The Outsider (21 page)

22

The fever let up some as they went into the cooler days of December. Hope said it was because there wasn’t a man in the camp healthy enough to get sick. The men dubbed the camp Fort Starvation and then set about the business of surviving the northern winter as best they could. Sometimes that meant breaking a few army rules, and court-martials became as common as hunger pangs.

The more fortunate wrongdoers merely had to ride the wooden horse while those others who had wandered out of camp in search of something to eat were accused of desertion and drummed out of camp. Brice argued their cases, but the officers said they had to keep the rope tight to maintain discipline.

“I’m not asking you to relax your rules,” Brice said. “Only your punishments. If you send a man out into this wilderness without warm clothes and some kind of provisions, you might as well put a bullet in his head. It might be kinder.”

“True enough, but then the next man may think twice before breaking the rules,” one of the captains said.

“A starving man is ruled by his stomach,” Brice said.

A colonel from the regular army spoke up. “Have you ever been in the army, Dr. Scott? The real army and not the militia.”

“No sir.”

“Then may I suggest you leave the disciplining of the troops to those who know what they’re doing and stick to dosing fevers?”

Brice stared straight at the man and said, “I took an oath to save lives and work against death no matter how that death comes.”

“Then I fear the theater of war is not the place for you, Dr. Scott. Many men die in war,” the officer said.

Even though Brice knew he was stepping out of line and onto dangerous ground, he couldn’t hold back his words. “Death at the hands of our enemies is a far reach from death of our comrades at our own hands.”

The colonel’s face tightened. “You’re dismissed, Dr. Scott. Let this be your last appearance in this tent.”

Brice glared at the man for a full minute before he ducked out of the tent. It was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but he was part of this army. He the same as the next man had to fall in line under the officers and do as he was told.

As Brice walked back through the camp, men huddled in tents and crude lean-tos called out greetings to him. Some of the men were fashioning moccasins out of green hides. They wouldn’t do much good, but it might be better than being barefoot in the snow. Brice had already treated some frostbite.

Brice raised his hand in greeting, but he didn’t feel like talking to anybody. He doubted even young Kerns could talk him out of this black mood. Nor pray him out of it. Brice looked up and toward the woods where the last boy had been sent to his death. Maybe the Lord would help the boy. Didn’t he help innocents? But if so, Kerns would have to do the praying for them. Brice had no prayers in his heart.

By the middle of December the food began running out and the men were close to mutiny when some men brought in a herd of hogs. Hope ran by Brice with his knife already out of its sheath. “At least we’ve finally got something to use our knives on.”

For a few days things were better, but the meat didn’t last long. There still wasn’t any flour, and the cold was unrelenting. Brice steered clear of trouble and shut his ears and eyes when the officers made a half-starved boy ride the wooden horse or sent a man out of camp because he went searching for roots or bark to eat or shot a man for sleeping at his post. He told himself it was the same as losing a soldier to the fever. He couldn’t stop the dying either way. It wasn’t right, but they had nothing else in this camp of starvation. Why should he expect there to be justice?

Then one morning just as Brice was getting up, Nathan came by his tent with bad news plain on his face. “What is it, Bates?”

“You know the Kerns boy. The one who’s took up with you lately.”

Brice’s chest tightened until he thought he might not be able to breathe. He forced out the words. “Go on.”

Nathan blurted it out. “They caught him sleeping at his post this morning.”

Brice sank down on his heels and worked at making his fire burn. He wished fervently that he did remember how to pray. Without looking up, he said, “What are they going to do with him?”

“The same as the others. They’ve done picked the men for the firing squad.”

“Without even a hearing?”

“I don’t know about that, but it wouldn’t do him no good. They found him sleeping. No amount of words is going to change that.”

Brice stood up and brushed off his hands on his pants as he started off.

“Where you going, Doc?”

“To find his captain.”

It wasn’t hard to find the boy’s captain. The big, redheaded man was pacing back and forth in front of his tent. He stopped when he saw Brice. “I figured you’d be here when you heard.”

“You can’t let them shoot the boy,” Brice said.

Captain Belding raised his hands in the air and let them fall. “Wish to God I could prevent it, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“There has to be something.”

Captain Belding stepped closer to Brice. “Look, don’t you think I’d change this if I could? I like Seth. But I can’t change the rules. Seth fell asleep on lookout.”

“They don’t have to shoot him. A flogging would do as well.” The boy could live through a beating.

“It’s not that simple, Dr. Scott. When a man is on lookout, he has the lives of every soldier here in his hands. The enemy could have got right by Seth last night and we could have all been massacred in our bedrolls.”

“But that didn’t happen.”

“But it could have,” Captain Belding insisted.

“Then there’s nothing you can do?”

Captain Belding looked sad as he shook his head. “Nor you.”

“I can’t accept that.”

“You’ll just get yourself in trouble. How’s that going to help Seth?”

“I’ve been in trouble before. I expect I will be again.”

“It won’t do any good,” the captain said as Brice turned away.

The captain was right. The officer in charge was curt with him. Kerns was a soldier with a soldier’s responsibilities. He’d have to live with the consequences of his lapse of discipline.

“But he won’t be living with anything,” Brice said. “He’ll be dead.”

“You are dismissed, Dr. Scott.” The officer glared at him.

Brice had no choice but to leave or be charged with insubordination. He walked slowly to the tent where they were holding Kerns. The guard at the entrance moved over to let Brice duck inside. Brice sat cross-legged on the cold ground beside the boy. He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

But Kerns smiled and reached out to touch him. “Dr. Scott, it’s right good of you to come see me, sir.”

Brice still couldn’t speak. His throat was closing together and he felt closer to tears than he had since he’d watched Jemma die.

“Don’t worry, sir. Leastways, not about me.” Kerns dropped his eyes to the ground as his smile faded. “I got myself into a fine mess this time, and I’ll have to pay for it. But it’s all right.”

“It’s not all right,” Brice almost shouted. “There’s nothing right about any of it.”

Kerns looked up at Brice again. “Don’t take on so, sir. I knew better than to fall off to sleep. I did my best with the psalms and I even sung some to myself. Wrong kind of songs, I guess. Didn’t nothing help last night. I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. It was so cold I think my brain must’ve froze up or something.”

Kerns was quiet for a long time. Then when he did start talking again, his voice was somber. “I guess as how I’ll be able to sleep forever now. You do believe in God, don’t you, sir?”

“I don’t know. I guess so, but I’ve never spent a lot of time thinking about it,” Brice said.

“You don’t have to think about God to know he’s there, Dr. Scott. He’s everywhere, in every blade of grass and every bird’s song.”

“Even here in Fort Starvation?”

“Even here. I don’t exactly understand how, but he’s here with me now, and it’s a comfort, sir, even knowing what’s going to happen to me in a little bit.”

“I wish I could make things different, Seth.”

Again it was the boy who comforted him. “I wouldn’t want you to worry yourself, sir. I never expected to go home anyhow. Though I didn’t figure on being shot by my own. I’d thought it would more likely be a redcoat that got me.”

They sat quietly for a moment before Kerns said, “Would you do me a favor, Dr. Scott?”

“Anything, Kerns.”

“Would you write my ma a letter? Tell her I loved her and that I died from the fever. No reason for her to know the truth. It’d just go that much harder for her.”

“All right, Seth. I’ll tell her how good and brave you were.”

The guard stuck his head in the tent and said, “Sorry, kid, but it’s time.”

Kerns moved to stand up, but Brice stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You’d have made a good doctor, Seth. Better than me.”

“Thank you for saying that, sir, but I don’t think there could ever be a better doctor than you.”

Brice followed him out of the tent. He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t leave the boy now. As soon as Brice stepped away from the tent, Nathan was beside him. He didn’t say anything, but he stayed by his side.

It was over in seconds. The sound of gunfire filled the woods, and then all was silence. Brice went to Seth.

“Is he dead?” Captain Belding asked behind him.

“Yes.” Brice gently closed the boy’s eyes.

“We’ll bury him,” Captain Belding said. “He was one of ours.”

Brice stepped back out of the way as two men from Belding’s company picked up the boy’s body.

“All we can do now is pray for his soul,” Captain Belding said.

“I think it’s the rest of us who need the prayers. Not Seth.” Brice looked at the captain and then to the men carrying the body away.

He wouldn’t watch them bury Kerns. If there was a God the way Kerns said, the boy had already slipped out of his body and had gone on to his reward. Brice started back through the camp. He didn’t even realize Nathan was still beside him until he said, “I’m sorry, Doc. Kerns was a good man.”

“It’s over now, Bates. Finished and done. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Nathan walked a ways in silence before he said, “Maybe there’s something I could do for you, Doc. Get you something to eat or drink?”

“If there was anything to get.” Brice stopped walking and looked at the boy beside him before he said, “You don’t have to worry about me, Nathan. I just need some time alone right now.”

“Sure, Doc. I can understand that. But if you need something, you know, to talk or anything, I’ll be around.” He let Brice walk on alone.

Brice would have liked to walk right out of camp and away from it all, but instead he went back to his tent. A man could be alone no matter how many people were around him.

But as he sat in front of his tent he realized he wasn’t really alone, nor did he want to be. Gabrielle was there with him almost real enough to touch. He could see the concern for him flooding her pure blue eyes, and then he could almost feel her touch him gently with her love.

She was hundreds of miles away, and yet she was there beside him. She couldn’t make him forget Seth had died a needless death, but her presence there in his mind made him believe he could live with that truth.

What was it Seth had said about the Lord? That he’d been with him in the tent waiting with him to face death. And somewhere deep inside Brice, a door inched open and a prayer slid out into his mind.
Dear God, help us. Help us all.

23

Yea, Sister Helen. Nay, Sister Helen. Whatever you say, Sister Helen.
The words slid off Gabrielle’s tongue with ease. Sister Helen’s voice was a constant drone in her ears, but Gabrielle listened only enough to determine whether yea or nay was the proper answer. The months had edged by drearily from the steaming hot month of August through the crisp days of autumn.

The bountiful harvest months of September and October had been a blessing to both the village and to Gabrielle. All able-bodied workers went to the fields and garden plots to harvest the end-of-the-season crops. Gabrielle had thrown herself into the work of picking the beans left on the vines to dry and digging the sweet potatoes. If the day was warm, Sister Helen often had to rest in the shade a while at midday. And while she was not out of Gabrielle’s sight, she was at least too far away to count Gabrielle’s every breath.

Other sisters were then free to step up beside Gabrielle and speak of the wind in the trees, the bounty of their harvest, what they might have on their table that evening in the biting room. Quiet talk that meant nothing but that was somehow soothing to Gabrielle’s ears after so many weeks of Sister Helen’s faultfinding.

After the gardens had been stripped of every useful product, she and Sister Helen were sent into other fields to help harvest the seed crops for sale in the spring to the people of the world. The work was tedious, especially with the smaller seeds such as the tobacco seeds where Gabrielle could hold more seeds in one hand than were needed to grow plants for several acres. She liked separating out one of the seeds and holding it on her fingertip. She’d stare at it and think of the mustard seed the Lord had spoken about to his disciples in the Bible.
If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.

The tobacco seed was not much more than a black speck on her finger and even tinier than a mustard seed. Silently she asked the Eternal Father to give her the faith of that tiny tobacco seed so that she could keep praying, keep singing, keep feeling some measure of joy. She liked repeating the last phrase of the Lord’s words.
Nothing shall be impossible unto you
.

If only she knew what things the Lord wanted her to see as possible. Enduring Sister Helen’s constant presence by her side? Using her hands to serve and her mind to worship here at Harmony Hill forevermore? Ridding her mind of thoughts of the doctor? Finding in her heart the proper sisterly love for Sister Helen?

Every morning when the rising bell rang, and Gabrielle sat up in her bed and looked down at the heavy string connecting Gabrielle’s wrist and Sister Helen’s, she thought the last might be the most impossible. Sister Helen had insisted they be tied together at night ever since the morning Sister Esther had hanged herself and Gabrielle had been drawn to the kitchen by the scream that had torn through her soul.

When Gabrielle had promised not to go from the sleeping room again without waking Sister Helen, Sister Helen had scoffed at her vow. “If you were trustworthy, Sister Gabrielle, you wouldn’t be under constant supervision to begin with. But ye are not trustworthy, and therefore you must submit to whatever I decide you must do to satisfy the rules of constant supervision. And I can’t be staying awake all night to make sure you aren’t slipping out to meet someone of the world.”

So Sister Helen had tied the string to Gabrielle’s arm. “And don’t think you can untie it without me knowing. I will know.”

The string was a constant irritation, a constant reminder of her fall from grace among the Believers. The first few nights she had feared the string would drive her into madness, but then every time she had felt the irritation of the string, she’d said a prayer in her heart and recited parts of 1 Corinthians 13.
Charity suffereth long, and is kind.
And she was thankful for the scriptures she had committed to her heart. The Bible verses comforted her and kept her sane when she could not sleep.

And slowly, prayer by prayer, the Eternal Father helped her find a way to keep loving her brethren and sisters even though Sister Helen still stood on the outside of her charity. The Lord did help her mash down her ill feelings toward Sister Helen so that she was open to learning from her when Sister Helen began gathering her medicinal herbs.

Sister Helen carefully guarded her knowledge of the physic herbs and cures even though the elders and eldresses had often urged her to teach one of the younger sisters her healing secrets. She claimed none of the sisters had shown the aptitude or proper dedication to be so entrusted as yet and that she was praying Mother Ann would send her one so gifted.

She certainly had no thought of sharing any of her knowledge with Gabrielle, but at the same time she had not wanted to give over the watching of Gabrielle to any of the other sisters. She said when she started a duty, she was bound to see it through no matter how arduous that duty proved to be. So when the first frosts signaled the coming of winter, she had to begin gathering and drying the herbs and roots she might need before spring even though Gabrielle was at her side.

Again Gabrielle felt the answer to prayer lifting her spirits. When she followed Sister Helen into the woods, Gabrielle could feel her spirit billowing out inside her once more. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed her times of prayer among the trees. She’d thought she had simply sought her prayer place among the trees because of the solitude, but now helping Sister Helen gather her roots, Gabrielle realized her spirit needed the sight of the trees towering over her head. She needed the smell of the fallen leaves and the acorns and squirrels. She needed the sight of fluttering wings as the birds flew between the branches.

She needed the feeling of stepping nearer the doctor. Even though she knew he was not at his cabin, for Elder Caleb said the militia was still in the North, she felt closer to Brice in the woods. She stood in the shadow of the trees and remembered the warmth of his body standing beside her, the gentleness of his hands, the love in his eyes. And she felt no shame for her thoughts even after Sister Helen frowned at her and told her to quit dragging her feet.

“We’re not out here just to take a saunter through the woods. We have work to do, Sister Gabrielle.” She handed Gabrielle a trowel. “Now I don’t want to put up with the first bit of contrariness. You dig where I tell you and don’t ask a lot of useless questions.”

“Yea, Sister Helen,” Gabrielle said quietly. “Show me where to dig.”

So even though she did not want to share any of her knowledge, Sister Helen nevertheless had to show Gabrielle where the roots were. Then while feigning a lack of interest, she watched to see how Sister Helen labeled the roots. Gabrielle had never felt drawn to mixing medicine potions or doing physic healing, but she was open to learning. Besides, the handling of the roots made yet another connection in her thoughts to Brice. Wherever he was with the army, he too was surely digging his own roots for healing.

On the second day in the woods, Sister Helen led the way deep into the woods, claiming to be searching for a specific root. Gabrielle realized long before they reached the clearing around the doctor’s cabin where Sister Helen must surely be leading her and why. Sister Helen was watching her sharply, hoping to catch her in some fault, but Gabrielle had had much practice in the last weeks of hiding her feelings, so when she saw the cabin through the trees, she simply said, “Are we close to the settlement?”

“Nay, Sister Gabrielle. Ye know that is not true.”

“It has been many years since I have been away from our village. I have forgotten the directions to the settlement.” Gabrielle turned innocent eyes on Sister Helen before she looked back at the cabin. Vines were growing up on the steps and some of the poles on the small corral next to the cabin were fallen and broken. “It doesn’t look as if anyone has been here for some time,” she said. “I hope they didn’t encounter misfortune.”

“Only the misfortune of going to war. Of course that could mean he has died.”

“Oh?” Gabrielle didn’t allow Sister Helen’s words to touch her mind. She would know if the doctor had died. She didn’t know how, but she was sure she would. She looked at Sister Helen. “How is it you know who lives here?”

“Don’t try pulling your innocent tricks with me, Sister Gabrielle. We both know whose cabin this is. You may think you can lie to all the others, but I know you. I know the sin in your heart. I saw your sin when you stepped into the shadows with that heathen doctor.”

“Yea, Sister Helen.” Gabrielle kept her face expressionless. “I would never try to lie to you. It would be useless.”

“Your heart is black with the sin of deception,” Sister Helen said.

Gabrielle didn’t lower her eyes. “I have no desire to deceive you. I only have the desire to pay my penance and regain the trust of my brethren and sisters.”

“You have desire, all right. The wrong kinds of desires. I see them burning in your eyes.”

“I know not of what you speak.”

“So ye say, Sister. So ye say. But I have seen many of the world. I can smell worldly sins on one such as you.”

Gabrielle just stared at her a moment before she said, “Should we not be seeking out the roots you need before night begins to fall?”

Sister Helen’s face turned dark red, and Gabrielle thought for a moment the woman was going to strike her. Instead Sister Helen turned on her heel and stalked back into the trees away from the doctor’s cabin without another word.

Gabrielle followed her without looking over her shoulder at the cabin. She had no need to look at it. The doctor was in her heart. Not in the deserted cabin. And somehow she knew that wherever he was, he was suffering just as much as she was.