled to continue. “Private Stone asked me to deliver a message to you....”

Slowly, his eyes shifted from the rafters to her. Emily drew hope from the movement.

“He said to tell you that you are the best man he has ever served under, and he would be proud to do so again.”

What she’d hoped would bring encouragement had just the opposite effect. Edward’s jaw clenched and Emily watched helplessly as his eyes welled up with tears.

He shook his head no.

Her heart squeezed as she whispered, “I know what happened on Culp’s Hill. I know what happened to Stephen...to the other Maryland men.”

“It was...my fault...Emmy.”

His voice was distant, defeated, but he had referred to her by her childhood name, a memory of a happier time. She used his, as well.

“No, Eddie. You mustn’t blame yourself. We are at war. Terrible things happen. There was nothing you could do—”

“How dare you!”

Emily felt the blood drain from her face. She need not wonder who had spoken the fierce words. She already knew. How long Dr. Mackay had been standing behind her and how much of the conversation he had heard, she was not certain, but it had been long enough to rouse his fury. Swallowing hard, she turned. He stood towering above her, fists clenched at his sides.

“What do you think you are doing?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he pointed to the door.

“Get outside!”

Emily chanced a glance at Edward. Just as she had feared, the blank stare had returned.
I have made things worse.

Torn between comforting her friend and following the doctor’s orders, she hesitated. She shouldn’t have.

“Now, Nurse!”

Emily’s legs were as wobbly as a freshly cooked batch of mint jelly and walking the distance to the doorway seemed to take an eternity. All around her, the wounded stared, surely wondering what was about to happen. Even the Federal guard at the entryway showed sympathy on his face. Emily wasn’t afraid of Dr. Mackay physically, but she feared that he in his position of authority would hinder her from ministering to the Confederate men.

She stepped outside. He was immediately on her heels, catching the hem of her skirt with his long stride. Emily turned to free herself before his clumsiness ripped the fabric. Losing her footing, she was captured by his massive hands.

“You little rebel!”

“Unhand me, sir!” she commanded.

He did but only to stick a long, sharp finger in her face. “I will not have that kind of talk in my ward! Do you understand? How dare you tell that dirty Johnny it isn’t his fault! They
started
this war! The blood of thousands is on their heads!”

Emily sucked in her breath, fire building inside her. Her parents had raised her to be respectful, to be gentle. She had never been one to argue before, but this man, this
Yankee,
brought out a fierceness she didn’t know existed.

“
They
started this war? I beg to differ with you, sir. It was
your
soldiers who opened fire upon
our
civilians, and that is why a good many of these men took up arms in the first place! They wished to defend our state from tyrants like
you!
”

He looked shocked. Surely no woman had ever talked this way to him before. His eyes then narrowed. “I assume you are referring to the riot on Pratt Street.”

“I am.”

“Then you had better get your facts straight.”

Emily held her ground. “Oh, I am completely aware of the facts, Doctor. Major Stanton and his sister, her husband as well, were caught in that riot.”

“Aye. That explains quite a bit. All of you are as guilty as sin.”

Her blood was boiling. How dare he speak that way about her friends! “They are guilty of nothing more than meeting the Philadelphia train. Julia was nearly trampled to death when your Massachusetts soldiers emptied their muskets in an act of barbarous cruelty!”

The veins in his neck were bulging. His side whiskers rose like the barbs of a porcupine. His chest swelled so that Emily expected his brass buttons would fire off at any moment.

“Did your rebel friends tell you that the shooting took place only
after
the Pennsylvania volunteers were cut off from the rest of the Federal forces?
After
they had been pelted by missiles and cut by shattering glass?”

Emily held her tongue, though she was silently questioning his words. She had never heard of these supposed Pennsylvania men. She doubted Julia had, either. Was it true?

Dr. Mackay stepped closer, his anger seething. “Did they tell you that my brother, an
unarmed
man, had his head bashed by a paving stone? That he died twelve hours later?”

The disgust she felt instantly evaporated. Whether his facts concerning the riot were entirely accurate or not was not the issue. He had suffered the loss of a loved one. He was suffering still.

His anger must be his attempt to manage the pain.
Her heart squeezed. “Dr. Mackay, I—”

“Do not lecture me, miss, about your good citizens of Baltimore! I know perfectly well what you all are capable of.”

He stared at her, his gray eyes as sharp as any bayonet. She held his gaze.

“I apologize for my hasty words, Dr. Mackay. I am truly sorry for your loss. How many years had your brother?”

The old proverb about a soft answer turning away wrath proved true. He looked surprised that she would even ask. His stance softened just a little.

“He was nineteen.”

She grieved any loss of life, Confederate or Federal. The cost of war was much too high. “Too young,” she whispered.

“Aye. ’Twas much too young indeed.”

The color was slowly fading from his face. Dr. Mackay raked back his dark brown hair, looking as if he didn’t know what to say next.

Emily waited, wondering.
Will he regain his temper, or will he dismiss me without further word?

He did not have time for either. A steward from Sally and Elizabeth’s section appeared at the door. “Doctor, come quick! Your assistance is needed.”

The call of duty snapped him back to his determined, unyielding state. His shoulders straightened and the commanding physician immediately turned. Emily stared after his broad back until the door closed behind him. Breathing a sigh of relief, she then returned to her own ward.

Chapter Three

B
y the time Emily stepped back into the ward, Edward’s parents had arrived. Mrs. Stanton was seated in a chair next to her son’s bed, talking to him in soothing tones. Dr. Stanton was standing beside her. Emily did not see Julia anywhere in the room. She wondered if she had gone to break the horrible news to Sally concerning Stephen’s death.

Emily moved to where Edward lay. Ignoring everyone, he had once again turned his eyes to the wall. His parents, however, greeted her warmly.

“Look,” Mrs. Stanton said to her son. “Emily has returned.”

Yes,
she thought as heat crept into her cheeks.
I have returned.
She felt terrible about what had just happened in the corridor. She wondered when exactly the Stantons had arrived, how much of her altercation with Dr. Mackay they had overheard. She knew her voice had carried. She could tell by the grins on the Confederate men’s faces. They all seemed pleased she had put the Federal doctor in his place.

Emily was not pleased. She knew she had set a terrible example, and her timing with Edward had caused him more pain. She knelt beside him.

“Eddie, I am so very sorry for the disturbance earlier. So very sorry about it all.”

He continued to stare at the cracked plaster wall. She dared not say any more. She looked to his parents. Mrs. Stanton had tears in her eyes. Her husband’s face also showed concern.

“Can I fetch you anything?” Emily asked them.

“Some fresh water,” Dr. Stanton said. He picked up the nearby pitcher. “This one is empty.”

She reached for it.

“No,” he said with a kind smile. “That’s all right. Just show me where.”

She led him to the water buckets at the opposite end of the room. Dr. Stanton ladled the liquid into the pitcher.

“Julia told us about the battle,” he said. “Would you tell me what happened with Edward just before we arrived?”

Emily did so, right up to the part where Dr. Mackay breathed out his fire.

“And Edward held your gaze?”

“Yes. He spoke to me, although it was a negative response.”

“It was still a response and for that I am grateful.” He smiled at her. “You did well, Emily. Don’t blame yourself for what happened after the doctor’s intrusion.”

She appreciated his encouragement yet felt burdened at the same time. Surely Dr. Stanton was just as concerned as she. She knew he wished to be caring for Edward himself in the private hospital, but the Federal army would not allow it. The Stanton family did not have the political connections to change the army’s mind.

“I am glad you are here to look after him,” he said.

“Thank you, sir. If I may ask, where is Julia?”

“She has gone to see Sally. Sam has, as well.” He turned from the table. “They are taking her home.”

Good,
she thought.
He will look after them both.
Emily thought how blessed Julia was to have a husband like Sam. He was a man of strong conviction, and compassion, as well. Emily hoped she would one day find someone of equal character.

Her parents did, too, and the sooner the better.

Though at twenty-four she was hardly an old maid, they repeatedly encouraged her not to spend all her time volunteering in the hospital.

“Life is not all service and duty,” her mother insisted. “The occasional ball or outing will do you no harm. You are young and pretty, and you should give consideration to your future.”

Emily sighed. She missed the days of music and laughter and she liked silk and satin as well as any other girl, but the young men in her social circle, the sons of lawyers and city politicians, held little interest for her. She had always imagined her heart belonging to some preacher or backwoods missionary rather than a polished gentleman of Southern society.

I want to serve God and His human creation with my whole heart,
she thought. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
My husband will be a man of faith, of courage and compassion.

She didn’t know where or when she might find such a man, but Emily knew one thing for certain. She would recognize him when she did.

But such dreams must be postponed until the end of the war. For now, I must do my duty.

The evening bell chimed and the night matron came on duty. Mrs. Danforth was a round little woman of about fifty or so who never lacked a smile.

“Good evening, dearie,” she said. “And how are the boys today?”

Emily quickly gave her an overview of each man’s condition. Although the woman was dedicated to the Union and wore a blue rosette on her apron proclaiming such, Emily had no hesitancy in leaving the Confederate men in her charge. She was a kind, Christian woman.

She was anxious, however, concerning Dr. Mackay. He still had not returned from the emergency in the next room. Though she had no desire to run the risk of being lectured by him again, she was reluctant to leave Mrs. Danforth shorthanded, especially given what had just happened with Billy.

“Should I stay until he returns?”

The older woman waved her off. “Bless ya, no. He may be hours still. He’s been called to surgery. Some poor Texas boy is in a difficult way.”

Emily’s heart sank. She knew by what she’d witnessed that afternoon that Dr. Mackay was a capable physician, but the poor man now under his knife would need more than skillful surgery. He would need encouragement, compassion—and those were things the Federal doctor would
not
give.

“Fetch your basket, dearie,” Mrs. Danforth urged. “Your family will be expecting you.”

That was certain. Her parents would worry if she was late and she did not want Joshua, their driver, to be kept waiting at the dock. Gathering her personal items, she bid everyone good-night and left the ward.

Reverend Zachariah Henry and his wife, Eliza, both delegates of the Christian Commission, were departing, as well. Emily met them at the main entrance. Reverend Henry tipped his topper. He smiled.

“Well, Miss Davis, how was your day?”

“Well enough,” she said as they descended the long wooden ramp leading to the street.

Eliza patted her arm. She must have sensed Emily’s thoughts were still with the wounded men. “You must learn to leave your charges in God’s hands,” she said gently. “He will watch over them.”

She was right of course, but it was a task easier said than done. “Are the two of you going home for the evening?” she asked.

“Shortly,” Reverend Henry said. “First we will stop at Apollo Hall.”

The Baltimore chapter of the commission had rented several floors of the building for the sorting and distribution of Bibles and supplies. The items were given to Federal soldiers and sailors in town and in the nearby army camps. The commission also cared for the prisoners of war in the hospitals and forts. The reverend and his wife had the opportunity to personally minister to wounded men on the battlefield following Antietam. Emily respected the couple greatly.

“We want to see how many cases are ready for distribution,” he said.

Emily knew what he was referring to. She had helped to pack a few of those cases herself. The long numbered boxes looked as though they carried muskets, but in reality they were full of foodstuffs and medical supplies.

“Do you need any assistance?” she asked.

“Oh no,” Eliza answered. “We’ll see to it. You go home and rest. One never knows what opportunities tomorrow will bring.”

Opportunities
was the word Eliza always used in the place of
challenges
or
difficulties.
The latter, she insisted, were invitations to see God’s hand at work, to draw on His strength. Emily smiled slightly. She wondered how many
opportunities
Dr. Mackay would present her with tomorrow.

“Oh, there’s Joshua,” Eliza said. “We will see you in the morning.”

Emily bid the Henrys a good-night, then walked toward her father’s carriage. Her muscles ached. Her eyes were heavy. She hoped she would be able to stay awake long enough to reach home.

* * *

Despite his best efforts, the surgery was not successful. A pair of orderlies carried the dead man out. Nurses now prepared his bed for another. Exhausted, Evan took a moment to catch his breath before beginning evening rounds. He stared out the window. Sunset was upon the city, painting the warehouses in a softer glow.

Back in Pennsylvania, before the war, this was his favorite time of the day. He’d put his office in order, saddle his stallion and gallop for home. He would race back to Mary and her smile, to Andrew and whatever outrageous tale he would spin that day.

But that was before Baltimore.

Evan’s
eyes fell upon a woman below. He recognized her as his nurse, the one who’d dared go toe-to-toe with him in the corridor. He watched as she climbed into a carriage manned by what looked to be a slave and was promptly whisked away. He grunted.

I was right about her. She may have shown compassion in regards to Andrew, but she is no different than any other Maryland rebel, still holding on to her slaves even though President Lincoln has issued his Emancipation Proclamation.

And rebel slaveholders serving as nurses, whispering anti-Unionist words, was poison in this place. The woman may have somehow won the respect of the commission and the officers here in charge, but not him.

The Federal commander at Fort McHenry should have made good on his threat at the beginning of the war to fire his guns on Baltimore. If he had quelled the Southern ladies and gentlemen’s taste for rebellion, the war would be over now. Countless lives could have been saved.

It would have been too late for Andrew but perhaps not for Mary. Instead he had lost both of them.

“Dr. Mackay?”

A female voice invaded his thoughts. He turned to find the night matron, a good patriotic woman, standing before him.

“Beg your pardon, Doctor, but it’s time for the evening medication.”

“Aye,” he said. “Of course.”

They went back to the ward. She had already secured a tray. Evan walked to the locked cabinet at the far end of the room. He took out a key from his inner vest pocket, unlocked the door, then started laying out the various pills and powders.

He made his rounds, distributing the necessary medication to each prisoner. When he came to the bed of the rebel major, the one Little Miss Baltimore was so bent on comforting, he told the family, “Visiting hours are now over.”

The father, gray-headed and wearing spectacles, politely protested. “Doctor, I am a physician myself. I would like to stay. Perhaps I can be of service to you.”

You should have been of service two years ago, when the streets ran red with patriotic blood.
“I am afraid that is impossible, sir,” Evan said, deliberately disregarding the man’s title. Professional courtesy did not extend to rebel doctors. “You may return on the morrow.”

The man looked as though he would argue the point. Evan stretched to his full height. He stood a good six inches above the man. He leveled his most scrutinizing glare.

“Very well, then,” the rebel doctor said, and he encouraged his wife to say goodbye.

She did so, though the boy in the bed simply stared past her. The pair was slow in exiting, but Evan stood his ground until the door shut solidly behind them. He then took what was left from the dispensary tray and sent the nurse away. He inspected the Johnny’s wound. The site was healing satisfactorily, so Evan replaced the bandages, then moved on.

When his rounds were complete, he tramped off to his quarters, a postage-stamp room with a cot, a wash basin and a view of the city he so detested. After pulling off his soiled shirt, he lay down and tried to find a comfortable position. The bed was much too short for his body.

Despite being exhausted, he struggled for hours to find peace. When sleep finally did claim him, he dreamed of Andrew and then Mary.

* * *

Emily was awakened by Abigail’s gentle nudge.

“Rise and shine. You don’t wanna be late, now. I’ve drawn you a cool bath and laid out a fresh dress for you to wear.”

Though the precious hours of sleep had not been nearly long enough, Emily gave her friend a smile. After tending all day to wounded men it was nice to have someone look after her.

“Bless you, Abigail. You are a treasure.”

The woman’s dark, round face lit up with a wide smile. Abigail had come into service in Emily’s home only a year ago. She and her husband, Joshua, recently married, had been slaves in the household of one of Emily’s father’s clients. When the man had died, he had left a considerable amount of debt. As a lawyer it was her father’s job to oversee distribution of the estate, to make peace with the man’s creditors.

Rather than see Abigail and Joshua sold once again on the slave auction block, he ransomed the pair himself. Because he found slavery so abhorrent, he then promptly drew up papers granting Joshua and Abigail their freedom.