Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 (45 page)

She turned and ran through the cabin and down the front steps, flinging herself into a soft, fragrant bed of periwinkles. But she didn’t care about the flowers or their sweetness. The tears that came were bitter, angry—with herself for being so weak as to fall sick and delay their journey and with David for not caring about any of it anymore.

She felt someone behind her, turned her head to see that it was David, then looked away as she said, “You don’t care anymore what happens to anyone, David, but yourself.”

“Maybe.” He spoke quietly, almost apologetically. “But I do care what happens to one other person, Kitty, and that’s you. That’s what I’d hoped you’d see before now, that I’m only trying to protect you, keep you from danger.”

He sat down, and she turned to stare at him incredulously. “You never meant to take me to Nathan, did you? You only pretended to be taking me there, until you could find a place to…to squat, like the nesters back home—and you found the Gentrys, after they’d lost two sons, and they took you in because I was sick and you were like a son come home wounded from the war. You took advantage of them.”

It was all falling into place. She pulled herself up to a sitting position, and he wouldn’t meet her gaze as she rushed on. “You couldn’t take me home, because you’ve got a wife there! So you wanted to stay here, pretend the war didn’t exist, your wife didn’t exist, or Nathan—any of it!”

She was gasping for breath, body heaving, overcome with the realization of the trap she had fallen into. Finally, he lifted his watery eyes to meet her cold stare and said, “I’ve always loved you, Kitty. Nathan’s not good enough for you. He never was. And you don’t know what he’s like now, but I do. He’s a coward, hiding behind the uniform of an officer and seeking glory in other men’s blood. I didn’t want you to see that, and I didn’t want to lose you. We can be happy here, all of us. I’ve told the Gentrys the whole story, and they want us to stay.”

“You are mad!” She got to her feet, afraid that if she didn’t get away from him she would rake her nails down his face. She fought to remember that his mind was warped.

She began walking toward the cabin, but David was right behind her, screaming like an angry child in the midst of a tantrum. “Just where do you think you’re going? War is all around us. Our only hope is to stay here, give aid to both sides, and stay out of the war completely. Hooker’s got over a hundred thousand soldiers, they say, and he’s headed straight for Richmond. The Yankees are going to win, and Nathan and all the other fools are going to die!”

Kitty lapsed into an icy silence, refusing to speak to David, Mark, or Lucille. They left her alone, whispering that she would come around. They went to bed early that night, leaving her alone on the porch. They were all mad, she thought, terrified to stay another minute in the cabin. Her heart went out to David, but she had her own life to live. And she ached for the Gentrys, who’d lost their family and now thought they’d found another, ready-made. But it was not time for sympathies. Kitty felt that she had to get away as quickly as possible, and as soon as she was confident they were all asleep, she led her horse from the barn and rode east toward Virginia and, she prayed, toward the Confederate lines.

Meeting settlers along the way, Kitty received enough food and water to keep her going. She would rest only a few hours at a time, wanting to keep on the move. Finally, after riding for almost five days, she came upon a company of soldiers dressed in tattered gray uniforms. When she told them she was a nurse from North Carolina, some of them broke into tears of joy. They’d gotten separated from their main brigade and they had many wounded. She was put to work with a hospital wagon as the company tried to find its way back into battle. Their only doctor had succumbed to disease, and Kitty was all they had to treat their wounded.

Bone-tired and so weary that day turned to night without her even noticing, Kitty was shocked the day someone shouted they were outside Richmond.

“Richmond?” She left the side of a soldier with a gaping head wound, who would soon die. “But I thought Richmond would have fallen by now.”

“Hooker got his ass beat!” A grizzly soldier with one leg called out jubilantly from the roadside where he stood leaning against a crutch, watching the company move slowly by. “General Lee done run him off!”

The soldiers were ecstatic. Kitty was anxious to hear more, but the dying soldier needed her attention. She sat next to him, straining to hear his last words. Send his Bible to his mother, he instructed in garbled words. Write her and tell her he was ready to go and meet his God. She was not to worry. He was ready to die. Kitty could not be sure that he understood that she was promising him she would carry out his last request. Somewhere in a little town down in south Alabama, a loving, fearful mother would weep over the bloodstained Bible Kitty would send to her, comforted only by the knowledge that her son felt he was ready to go and meet his Maker.

The soldier gave one last gasp and died. Kitty pulled the bloodied blanket over his face and then climbed down out of the wagon. The company had stopped, eager to hear news of the war.

They were saying that Hooker got more than seventy thousand men placed around Chancellorsville, a crossroads about a dozen miles back of Lee’s left flank, and his cavalry went swooping quickly down to cut into the Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Potomac Railroad farther south. General Lee, however, ignored the cavalry raid and used Jeb Stuart’s cavalry to control the roads around Chancellorsville—and Hooker had been unable to find out just where the Rebels were. Bewildered, Hooker had called a halt and sent his troops out into sketchy fieldworks near Chancellorsville, instead of going on to more open country a few miles to the east.

It was then that General Lee split his army up into three groups and gave the cocky Joe Hooker a lesson in tactics. Everyone was singing Lee’s praises. He had left part of his men at Fredericksburg, Virginia, to make sure that the Union army left there could not do anything damaging. Then, it was said, he took about forty-five thousand men into Chancellorsville to face Hooker. And, sizing up the situation, he gave Stonewall Jackson over twenty-five thousand men, sending him on a long swing around Hooker’s exposed right. And two hours before dark on the second of May, 1863, Stonewall Jackson hit that right flank with the force of a million sledgehammers, shattering it to pieces and driving a whole Yankee army corps into wild rout—knocking Hooker’s army apart from its readied position.

Several more days of confused and desperate fighting went on all around Chancellorsville clearing and back to Fredericksburg, The Federals forced a crossing but found they could not accomplish anything, and Hooker quickly retreated, pulling his troops north of the Rappahannock.

“Bet he lost over fifteen thousand men and more,” someone cried out. “He let an army half his size cut him all to pieces. How about the old fool? And he thought he could take Richmond!”

Cheers went up. Chancellorsville was easily General Lee’s most brilliant victory, they were all saying, but then another voice cut into the joyous description of the battle and a quiet sadness spread like a giant shroud over everyone present.

“Stonewall Jackson is dead,” came the word. The irony was, Kitty realized painfully, that the great General had been accidentally shot down by his own troops in the confused fighting of the thickets.

A great, great man had died.

They moved on toward Richmond, and when they arrived, Kitty was greeted by an officer who welcomed her and stated how sorely she was needed in the hospital compounds.

“And I’d like nothing better than to get right to work,” Kitty told him honestly, “but I’m so tired I would do no one any good, sir. I can’t even remember the last time I slept.” Even as she spoke, she was swaying where she stood.

“That’s right, sir,” the driver of the hospital wagon she’d occupied was saying quickly. “She’s been with our men day and night for days. I can’t remember how long exactly. We picked her up along the way.”

The officer was instantly apologetic. “Forgive me. I had no idea. We’ve been in such turmoil here the past few days.” He turned to the driver. “Take her to my tent. See that she’s given food and water. Place a guard outside to see that she isn’t disturbed for as long as necessary.”

Kitty leaned against the soldier, closing her eyes wearily. Had she ever been so tired? But at least she could be thankful that at last she was among her own people. Hooker’s plan had not worked. Richmond still belonged to the Confederates, and perhaps somewhere she could find Nathan, even though the city, a bustling hub of activity, was big and filled with civilians and soldiers.

She was not aware of how long she had slept, but suddenly she awoke, her stomach rumbling from hunger. A delicious odor reached her nostrils, when suddenly a soldier entered with a bowl of hot chicken stew and a cup of steaming tea. She devoured the food greedily, and was almost finished when the officer who had greeted her appeared.

“Miss Wright, how do you feel?”

“Much better, now that I’ve rested.”

He nodded. “I’ve been asking some questions and I hear you’ve really done a fine job for the Confederacy. I want you to know that we appreciate all you did for those soldiers.”

He was a stout, balding man, with a dark beard and deep, piercing eyes that boasted of his command and authority. “I understand you’re looking for an officer, a Major, named Nathan Collins from North Carolina. Is this true?”

“He may be dead now,” she said dully, hopelessly. “I don’t know what to do. I’m just thankful I’m here, back with my own people, away from the Yankees. If you’ll let me, I’d like to work at a hospital here.”

“I’m quite sure that can be arranged. What I would like to do now is have you taken into town and given a room at a hotel there. Rest is what you need, and comfort, and you’ll find neither here in this camp at the moment. I’ve arranged for one of my men to take you, if you feel like traveling a few more miles.”

Rest? Comfort? It seemed like a dream, but nothing had seemed real for the past few years.

Once she was in her room, Kitty walked about and touched each piece of furniture lovingly. There was a marble-topped washstand on which sat a delicately hand-painted porcelain pitcher and bowl, and a high, four-postered bed with a dainty blue spread and a lacy canopy to match. The chairs were carved in ornate designs, the seats were covered in fancy tapestry, and upon the floor there were imported velvet rugs. It was so beautiful, all of it.

She thought of the months spent sleeping on beds of prickly pine needles, with a saddle for a pillow and only a thin blanket for cover.

She fought to hold back the tears. Lately, she was given more and more to crying, a weakness she detested. But what difference did it make? If Travis had lived, he was nothing to her, and he would also hate her for tricking him as she had.

Think of something else
, she commanded herself. Walking quickly to the little wooden writing desk standing against a far wall, she remembered that she could write to her mother and let her know that she was alive and well and would come home when she could. Right now, she had to remain in Richmond and wait, and pray, that Nathan would come and find her.

There was an open Bible on the desk, and a small newspaper clipping lying in the center fold. The clipping had been torn from the pages of the
Richmond Daily Dispatch
on May 12, 1862, almost a year ago. Her eyes read the printed lines:

Then call us Rebels, if you will,

We glory in the name,

For bending under unjust laws,

And swearing faith to an unjust cause,

We count as greater shame.

Eyes misting, Kitty no longer tried to hold back the tears. She sank down onto the bench and cried, letting all the pent-up frustrations and grief pour out. She was crying so hard that she did not hear the knock on the door nor the sound of it opening behind her.

“Oh, dear, are you ill?”

She whirled about. A small, thin woman, perhaps in her late thirties, stood there with several garments across her arms. Her hair was drawn back in a tight bun, and she wore a plain gray muslin dress. The eyes were kind, concerned, and Kitty could already feel the warm friendliness emanating from the woman’s presence.

“I guess I’ve been holding it back. I’m sorry.” Kitty dabbed at her eyes with her bloodstained hem.

The woman walked on into the room, spread the dresses upon the bed, then stepped back. “I’m Mary Culpepper. My husband is Captain Dawson Culpepper, a member of General Lee’s staff. He brought you here, I believe.”

“Oh, yes. He’s very kind.”

Mary Culpepper smiled. “Now don’t you go praising others, Kitty Wright. We’ve all heard about you and what you’ve been through. We also know you’ve worked day and night helping the sick and wounded, and we’re all so very grateful.”

“Thank you,” Kitty murmured, instantly liking the woman. “Where I come from, back in North Carolina, people thought I was crazy because I wanted to be a doctor.”

Mary laughed. “Wait till you meet Sally Tompkins. She’s taken over an old mansion here in Richmond and made it into a hospital. She’s been running it since right after the First Battle of Manassas, in July, back in sixty-one. It’s called the Chimborazo Hospital. President Davis is so impressed with her work that he made her a cavalry Captain to regularize her status so she could continue working under government auspices.

“So far, she’s the only woman who holds an official military commission.”

“That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to meet her. I’ve never had the pleasure of being in the company of another woman who was interested in medicine also.” Kitty was almost exuberant. “Perhaps she’ll let me work there, too.”

“Just you try to get out of working there,” Mary laughed. “There are nuns who help out, the Sisters of Charity. Oh, the hospital has grown so much since it was first founded. Some say the count of those treated so far is over forty thousand, maybe even fifty thousand. Can you imagine? I read in a newspaper that it’s believed to be the largest hospital in the whole world. I’ll see that you get to visit out there as soon as you’ve had some proper rest. My, you look pale, child.”