Lost Cause (20 page)

“I’ve just left Carl. He seems rather
down.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

Jack thought about how he’d felt after his
shoulder surgery; the feeling of deadness and profound sadness.
“Carl has a strong constitution,” he said. “I’ll lay odds on him
recovering just fine.”

Nurse Mason stood to her feet and placed her
hands on her hips and stretched her back groaning softly from the
effort. “I hope we get to Laredo soon, she said “I’m sick of
traveling in these dirty wet wagons.”

“The scouts say we’ll be there about mid
morning tomorrow. Do you know if they have a hospital in town?”

“Yes, they had two before the war.”

“Good, these men can get some care in a
proper place.”

“How was Marie when last you saw her?” the
nurse asked. Jack was taken off guard by the question and he had to
take a moment to steady himself before answering.

“She was fine, Nurse Mason, just fine.”

“That’s so. . . cryptic. What do you mean,
fine?”

“She was well. She seemed fine.”

“How did she like the hospital there in
Corpus Christi?’

“Fine.”

“My goodness, Corporal Saylor, you are a hard
man to have a conversation with.”

“Sorry.”

“I was just wondering how her spirits were.
She was very fond of you. That’s why she begged for the transfer.
Was she terribly hurt when you were dispatched back to
Brownsville?”

“No, ma’am, she seemed fine.”

“Fine. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take these
fine instruments back to the fine ambulance,” She walked away
leaving Jack scratching his head wondering what he had said
wrong.

Chapter 32

The convoy arrived in Laredo around ten in
the morning. The ambulances were directed to a hospital on Taylor
Street and the supply wagons to Camp Crawford just outside town
near Chacon Creek. There was a small contingent of troops at the
camp commanded by a lieutenant named Broder. Colonel Ford convened
a meeting of the officers while the enlisted men including Jack set
about expanding the camp to accommodate the newly arrived infantry
and what was left of the Calvary. They set up tents and dug latrine
pits and strung rope remudas for the horses and, most importantly,
erected a large canvas tent for the mess crew.

Jack staked out a six man tent near the mess
tent and convinced the other four men to save one cot for Campbell
when he was well enough to leave the hospital. The men were from
Sibley’s command and had been in Laredo for two months to help keep
the roads open so cotton wagons could cross the border into Mexico.
So far, the men said, there hadn’t been any trouble, but rumors
were going around that Union troops were on their way up from
Brownsville to burn the 500 hundred bales of cotton stored near San
Augustin Plaza.

“We never should have retreated from
Brownsville,” Jack said in response to the news.

“We heard ya’ll was way out numbered,” one of
the soldiers said.

“About two to one. Still, we should have
stayed and fought.

“I hope they do come,” another man said.
“They killed my brother down at Sabine Pass last fall. I’m itchin’
to take my vengeance.”

They talked about the war for a while and
their homes and their families then lunch was ready and they all
piled into the mess tent for beans and flour tortillas and a thick
sauce made of tomatoes and hot green chilies. Jack was on his
second bowl when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw
the smiling face of the young priest from Brownsville.

“Padre! Damn it’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Jack. You’re looking. .
.adequate.”

“Sit down, Padre, please have a seat. It’s
good to see you. How long have you been here?”

“Just got in last night. There were Union
soldiers on the road. But the horse you gave me was very
surefooted. I just stayed behind the trees until I passed
them.”

“Did they take the town?” The priest nodded
and removed his hat.

“About two hundred strong as best I could
tell. They were very cruel to the people too. Their surgeon didn’t
even try to treat the wounded we left behind. There was nothing I
could do for them, so I left before they came for me.”

“I’m glad you did, Padre,” Jack said. “I
missed talking with you.”

“How is your friend, Campbell?”

“He was wounded again. But he’s recuperating
in the hospital.”

“Good, good. You seem to have some injuries
of your own.”

“Have some food, Padre and I’ll tell you all
about it.”

The priest went to work on a bowl of beans
and Jack filled him in on the details of the Indian attack. When he
was finished, the priest said,

“It is a shame we have to fight two enemies
at once.”

“The Kickapoos didn’t invite us into their
territory,” Jack said. “It was that old slaver that stirred them
up. If he hadn’t bought those girls, then maybe—”

“Now you have a problem with the buying of
people?” the priest interjected.

“Something just didn’t sit right about buying
those girls.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m used to seeing
blacks sold at auction. I never considered that others could be
marketed as well.”

“Gives you food for thought now doesn’t it,
Jack?” the priest said tapping the bowl with his spoon. Jack
grinned broadly at the pun and gave the priest’s shoulder a gentle
squeeze.

“I’m so glad you’re back. Now I have someone
to straighten out my thinking.” Then his smile faded and he pushed
aside his empty bowl. “You know, Padre, I’m not Catholic, right?”
The priest nodded and Jack said, “Would it still be alright if I
confessed something to you? I mean, that’s what Catholics do,
right?” Confess to a priest, I mean?”

“Yes, Jack, I could hear your confession. But
if you’re not familiar with our traditions, I fear that it won’t do
any good.”

“What traditions?”

“Penance, Our Father, Hail Mary, some of our
most sacred rituals.”

“I could learn them, right?” The priest
leaned back in his chair and looked at Jack for a long time.
Finally he said,

“You don’t really want to convert to
Catholicism, Jack. But you do need someone to talk to. Tell you
what, we’ll find a private place somewhere and you can tell me
what’s on your mind. Just let me know when and where.”

The where tuned out to be a diner about two
hundred yards from the camp. The when was an hour after Taps. They
sat at a little rickety table in the back drinking coffee. “So what
is it that’s bothering you, my friend?” the priest asked.

“It’s sort of personal.”

“I’m a priest. Personal is what I do.”

“Nurse Hayes.”

“Yes?”

“We, uh, we were intimate during our time
together in Corpus Christi.”

“Well, since you were not married, that would
be considered fornication, which is a forgivable sin.”

“And she became pregnant.”

“Oh, that complicates things.”

“And. . .and, she destroyed the child.”. The
priest remained very still for a time his eyes on Jack’s.

“That is a terrible sin indeed,” he said a
moment later. “Taking the life of an innocent is an
abomination.”

“Can she be forgiven, Padre?”

“All sin save suicide is forgivable, Jack.
But she is the one who sinned by killing the child. She will have
to repent and ask for forgiveness for herself.”

“So, there’s nothing I can do to help? Maybe
one of those ritual things you mentioned?”

“No, Jack. God the Father is interested in
the heart, not ritual.”

“So why do you do all that ceremony, and wear
all those robes?”

“Like I said, tradition. It helps build
people’s faith, But I know God hears me whether I’m wearing my best
priestly garments, or I’m lying on my face stark naked weeping over
my sin.”

“Your sin?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“So, what am I going to do, Padre?”

“I know it sounds simplistic, my dear, Jack,
but pray. Get on your face tonight and pray your heart out.”

Chapter 33

Jack did pray, and weep and prayed some more,
crying out to God on behalf of Marie Hayes. He’d found a private
spot down by the creek among the switch grass and water lilies and
stretched out on the cool grass and begged a God he knew nothing
about to forgive Marie and bring her to him so he could get her to
the priest and have him pray her sins away. At first he felt silly
when he prayed, but desperation gripped him like a cold hand and he
prayed every religious word he could think of. The night was clear
and the moon was large and yellow in the dark sky. It was a very
pleasant night, made all the more so by a gentle southerly breeze.
At the far end of the camp Chacon Creek gurgled away in the shadow
of a stand of cottonwood trees. The water was dark and white-capped
and flowed very swiftly toward the Rio Grande more than a mile
away.

Jack lay down on the ground and looked up at
the moon and tried not to think about anything sad. It was an
impossible effort, though, there were so many sad thoughts to
contemplate. He found himself missing his captain, though the man
had never been anything more than his commanding officer. It was
uncommon for officers and enlisted men to become friendly, but Jack
had had a level of respect for Captain Ross like no other man he’d
ever known, even his father who had died of a brain hemorrhage when
Jack was ten years old. Jack knew virtually nothing about Ross’s
background. He’d heard once that he hailed from Palo Pinto County
and had been a circuit judge before the war. Other than that, the
only thing Jack knew about him was that he was a dedicated officer
with a fierce loyalty to the Confederacy.

He tried not to think about Marie Hayes, but
the image of her standing in the shadow of the shop in Corpus
Christi with the rain mingling with her tears just would not leave
his mind. After hearing that she had aborted their child, he wanted
to get far away from her and forget he’d ever met her. But he was
finding that to be an impossible task. The sight of the priest had
brought back all those memories he had managed to suppress since
leaving Corpus Christi for Brownsville. He wanted to forget about
Marie Hayes and the love they had shared, but he had no real hope
that would happen. Feeling sad and frustrated and hollow, he
returned to the tent and willed himself to go to sleep.

The next morning Jack was tired and his head
hurt. Nevertheless he had morning drills to deal with, then work on
the remuda to perform and weapons to clean and boots to shine.
After all the work was completed he made his way to the mess tent
for some bacon and flapjacks. The priest was there having coffee
and chatting with some of the men. “Come join us, Corporal Saylor,”
he said pushing a chair Jack’s way.

Jack sat and the priest poured coffee and
Jack ate bacon and the men seated around the table chatted about
the war and the weather and the quality of the food.

“You look tired, Jack,” the priest said. “Did
you not sleep well?”

“Not at all?”

“Did you take my advice?”

“I did. Thus the reason for my troubled
sleep.”

“The Lord has a way of troubling one’s
sleep.”

“I was thinking it was the biscuits I ate
yesterday.”

A private approached the table and informed
the men that Colonel Ford was convening an urgent meeting by the
armory. Jack followed the men across the bare muddy field and stood
formation with the other members of his regiment. The Colonel took
his place near the front of the assembly and called forward a young
man with broad shoulders and eyes the same color as boot leather.
“Gentleman,” the colonel said. “this is Lieutenant Burke Caldwell.
He will be your new regimental commander.” The colonel removed a
sheet of paper from his pocket, as well as a pair of captain’s bars
and said, “By the authority granted to me by General McGruder, I’m
promoting the lieutenant to the rank of captain effective
immediately.” A few murmurs went through the ranks and a sergeant
near the front called for quiet. Everyone fell silent and Colonel
Ford said, “Corporal Saylor, come forward please.” Jack worked his
way through the formation and stood at attention in front of the
colonel staring straight ahead. “Soldier, you’re out of uniform,”
Colonel Ford said curtly. Then he reached into his pocket and
produced a pair of sergeant stripes. “Corporal Saylor, you are
hereby promoted to the rank of Sergeant First Class.” A muted cheer
rose up and the colonel shook Jack’s hand and the newly promoted
captain shook his hand and Jack looked down in amazement at the
yellow chevrons in his hand.

Later at mess Jack sat at a table wearing his
new stripes. The men of his regiment took turns congratulating him
and a private named Doyle said, “Guess you’ll be moving out of our
tent now. NCO’s have much nicer quarters over by the provost
office.”

“You’re sitting at the wrong table,” another
man said. “You’re supposed to be over there with the big
shots.”

“You’ll be getting your own squad and leading
drills from now on too,” Doyle said with a half grin.

Jack was a little overwhelmed by all the
attention. He certainly hadn’t expected to be promoted to sergeant
and he had some serious doubt that he could live up to the
responsibility. The priest was delighted by the news, however.
“They picked the right man,” he said shaking Jack’s hand.

“Sorry, Padre, I just don’t see it.”

“The way you risked your life to see Corporal
Campbell rescued is reason enough to promote you,” the priest
said.

“That’s nothing to crow about. I’d have done
the same thing for him.”

“You’re a hero, Jack. And now a sergeant.
Just be grateful for the blessing.”

“Blessing?”

“All good things come from God.”

“There you go again, speaking of God as if he
cared anything for a rogue like me.”