The Outsider (19 page)

She opened her eyes and stared at the darkness. She couldn’t listen to them all. Slowly they backed away until there was only the faint echo of their voices in the wind. But one voice remained as strong as ever.
“We were meant to be together,”
he whispered.

Becca and Esther were meant to be together, mother and child. Becca had been Esther’s miracle baby, the answer to prayer. Yet they’d been pulled apart and nothing was left of their lives but the grief in Gabrielle’s own heart. For a moment she wished for the gift to show her beyond the threshold of death. If she could see Becca and Esther together, then she could rest, but at the same time she shied away from what the gift might show her. The gift didn’t always bring what she wished to see. It brought only truth, and she wasn’t sure she could bear that.

Again the voice was a whisper in her mind.
“Don’t let them destroy you, Gabrielle. I love you.”

She was so tired. She couldn’t hold the thoughts of him away. “Brice.” Her lips moved without making a sound in the dark. “I need you.”

He came to her then out of the dark corners of her mind, and his memory comforted her. Once more she felt the strength of his arms around her, and they held away this pain that had eaten away her innocence. He was there with her and yet so far away. The memory of his love was like a shadow. There, but too illusive to hold on to.

She longed for him to really be there beside her. To touch her, to kiss her, to tell her she belonged with him. And there in the dark of the night she felt no shame for her desire. Nor did she feel any condemnation from the Lord when she offered up a prayer for Brice’s safety.

20

All around Brice the men were restless in the camp. They’d been gathered longer than a month moving from place to place while waiting for some orders to march to the north. The politicians and generals haggled while the men sat in camp sharpening tomahawks and knives and rubbing their guns until they knew every scratch and nick on the barrels.

The men had shown up in the camps ready for battle. They brought their own horses and guns and wore an almost identical uniform from home of a hunting shirt with a fringe border and Kentucky jeans. A leather belt held a pocket for their tomahawks while another strap of leather across their shoulders held the powder horns and a bullet case and a sheath for the butcher knife no Kentuckian would go to war without.

Brice had been given a commission as surgeon in the second regiment of volunteers. He’d encouraged Nathan to stay with him as his assistant, but as soon as they reached camp, the boy had enlisted in the regiment for six months on his own.

Once the men had enlisted there was nothing to do but wait for orders and talk about fighting. They chased the British clear off the continent with their words and brought the Indians to their knees. If ever a word of doubt crept into the talk, it was mashed and smothered by the war fever that raged from man to man.

Nathan caught it as soon as he got to the camp. Brice did his best to keep him on an even keel, but he had no antidotes for war fever.

“It’s going to be easy,” Nathan said one night when he came by to talk after supper. “All the men are saying so. If they would just let us go on, we could take Malden, and then Upper Canada would practically fall in our laps.”

“It sounds good when it’s just talk.” Brice leaned forward to take the pot off the fire and pour himself some coffee. Some of the men were already bedded down. Others sat clustered about a fire here and there. Now and again a laugh would drift out of a group to be lost into the night.

“We can do it. All they’ve got to do is say go.”

Across the way the light of a lamp sifted out through General Winchester’s tent flaps. Brice took a drink of his coffee. “Appears the general may be making plans.”

Nathan spat into the fire. “He couldn’t lead his way out of town. If you ask me, we’d have already been north if we had a leader that was some use. And they say he’s from Tennessee. Looks like they could have found a Kentuckian for us.”

“The men don’t seem to be overly fond of him. He’s a strange bird at times.”

Nathan laughed. “You heard what some of the men did to him, didn’t you? Putting that porcupine skin in just the right spot. He’ll be checking things twice and then again before he goes to the outhouse again.”

“I didn’t have to hear.” Brice bit his lip to keep from smiling.

“Don’t tell me you were the one who had to pick out the quills?” The boy almost fell over from laughing so hard.

“The general didn’t think it so funny. If he ever finds out who did it, he might have them shot.” Brice looked over at the boy. “You weren’t in on it, were you, Bates?”

“Nay, Doc.” The boy slipped back into his Shaker talk. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, but I guess I can enjoy it just the same.”

Brice studied him in the light of the fire. He wasn’t the same boy who’d come to his cabin with Gabrielle’s refusal a fresh wound in his mind. He’d grown. His life was spreading out in his new freedom. Still his legs were weak. His limp had been worse in the last couple of days. “Are your legs hurting you more than usual?” Brice asked.

“Maybe some,” Nathan answered carefully. “But nothing I can’t stand. You know, Doc, I curse my foolishness every time I think about running back into that fire.”

“A man acts without thinking things through sometimes, Bates. Else there’d be a lot of things we wouldn’t do.” Brice gave him another long stare. “It wouldn’t be a shame to you if you decided not to go when we move out. Not if you’re not able.”

“Not go?” Nathan jumped back a little from the fire in surprise. “How could I not go? I’ve signed up. It’s my duty now.”

“I’m afraid the march north is going to be too arduous for you.”

“I’m going if I have to crawl,” Nathan said. “Don’t you see, Doc? This is the way I’ve always wanted to live. To be a part of what’s happening. To be where men are alive and full of purpose.”

“I didn’t say you’d have to go back with the Shakers, boy. There’s other ways of living besides that. And besides this.”

“I guess as how you’re right, Doc, but I like this way. The men, they’ve mostly accepted me. They don’t care if I used to be a Shaker or not. Most of them don’t even know it, and that suits me just fine. They judge me by the way I am right now, and when we go to fighting they’ll be judging me then by my courage.”

“All right, Bates.” Brice threw the dregs of his coffee into the fire. “But if you get to hurting worse when we’re on the march, let me know. I can fix you something to ease it a bit.”

Brice was starting to stand up to head for his bedroll when Nathan asked, “Don’t you want to go, Doc? I mean, don’t you like being here in the army?”

Brice kept his eyes on the fire as he answered, “I guess I’m older than you.”

“You’re not that old. What? Twenty-eight, twenty-nine? Why, there are some men here past forty, and they’re just as eager to be on the move as me.” Nathan hesitated for a moment before he went on. “Is it because you were friends with the Indians when you were a kid? Is that why you don’t want to fight them?”

“We weren’t friends. I was their captive. I learned their ways and got along, but I was always their prisoner.”

“Then what is it? You surely aren’t chicken, are you?” When Brice turned to stare at him, Nathan rushed on. “I mean, I never saw you act like you was scared of anything, Doc, but ever since we left Mercer County you’ve been so quiet and broody. I thought maybe it was because you didn’t want to fight.”

Brice turned his eyes back to the fire. The boy was so young. He couldn’t see anything except the day ahead. “I don’t look forward to the fighting, Bates, but I don’t recall ever being accused of being a coward. At least up till now.”

Nathan protested. “Now I didn’t exactly say that, Doc.”

Brice waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do my share of the fighting when the time comes, but I’ll be fighting more against gangrene and death than against the British or the Indians.”

Nathan didn’t say anything and after a minute, Brice went on. “I never said I was anxious to go to war. And I can’t say as how I’ve caught the war fever that’s sweeping the camp, but I’ll do my duty as a doctor.”

“I’m sorry, Doc. I never really thought you were chicken.”

“I told you to forget it, Bates. And I guess you’re right about me being in a foul mood. I just keep thinking about those I’ve left behind who might need me and now they won’t have anybody to turn to.”

“You mean like Tyney and her little girl?”

“And others.” Brice pulled in a long breath and let it out slowly. Without looking away from the fire, he said, “You’d best be getting some rest, boy. The troops are going to parade for the governor tomorrow. They say Senator Clay will even be here for a speech.”

“You going to turn in too, Doc?”

“In a little bit, Bates. When the camp quiets down.”

But Brice sat by the fire until the embers turned gray while Gabrielle walked through his thoughts. She was so real to him. He could almost hear the whisper of her breath, and he longed to be able to pull off the Shaker cap she wore and let her hair tumble down around her shoulders.

Something about her was so pure and innocent that the thought of it almost hurt. Living with the Shakers had shielded her from life until the real world was a strange and foreign place to her. Yet now she had cast her eyes beyond the boundaries of the Shaker village and had some questions about her path. He wanted to be the one she came to for answers. But he wouldn’t be there. He’d be far away in a war that could have been fought without him. He hadn’t had to volunteer.

Gabrielle would surely fight her own war while he was gone. The Shakers would be there with their songs and dances and words to bind her to them, but there’d be no one to plead his case. There’d be no one to tell her how much he loved her, how his heart felt hollow without her to fill it. He couldn’t keep from wondering which war was the most important, and he hated the sense of duty that kept him with the army.

He could only hope she wouldn’t close her mind completely to him before he made it back to Mercer County. Then he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d come away with him and they’d build a life together as they were meant to. He had to believe she’d listen to him when he returned, but for now he’d have to be content with the memory of her lips against his and the truth of her love for him that she hadn’t been able to hide.

Nearly every man in the camp had turned in for the night before Brice stood up and left the ashes of the fire. Then as he bedded down outside the medic tent, Gabrielle stayed with him. Something about her worried him. Perhaps she had caught the child’s fever. He felt drawn to her, but he couldn’t go even though the miles between them weren’t that many. He’d put his feet on this path away from her and he couldn’t turn off it now. The sun was pushing light over the eastern horizon before he finally slept.

The next day, the detachment made a fine showing of strength as they paraded past the governor. Old Governor Scott came down off his viewing stand and marched with them for a ways in spite of an old wound that caused him to limp badly.

Brice marched with the men and thought Gabrielle would be marching back at the Shaker village. To a different tune to be sure. There would be no talk of war there. The elder would speak of peace and love for all. He would preach about the oneness of their spirits.

As Brice looked around at the men who were loudly cheering every word Senator Clay or the governor spoke, he thought these men might have more unity of spirit here than the Shaker brethren and sisters. Here the men were united in their fervor to march to war. There at the Shaker village the wars were different, but they raged in the individual hearts nonetheless.

Another cheer went up around him. Brice pulled his thoughts back to the words of Senator Clay. He tried to absorb some of the enthusiasm for fighting that was hanging in the air around him, but he felt out of step with the men.

The troops would have marched that day without pay, without anything but the word from the old governor or the fiery senator. But by the next Tuesday when they drew two months’ pay in advance, the men began muttering some complaints about not receiving the promised allowance for clothes. On Wednesday when they moved out, finally marching north, the weather turned bad. Rain fell on them nearly every step of the way and dampened the war fever as the men plodded along the muddy roads.

Brice checked and rechecked his saddlebags and packs to be sure they were staying dry. He didn’t have enough medical supplies for such a long march in the first place, so he wanted to be sure not to let what he did have ruin before the army even reached the war theater. He hunted up Nathan from time to time. The boy was pale but hadn’t lost his eagerness for the march.

When they finally reached Newport six days later, the rumor swept through the camp that the old governor had pushed through a special order giving Indiana Territory Governor William Henry Harrison control of Kentucky’s militia. He might not be a Kentuckian, but he’d proved his worth at the battle of Tippecanoe.

But that wasn’t the only news waiting for them. Nathan came around to where Brice was going through a new supply of medicines as if it were gold. “Did you hear?” the boy asked.

Brice straightened up. “I’ve been too busy counting doses to pay much mind to anything else, but from the looks of your face it can’t be good news.”

“News has come down from the Northwest. From Detroit. Hull surrendered.”

“Are you sure you got that straight? Seems hard to believe.”

“You can believe it.” A man spoke up behind Nathan.

Brice looked past the boy to see Alec Hope. “When did you get here, Hope? I didn’t see you back in the camp at Georgetown.”

“I get kinda restless sitting around waiting for orders. My captain lets me roam about whilst nothing else is going on. So I came on up here ahead of the rest of the company.”

“I thought maybe you’d decided to let this fight pass you by,” Brice said.

Hope looked genuinely shocked. “Why, Doc, I’m a Kentuckian!”

“No lacking of Kentuckians around here,” Brice said with a smile.

“A pure shame old Hull weren’t one. Then I reckon as how he wouldn’t have been so quick to lay down his guns and give up the fort. He should have tried to hang on till we got up there,” Hope said.

“The way we’re moving that might take a while.” Brice looked down at his box of medicines.

“If they’d just give the word, I’m ready to move right now,” Hope said.

“You and the rest of the men, but seems like you’re readier to move out than the government is to supply us for the march.”

“One good thing,” Nathan said. “We’ll be having a new leader.”

“General Winchester is still here,” Brice reminded him.