The Outsider (20 page)

“Not for long,” Hope said. “Harrison’s on his way. Then there won’t be no more of this shilly-shallying. We’ll move all right ’cause I don’t know a man among the whole lot of us that wouldn’t follow Harrison to fight the devil hisself if that’s what he asked us to do.”

“I’ve had enough of fighting the devil,” Nathan said. “I’m ready to go on up and get Detroit away from the Tories.”

Hope looked at the boy, seeming to remember all at once who he was and where he’d come from. “My girl, Gabrielle?” he said as he turned back to Brice. “You left my girl there with them, didn’t you, Doc?”

“I left her there, Hope.”

Hope stared at him a long minute before he said, “I know you done your best, Doc. I guess trading the Injuns out of a long-legged boy is some easier than fighting religion. I won’t hold it against you if you’ve give up on it.”

“I said I left her there, Hope, but I didn’t say I’d given up,” Brice said quietly. “I’ll be going back after this war is done.”

Brice felt Nathan’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look around at him. The boy would just have to think whatever he liked.

With Hull’s surrender making them the only army in the Northwest, orders came for the men to make a swift march to Fort Wayne. That fort was all that stood between the British and the more populated territories to the south. With General Harrison leading them, the men marched out eagerly.

Where before they’d marched through rain, now the sun beat down on them mercilessly. By the third day after they left Piqua, the water was gone. All through the ranks, men staggered from the heat and at each puddle, no matter how small, men dropped on their bellies, waved away the flies, and drank. At St. Mary’s they got a fresh supply of water and moved on toward Fort Wayne in battle formation, but when they reached the fort three days later there was no sign of war activities.

The army set up camp to wait for the generals to decide their next move, and rumors started swirling again. When it was confirmed that Winchester had been put back in command of their troops, the men were ready to march home, but General Harrison appealed to their patriotism. The men grumbled but moved out behind Winchester north to a point close to the old Fort Defiance. They’d come through woodland all the way, and the men had been on edge watching the trees for any sign of the enemy.

They set up camp on a bluff overlooking the old fort. That night Alec Hope sat on his haunches around the cooking fire and told Brice and Nathan how he’d been with General Wayne back in the 1790s when they’d finally secured Kentucky’s borders and made it safer to settle in the Ohio and Indiana territories.

“We had all this around here cleared then.” Hope waved his hand about him. “It sure don’t take long for the brush to overtake a woods again.”

“It’s been eighteen years,” Brice said.

“You don’t say,” Hope said, scratching the new growth of beard on his chin. “Then I reckon we’ve been lucky to keep them redskins back this long.”

Later after Hope had finished telling all about that first campaign, Brice watched Hope and Nathan walk away. They made an odd pair, but maybe the old woodsman would be good for the young innocent. The boy needed someone to help him out here in the wilderness. It was going to take a lot of work to clear the ground and set up any semblance of a fort here.

Brice turned back to setting up his tent. He wanted to be ready because these men didn’t need a battle to need a doctor. Later he’d go out in the woods to hunt some roots and bark that might supplement his meager supply of medicines. The other doctors in the army laughed at his Indian cures, but a lot of the soldiers sought his concoctions to ease their ills. So Brice gathered his roots and left his lancet in its case. He didn’t mind being different.

He was used to doing things his way, and now he chafed under the restrictions of army life. Too many orders came down through the ranks that didn’t make sense to him. And here in the middle of this woolly wilderness with only a half ration of food and the mosquitoes and flies tormenting them, he couldn’t keep from wishing he was back in his cabin with nothing but the wind to keep him company.

The thought had no more than touched his mind till Gabrielle was there in his thoughts to prove it false. She fit there beside him. He could never again be complete without her. Yet she had turned him away, and he had no sure hope she wouldn’t turn him away when he did go back and seek her out once more.

Perhaps she had run on up the path that took her away from him forever and his memory no longer troubled her mind as hers did his. He straightened up from tying down his tent and looked to the south while thoughts whirled around in his mind like leaves pulled up into a dust devil. It would be easier if he could push Gabrielle out of his head and close her away as he had Jemma after her death. But he’d been so young then, not even as old as Nathan was now. He’d thought he loved Jemma more than life itself, but it had been the love of a boy. He wasn’t sure he could push aside this feeling he had for Gabrielle no matter how many miles or how much division there was between them. He’d have to learn to live with it.

He was glad when someone spoke behind him. “Sorry to bother you, sir.”

Brice turned to look at the soldier, who had blood oozing down his shin. The man grimaced and said, “My tomahawk slipped.”

“Sit down on that pack and put your foot up,” Brice said as he got his bag. He peeled away the man’s britches from his leg and started cleaning the wound. “Looks like you could have told the difference between a bush and your leg, soldier.”

“It appears I could have been more careful,” the man agreed.

“What’s your name?”

“Kerns, sir. Seth Kerns. I told the captain it weren’t nothing to worry about, but he said he’d see enough blood when the time come and that he didn’t see no sense in having to look at me bleeding now.”

Brice looked up at Kerns. He was built small with a littleboy look to his face. “Does your mother know you joined up with the army?”

Kerns smiled. “I’m older than I look. Be twenty next month. And my ma didn’t want me to join up but she knows I’m here.”

“Well, hang on while I put in a stitch or two to hold your leg together.” When Brice had finished stitching and bandaging the kid’s leg, he said, “You’d better take the rest of the day off.”

“I don’t know as how I could do that. I mean, my captain had me come over so you could fix me up to go back to work. And you see how I ain’t very big and all. I got to prove to them I can do my part. You understand, Doctor?”

“You aren’t going to prove much by bleeding to death, Kerns. Tell you what. You give me your axe, and you can take my place here as doctor. Just sit down and prop that foot up and give it a chance to quit bleeding. If anybody needs me, you can let out a yell.”

“I don’t know about that, sir. My captain—” he started.

Brice interrupted. “What’s your captain’s name? I’ll explain things to him.”

“Belding. Captain Belding. He’s that one yonder with the red hair, cutting twice as many bushes as everybody else.”

Brice picked up the axe and tomahawk and walked down the hill. It’d do him good to be busy. He wanted to be so busy he couldn’t think about things he could do nothing about.

He glanced back at the boy, who’d settled down and put his foot up the way Brice had told him. He must be a magnet for helpless innocents. First Bates and now this boy. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d start feeling responsible for Kerns just as he worried over Nathan. He kept telling himself not to get so involved with his patients, but yet here he was with Kerns’s axe, chopping Kerns’s bushes.

21

Autumn 1812

October brought unseasonably cold rains. The miserable weather along with low provisions started putting out the patriotic fires of a lot of the men. The regulars burrowed in to stick it out, but the militiamen weren’t used to the discipline of army life. They’d signed up to whip the British and go on home. Not sit in camp through a cold northern winter.

Just enough supplies worked up through the woods to keep the men from starving. Then fever hit the camp, and Brice and the other doctors worked night and day to keep as many of the men alive as they could.

“If only the sun would come out,” one of the men said when Brice examined him inside the fort the men had finally gotten raised.

“Maybe there’s nothing down here the sun wants to see anymore,” Brice said as he mixed some powders in water to dose the soldier. The wet weather had been unrelenting and just that morning the rain had been mixed with snow. “But as long as you can tell the sun isn’t shining, then you’re well enough to give up your spot inside here to somebody who’s really sick.”

“That’ll suit me, Doctor. This being sick is more vexing than being hungry,” the soldier said. “And I’m bound to feel better out in the open. Seems like there’s just bad air in here.”

So the fort that had looked so good to them just a few days ago now seemed to be a place to sicken and die. It was hard to scrounge up dry wood for fires, and the mud was ankle deep inside the walls while the sick filled the blockhouses and spilled out into the open. The order was given to relocate on a high-level terrain across the Maumee River, but the fever followed them. Every day they carried more men out to be buried.

As the days grew colder and they started seeing more snow than rain, they tried two more camps before they finally found ground downriver a ways that was almost dry with plentiful firewood. Brice hadn’t had much time for sitting around the fire at night since the fever had hit camp, but a few days after the move, Nathan and Hope caught him taking a few minutes to brew a pot of coffee. It wasn’t real coffee, just some boiled bark and roots, but after the day he’d had where the fever had won more than he did, Brice welcomed its hot, bitter taste.

Nathan took one look at Brice’s face and squatted down at the fire without a word, but Hope wasn’t the kind to let a man be. He poured a cup of the brew, took a swallow, and said, “That’s enough to put a frown on anybody’s face.”

“Maybe we’d better just leave the doc alone, Alec. He’s looking like things might not have gone too well for him today.” Nathan shifted on his haunches.

“Things ain’t going too well for nobody in this godforsaken woods,” Hope said. “But I’m guessing the doc here’s been keeping score and from the looks of him the score ain’t too good. That right, Doc?”

Brice made himself answer. It didn’t change a thing for him to sit alone in the dark and grieve over the men he’d lost. “Not good. We put four more Kentuckians in the ground today.”

“It ain’t right. We done got Kentuckians spread out under the ground all through this woods and we’ve yet to see our first redskin. It just don’t make no sense. Tell me, Doc. How many does that make all told?”

“At least a hundred.”

Hope shook his head and stared at the fire. “I never thought General Harrison would let us get in such a shape. Not doing nothing but sitting here wishing for food. I reckon old Winchester’s still got too much say in what’s happening.”

“Even generals can’t stop the fever,” Brice said.

“They could get us some food and let us go on and fight instead of sitting here on our hands starving to death,” Hope said.

“They’ve been sending out details to bring in food,” Brice said.

“And what do they bring back?” Hope snorted in disgust. “A handful of hickory nuts and wild fruit that’s nothing but mush. I’ve lived many a day better than that in the woods.”

“Then why aren’t they sending you out to get food?” Brice asked.

“That’d make too much sense. Ain’t nothing we’ve done since we set out on this march made sense.” Then Hope let out a short laugh. “Course could be my captain might have more sense than I’m giving him credit for. Could be he knows that if he let me out of camp I might just take a notion to find out if Kentucky’s still down there to the south somewheres.”

“You wouldn’t desert the army, would you, Alec?” Nathan sounded shocked.

“Shh, boy. Don’t be saying that so loud. You’re apt to get me shot.” Hope looked around before he lowered his voice and said, “But I learned a long time ago that if I don’t take care of Alec Hope, ain’t nobody else going to.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot of years, haven’t you, Hope? Taking care of yourself and not worrying too much about anybody else,” Brice said.

Hope stared at him across the fire. “You’re talking about my girl again. I done told you, Doc, I left so things would be better for her. Who could have ever dreamed up something like them Shakers coming along?”

Brice dropped his eyes to the fire. He had no right to try to shame anybody for running off and leaving Gabrielle behind.

“Besides,” Hope went on, “I heard out of her own mouth that she was happy there. I guess that’s all a pappy could want. His daughter to be happy.”

“But she doesn’t belong there.” The words slipped out before Brice could stop them.

“You won’t get no argument about that from me, Doc. It’s her you’ve got to convince,” Hope said.

Brice shifted uneasily as he felt the boy’s eyes on him. He shouldn’t have brought up Gabrielle. None of them could do a thing to help her now even if she did realize the Shaker life wasn’t for her. “I’d better go see to my patients,” Brice said shortly as he stood up.

He left them by the fire and walked back toward the sick area. He needed to stay busy. When he sat down, he thought too much and sometimes it was better not to think. Just to do.

“Dr. Scott,” a voice called to him as he went through the camp.

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Kerns?” Brice asked crossly, but he was really glad when the young soldier stepped up beside him.

“I can’t sleep, sir. I was wondering if maybe you wanted some company while you made your rounds.”

Kerns had taken to hanging around Brice since he’d patched up his leg. Sometimes he’d walk along with Brice for half an hour or more without saying a word, but Brice was always glad to have his company.

“Come along, Seth. If you aren’t afraid of the fever.”

“I’ve about decided I must not be big enough for the fever to latch on to,” Kerns said and then added shyly, “and you, sir, I can always learn something watching you. I guess being a doctor’s about the grandest thing anybody could be. If I was to be a doctor it wouldn’t matter so much that I wasn’t as big as most folks, as long as I knew what medicines cure what ailments.”

“Being a doctor doesn’t guarantee that you’ll know that, Seth. Sometimes all a doctor does is stand there and watch death claim its prize.” The faces of the men who’d died the last few days jumped before his eyes, and Brice started walking faster as if trying to keep ahead of death.

“But more get well than die, don’t they, sir?” Kerns was almost trotting to keep up.

Brice pulled in a steadying breath and slowed his steps. “I wish I could believe that. I really wish I could believe that.”

“You will, sir, on another day. I’ve been praying about it. Do you pray, sir?”

“Not since I was a boy.”

“You should.” Kerns glanced over at Brice, then up at the night sky. “It can be a heap of comfort knowing the Lord is there with you, helping you.”

Brice looked up too. Clouds hid the stars. “I haven’t seen much sign of his help in these parts.”

“That’s just because you haven’t been looking, sir. Even them that’s been dying, the Lord was right there holding their hands, bringing them on into paradise if they looked toward the Lord.”

“You some kind of preacher?” Brice peered over at the young soldier.

Kerns smiled. “No, sir. But it gives me comfort knowing the Lord is with us out here in this wilderness. I thought it might make you feel lighter in the spirit knowing that too.”

Brice shook his head at Kerns. “You ought to be sleeping instead of trying to preach a grouchy old sawbones out of a sour mood.”

“I know, Dr. Scott, but it looks like the only time I get sleepy is when I’m out on watch.”

Brice frowned. “That could be dangerous.”

“I try to stay awake. I think about David in the Bible and try to recite some of those psalms he must have thought up while he was out there guarding his daddy’s sheep, and I pray. But sometimes it don’t seem like anything helps. It’s just so lonesome and cold out there. And there hasn’t been the first sign of any enemy.”

“I guess they’re just hanging back to let the fever get us first.”

“It’s not as bad as it was, is it?”

“Hard to say. Not as many new cases are reporting, but the ones who are sick aren’t out of the woods yet. We don’t have the medicine to treat them.”

Brice ducked inside one of the sick tents and checked some of the men while Kerns waited outside. When Brice came out of the tent, he looked at Kerns in the flickering light that came from the campfires and said, “So you think you might like to be a doctor?”

“I didn’t exactly say that, sir. I don’t suppose I’d have enough book learning for that. There wasn’t any school roundabouts our farm back home. My ma taught me some, but Pa didn’t have much use for book learning.”

“It’s never too late to learn, Seth. You could still do it if you want. Plenty of doctors back in Kentucky never saw the inside of a medical school anyway. They learned from being apprenticed to a doctor.”

“Do you think, sir—” Kerns started, then hesitated before going on. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose on you, sir, but you think I might be your apprentice? I don’t have much money, but what I do have I’d give it all to you for the chance.”

Brice put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s not a half bad idea, Seth. Tell you what. After this war’s over and we’re headed back south, we’ll talk about it. It might be good to have somebody to roll my pills.”

In the flickering light from the fires, Brice could see the smile spreading across the boy’s face. “I’d like that, sir.”

“You’d best go on along and get some sleep before your turn at watch comes up again.”

“Yes, sir,” Kerns said.

Brice watched Kerns walk away into the night. He’d never wanted an apprentice, even though he’d offered the chance to Nathan when he left the Shakers, but he didn’t wish his words back now. He liked Kerns, and every man ought to have a chance to do what he wanted in life.

As Brice ducked into another tent to see to his patients, his mood turned dark again. Too many of these men wouldn’t get that chance. They’d never leave these woods.