CHAPTER XVI
A WOUNDED CONFEDERATE
A few days after the battle of Pea Ridge there came riding into thevalley of La Belle a wounded Confederate soldier. He was mounted on araw-boned, emaciated horse that staggered as it walked. The rider seemedas weak as the horse, for he swayed in the saddle as he rode, and thebridle reins hung limp in his hands. The soldier's left arm wassupported by a dirty sling, and the front of his uniform, if uniform itcould be called, showed it had been soaked in blood.
The deep-set eyes of the soldier glowed with an unnatural fire, and hewas muttering to himself, as if in delirium.
Of his own accord, the horse turned up to the door of Mr. Chittenden'shouse, and that gentleman came out just in time to catch the rider as hereeled from the saddle.
To catch the rider as he reeled from the saddle.]
"He is about done for," he exclaimed as he ordered him carried in."Tilly," he called, "here is a patient for you."
The colored woman came running, and with her Grace, who looked at thewan features of the soldier with piteous eyes. "Why, father, he'snothing but a boy," she exclaimed. "Where did he come from?"
"A sorry-looking horse brought him here, is all I know," replied herfather.
A hasty examination showed a ball had gone through the muscles of hisleft arm about half-way between the elbow and shoulder and then torn agreat jagged wound in the breast.
Tilly was a born nurse. The first thing she did was to turn to Grace andsay, "Now, Missy Grace, yo' jes go 'way an' leave this boy to me. Dis isno place for a youn' lady."
The next time Grace saw the boy he was lying in a clean bed, his woundsneatly dressed. His bloody uniform had disappeared and instead he had ona soft white night-shirt. As Grace looked at him, so thin and pale, hereyes filled with tears, and she murmured, "Poor boy! Poor boy! I wonderif he has a mother." Then she turned to her father and asked, "Will heget well?"
"I'm afraid not," answered Mr. Chittenden. "He is not only badlywounded, but has a raging fever. I have sent for Doctor Hart. He will doall he can for him."
Doctor Hart lived miles away, and it was not until the next day hearrived. After examining the boy he said, "The wounds are bad, very bad.Without the fever, I would say he had a chance, but now I can hold outlittle hope. Who is he?"
"I know no more than you," replied Mr. Chittenden, and related how theboy came.
"Strange, very strange!" said the Doctor. "These wounds have theappearance of having been inflicted several days ago, and yet I haveheard of no fighting near by. Must have been shot in a brawl."
"There is the battle of Pea Ridge; you know we have just heard of it."
"Mercy, man! what are you talking about! It must be between one and twohundred miles to where that battle was fought. I do not see how this boycould have ridden ten miles with the wounds he has. He must be a spunkychap, and I will do the best I can for him; but I reckon, Chittenden,you will have a funeral on your hands in a day or two."
But the young soldier did not die, although it was Tilly's carefulnursing rather than the skill of the doctor that saved him.
For two days he tossed in delirium, and then the fever left him and hebegan to mend. Tilly was assiduous in her attentions, and until he wasout of danger could hardly be persuaded to leave the bedside, even forrest.
When the wounded soldier became well enough to talk he told his story toMr. Chittenden. He said his name was Mark Grafton, that his parents weredead, and that he had no living relatives who cared for him. "I am allalone in the world," he said, "and, Mr. Chittenden, if you had let medie there would have been no one to weep."
"Are you as friendless as that?" asked Mr. Chittenden.
"As friendless as that! I am nothing but a poor private soldier,"answered Mark.
He then went on and told how he had been with Price from the beginning,how he had fought at Wilson Creek and Lexington and numerous otherengagements.
"But at Pea Ridge----" Mark stopped and sighed.
"Pea Ridge!" cried Mr. Chittenden. "Was it at Pea Ridge you receivedyour wounds?"
Mark nodded.
"And you rode all the distance from there here, wounded as you were? Itseems impossible."
"I reckon I must," said Mark; "but I remember little about it. It wasthis way: We whipped them the first day; that is, Price's army did.Before the battle, McCullough's men--and he had a larger army thanPrice--made fun of our appearance and said they would show us how tofight, but they ran like sheep, while we drove the Yankees before us. Wethought the victory ours. But with McCullough out of the way, the nextmorning the whole Yankee army attacked us, and we had to retreat. Theretreat became a rout. I was wounded and left on the field for dead.When I came to it was night and the stars were shining. I staggered tomy feet and was fortunate enough to catch a stray horse and, by taking adefile through the hills, was able to get away. I stopped at a house andhad my wounds roughly dressed. It was reported that the Yankee cavalrywere scouring the country, picking up the fugitives, and, although I wasso weak from my wounds I could hardly stand, I determined to push on.Then my head began to feel strange: I saw all sorts of things. From thattime until I came to and found myself here, I have no remembrance, how Igot here, or how long it was after the battle."
"The battle had been fought about two weeks when you put in anappearance," said Mr. Chittenden.
"I must have stopped, and got some rest during that time," said Mark."But where--it's all a blank. I feel I owe my life to you, Mr.Chittenden. Not many would be as kind to a poor friendless soldier asyou have been to me. I feel----"
"No thanks, my boy; you must stay with us until you get entirely well."
"I reckon I will have to," replied Mark, with a smile. "I don't feelmuch like traveling."
There seemed to be something troubling Mark, and at last he asked Mr.Chittenden what had become of the clothes he wore when he came.
"Burnt up, Mark."
Mark gave a convulsive start and looked as if he were going to faint.
"There, don't worry; I'll see you have much better ones; those you worewere in awful condition," replied Mr. Chittenden.
"But--but what became of what was in the pockets?" Mark asked thequestion with a visible effort to appear calm.
"All safe, nothing disturbed. I gave orders that nothing should betouched until we saw whether you lived or died."
Mark looked relieved, but he only said: "There is nothing to worryabout; but I had a little money in my pockets, and it might have beentaken from me while I was wandering, not myself."
"We will see," said Mr. Chittenden, and he got the articles which hadbeen taken from Mark's clothing.
Mark hastily glanced them over and said, "It's all right. I am gladthere is money enough here to pay you, in part, for your trouble."
"None of that, Mark. I will throw you out of the house if you ever saypay again. In fact, I would take it as an insult," said Mr. Chittenden.
Mark said no more, but, glancing over the articles, he abstracted two orthree papers, and handed the rest back to Mr. Chittenden, asking him tokeep them for him. No sooner was he gone than Mark called Tilly andhanded her the papers he had kept, asking her if she would not burnthem. "Don't let anyone see them, Tilly, and burn them right away."
"Dat what I will," said Tilly, taking them.
"And, Tilly, don't say anything about it to anyone."
"Honey boy kin trust Tilly," exclaimed the woman as she turned to hurryaway, highly pleased that she had been trusted with a secret errand.
"I can now rest easy," murmured Mark, as he closed his eyes and went tosleep.
One day as Tilly was administering to his wants Mark said, "Tilly, Idon't know, but it seems as if I have seen you somewhere before, but forthe life of me I can't remember where."
"Dat is jes what I said 'bout yo', Marse Mark," cried Tilly, her facebrightening. "I said shorely I hev seen dat boy somewhar. It jes 'pearedto me that Tilly had held yo' in her arms some time, an' Tilly tuk yo'to her ole heart righ
t away, an' she grab yo' when de ole deth angel hadhole of yo', and she sed, 'Go 'way, ole deth angel, dis is mah boy,' an'she tuk yo' right out of de clutches of dat ole deth angel, she did, an'now yo' air mah boy."
Mark smiled as he said, "Yes, Tilly, I believe you did cheat the deathangel, and if anyone has a claim on me, you have. I shall alwaysremember you."
"An' Missy Grace, she helped too," cried Tilly. "Yo' mustn't forgitMissy Grace."
"I shall never forget her," replied Mark, and there was more meaning inhis words than Tilly thought.
That night Mark lay thinking over what Tilly had said about holding himin her arms, and suddenly he remembered. "She is right," he almostsobbed. "She has held me in her arms, but she must never know."
At last the day came when Mark could sit in a chair on the porch andlook out over the beautiful valley and stately hills. The valley wasarrayed in all the freshness and loveliness of spring; La Belle wasmurmuring her sweetest music.
"What a lovely valley you have here," he said to Mr. Chittenden. "Oneshould be perfectly happy here--so peaceful, so beautiful, so farremoved from the unrest and turmoil of the world."
"You talk like a philosopher, young man," replied Mr. Chittenden,laughing. "Not many of the world would like it; the mass of mankindprefer the rush and roar of the cities. There is little room forambition here. The world would never have grown to what it is if allpreferred to live as I do. Yet I would live nowhere else. Yes, it isvery quiet here, or was before the war."
"Has the war disturbed you much?" asked Mark.
"Yes, a great deal. As yet there has been no fighting nearer thanFrederickstown, but the hills are full of small guerrilla bands, I wouldnot be surprised to have a Federal cavalry force visit us any day. I tryto impress on the boys that it would be better if they were in the armyfighting, but few of them care to become regular soldiers."
Mark said no more, but sat apparently buried in deep thought.
It was not to be expected that Mark had remained at Mr. Chittenden's allof this time without him and Grace becoming fast friends. Mark was sodifferent from what she had expected when he represented himself as apoor, homeless private soldier, that it puzzled her. "There is a mysteryabout him," she said to herself, "and I am going to find out what it is.Whatever he is now, he was raised a gentleman."
As for Mark, he almost regretted he was getting well. The girl had cometo fill a large share of his thoughts. He had also learned some thingsthat surprised him. He had heard Grace and Tilly talk when he was lying,as they thought, asleep, and he knew that Grace's heart was with theNorth, and not the South, and that she hated slavery.
One day Tilly told Grace a story that caused every nerve in his body totingle, and he scarcely could keep from crying out.
Mark was very curious to know whether or not Mr. Chittenden wascognizant of his daughter's heresy, and soon found that he was, but thathe looked upon it as a mere girlish whim.
As Mark grew stronger he and Mr. Chittenden grew very intimate, and henever tired to hear Mark tell of how he had fought with Price at WilsonCreek, at Lexington, and at Pea Ridge.
In turn he confided to Mark that his house was what might be called astation between Missouri and Arkansas. The route through the valley ofLa Belle was little known to Federals, and practically unguarded. Ittouched no towns in their possession, and thus left an almostuninterrupted gateway between the two States.
Mark soon noticed that a good many Confederate officers were makingtheir way north, and he learned that a gigantic conspiracy was on foot,but, being only a private soldier, he was not taken into theirconfidence.
One day there came to the house on his way north the same Colonel Clayspoken of in our first chapter. He noticed and asked about Mark, and,when told, exclaimed, "Remarkable! I would like to speak to him."
He made Mark tell him the whole story. Not only this, but by questioninghe learned that Mark had not only a keen knowledge of military affairsbut was wonderfully well informed as to the army.
"It's a shame you were kept in the ranks. You should be an officer,"cried Clay.
"All can not be officers, and I was content to serve my country in themost humble capacity," modestly replied Mark. "Alas! I am afraid I canserve her no more." And he touched his wounded arm.
"I don't know about that," said Colonel Clay. "You may be able to serveyour country even in a greater capacity than you yet have. I have someimportant documents which I would like to get into St. Louis to certainparties. I will not deny that if you were caught with them on yourperson it would be certain death; but I believe you are both brave andshrewd."
"The boy is not able," spoke up Mr. Chittenden. "He has not been out ofbed more than a week. His wounds are not healed yet."
"So much the better," said Clay. "If he can ride, he can get throughwhere a well man can not."
"I will go. A man can die but once, and it is for my country." As Marksaid this his eyes fairly seemed to shine.
"Bravely spoken, my lad," cried Clay. "Would we had more like you!"
So it was arranged that Mark was to make the dangerous journey.
"Why do you do this, Mark?" asked Grace when he went to bid hergood-bye.
"It is for my country," answered Mark.
"You mean it is to help destroy your country. I despise the cause forwhich you fight."
"Yes, I know; your father told me."
"You knew, and never let on?"
"Why should I?"
"Because father says I am a traitor to the South."
"Grace, if I never come back, remember that there is one who never willdespise you, believe what you will."
"Take it easy," said Clay to Mark as he started to ride away. "Don'tovertax your strength. Two or three days will not matter much."
Colonel Clay had liberally supplied Mark with money for the journey; infact, the Colonel seemed to have plenty of money.
"Clay, I don't like it. You should never have sent him," said Mr.Chittenden. "I am afraid he never will live to see St. Louis, and I havegrown fond of the boy. We raised him, as it were, from the dead."
"Never fear," replied the Colonel. "The same grit that brought him herewill take him to St. Louis. If he dies after he gets there--well, itwon't matter much. His mission will be done, and it may mean theredemption of the State. What is one life to that?"
Grace overheard the heartless remark, and a fierce anger seized her. Itwas well the Colonel left the next day, for she resolutely refused toserve him or sit at the same table with him.
The days passed. Two weeks passed, and then three, and Mark had notreturned. Grace grew restless, her father anxious, and Tilly keptasking, "Whar is mah boy?"
But one day Mark appeared. He was riding slowly, so slowly, and his facewas flushed. It was seen the fever had him again.
"Help me off." His voice was almost a whisper.
He was helped off, and almost carried into the house, and it was someweeks before he was able to leave it. "I do not regret the journey," hesaid to Mr. Chittenden. "I was entirely successful in my mission, and Irejoice that I was able to do something for my country, wounded as Iam."
During his convalescence this time, Grace was with him a good deal. Shesang and read to him, and Mark thought he never had heard a voice sosweet. Even the hand of Tilly was not so gentle and soothing on hisfevered brow as was the hand of Grace.
By the first of August he had nearly recovered, but with August cameColonel Clay, returning to the South. He was in a towering rage, for allhis planning had come to naught. The defeat of Porter at Moore's Mill,and then his complete overthrow at Kirksville, the dispersion ofPoindexter's army, and his capture, ended all his hopes of capturingMissouri by a partisan uprising.
But one hope remained to him--that the movement in Southwest Missourimight be successful and Independence and Lexington captured. If so, theblow must be struck, and struck quickly. It had been ordered, butColonel Clay was afraid it would not be struck quickly enough. Thereforewhen he saw Mark his face brightened.
"Ah, my boy, I learned weeks ago that your mission was entirelysuccessful. You are a faithful courier, and I have another job for you."
"The one he had nearly proved the death of him," spoke up Mr.Chittenden. "The hardships of the trip were too much for him, and he layfor days with a return of the fever."
"He must go; I can trust no one else," cried Clay. "He is a soldier. Icommand him."
"I need no commands. I will go," said Mark proudly, drawing himself up.
"That's the talk. I knew I could depend on you," replied Clay.
When Grace learned Mark was to go again, she solemnly assured him thatif he did and got the fever, he would have to look for someone else tonurse him, but her voice trembled and tears gathered in her eyes as shebade him good-bye.
As for Mark, he only said as he rode away, "God bless you, if I neversee you again."
After Mark had gone Colonel Clay apologized to Mr. Chittenden forsending him, saying there were so few he could trust with so delicate amission. Then with an oath he exclaimed, "Chittenden, there is a traitorsomewhere. Schofield got hold of our entire plans in regard to thisuprising. If I only knew who it was." He brought his fist down with aresounding blow on the table beside which they were sitting.
"Have you any suspicion?" asked Mr. Chittenden.
"No, it is some one high up, but I'll get him yet."
The next day Colonel Clay continued on his way to the south. In a fewdays he had the satisfaction of hearing that Independence was taken andFoster defeated. But a little later came the discouraging news that theConfederate forces in Southwest Missouri were again in full retreat forArkansas.
This time Mark was not gone as long as before but he returned in a weakand exhausted condition.
When Colonel Clay went away he left orders for Mark to join him inArkansas on his return.
"I shall do no such thing. He has no right to order me," exclaimed Mark."What I have done I have done of my own volition."
"Good for you, Mark," said Mr. Chittenden. "Stay right here and getentirely well. Then you can help me, as I have some important orders tofill for supplies for General Hindman."
"Thank you. You are very kind," replied Mark. "So kind that I am afraidI shall trespass on your hospitality longer than is well." As he saidit, his eyes wandered over to where Grace was sitting.
The Courier of the Ozarks Page 16
