by Cathy Gohlke
“No, sir. I won’t, sir.” But he looked confused.
“There was a boy there—a boy who helped you after his father was injured,” Chaplain kept on.
I remembered that boy. He did find us, did help us. But he tricked me. Just before he left Jeremiah and me near a Quaker farm Christmas night he told me to say good-bye to Stargazer. I had no choice. The pattyrollers were already out looking for runaways. “He took my horse.” I’d never forgiven him, never understood how somebody who risked his life helping people could take such advantage. Stargazer was the best horse I’d ever known or imagined, the first and only horse that was ever mine, my friend.
“That’s right. And what he did was wrong. But he didn’t know what else to do at the time.”
“He could have left him with the Quaker family—he was the one told us how to get there. He knew where they lived! He went there himself! He as good as stole him from me.”
“He brought Stargazer to me.”
“To you?” Could I be hearing right?
Chap. Goforth took my arm. “When I enlisted as chaplain. Every chaplain had to provide his own horse—if we were to have one at all. When Timothy knew I was joining up, he brought Stargazer to me.”
I couldn’t take it in. I never knew his name. I turned away, but Chap. Goforth still had hold of my arm.
Chaplain watched me, and all I could do was stare stupidly back.
“You’ve had Stargazer all this time?” A wall, thick, like stone, grew up between us.
“I swear to you, Robert, I never knew I had him until then. I’d have done all in my power to get him to you if I’d known. By that time the war had started. There was no way.”
And then it came to me. “You mean—Stargazer’s here? Now?”
The smile on Chap. Goforth’s face shone broad. “I’ve been waiting for you to get well enough to bring you to him.”
And then I saw him. Black, like a raven’s wing. Milk-white blaze on his forehead, the cause of his name. He wasn’t as tall as I’d remembered, but I was taller now. His coat needed brushing; his mane and tail needed combing. He’d been through a war, grown skittish, danced along the line. But still the most beautiful horse I’d ever seen, ever known.
I walked to him slowly, whispering his name, as I’d done all those years ago, when I’d first sat on my grandfather’s gate and spoke gentling words, getting to know him. Andrew and Wooster stood back, giving me time. Stargazer whinnied and shied, then stood, his head slightly off center, staring back. I could tell that he had some recollection, made some connection to the past, maybe didn’t know what. Well, there was time now, all the time in the world. And I would take it. I buried my face in his neck.
Chap. Goforth gave Wooster and me a corner in his tent. If men needed to come for prayer or counsel we ducked out, giving them time and space. But it was safer, far from McCain.
We heard that McCain was under disciplinary action. He might have been investigated more thoroughly or dishonorably discharged in another time. But there was a war on, and every man was needed. We steered clear of him for as long as possible.
Whatever route those Union troops took to Petersburg, they missed us. After two more days the entire hospital breathed easier, and the general and his officers pulled out.
Wooster wanted to ride for Salem right away. I needed to get to Ma and Emily. But Col. Monroe couldn’t see letting a horse go, not with the army’s shortages. And in truth I wasn’t up to the ride yet. Spending time with Stargazer was like a spring tonic in the building winter. Somehow I knew that when the time came we’d all be ready.
To get reacquainted with Stargazer I repeated everything I’d done when Grandfather had first given him to me. The second day I groomed him, brushed his coat till it shone, his mane and tail till they felt like feathers in my hands. I fed and watered and mucked after him, did everything but help him breathe. The sergeant in charge of horses didn’t mind. He was pressed to keep up with all he had, and they were chores he didn’t have to tend to.
The third day I saddled and walked him around the camp. He shied at every little noise. I couldn’t imagine what he’d seen during his years of war, what he’d gone through. I knew Chap. Goforth had not mistreated him. It wasn’t in his nature. But he’d probably been ridden by any number of men since he’d been mine—either while he was with Timothy or here, in the army. I didn’t want to own him. I’d never wanted us to be master and slave, but best friends. By the end of the week we exercised—trotting, then galloping. There were limits, limits I hated to keep. But they were posted for the safety of the field hospital. I kept to the rules. I didn’t want to come up before the colonel again, didn’t want to meet McCain outside of camp somewhere.
Life became almost comfortable. While I worked with Stargazer, Wooster repaired harnesses and mended bridles, polished saddles. He said he loved the smell of leather, that it put him in mind of Salem and the harness shop. “I might get work there when I get home, or with one of the cobblers. I could live in the single brothers’ house—for now. Leather’d be a good trade for me,” he said. I marveled that Wooster always seemed to know what he was about, what he would be about, and how he’d get there.
Because of the siege outside Petersburg, not so many wounded poured into the field hospital. Chap. Goforth got more sleep and Katie Frances’s smile sprang easier, but for the worry for her family back in Petersburg. Even Col. Monroe, now that the truth was out, stopped giving Wooster and me such a hard time, though he still kept Katie Frances trailing him nearly every minute of every day.
One night I asked Chap. Goforth why he didn’t marry Katie Frances. The question took him by surprise, and then he grinned. “It shows?”
“Like a watchfire!” I said. “On both of you.” I couldn’t understand it. “You’re wasting time. You could be sharing a tent with her instead of Wooster and me.”
He groaned. “When you put it that way…” He turned his back and busied himself with papers. “In time. After the war … perhaps.”
“You know Col. Monroe is after her. She’s fending him off, but…”
“Now isn’t a good time to get married. Not with the war.”
“This war could go on a long time, Andrew—Chap. Go-forth. I see what you two have. Why don’t you—”
“It’s not your affair, Robert. Stay out of it.” Never had he spoken so sharply.
“But—”
“No more!” And he walked out. It was the first I’d ever thought Chap. Andrew Goforth a foolish man.
I carried water buckets for the hospital tents as I grew stronger, even helped the burial detail after the third week. Sometimes that meant burying stacks of sawed-off arms and legs, fingers and toes, instead of whole men. Gruesome work.
My path crossed Katie Frances’s many times each day. We talked and joked. Sometimes we talked about her family back in Petersburg. I could feel her fear for them. She never failed to give me a smile that made me want to dance a jig. Still, they were nothing compared to the smiles she shone on Chap. Go-forth. She laughed and gave a wink when I asked her one evening why she didn’t push him to the altar. But when I came behind her, unexpected, not ten minutes later, she was wiping away tears. I backed off, quietly as I could. It was the first time I wanted to punch Chap. Andrew Goforth.
Still, I was glad to be with Stargazer, glad that he and I both felt stronger, more sure of ourselves each day. I knew that growing strength was my ticket to Emily and Ma. I sometimes forgot about Andrew and Katie Frances and their foolish dance, nearly forgot about McCain, and the war. I didn’t care about the rumors flying that more enemy troops had been spotted, headed our way. I didn’t care about any of those things—until it was almost too late.
Sixteen
If anything should happen,” Chap. Goforth said, “now—in the next few days—anytime… I want you to take Wooster and Stargazer and go.”
“What do you mean—‘if anything happens’?”
“If Union troops invade—take over. T
ake Stargazer. You and Wooster ride to Salem, and Ashland.” Then he walked outside the tent, into the night. It took a while for what he’d said to sink in. When it did, I followed him.
“I can’t leave you, Andrew. I can’t take Stargazer and leave you with Union troops! He’s your only way out of here.”
He shook his head. “They won’t hurt the wounded or those tending them. They’ll likely capture the hospital and add their wounded to ours—commandeer our doctors and nurses. They may take our medicine. But they’re not likely to hurt us or move us. We’re noncombatants.” He pressed my shoulder. “But you and Wooster are no longer patients. Just because the general gave you and Wooster papers of pardon doesn’t mean Union soldiers won’t send you both to prison.”
“What about you—and Katie Frances?”
“Katie Frances and I have talked. This is what we both want. dMy place is here, with these men. I won’t leave them, and she refuses to leave … she refuses to leave.”
“You mean she refuses to leave you.” Why wouldn’t he say it?
“I’ve tried to make her leave, help her find a way back into Petersburg to her family, or to go with you. But she won’t.”
“She won’t go because she loves you, because she’ll stand by you even if you won’t stand by her.”
“I would protect Katie Frances with my life!” I’d raised the ire in Chap. Goforth.
“Oh, you’d die for her all right,” I said sarcastically. “You just won’t marry her!” He didn’t answer. “What is it, Chap. Goforth? Are you ashamed that she’s Irish? Is she just an Irish tarter to you, like McCain said?”
Andrew Goforth, Confederate chaplain, reddened nearly purple. He clenched his fists to a knuckled white, took two steps toward me, planting his face inches from mine. He spoke low, but there was no mistaking his growing rage. “Don’t you ever, ever insult Katie Frances!”
“I could never insult her like you have!” I shot back, too loud. “She’s given you what every man in this camp would give his right arm for! And you’ve thrown it in her face, like you’re just too good for her!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shuddered, trying to get hold of himself.
“I saw you, Andrew! That night in the tent—I saw you kiss her! And it’s not what I think that matters!” He turned to walk away. “It’s what Katie Frances thinks! You don’t deserve her!”
He stopped then. When he turned to face me I saw the color drain as fast as it had flamed. All the weariness of the war lay in his eyes. “She’s much too good for me. She will always be too good for me.”
“Then why?” I wanted to shake him. “Why don’t you marry her?”
“Because I’m a chaplain,” he pleaded, as if that explained everything. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there is a war going on—a war we are losing!” He ran his hands through his hair, spread them out before me.
“Look around you, Robert! Look at the men I serve!They’re wounded men—broken in body and spirit. If the surgeons are able to patch them up, we send them back into battle—to be shot again! Once they’re beyond patching we send them home to their wives and mothers—to do what? Burden and drain their families for the rest of their lives? Be pitied by the women who love them—loved them when they were whole men?” He looked away, and when he spoke again, I doubted he spoke to me.
“Sometimes I think it’s the lucky ones, the blessed ones, who are released from their bodies now, who die on the battlefield. At least they don’t have to stare into their women’s eyes of pity the rest of their days!”
“It’s your pride!” I couldn’t grasp it.
He threw up his hands in anguish. “I could end up like them—wounded and maimed. Then how would I provide for her? I wouldn’t be the man she loves now. I’d be able to give her nothing!”
“Is that what you tell these men—you, their ‘spiritual guide’?” He looked away again, passing his hands over his eyes. “And what if you’re not wounded? What if you let this time go by? Or what if neither of you make it out of this war? What if it’s all the time either of you have?”
“She’ll make it. She’ll live. And then she’ll be free to marry someone whole.” He choked on the words. He didn’t see Katie Frances step from the night into the firelight. He didn’t see Wooster, leaning into his crutch, step in front of her, shielding her from the man who wrenched her heart in his hands. But we all heard what Wooster said next, soft as it was.
“Didn’t the Lord say it is better to enter into life maimed than not to enter into life at all?”
Chap. Goforth spun. “Wooster—”
“Seems to me you’re not entering into life at all, Chaplain. Seems to me you’re letting the death you see around you make decisions for you.”
“Wooster—” Chap. Goforth stepped forward, started again, but Wooster cut him off.
“If I get home—when I get home—I’ll work a trade. It’s a different trade than the one I’d planned before the war. But it’s one I can do. I can make a living—a good living. It seems to me preaching is a good trade for a man—wounded or not, one leg or two, one eye or two. I can’t see as it matters. But I aim to find a woman to love me—not from pity for my missing leg but for love of me. Because I can make her happy—happy in some way every day. And I’ll provide for her. I’ll be more whole than you are now, Chap. Goforth.”
It was a long speech, the longest I’d ever heard from Wooster outside of our defense before the colonel.
Katie Frances gazed at Wooster as though he’d grown ten feet tall. “That is the most eloquent sermon I’ve heard in all these years of war, Wooster Gibbons. This woman you will marry, she will be the happiest woman, the proudest woman this country is likely to know.” She reached out, pressed Wooster’s arm, planted a kiss on his cheek, and walked away, never looking at Chap. Goforth.
The chaplain stood, stricken. “Wooster, please …” he mumbled and then tried again. “Wooster, can you forgive me?”
Wooster stared hard at him, considered, waited. “You mean forgive your pride and arrogance, Chaplain? Your doubting spirit?”
Chap. Goforth’s color burned. “Yes. That’s what I’m asking. Forgive my pride and arrogance.” He waited.
“Your lack of faith.” Wooster pressed his ground.
Andrew swallowed. “My lack of faith,” he confessed, meaning it.
Wooster shifted his crutch, blinked, waited longer, considered. “I will, Chap. Goforth… if—” and he waited another long minute—”if you’ll stop acting the fool and go after her.”
Now Chap. Goforth blinked, and waited. Seconds ticked by A string of emotions passed over his face, one chasing the other. His first couple of steps were short, uncertain. The next landed him in Wooster’s arms. He wrung Wooster’s hands. And though he didn’t speak, he took off in the direction of Katie Frances.
“In case you’re interested, I forgive you, too, Chap. Goforth!” I called, only half sarcastically.
Wooster hobbled over, punched my arm, and grinned. “Looks like we might need a new place to bunk.”
Col. Monroe bit his pride and married Chap. Andrew Goforth and Miss Katie Frances O’Leary the next afternoon. Every man in camp fumed with jealousy. Every man in camp cheered them on—except Col. Monroe and of course Maj. McCain, who hadn’t returned with the scouting party.
Wooster and I bunked with Sgt. Pete. The conversation slacked off, but the food improved. Seeing Andrew and Katie Frances together made me pine for Ma and Pa, made me want to get along to Ashland, to find Ma and Emily. It worked a kind of homesickness on Wooster too.
“I’ll walk,” said Wooster. “I’ll be walking on this leg the rest of my life. I may as well go now And I’ve a mind to be in Salem by Christmas.”
“Is some girl waiting for you there?” I teased him but was curious all the same.
Wooster colored. “Not yet. But the sooner I get home, the sooner there will be.” He stared into the fire, and the light of memory came over him.
/> “I want to be in Salem for the Christmas Eve service. I want to be there for our Moravian lovefeast—our candles, the coffee and buns, the hymns.” And then he laughed. “As if there’d be coffee now—or sugar, either—but maybe there will be candles.
“The old organ plays—it’s a rare beauty, that organ—and each of those pipes sings. When I was a kid I pumped the bellows for it—up and down, up and down. It was an honor to hold that job… Every man, woman, and child holds a lighted candle while we sing.” Wooster sang, every note perfect, “‘Morning Star, O cheering sight. When Thou camest how dark earth’s night. Morning Star, O cheering sight.’… We raise them high, and call to mind that the Christ Child came as the light into a dark world… It’s my favorite service of the year—all cold outside—all light inside.” Wooster looked at me. “A lot like us—if we have Christ living inside us.”
I looked at my hands. I wasn’t sure I knew what that felt like.
“I aim to be home for that,” Wooster said. “We’ve got a month.”
I didn’t know as we’d make Salem in a month on foot—even if we left that minute—and I didn’t want to leave without Stargazer. But Wooster meant to do it. We tried talking it over with Chaplain and Mrs. Goforth—which didn’t do a lot of good. It seemed they’d forgotten a war was on. Wooster said we should pray about it. And I guess he did, and maybe God answered, because neither of us could have planned what happened next.
We’d nearly forgotten the Union troops until, just about dusk the next day, a man with dispatches rode in hard, the fear of God sprung between his eyes. Sentries pulled him from the saddle. He’d strapped himself in, determined to ride till he reached us. He wasn’t inside the colonel’s tent ten minutes, but the drum rolled and orders to circle supply wagons, post double lanterns and double sentries flew through the camp.
The Union brigade had moved on, but their hundred-man foraging party on horseback flanked their sides, wandering far afield. Sgt. Pete said our men hadn’t seen theirs until too late. “Sharpshooters got our foraging party—every man—all but the man who tied himself in.” Sgt. Pete looked away, grim. “They’ll likely reach us before the watch changes.”
