by Karen White
—JOHN BRIGHT
I awoke in shadows, the forms of people around me dark ink stains against the pale wall. I groaned and tried to sit up, only to be held down by strong arms and the flaming pain in my arm. I thought of Sarah and of Pamela’s last words to me and I stopped struggling.
“Mrs. Elliott?”
I opened my eyes wider in an attempt to focus on the features looming over me. I recognized Captain Audenreid’s face as he leaned closer. “The doctor has given you a bit of morphine, so your head will be rather unclear, I am afraid.” A soft pillow cushioned my head, and I realized I was back in my bedroom.
Hands gripped my shoulder, and white bandages were being wrapped around my upper arm. A soft shawl that smelled gently of lavender was placed over me. Pain snaked its way back into current memory and I winced.
“You have been shot,” he said matter-of-factly.
I grimaced. “Yeah. I know.” My lips felt like paper, cracked and stale.
“But you are a very lucky young lady. There are no bone fragments to worry about. The wound has been cleaned thoroughly and I expect it to heal without incident. I have found a local physician to continue with your care.” He went to the door and whispered something to someone on the other side.
“Why isn’t an army surgeon taking care of me? I would think they would have more experience with bullet wounds.” I shifted, trying to ease the pain.
He paused by the side of the bed. “Mrs. Elliott, General Sherman has ordered all troops to move from Chattanooga tomorrow morning. He has been very strict with his orders—we have been stripped to our barest essentials, and no extraneous persons will be allowed. You will stay here and be under the care of a very good doctor.”
I dug my heels into the mattress, forcing myself to sit up against the headboard, heedless of the pain that radiated through my body. “I can’t stay here. I need to go home.”
The word “home” came easily to my lips, softening the ragged edges of my memories. Stuart would be there to comfort me, to help me. “I have to get back to Roswell. I need to find my daughter.” I refused to believe what Pamela said was true. I grabbed at the captain’s arm. “Please. I can’t stay here.”
A shadow emerged from the back of the room and William came to stand next to the captain. “As your closest male relation, Laura, I cannot allow it.”
“I want to speak to General Sherman.” I kicked the bedclothes off, then slid from the bed, the wall of pain pressing on my senses and making me light-headed. I hastily pulled the shawl over my nightgown, then stumbled for the door, but was restrained by a light hand on my uninjured arm.
“Mrs. Elliott. Wait. If you want to speak to the general, I will arrange it for you.” Captain Audenreid gave a stern look to my brother-in-law, who stood silent, his lips pursed. “But may I suggest changing your clothes first? I will send my wife in to help you.”
My legs gave out and I eagerly sought the floor, my bottom landing firmly on the rug. I held up my hand. “I’m all right—just a little light-headed.” I brought my knees up and rested my forehead on them. My voice sounded muffled but I couldn’t seem to raise my head to speak. “But I’m afraid that your wife might just finish the job Pamela started.”
I heard a smile in his voice. “No, you are wrong. We all know what you did. We are very much in awe of your bravery and are indebted to you for saving the general’s life.”
I put my head back between my knees as the room began to swim before my eyes. “But at what cost?” I whispered. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the room steady. I wouldn’t allow myself to think about it.
Captain Audenreid and William helped me back to the bed and then the captain excused himself to get his wife.
I lay back on the pillow, exhausted from the physical exertion, and closed my eyes. I felt a tentative touch on my cheek. I lay still, not yet having the energy to open my eyes. The touch grew stronger as the unseen hand stroked my jaw. My eyes flew open. William’s face leered into mine, a mere few inches between us.
“You are an exciting woman, Laura. My brother is a fool to let you go so far from home.”
I moved my head back as far as it would go, recoiling from his touch.
His hand fell to my neck, and my body went rigid. “Stuart never did know how to control a woman. You need somebody stronger, Laura. Somebody who knows how to handle a woman.”
“I am your brother’s wife,” I said, trying to move away from his touch.
He leaned his face closer to mine, his blue eyes sparkling with malice. “Come away with me, Laura. We will go west—together. Build a new life away from this war. Let me show you the difference between a real man and a boy.” Light, feathery strokes caressed my collarbone. I cringed back into my pillow.
He continued, his voice low and teasing. “Besides, Laura, I doubt you will be welcome back at Phoenix Hall once Julia discovers what you did to Pamela. I do not think you have much of a choice.”
With my last effort, I gathered saliva onto my tongue and spat in his face.
He wiped his jaw with the sleeve of his coat as the door opened and Mary Audenreid entered, a steaming pitcher of water in her hand. William straightened and excused himself without a backward glance.
Mary Audenreid stood in front of the closed door, her eyes focused on the steam rising from the pitcher. “Mrs. Elliott. It would appear that I owe you an apology. I was hoping that even if we could not be friends, perhaps we could be civil to each other.”
I nodded. “If you help make me presentable enough to meet with General Sherman, I will make you my best friend.”
She gave me a hesitant smile and began pouring the water into the washbasin.
She helped me wash and then rigged a dress to fit over my bandages. My head still didn’t feel steady, and we needed her husband to help me down the stairs for my meeting with General Sherman. I froze at the threshold of the library, remembering what had transpired in there.
“It is all right, Mrs. Elliott. There’s nothing in there to disturb you.” Captain Audenreid gave me a gentle push on my back.
I was relieved to see the carpet had been removed, as had every trace of Pamela. I shuddered involuntarily as I moved to stand before the general’s desk.
He stood and regarded me with strong eyes, the ever-present cigar smoking in an ashtray on the desk. “Mrs. Elliott. It is good to see you on the road to recovery from your ordeal.” He indicated the chair behind me and I gratefully collapsed into it. “Tell me what I can do for you.”
I leaned my elbow on his desk for support. “I need to get home to Roswell, Georgia. I can’t do it on my own, especially since I know I would have to cross lines of battle. I would like your permission to travel with your troops.”
He stared at me as if I hadn’t spoken, then picked up his cigar and began pacing the room. “Mrs. Elliott, I am not sure you understand what you are asking. My troops will be traveling fast and light. We will be engaged in battle—a dangerous situation for anybody, even bystanders. I will have more than one hundred thousand men on this campaign—no women. Not even laundresses. I cannot think of a single reason why I should permit an injured woman to join us.”
Spots began dancing before my eyes again and I drew in a deep breath. I leaned heavily on the desk as I stared into his eyes and said, “Because you owe me your life.”
He paused, blowing a puff of smoke into the still air. He nodded once. “Yes. That I do.”
I closed my eyes and put my head on my arms. The general called for Captain Audenreid, and I felt myself being gently lifted from the chair. I held to the chair for a moment. “General?”
He sighed. “I will have my men prepare space for you on a medical wagon.”
I nodded my thanks, then allowed myself to be led away. As we crossed the foyer, the front doors were thrown open and two blue-clad soldiers struggled in, each of them clasping the ar
m of a man wearing a tattered gray uniform. The man’s head was slung forward, as if he were barely holding on to consciousness, blood and bruises covering the part of his face I could see. He had been beaten, and badly.
“What is this?” William’s voice came from the top of the stairs as he descended.
One of the soldiers saluted, almost losing his grasp on the prisoner, and addressed William. “Begging your pardon, Captain. The man claims to be your brother.”
I looked back at the soldier, not completely comprehending until my gaze fell on the prisoner’s hands. Bruised and torn, and tied together at the wrist with a hemp rope, I recognized the strong, long fingers. The filthy and blood-encrusted bandage across his shoulder. Blood rushed to my head. I pulled away from Captain Audenreid’s grasp and ran. “Stuart? It’s me—it’s Laura.”
Slowly he lifted his head like a marionette being pulled by a string. Dried blood and grime caked his face, and one eye was swollen shut. But the eye that did shine out at me was a deep blue, and I recognized him. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but knew of no place where I could touch him where it wouldn’t hurt.
Instead, I turned to William. “He’s badly hurt and he’s got a bullet wound under his shoulder. Can we move him to a room upstairs and send for a doctor?”
Ignoring me, William strode over to Stuart. “So, little brother. We meet again. What brings you here?”
The dry, gravelly voice was almost that of a stranger. “I have . . . brought . . . Sarah.”
The strangled sound came from my own throat. As if my wish demanded it, the door opened again and another soldier entered, pushing my daughter ahead of him. She seemed taller than I remembered and much thinner, but the light in her green eyes was the same.
I fell to my knees, my strength finally deserting me, and opened my arms to her.
“Papa!” she shrieked, as she rushed by me and flew into William’s arms.
She nearly toppled him over in her exuberance, and he quickly put her aside, his face a mask of anger and confusion.
“What in the hell are you doing bringing a child here, Stuart?”
One of Stuart’s captors stepped forward. “We found them walking down the road from Dalton, just as plain and easy as you please, as if there ain’t no damned war goin’ on.” He coughed before continuing. “We, uh, didn’t give him a chance to talk first—sorry, sir. But later he said he needed to reach you, that he was your brother and this was your daughter.”
Stuart’s eyes fell on me. “Am I . . . in time?”
I nodded, seeing him through a blur of tears. He had somehow found Sarah, then risked his life to bring her here to prevent me from fulfilling my bargain with Pamela. My joy at seeing Sarah was clouded by my fear over Stuart’s predicament. He was in the enemy’s camp.
Softly, I told him, “Pamela’s dead.”
He nodded in understanding.
“Miss Laura?” Sarah stood by herself, and I reached for her and she came to me. My fingers searched out her bony shoulders and thick head of hair, and I cried with relief at the solid presence of her in my lap. “I missed you, baby—I’ve missed you so.” I lifted her head and wiped the hair away from her eyes, studying her face. “Are you all right? Did anybody hurt you?”
She shook her head, her hair whipping around her face. “No.” Her eyes blinked; then she leaned forward to rub her face in my neck. “Is my mama here? I miss her.”
Her words were like a blow. I patted her back, ignoring the hollow feeling in my chest. “No, sweetheart. But I’ll take you home. Your mama will be so happy to see you.”
William stepped forward and looked down at me. “Am I to understand that my brother knew about the plot to assassinate General Sherman?”
General Sherman stepped out of the library. “What in the hell is all this commotion?”
William addressed his commander. “I believe we have in custody another member of the group who planned your assassination.”
I made to stand, but my foot caught on the bottom of my skirt and I ended up on the floor at his feet. “No, William. He’s your brother—don’t do this.” I hugged Sarah close, not wanting her to witness the scene.
William shot me a cold look. “Are you denying that he knew about it?”
“No, but . . .”
He cut me off and spoke directly to the two guards. “This man is a prisoner. Take him someplace where he can be held under lock and key.”
“No!” I screamed. “He needs immediate medical attention.” I turned to the general, on my last leg of strength. “Please— Please don’t let them send him away.”
His face was closed to me. “I am sorry, Mrs. Elliott. But until we can ascertain the truth, we need to hold him as a prisoner.”
Dots spotted my eyes again, and I heard myself shouting for Stuart. Warm air rushed at me as the door opened. I didn’t hear Stuart struggling, but I knew he was gone when the door slammed shut. Sarah squeezed my hand and I held on to it as I stared at the closed door for a long, long time.
Woodenly, I headed up the stairs to my room and lay down on the bed with Sarah, willing sleep to come if only so I could forget what I’d just seen.
When I awakened, I was in my bed and Captain Audenreid sat next to me, a look of concern creasing his face. I sat up, wincing at the pain in my bandaged arm. “Where’s Sarah?”
“Mary is with her. She is giving her a bath and a fresh change of clothes—not to mention a hot meal.”
I lay back, my mind not completely at ease. “But what about my husband? He’s wounded—he needs medical care.” I turned to him. “Please. I beg of you. Can you see to it that he at least gets medical attention?”
He rubbed his jaw, as if needing the movement to make a decision. “I most likely can, Mrs. Elliott. But that is all. He is a rebel officer, and he will have to face charges.”
“But he’s innocent.” I tried to sit up in bed, but the captain held me back.
“Then he can defend himself on those grounds. In the meantime, I will see what I can do to get him a doctor.”
I nodded, then lay back in the bed, staring at the ceiling again and praying for a dreamless sleep.
* * *
We left before dawn on the morning of Thursday, May 5, 1864, after saying goodbye to Mary Audenreid and the other officers’ wives. The throbbing pain in my arm masked any trepidation I should have felt at being one of only a few women on this march. William ignored us as he rode out in front of the column of men, leaving Captain Audenreid to help get Sarah and me settled. We had originally been placed in the back of a covered medical wagon, but the jostling over the rough terrain was causing more injury to my person, so I begged to sit up front with the driver.
I didn’t know where Stuart had been taken, and nobody would answer my questions. I tried not to think of him in a dark cell somewhere, starving to death. At least I knew his wounds had been tended, thanks to Captain Audenreid. As I hugged Sarah close to me, I made plans to petition General Sherman for his release. I was out of bargaining chips, but I had to try.
The long column of men stretched out on either side of me in an uninterrupted wave of blue. The dust rising from the ground in their wake wafted over to me, and I could feel the grit settle in my hair and clothes. I longed for a bath.
The soldiers’ methodical marching was interspersed occasionally by singing. I recognized some of the songs, and Sarah and I would join in for lack of anything better to do and to take my mind off of Stuart. I vacillated between utter joy at having her with me, close enough to touch and hear her laughter, and the pain in my heart over Stuart. I tried to be angry at him for not returning to Phoenix Hall. But then that would have meant I wouldn’t have Sarah.
Captain Audenreid pulled up on his horse to ride next to the wagon.
“Good morning, Mrs. Elliott,” he said, tipping his hat. “And you, too, Miss Elliott.” S
arah giggled, then hid her mouth with her hand as she stared up at the handsome officer. Strands of reddish blond hair peaked out from under his hat. A single dimple punctuated his smile and his light gray eyes appraised me openly. The scar on his face did nothing to lessen his handsomeness. It might have even added to his appeal.
Smiling, I nodded in his direction.
“I hope you are not finding this trip too unpleasant.”
“Not too much. It’s bringing me home.” I had long since lost any feeling in my lower extremities, and I squirmed on the hard wagon seat to bring the blood flow back.
Noticing my discomfort, the officer said, “You might be more comfortable in a saddle. I would be more than happy to find you a horse.”
The captain smiled affably at me, sitting easily astride his mount. I had come to the conclusion that one must be born to the saddle to truly be comfortable. Judging from my sudden jitteriness at the mere mention that I should ride a horse, there was no hope for me.
Sarah squealed with delight. “I want to ride a horse. Can I? Can I?”
I turned to her with worry. “No, Sarah. You might get hurt. . . .”
She was already pushing herself to my side of the wagon. “Please, Aunt Laura? Please?” It took me a moment to realize that she’d called me Aunt Laura.
The captain reassured me. “I will be careful with her.”
I nodded and he reached down to lift Sarah onto his saddle. He smiled at me. “You are like a mother to her.”
Sarah interjected. “She is my aunt Laura. We are going to see my real mama in Georgia.”
I looked down at my lap. “Yes. We will be home soon.” I had explained to Sarah that Julia and her brother were in Valdosta, but that I would write to them as soon as I could to let them know we were on our way home.
We continued riding in a companionable silence, moving relatively quickly over the bumpy terrain. I wanted to get down and walk, to get the blood flowing again in my posterior, but was unsure I could keep up with the grueling pace.
I began humming to myself to keep my mind off of the painful thoughts racing around my head. I started to enjoy the scenery, admiring a Southern springtime in full bloom. Suddenly, my humming stopped.
