Erin's Rebel

by Susan Macatee

  A vision of him lying in a smoke-filled field covered in blood flashed into her mind. On the way to her tent, she carefully looked over the soldiers as they returned to camp, hoping to spot him. She found only a handful of broken, discouraged men. None of them recalled seeing the captain since the battle.

  When she pulled back the flap of her tent, she distinctly heard Grandma Rose’s voice. “Find him,” Grandma urged, “or all is lost.”

  The whispery voice caused a shiver to run down her spine. What did that mean? He wasn’t supposed to die until 1864. Had her coming here altered things? Sinking onto her bunk, she dropped her head into her hands and tried to decide what to do.

  If he wasn’t in camp, he must still be on the battlefield. Maybe he was already dead...or he could be hurt, unable to move. Grandma wanted her to find him, so that was what she was going to do.

  After settling her cloth bonnet over her hair, she picked up the canteen beside her bunk. The sounds of battle had quieted. Hoping the fighting was done for the day, she stopped by Brigid’s tent and filled the canteen with the water the cook had drawn for supper.

  Erin headed for the battlefield. The afternoon heat caused her to feel the full weight of her many layers of clothing. She surveyed the field, wishing she could strip down to her chemise.

  Two pickets stopped her. “Where you headed, ma’am?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “I need to find someone. He could be hurt or dead.”

  The pickets exchanged glances. The younger one, a smooth-cheeked boy, said, “I wouldn’t go out there yet.”

  “But the fighting’s over,” she protested.

  The older picket, short, stocky, with a wiry-beard, said, “We still heard some shootin’ over yonder. It ain’t safe, ma’am.”

  She scanned the field. Men’s bodies, dead horses, and wounded men crying piteously for help covered the landscape. Gesturing angrily, she said, “None of those men are capable of shooting anyone.”

  “But the Yankees—”

  “I’m not afraid of Yankees.”

  The men eyed each other again. The older one looked at her and said pointedly, “Go, if you want to, but if the Yankees shoot you, it will be your funeral.”

  She almost laughed aloud. “It certainly will.”

  The men parted to let her pass. She slowly made her way across the vast open field.

  How will I ever find him? She threaded her way through prone bodies, stopping every time a man called out for water. She searched for Will, fearing she’d find him among the dead.

  The heat, combined with the stench of gunpowder and the scent of blood nearly caused her to collapse, but she had to keep going, had to find him.

  “Please...please, ma’am, help me.” She turned at the sound of the pitiful voice. A stocky, heavily bearded man lay on the ground at her feet. She gasped, then covered her mouth when she looked at where his legs should have been. Two bloody stumps poked out from his shredded trousers.

  Following her gaze, he said, “I know I’m not long for this world. I don’t want to die alone. If you could jest sit here with me until it’s over, I’d be much obliged.”

  Erin bit her lip. She needed to find Will but couldn’t refuse this man’s plea. No one else moved nearby. The stretcher- bearers, who’d started to collect the wounded, hadn’t made it this far. She sat beside the man, facing away from the bloody stumps.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Earnest Watkins.”

  “Are you married, Earnest?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She’s the prettiest gal you’ve ever seen.”

  “Any children?”

  “I got three. I got a tintype if you’d like to see.”

  “Of course.”

  He fumbled in his pocket.

  She learned forward to help him fish out a small photo. She scanned the innocent, baby faces. Two boys and a girl. She imagined their mother waiting for this man to come home and wondered how the woman would bear this. Her eyes misted over.

  “They’re beautiful children.” She handed the picture back.

  He nodded proudly.

  “I only wish I could see them one more time in this life.”

  “You will,” she lied. She helped him tuck the photo into his pocket, against his heart.

  Earnest sighed. “I can’t fool myself. I know I’ve lost a lot of blood. Even if I could survive, I’d be no good to them like this.” He gestured to his legs. “I’m a farmer,” he explained.

  She nodded, blinking back tears. “Where are you from?”

  “North Carolina.” He smiled weakly. “I only hope my wife can take my body back there when this is over. I’d like to rest back home.”

  “I’m sure she will.” But she doubted a woman with three, small children could travel that far and back in this time period.

  “I can’t rest here.” He glanced around fearfully.

  “You’ll get back.” She patted his shoulder.

  “I want to be buried on my farm. Under the magnolia tree.”

  Erin nodded, not sure what else she could say. His face turned white as marble. She didn’t think he could last much longer. She took his hand in hers.

  “Ellie, is that you?” he whispered.

  She looked around. No one else was in sight.

  “I know you’ll take good care of the children,” he said.

  He thought she was his wife. “The children will be fine,” she assured him. “Don’t you worry. Rest.”

  “I love you, Ellie,” he rasped.

  His hand slipped from hers. He was gone. She closed his eyes and covered his face with the kepi that lay beside him. Standing over him and recalling her Roman Catholic upbringing, she made the sign of the cross and said a silent prayer for his soul.

  She felt drained and exhausted but was determined to continue her search for Captain Montgomery. She only hoped that, if he’d died and it hadn’t been instantaneous, someone had been with him as she’d been with Earnest.

  Close to the Federal lines, she found Yankees and Rebels lying side by side, atop one another. She feared she’d never find him in this chaos. She spent several minutes comforting soldiers, both Confederate and Federal. The men were grateful for a sip of water, a smile, and a kind word.

  Erin wanted to offer all of these men encouragement but knew most of them wouldn’t survive long enough to make it back to the hospital. One young Union soldier kept calling her Harriet. He promised her they’d marry as soon as he mustered out of the service. Another impossibly young Rebel thought she was his mother. He cried and pleaded with her to take him home.

  She couldn’t take much more of this misery. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Fearing she’d never find the captain, she made the decision to go back. Defeated, she rose and gathered her skirts to start the long hike back to camp.

  One of the stretcher-bearers, a young, hospital steward named Matt, stopped her. “Ma’am, the captain over yonder asked me to get you.”

  She peered at the boy’s freckle-spattered face. “The captain?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Where is he?” She glanced around.

  He pointed. “Right there, ma’am.”

  After thanking him, she followed his gesture. Several men lay in a cluster. None of them moved. Her heart thumped wildly. She frantically searched among the men, whose faces she didn’t recognize. Most of them appeared dead.

  Looking back in the direction the boy had gone, she found he had disappeared. Could he have been mistaken? None of the men around her seemed capable of speech.

  This is hopeless.

  She walked a few feet, then froze. A man in Confederate uniform lay belly down, his face turned to the side, revealing a familiar profile, with dark brown hair. She sucked in a breath and held it.

  Crouching, she touched his face. Cold. Too late. In despair, she covered her face with her hands. She’d lost him. And with that, any hope of accomplishing whatever she’d been sent here to do.

  “What a
m I supposed to do now?” she said aloud.

  A low moan answered her.

  “Captain?” She touched his face and held her palm close to his lips. His breath faintly fanned against her hand.

  Erin rolled him onto his back. Before she could do anything, he moaned again. A bright red stain covered his left side over the gray of his frock coat. She recalled the sudden pain she’d felt back at the hospital. Was there some psychic connection between them?

  She laid her head against his chest. He had a faint, rapid heartbeat, and he was breathing. He needed help and fast. If she’d been home, she would’ve used her cell phone to call 911. She couldn’t let him die.

  After opening his frock coat, she parted the ruined fabric of his muslin shirt. Blood seeped from a gaping hole in his side. She tore the ruffle off one of her petticoats and pressed the fabric against his chest, then pressed the bloodied coat back against it to hold the cloth in place.

  When she took his hand, he gasped and opened his eyes. “Mrs. O’Connell?” he croaked.

  She stroked his cheek and smiled. “It’s me, Erin. Can’t you call me Erin?”

  He tried to move, causing another moan to escape his lips. “You’ve been shot in the side,” she said. “I don’t know how bad.”

  “Doc’ll fix me up,” he murmured. “Get me to Doc.” He closed his eyes.

  “Captain? Will?” She shook him, but he didn’t move. “You can’t do this to me, you hear?”

  A group of stretcher-bearers approached. She signaled to them. Impulsively, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. The coldness of his mouth alarmed her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jake leaned against a wide oak, furiously puffing on a cheroot. He’d nearly been killed today and for what? When that fool Lee ordered the march across that wide-open field, he’d tried to find a way to duck out. He didn’t plan on dying for a cause he didn’t believe in.

  If it hadn’t been for Captain Montgomery catching him, he could have hid until the battle was over. And if Montgomery hadn’t been wounded, he’d likely be up on charges of desertion. At least, he was still in one piece with no one around to punish him.

  Now, to make things worse, his arrangement with Erin O’Connell had gone awry. Ever since she’d fallen from that mare, she’d been a different woman—cozying up to Montgomery...acting haughty and refined like she was too good for him. She didn’t even speak the same. This wasn’t good. If that bitch had thoughts of betraying him...

  She hadn’t returned to her tent for hours. Spotting Brigid Malone, he casually asked if she’d seen Erin.

  The dumpy Irish woman scowled. “She’s helping with the wounded, but I don’t think she’ll be wanting to see the likes of you tonight.”

  Jake kept his expression bland, tipped his cap, and strode off. He knew the Irish cook hated him. He drew near the barn. The surgeons used it as a medical facility, since the hospital tents had filled to capacity the day before. The scent of blood caused him to stop short.

  Men, who’d been left lying in the open yesterday, had been taken inside as heavy rain started to fall. He moved to the entrance and peered in.

  Inside was chaos. Men moaned and screamed in pain. Doctors, nurses, and stewards rushed about trying to help in any way they could.

  He grimaced at the sound of a bone saw coming from the back of the barn. He backed away from the horrific scene, but not before catching sight of the slender back of a woman with a reddish-gold bun. She bent over dispensing water to a cluster of men lying on a pile of hay. He watched until Erin lifted the bucket and moved toward where he stood.

  Her eyes widened when she saw him. Before she could pass him, he grasped her arm. She strained against his grip.

  “I need to get more water.” She held the empty bucket for him to see.

  “I’d like a word with you first,” he ground against her ear.

  “But they need me—”

  Ignoring her protest, Jake yanked her outside into the rain. “Let me go!” She dropped the bucket.

  Jake glanced inside the barn. No one noticed him pull her outside. After shoving her under the canopy of a wide oak, he spun her around to face him. “I want to know what’s going on between you and Captain Montgomery.”

  Her eyelids narrowed to slits. “Nothing’s going on. He’s been wounded, and he’s lying in there barely alive.” She flung her free arm toward the barn.

  “I need to know you won’t betray me,” he said. “Remember, I know who and what you are.”

  Before she could reply, one of the drummer boys stepped out, lifting the bucket she’d dropped. The lad’s blond eyebrows rose when he spotted the two standing in the rain.

  “Ma’am, they said I should fetch the water right quick.”

  Erin glanced at Jake. “Leave it out to catch the rain water,” she told the boy. “Bring the other bucket, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He left the bucket out in the open and disappeared inside.

  She looked at Jake. “I’ll talk to you about this later.”

  He nodded, releasing her arm. He’d wait until later when they had privacy. Before he could issue a final warning, the boy reappeared with a second bucket he placed beside the first. Erin and the boy disappeared inside, leaving Jake alone. He strode to his tent. Once things calmed down, he’d see to it she reveal everything. Or on second thought, maybe he should take matters into his own hands. He needed knowledge of all her activities, so he’d have evidence to hold against her, if she ever had any thoughts of betraying him.

  ****

  Sitting near his cot, Erin stared at the captain who appeared to be sleeping after his surgery. Doc had dug out the lead ball and stitched the jagged wound. For now, the best thing she could do was keep the area clean. She carefully removed Will’s bandage by first soaking it with water from the basin she’d placed beside him. With the bandage wet, she snipped it off with a small pair of scissors. Exposing the bright red wound, streaked with a dark zigzag edge, she looked for any sign of infection. If I only had some sort of antibiotic. Even an ointment! Infection could be a death sentence, especially in his weakened state.

  Seeing no pus and catching no putrid smell, she breathed a sigh of relief. She gently washed the side of his chest moving beyond the edge of the wound, ending at his narrow waist. Glancing at his face every few seconds, she looked for any indication she caused him pain.

  Using a linen towel to dry the area, she re-bandaged him with the help of one of the musicians serving as a medical steward. Settling him back on the cot, she touched his cheek where a few days stubble roughened his face. His eyes remained closed.

  “Will?” she whispered.

  He reached a hand toward her.

  She clasped it in both of hers.

  “Anne,” he rasped.

  Erin glanced around in surprise. She’d grown used to being mistaken for other women, but this man meant something to her.

  “His wife.” Doc had sidled up beside her. “She died just after the war started.”

  Erin nodded, glancing at the captain. “How did she die?”

  “Pneumonia. She’d given birth to a stillborn son shortly after Christmas of ’60. The birth had weakened her, and she never fully recovered.”

  “He left when she was sick?”

  “At first, she had nothing life threatening. She stayed with his parents and the servants. Just after he left for camp, she came down with the grippe, which progressed to croup. Will wasn’t able to obtain a furlough to go to her. His parents assured him they’d care for her. Told him his duty was to defend Virginia.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “He got the telegram that she was deathly ill after Manassas. By the time he got home, she was gone.”

  Erin tightened her grip on his hand. “He told you all of this?”

  Doc shook his head. “My wife, Josie, had known Anne since childhood. We know Will’s family.”

  “And the little girl?”

  “Amanda. She was three when Anne di
ed. Will’s sister, Jenny, and his parents care for her now.”

  Erin gazed at Will’s face. His brow furrowed as if he were in pain or dreaming of something unpleasant. “How bad is he, Doc?”

  “If we can keep the wound from getting infected, he should recover. Fortunately, nothing vital was hit.”

  Nodding, she vowed to personally clean his wound. If her purpose in being here was to keep this man alive, she had her work cut out for her.

  ****

  Hours later, Doc woke her. She’d fallen asleep sitting at the edge of Will’s cot with her head resting on a side table, where she’d left her basin and rags.

  “Go back to your tent and get some sleep. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

  Erin shook off the grogginess. A few hours stretched out on her cot sounded like a good idea.

  As she crossed the camp to her tent, the heavy rain that fell revived her. Pulling back the canvas, she gasped. Her table and bunk had been upended, and the trunk gaped open, its contents spread everywhere. What could she have that anyone could want? She reached into the trunk, only then realizing the journal was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  That evening Jake sat in his tent hunched over a lantern while rain pelted the canvas. He’d set the lamp on a flat block of wood away from the bedding and canvas and draped his rubber sheet over the opening of the small tent to keep the rainwater out.

  Erin O’Connell’s journal proved to be very interesting reading, although he had a bit of trouble with her small handwriting. Pages that had been torn out most likely contained the information she’d gathered on troop movements. But what he found most interesting were the entries regarding him. Seems the woman tolerated him for what information she could get. Furthermore, she was attracted to Captain Montgomery.

  As he deciphered Erin’s scribbling, his thoughts drifted to the woman who’d taught him to read. As a boy, he hadn’t had any formal education, and at the age of fourteen, his father had farmed him out to do chores for a widow who, before her marriage, had been a schoolmarm. The woman had taught him not only how to read but had taken him into her bed for further education. He still held fond memories of her.