Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 (46 page)

There was another knock on the door, and Mary hastened to answer. Then a parade of servants began. First came the large tub, then buckets of hot water to be poured into it.

“I’ll leave you now,” Mary said, pouring a bottle of perfume into the bath water. “You choose whichever dress you’d like to wear tonight. My husband is coming for you, and you’re to dine with us.”

Slipping into the water,
Kitty sighed deliciously. Soaking till the water turned too cold, she toweled herself dry, rubbed her hair until it was only slightly damp and able to be twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck.

She tried on a yellow silk dress with lace trim, and the fit was not too bad. Surveying herself in a full-length mirror, she found it difficult to recognize the woman who had dressed as a Yankee soldier, ridden a horse like a man, worked endless hours trying to piece bodies back together—and lain naked in the pine straw bed in the mountains of Tennessee in the arms of a Federal cavalryman.

But she was
here
now, she reminded herself, here with her own kind, where she belonged. And the little flicker of hope was starting to come alive, the hope that maybe, just maybe, Nathan might be alive—somewhere close by!

What would she tell him about her past? He would know that Luke Tate had raped her—that she was no longer pure and innocent. But Travis was another story. That was a memory that had to remain locked in her heart forever She was afraid that if she tried to explain how it was, then something might come out that would show her own confusion as to her real feelings for the man. Nathan might wonder and, dear God, he already would have enough to absorb if ever they should meet again.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kitty found herself in the midst of another world. Richmond, Virginia, while very aware of the hellish war going on all around it, still continued to flourish with social activities. When units departed for camp, there was a whirl of parties, balls, and religious services. Once the volunteers were in camp, the ladies busied themselves with suppers, bazaars, dances, and other projects to raise funds for their brave defenders. And when soldiers returned home on furlough, they were always treated to a round of social events. They were invited into private homes to talk, sing, and play parlor games.

Kitty heard, also, that the glamorous and gregarious Generals like Stuart, Beauregard, and Morgan—always honored guests at parties and dinners—were showered with attention by females wherever they went. She wondered, a bit jealously, if Nathan were also treated in such a manner. He was handsome and dashing. Women always glanced at him a second time; some flirted openly.

There was a side to life in Richmond, despite the war, that Kitty had never participated in—dances, charades, tableaux, theatricals, musical concerts, receptions, fancy dinners. But as Mary explained about these, Kitty was unimpressed and not interested. How could she make merry and seek entertainment when her heart was breaking? Andy was somewhere out there fighting with the Yankees; David Stoner, whose mental state was questionable, had stayed behind; she worried about her mother and feared for her father; and beneath it all lay the smoldering love for Nathan, mingled with the twisting guilt she felt over Travis’s death. And if he were alive, by some miracle, he must surely hate her, and she had to keep telling herself it did
not
matter. She could not let anything in the past matter. Work was important, helping the sick and wounded. Think about the war, the future. She could not dwell on the past and keep her sanity.

It was almost a week before Captain Culpepper arrived with the news that General Lee had requested that she visit with him.

“You look frightened,” the Captain said, laughing as she stood there wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

She blinked. “I guess I’m stunned that he really wants to help me. After all, I’m just another civilian, and General Robert E. Lee has the weight of the whole South on his shoulders right now.”

“You don’t know much about him if you think you’re just another civilian to him.” The Captain spoke with a touch of reverence. “He’s one of the most thoughtful men I’ve ever known. He has great compassion for his fellow man. When I told him how you’ve been helping with the wounded, and what little I know of the suffering you’ve endured at the hands of the Yankees, well, General Lee felt that the least he could do was talk with you about your Major, whom you’re trying to locate.”

The next afternoon Kitty found herself in a carriage being taken to the site where Lee’s army was encamped. She was surprised to learn that he lived in a tent. Captain Culpepper explained that the General insisted upon a tent, due to his fear that the enemy might take reprisals on any family whose hospitality he might accept.

“I think,” he added, “that he might just want to be easily accessible to his staff and his men. There’s never a sentry or an orderly needed to protect the cluster of our headquarters’ tents from any intruders. The men have such a reverent respect for Lee that it forms an invisible wall around him.”

Richmond was the heart of the Confederacy, and however inadequately the supply system operated, Richmond was the supply center for all of Lee’s army, with roads and railroads leading to all points of the compass and with a canal to the west. It was the medical center which had grown to accommodate about twenty thousand sick and wounded, and it was also the center of the interlocking system of private and government manufacture of arms, ammunition, and war materiel.

As the carriage moved through the city, Kitty viewed the houses, some lovely, some giving way to decay due to the men of the house being away at war. There were many warehouses and office buildings being used by the government, and the streets were filled with horses, buggies, men and women bustling about. It was a busy place, and Kitty felt dizzy just being there, much less on her way to meet with General Robert E. Lee.

The army tents seemed to sprawl for miles in all directions. The soldiers hardly glanced at the woman passing by in a carriage. Many wives visited their husbands in camp, coming from faraway places by railroad when possible. Some of the young ladies in town, even, boldly visited their sweethearts unchaperoned.

The soldiers, she noted, were dressed quite differently: in the early months of the war, their visored caps, gilt-buttoned frock coats, and stripe-legged pants made privates look like European courtiers. Now most of them were wearing a weather-stained slouch hat, with dented crown and brim turned up in front and back. Their hair was longer, and they mostly had on gray or butternut-colored single-breasted jackets. She had noticed that the buttons on the jacket of the soldier driving the carriage bore the seal of his state. He was from Georgia, he said. The letters “CSA” were embossed on his belt buckle.

Most of the men wore cotton shirts, of which some had collars and some had none. They wore no cravats. Their pants were patched in the seat, frazzled at the cuffless bottoms, and often of a color that did not match their jackets.

But it was their shoes that broke Kitty’s heart and made her realize just how greatly the Southern army lacked funds and supplies: the soldiers wore pitifully worn-out shoes, and several, whose feet were propped on barrels as she passed, hardly had any soles left at all. A few even had shoes that actually looked as though they had been carved out of wood!

The soldier driving the wagon reined up the horse in front of a large tent over which the Confederate flag was flying in the gentle June breeze. He stepped down first, then moved to the side of the carriage and held out his hands to encircle Kitty’s tiny waist and set her on her feet. Mary had insisted on buying her a new dress to wear to meet the General; it was pale blue organdy and had a modest, high neckline trimmed in lace. She carried a parasol and felt ridiculously uncomfortable with the high neckline scratching under her chin. Every time she turned her head, it rubbed against her flesh.

She was still glancing about the camp, looking at the other tents and the men sitting about playing cards or strumming at banjos, when suddenly the flap of the tent swung back and out stepped a gray-bearded, stockily built man with thinning white hair. But the one feature that impressed her most was his eyes—they were so warm, so compassionate.

“Miss Wright,” he said, bowing slightly to kiss the tips of her gloved hand which she held out nervously. She didn’t like the custom of men kissing women’s hands and never had, and she felt positively awed in front of this man anyway. Why, she felt with a flutter, she should be kissing
his
hand, kneeling before him!

“I’m honored,” she murmured, as he stepped back for her to enter the tent.

She was impressed with its neatness and surprised by the starkness of the furnishings. There was a plain, uncomfortable-looking cot, a few chairs, and a large table on which dozens of maps and papers were strewn about. A washbasin and pitcher sat on a smaller table near the cot, and other than a little wood stove, there was nothing to give the room a really lived-in look. But, she reminded herself, this was not an ordinary room—it was a military tent, meant not for comfort but merely for convenience and operations of military forces.

Lee gestured to a chair, and after she was seated, he placed himself on a bench nearby. He coughed, apologized, and said, “I’m afraid I’m still recuperating from a throat infection I suffered in March, a rheumatic attack, I’m told.

“Now then.” He placed his hands on his knees and smiled at her. “Will you have lunch with me? I’m afraid I can only offer you cabbage, corn bread, and buttermilk. These seem to be the only foods that cause me no stress of late.”

She declined, too nervous at the moment to even think about eating, but she did accept the cup of hot tea which a soldier brought to her in a tin cup.

Lee watched her quietly, thoughtfully for a few moments, then said, “Captain Culpepper has told me that you have been through a great ordeal, Miss Wright, having been taken from your home in North Carolina against your will, held prisoner by first a Southern traitor and then a Federal cavalryman. I am told also that you seek to find a man named Major Nathan Collins to whom you are betrothed.”

She nodded, her heart pounding. Was she really here in the presence of this great, respected man?

“The Confederate army is grateful for the services you have rendered on the battlefield in the hospital tents, and we also grieve over the suffering you have endured. I asked you to come here today…” He paused, coughing again briefly, then cleared his voice to continue. “I asked you to come here so that I could personally thank you on behalf of the Confederacy for your services.”

“That isn’t necessary,” she blurted.

He held up a hand for silence and smiled gently. “I want you to know, also, that I have asked a member of my staff to try to locate your Major and have him sent here. The two of you can then decide what is to become of you. If you wish to remain in Richmond, I will see that you are looked after. If you wish to return to North Carolina, I will have you personally escorted by a member of my staff.”

She was overwhelmed, and when she could find her voice, said, “I thank you for everything, General…sir, but what I really want…” she paused, swallowing hard, “is to stay here and wait for Nathan and work in the hospital. I pray to God he’s alive, that he will come, but if he’s dead, then I still want to remain for a while, anyway, and sort out my thoughts on many things.”

Nodding, he said, “We will be proud to have you working in the hospital—and quite grateful. And do pray, my child, for God alone decides our fate. But tell me, do you have family that will worry about your safety? How long is it that you have been away?”

“Since late summer of 1861.” Then she told him about her mother, one thing leading to another; and because he was so kind, seemingly so concerned, she found herself telling him about how her mother had turned to drink and her father had left the South to join the Northern army, and finished by apologizing for his actions.

“You owe me no apology, young lady.” His voice was stem, eyes grim. “In this war, I have seen father fight against son, brother turn against brother. Each man does what he must when duty calls. Duty must be the guiding rule of any man’s life. There is a true glory and a true honor and that is the glory of duty done and the honor of integrity of principle. That, my child, is all the pleasure, all the comfort, and all the glory that man can expect to enjoy on this earth. So do not condemn your father nor apologize for him. He did what his conscience led him to do, as we all must.”

She stared at him in respectful wonder and awe. How like her father he was in his principles!

They had talked for almost two hours about the war, about some of her experiences but not the painful ones. He asked her no embarrassing questions, seeking to learn only what had happened to her in relation to the war while with the Federals in an effort, she supposed, to obtain new information about the inner workings of the enemy. It was doubtful she could tell him anything he did not already know, she thought, but he did seem very interested in the conversation between General Rosecrans and Captain Coltrane that she had overheard and her attempts to get to the Confederates with the information.

“A pity you did not,” he shook his head sadly, “but what is past is past. Try not to look back. You did what you could.

“Now you rest assured,” he told her in parting, “that I will try to locate your Major for you. The agonies of war are enough by themselves without two young people having to worry whether the other is alive or dead.”

So Kitty reported for duty at Chimborazo Hospital. Male members of the staff accepted her as another female nurse, until she noted the need for surgical assistants and applied for one of these positions. Then the men gave unmistakable evidence that they resented her presence, but she was able to win most of them over by efficiency and charm, even though a few remained openly hostile. These she ignored.

Kitty hated assisting in the many amputations. To sever the shredded remains of a man’s arm or leg was always a heartbreaking experience. Some of them screamed when told amputation was necessary to save their life, and they would beg and plead to be allowed to die. Others would stoically accept the decision, grateful to be given some semblance of a future.