Laura Abbot (6 page)

When the teams ran onto the field, the crowd clapped and hooted. Major Hurlburt, the umpire, stepped up to the team captains and appeared to be reminding them of the rules. Before the game began, the players stripped off their jackets and rolled up their sleeves. Lily noticed that Benjamin, her former concussion patient, was playing in the outfield while Caleb took the pitcher’s position. Although she couldn’t follow all the fine points of the game, she understood that Caleb’s skill was frustrating those attempting to strike the ball. Just as she was feeling sorry for Caleb’s opponent, he connected with the ball and sent it soaring into the outfield beyond any of the players to the great delight of that team’s boosters.

When it was Caleb’s team’s turn at bat, Rose poked her in the ribs. “I imagine you’re partial to this nine.”

Had Rose noticed her eyes following Caleb’s every move? “You should be, too, sister. We know Captain Montgomery better than we know Lieutenant Creekmore.”

Despite Lily’s determination not to play favorites, she couldn’t help noticing Caleb’s broad shoulders and muscled forearms. Before he pitched again, he came over to the nearby water bucket and ladled out a drink. She lowered her gaze lest he discover her staring at him. He was one fine-looking man.

As the game wore on and the high jinks in the stands grew louder and more partisan, Lily reflected that events like this benefitted morale. From the beginning, the score seesawed. Finally in the last inning, Caleb’s team eked out the winning run. Amid whooping and huzzahing, the teams left the field, many heading out to wash up before the pie supper.

Lily and Rose hurried to the dessert tables to slice cakes and pies and set out plates and cutlery. Major Hurlburt, his face red from the exertion of umpiring, approached them. “Mighty nice of you women to provide such a treat,” he said with an approving smile.

As the men reassembled, the major made a short speech. “A fine sporting event, gentlemen. Played fair and square. To the victor belong the spoils. Captain Montgomery, lead your team to the desserts.”

Caleb, his thumbs hooked in his suspenders, grinned. “We’ll try to leave some food for the others.” Amid good-natured catcalls from the opposing team, the men descended on the dessert tables.

Carrie and Virginia dispensed lemonade while Rose and Lily helped Effie dish up servings of pie and cake.

Caleb eyed the selections. “Which one is yours?” he asked Lily.

“Oh, don’t try mine,” she said. “You’d prefer Rose’s pie.”

As other men moved past him, he looked her in the eye. “Why wouldn’t I want yours?”

“Let’s just say I’m a better nurse than I am a cook.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He studied the table. “Which one?”

Reluctantly she pointed out the less-than-perfect chiffon cake.

“Cut me a big slice.”

She had no choice but to serve him what he wanted, but she added a sliver of raisin pie to his plate. “I’ll be sitting over there.” He nodded in the direction of the first base bench. “Would you do me the honor of joining me when you’re finished here?”

Heads bobbed up all around and curious stares settled on the two of them. She felt trapped. “You may be finished with your food before I have completed my duty.”

His quirked eyebrow told her he knew she was procrastinating. “I’ll wait,” he said, moving off to the field.

Lily bent over the food, avoiding anyone’s gaze. It was one thing to take a companionable stroll from the cemetery or to be escorted home from a band concert. This meeting would be all too public. Already she felt the pressure of the I-told-you-so looks passing among the troops.

Rose sidled up to her. “You can’t be rude,” she murmured.

Lily wasn’t worried about rudeness, more about the erroneous perception she felt growing all around her. “We’re just friends,” she said to her sister. “Don’t go thinking anything else.”

Rose smiled innocently. “Of course you are.”

One of the sergeants in Caleb’s troop insisted on carrying her lemonade and cake to the bench. “Here, ma’am,” he said, setting them down. “Take good care of this little lady, Captain.”

“My pleasure, Sergeant.” Caleb shoved his empty plate aside and turned to Lily. “Now what was the matter with that cake? As you can see, I had no trouble disposing of it.”

Lily held up her dish. “This is Effie Hurlburt’s perfect apple cake, so much better than my burned one.”

“Burned? I didn’t notice.”

“You’re just being polite,” she said, spearing a piece of Effie’s dessert.

“When you know me better, you’ll find I don’t say much of anything I don’t mean. Your cake was delicious.”

Lily feared they were not talking merely about cake. She continued eating while he stretched out his legs. The informality of his attire and the sight of his hair, tousled from the ball game, made him seem unfamiliar, more...she couldn’t find the word.
Manly?

“It was thoughtful of you ladies to feed us. The men were really looking forward to today.” Then he turned toward her. “So was I.”

“Speaking of thoughtful—” she hung her head, overcome with sudden shyness “—thank you for the May Day bouquet and poem. The sentiments were timely and so well expressed.” She gazed up at him, sensing that he, too, was suddenly bashful. “I’m in awe of your poetic powers, sir.”

His rich, hazel eyes swept her face. “If my words in any way could be described as poetic, it is because I had a most insistent and lovely muse.”

Again feeling put on the spot, she took a hasty sip of the lemonade, willing herself not to blush. She desperately needed to change the subject. “I understand from my father that there is trouble brewing with the Indians.”

His lips thinned and his expression grew more serious. “It’s the time of year. The winter has been harsh, so when the wagon trains start through here in earnest, the Indians seize upon that opportunity both to protect their lands and to replenish their supplies. We will be setting out at the end of next week.”

“Will you be gone long?”

“It depends on how widespread the threat is and how successful we are in quelling disturbances.”

Despite her vow not to make this encounter personal, she felt a frisson of alarm on his behalf. “Please, be safe.”

“I will do my duty, but I assure you I will also exercise care for my men and for myself.”

“I will pray for all of you.”

“That can do no harm.”

She eyed him speculatively. “Do you doubt the efficacy of prayer?”

“I cannot say. At times I have felt abandoned by God, but at other times only His grace has saved me.” He stared up at the clouds, now gathering on the horizon. “You could say I’m still searching for answers to such questions.”

“Perhaps we are not supposed to know the mind of The Eternal.”

He picked up her hand. “We’re getting mighty serious here.” He glanced again at the sky. “It’s cooling a bit. Would you favor me with a walk down to the river?”

She should say no, but the hopeful look in his eyes was compelling. Besides, the day was too glorious to go home. “That would be just the thing after indulging in dessert.”

They picked up their plates and returned them to the table where the other women had succeeded in clearing nearly everything away.

“Rose, Effie, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been helping.”

Effie waved her on. “Nonsense, we were all enjoying seeing you and the captain together.”

Lily’s heart sank. Why must a simple conversation be taken for more than it was. She wished now that she hadn’t agreed to the walk.

Caleb moved to thread her arm through his. He nodded to Rose and Effie. “Ladies, may I borrow Miss Lily for a stroll?”

“Enjoy yourselves,” Effie said, nudging Rose in the ribs.

Lily was caught. On the one hand she couldn’t wait to move away from the women and their approving glances. On the other, she wondered why she had ever agreed to the walk.

By now, most of the men had dispersed to their barracks or the taverns beyond the fort. As Lily and Caleb moved into the shade of the trees bordering the river, it felt as if they were entering a private bower. She stooped to finger a tiny white flower. “It’s a joy to see blooms again after such a long winter.”

“In the same way after months of cold weather, it’s great for the men to let off steam with events like this afternoon’s game.”

“Baseball seems a fine, though complicated, game.”

“Perhaps one day I can give you a tutorial on the rules.”

“Perhaps,” she repeated, not wanting to commit to any further meetings. Yet, in the same breath, she knew she didn’t want this day to end.

They came to a place where a fallen log formed a kind of bench. “Shall we sit?” he asked.

She gathered her skirts and sank onto the log, which presented a peaceful view of the stream, overhung with leafy branches.

He joined her. “Sitting here, it’s hard to believe that the world can be in such turmoil.”

“All the more reason, as my mother was wont to say, to live in the day, this day.”

His voice grew husky. “I am pleased to be living this one with you.”

She looked up. The need in his eyes rendered her breathless. Several seconds passed before she could look away. “I treasure our friendship,” she said softly.

For the second time that afternoon, he took her hand in his. “As do I. Perhaps this is a way God has blessed us.”

She was suddenly curious. “What is it that causes us to be friends?”

He ran his thumb over the top of her hand before replying. “You provide a sympathetic ear. We have both experienced loss. We share an interest in literature. We have profound questions about the nature of God.”

Everything he said was true. “I, too, feel as if there are few subjects we cannot discuss.”

He did not relinquish her hand. They sat in companionable silence, listening to birds chirping and watching a squirrel jump from branch to branch in a nearby oak tree. She relaxed into the sheer pleasure of the moment.

Finally she pulled away, leaning back on her hands to study the blue sky, crisscrossed with trails of cloud. “Do you ever miss home?”

“I’ve been in the army so long, home seems like a distant memory.”

“We’ve talked about your mother and sister, but I’ve never known where you grew up.” It suddenly seemed important to fill in the gaps of her knowledge about Caleb.

“I was born in Jefferson City, Missouri. We lived on a small farm just outside of town along the river. My grandfather owned a grist mill. After he died my father took it over, but he was never really happy being confined at the mill. Like him, we kids loved the farm and the freedom to roam. Summertime was the best. We could be gone from dawn until dusk.” He picked up a small twig and twirled it between his palms. “That all seems a long time ago in another time and place. My family relocated to southeastern Kansas a couple of years ago.”

“The war changed a great deal for all of us.” There was no need to elaborate. How could one ever gauge its impact on individual lives? “Papa couldn’t return to Iowa as a doctor. Another man had already taken his place. He’d been so long away that continuing in the military seemed the best alternative.”

“But it uprooted you.”

“I didn’t want to leave. But as my mother said, ‘Sometimes you have do what you’d rather not.’”

Caleb laid aside the twig. “She supported your father, then?”

“Always, at least outwardly.” Now that she thought about it, Lily had even greater appreciation for her mother’s sacrifice—and for her love of her husband. “Wives often have little choice, I suppose.” All the more reason Lily intended to chart her own course.

The drowsy hum of bees and the slow-moving current lulled them both into silence. After an interval, Caleb turned to look at her and said, “I’m growing quite fond of you, Lily Kellogg. If ever I doubted womanhood, you and Sophie have set me straight.”

Lily smiled. “That’s quite a compliment. I know I’m in good company when you mention your sister.”

The lightening of the mood led to a resumption of their stroll. They started back along the riverbank and then moved into the sunlit grassland. On a small hillock slightly off the path, Lily spotted a delicate purple blossom she’d never seen before. With a delighted “Oh,” she scampered on ahead and knelt in the grass. She had just reached out to cup the petals in her hand, when she froze, her heart catapulting in her chest.

At her feet, concealed in the grass near a hole, was a nest of copperheads. One of the larger snakes slithered directly toward her. Paralyzed with fear, she screamed hysterically, “Moses, Moses!”

Chapter Six

M
oses?
Caleb couldn’t fathom why Lily had called out that name, but no matter. He reacted instantly to her urgent cry, running to her and pulling her back from the nest of vipers. She trembled in his arms and her eyes had a distant, glazed expression.

“Oh, oh,” she repeated tremulously. He picked her up, cradling her against his chest and carried her quickly toward the fort.

As they neared the cemetery, she asked him to stop. He headed for a stone bench under a huge sycamore tree and then gently set her down, still encircling her with his arm. Waiting patiently for her to stop shaking, he murmured an occasional “There, there.”

He picked up her hands, noticing how icy they seemed to his warm flesh. Finally, she sighed deeply and relaxed a bit.

“Thank you, Caleb. I’m sorry.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m terrified of snakes.”

“You’ve had a bad experience in the past?”

She nodded, then stood up and paced in front of him, as if that effort could dispel her fears.

“And Moses? Was he part of that experience?”

She stopped in front of him, wringing her hands in the effort to calm herself. “Without him, I doubt I’d be here.”

Caleb waited, knowing he could not rush her story.

Lily glanced around as if assuring herself of their privacy, then settled back on the bench. She began quietly, but in the telling of the tale, her voice grew gradually louder.

“Last summer a troop of buffalo soldiers was stationed here.”

“I have fought with them,” Caleb said, remembering the valiant emancipated slaves who had found a home in the army. “Committed soldiers and generally fine human beings.”

“Alas, not everyone here thought so. Some of the white soldiers treated them shamefully. They were good hospital workers and were more orderly than most of the men.”

That had been Caleb’s experience, as well. He nodded, encouraging her to go on with her tale.

“One August day, I went out on the prairie behind the officers’ quarters to collect sunflowers, growing wild there, for a bouquet to put on the table for my father’s birthday.” She hesitated as if not wanting to face her memory. “Moses, along with a few other buffalo soldiers, was in a nearby field, hoeing weeds. I had gathered an armful of sunflowers when I heard an unmistakable, spine-tingling sound.”

“Rattles?”

She shivered. “Yes. I froze. Tears ran down my cheeks, and I clutched the flowers as if they would somehow protect me. Then I spotted the snake, coiled not six feet from me. So great was my terror that it seemed as if all sound but that of the rattling had vanished.

“Then as if from a great distance, I heard myself screaming. Moses raced past me, his hoe raised over his shoulder, and then with one mighty swing, he chopped the snake in half. I could neither look away from the severed reptile’s gyrating body, nor could I move.

“Before I could scream again, Moses came to my side, not daring, of course, to touch me. ‘Whoa, easy, missy,’ he said in a deep, gentle voice. ‘You be all right. Mister Rattler gone to his maker. Moses saw to that. You can be breathing again. He won’t hurt you no more.’”

Caleb silently thanked God for Moses. “No wonder you were so frightened today.”

“If it hadn’t been for Moses...” She shuddered. “From then on, we had a special bond. I would slip him pastries and help him write letters home. I was sad when he left Fort Larned, but proud of him. He had made corporal. I still correspond with him occasionally.”

“I hold the buffalo soldiers in highest regard and, along with you, regret the abuse and harsh treatment they often receive. They, too, are God’s creatures with the same needs and hopes as the rest of us.”

She looked up at him as if with newfound interest. “Except to my family, I’ve never dared speak of my friendship—that’s the only accurate word—with Moses, nor my gratitude to him. He not only saved my life, but taught me a great deal about tolerance.”

“Then perhaps your scare with the snake served God’s purpose.”

For the first time in many minutes, she smiled. “Perhaps, sir. But I still do...not...like...snakes.” She drew out each word by way of emphasis. “And there won’t always be a Moses or a Caleb to rescue me.”

He recognized the truth of her words. They sat quietly for a time, resting. It was as if the effort to tell the story had exhausted her. Finally he said, “Are you ready for home?”

Nodding, she stood, then faced him. “I’m not usually such a frail flower. Thank you for saving me for the second time.”

In her eyes he read such vulnerability and affection that without stopping to think, he drew her into his arms and laid her head against his chest. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” he murmured.

She remained in his arms while time seemed to stand still, then drew a deep breath and stood back, searching his face as if seeking some impenetrable answer. “You do me great honor, Captain.”

With a racing heart, he sought to regain a semblance of normalcy. The woman had a dangerous way of making him forget caution. “Caleb?”

She ran a hand up and down his sleeve, as if appreciating their customary name game. “Oh, yes,” she agreed. “Caleb.”

Then she took his arm and together they walked toward her home.

On the way, they passed the barren ground and charred timbers standing in mute testimony to the fire that had destroyed the buffalo soldiers’ stable the previous January. A fire, she told him, believed to have been set by some bigoted person objecting to the buffalo soldiers’ presence at the fort.

As they skirted the scene, Caleb heard Lily whisper the poet’s words he had often muttered himself, “‘Man’s inhumanity to man.’”

* * *

Caleb walked slowly across the parade ground toward his quarters, thinking about Lily. He didn’t often find someone with whom he could share his views about emancipation. Many of his comrades from the North had shared his revulsion over the concept of slavery, but others were openly hostile about giving freedmen the right to vote. As for the buffalo soldiers, Caleb had found most of them to be decent fellows. One sergeant with whom he had fought had been a house slave in Virginia whose master had treated him so humanely that the soldier was at least as literate as Caleb himself. Reaching the porch, Caleb reflected how interesting it was that Lily’s experiences with the buffalo soldiers mirrored his own.

When he entered his quarters, Will was seated at the table, writing a letter. He looked up and grinned at Caleb. “Out sparking, were you?”

“Sparking?”

“That is surely what it looked like to me. Sitting with that pretty Miss Lily fawning over her dessert and then taking a bit of a stroll. Reminds me of how I courted Fannie.”

Caleb was still trying to understand. “Sparking? Courting? Is that what you think I was doing?”

“The signs are all there, Cap’n.”

Caleb collapsed onto a wooden bench. “We’re just friends.”

“Are you convinced that’s all?”

“Friendship. That’s all I’ve ever intended.”

Will laid down the pen and faced him. “That, my friend, is how it always starts, at least if the relationship has any future. Think about Fannie and me. If she says yes to my proposal, and I pray she will, then I’ll be marrying not only my sweetheart, but my best friend.”

“Marrying? Why, that’s the furthest thing from my mind.”

Will shot him a knowing look and before turning back to his letter, he simply said, “We’ll see. But if I was a wagering man...” He let the sentence die.

Suddenly feeling confined by the four walls of the room, Caleb headed for the door, grateful for the cooler evening air. He stood on the porch, his thoughts aboil, Will’s words flustering him. Courting? Was that what others thought he was doing? Worse yet, could that be Lily’s interpretation of his behavior, even though they both kept emphasizing friendship as the basis for their relationship?

If he was brutally honest, Caleb had to admit to flights of fancy where he’d imagined himself in the future with a wife like Lily. But that was a long ways down the road. Not now. Not here.

He shut his eyes against unwelcome memories of Rebecca. He had courted her once. He had loved her and, more fool he, had believed his affection was returned. He grunted in disgust. Not only was she faithless, but she had betrayed him with a man he had considered his friend. Will Creekmore’s insinuations about Lily had struck fear in his heart. No man walks twice into the same trap.

He sank down on the top step of the porch, his elbows on his knees, hands dangling. Had he given Lily a false impression? Truth be told, he had come close to kissing her on a couple of occasions and had enjoyed holding her in his arms, but any fellow would be likewise tempted. He tried replaying their encounters in his mind. Surely he’d never been less than gentlemanly.

The problem was, he would now have to be more guarded around her, lest he mislead her. Anyway, how could he possibly fall in love when his future was uncertain and his past was a cautionary lesson? Beyond that, how could he inflict his nightmares on Lily or any woman? What kind of a man could expect a wife to share his demons? Or exorcise them?

For a moment, he wished he was like Will Creekmore, so sure of his love and confident about his future. Caleb assumed he would one day find a suitable mate, but the timing was all wrong now. In some ways it was a pity because it would be difficult to ever find someone as intelligent and compassionate as Lily.

* * *

Following the snake scare, Lily had experienced even greater difficulty abiding life on the prairie with all its hidden dangers. Despite the lack of an enclosed note, the latest package from Aunt Lavinia, containing new issues of
Peterson’s Magazine
and programmes from concerts, had only whetted her desire to escape. Her sole refuges were the hospital, where work kept dissatisfaction at bay, and the library, where she could lose herself in a book.

With Effie Hurlburt’s help, she was recruiting a group to offer a poetry reading during the first week in June. One of the Scots in the cavalry had volunteered to read Robert Burns’s “To a Mouse,” and Colonel Hurlburt had agreed to render Longfellow’s “The Wreck of the Hesperus.” Lily hoped Caleb would consent to read from
Paradise Lost,
but his troop was still out on a foray to root out small bands of Pawnees intent on preying upon the wagon trains.

One afternoon she and Effie found themselves alone in the quiet of the library as they searched for possible poems to include in the reading. Effie pulled out a slim volume including Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet “How Do I Love Thee?” and handed the book to Lily. “This is a moving poem. Amid all the rough-and-tumble of the men’s lives, they need an occasional sentimental touch. This might even bring a tear to the eye.”

Lily scanned the familiar poem cataloging the forms of true love. For an unknown reason, she found herself profoundly moved. Such a love as that described by the poetess was rare.

“Well?” Effie asked. “Would you be willing to read it?”

“Me?”

“Yes. The words lend themselves to a gentle female voice. I know you could do it justice.”

“You have more experience of love than I.”

“Experience? Yes. But there is nothing like the first tender beginnings of a romance.”

“I know nothing of that, either.”

Effie responded with an affectionate smile. “Are you so sure, my dear? The way you and Captain Montgomery look at one another is enough to remind me of those heady first days with Hurly.”

Lily was appalled. How could Effie jump to such a conclusion? “I don’t mean to be rude, but you are mistaken if you think there is aught but friendship between the captain and me.” She felt a compelling need to set the record straight. “In fact, I plan within a matter of months to be on my way to St. Louis to visit my aunt Lavinia. It is there I hope to establish my future.”

If she had thought to sidetrack Effie, she was mistaken. “Be that as it may, Lily, I know a love match when I see one.” Effie turned and replaced the book of poetry on the shelf. “Time will tell,” she murmured.

Later that evening when a serious case of malaria required her presence in the hospital, Lily welcomed the distraction. As the patients fell asleep one by one, she found herself sitting quietly through the early hours of the morning with only her thoughts for company. Surely Effie was wrong. Caleb had always made it clear that theirs was a friendship, nothing more. Surely it was her
friend
she was missing while his troop was out in the field, because she had to admit, she often wondered about Caleb and prayed for his safety and that of his men. Any friend would do likewise.

Love was something altogether different. As Elizabeth Barrett Browning had put it, “I love thee to the depth and breadth and height / My soul can reach...” Could a person ever achieve that degree of affection with another? Why Effie would think her capable of such feeling for Caleb, she couldn’t imagine.

Irritated by that line of thinking, Lily rose from her chair and walked slowly through the ward, checking on the men. She could not explain why she was terrified of snakes, but able to deal calmly with unpleasant illnesses and ugly wounds, even finding in her nursing a kind of fulfillment. Perhaps the answer lay in the fact that she felt useful and skillful.

She settled back in her chair and was nodding off when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to find her father looking at her with concern. “Are you all right, daughter?”

“I’m fine, Papa. The men have been quite peaceful.”

“Why don’t you slip on home and get some rest now that I’m here?”

She stood and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.” She paused and then went on. “And thank you for giving me this training and the opportunity to be of use.”

“Lily, you are a highly qualified nurse, and I am proud of your dedication and skill.”

Later as Lily slipped into bed beside Rose, she glowed. That was high praise from her father. Just before falling asleep she mused that it had been a strange day. First Effie’s misconceptions about her relationship with Captain Montgomery, the thoughts about love the poem had raised for her and now her father’s rare and heartfelt compliment. Yet a niggling concern persisted. How would she use her skills in St. Louis? She doubted the crowd Lavinia moved among thought it fitting for a young woman to minister to the needs of the ailing or maimed.