Fight for Glory (My Wounded Soldier #1)

by Diane Munier

  He was laughing again. Michael brought the laudanum. “How much has he had?” I asked.

  “Not so much,” he held it to the light trying to weigh it. “I been too busy to watch. They have a hospital they are taking the wounded to over Dixon. Ambulances on the way that rider said,” he referred to one of the dispatchers came on quick to assess the damage.

  “No hospital for me,” Jimmy assured us. “I’m going home, dammit, Tom, don’t you ship me off. I’ll shoot the man tries to put me in one of them meat wagons. You think my black was hell? You ain’t seen hell,” he warned. Then crying again, “Where’s my horse, my black? Where he be, Tom?”

  I kept my hand on his arm. He knew he was out of his head, and I felt him struggle to quiet down.

  “How long out?” I asked Michael.

  “In the night,” he said.

  Well the boys would be here before that. They already rode the bank looking for the place to cross, and when Cap saw them he’d take heart.

  “The boys are coming,” I said.

  “Oh Lord,” he whispered, “do you see them Tom? Look a there, do you see?” he pointed overhead, and I dropped on my back next to him, scooted so our heads were near.

  “It’s like that day,” he said. “I seen ‘em, the white doves…I seen him…Garrett. He talks sometimes in my head…just a word he says.” Tears are coming on him.

  “He’s beyond,” I said.

  “Not for me, pard. I carry him. I always will.”

  There was a day, yesterday mayhap, I’d of resented it. I would have wanted to rip that thought from him. But not today.

  Today he was the tabernacle and Garrett, he was sealed inside. And I wanted him there.

  “You got to leave him, Jimmy, it’s not your time.”

  “He told me that. When I was shot…I never said it.”

  “It’s the laudanum.”

  “No. Those flying fish mayhap, but not this. He was there, I saw him, and I looked down at myself on the ground, and you were runnin’ here and there. And Gaylin stood by me, that gun shakin’ in his hand. I knew it then…I was goin’. You and Allie…God I’ve loved ya’s then…it all come on me. But I saw him…and my ma. I walked that way and there was light…and peace. And I wanted to go, but he put up his hand and shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “Be brave.””

  We looked at the sky, its gray blanket over us and this scarred place. But like always…the worst brought out the best. The evil sparked the good. The dark welled up and the light grind of help brought hands and hope. We fought the dark, we scraped and laid them straight. We bore the image of Satan and the image of God. Wounded.

  During that night the wagons came to take the wounded. We’d liquored Jimmy up good so he was passed out. I let him go then, Jake and Harley were going with him to make sure he got cared for. After a few days rest, and baring something grim taking hold, they would take him by train to Greenup. We hoped to regroup in a couple weeks.

  I used Addie’s words when I last looked on Jimmy. “Live,” I said. It was command and prayer.

  I turned my face then, pulled my gear upon my back and did not look back. I had me a gal to fetch. As I walked away from all I knew, I felt the next bend of my life opening now like the widest doors I’d thrown myself against, and instead of holding fast and breaking me, they were yielding.

  I walked those first ten miles.

  Tom Tanner

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I had to look sharp for I was in a new place, but it held me no fear. I let the thoughts of her take me then. And I had these miles to cover, but a part of me was not there, but yonder, with her.

  I knew her to be St. Louis way, and once there I would track her down, I would find her the way I had found William or Jimmy a time or two, I just went in and let the great something lead me. I couldn’t explain it, but we were tethered, chained Iris said, and so we were, and that’s how our trains crossed, we were moving toward each other and nothing could change it.

  I let my mind go to her, and my longing went free like I lifted the floodgate. Brown hair thick in my hands as I moved her mouth toward mine. I would fall on that lass. I would love her without holding back now. Stampede. Charge into the fray. Fight where I could do the most good, that’s what Jimmy told us at Belmont. “Where should we fight?” one asked.

  “Fight, Son, where you can do the most good,” he said.

  I remembered…I remembered her standing in the moonlight, showing herself to me, all her skin and all her sin. Oh I saw that girl, like a horse that was bold and shy all at once, but there was no hold back in her that night. Standing there like one of those myths…a goddess is what I meant to say. Like she rose up…or dropped down…from somewhere else. And there I was…just a man.

  I devoured that woman, and it worried me some, but not so much now. For at that station it was there, her eyes telling me…the way she held me against her…she was mine.

  We were lovers, Jimmy said, and we surely were, the time of war behind us. Married men we’d be, William too, if he ever came back from running with his tribe. Trading our rifles for roses I reckoned. I laughed at that.

  I heard it then, an animal of size, and I thought of my rifle at my back, but I was not here to kill anything. I stood still. My heart picked up. I asked God…I said…let him come to me if he’s there…and I’ll know Jimmy lives…I’ll know you’re with me.

  He stepped out then, and I saw that red gash deep on his flank. I was bruised myself, scraped on my back and shoulder beneath my torn shirt.

  He took some steps and looked at me. He nickered, blew through his lips, telling me it had been hard, and he didn’t want to trust me at all.

  I knew. He tried to fight, but they’d shoved him on, and then all hell broke loose. I’d make no demands. So I looked at the ground, and I clicked to him, the way Jimmy would. Then I took some slow steps in the general direction of where I’d been headed. I didn’t look at him. I wasn’t telling him what to do.

  Well he shook his head at me and told me off a little. He didn’t like me moving before he thought things over. But I moved slow then, and he crashed around a little, telling me he wasn’t going to follow someone he couldn’t trust.

  I was past him now, but I knew those dark eyes were on me, and he came after in his own way, angry, hurting, leaving his blood behind.

  And we walked that way, him behind like my reluctant shadow. I just kept going I never looked back, but I took it slow for we were both hurting.

  I was alive. That sky was so blue. I listened for him, each step, sometimes he’d fall back, or take off, but he’d come again, and I didn’t stop until I found good water, and I sat to eat my cooch one of the boys gave me. And I washed it with a drink of that whiskey. Then I doused me good, and I laid there with my head in, and when I lifted my face above the water, he was beside me taking a drink. I turned my head a little and made the sound. He spoke to me then, moving his big head closer. He smelled over me like a dog and bit me on the ear some, and I stayed still while he worked me over. He wanted Jimmy, but he’d take me over nothing.

  I rolled on my back then, and he snorted all over my face, and I laughed, and he pawed the ground a bit. I sat up and peeled off my shirt. Now I couldn’t get rid of him, and he snorted snot in my hair.

  “Damn you,” I said, rolling away. I stood and peeled off then, bare as him. He snorted at that wound on my shoulder. I stepped into that stream then, that water so cold on my feet, and the rocks sharp as hell, and I went to my pack and took soap from my kit. I washed then, and that soap burned all my scraps and cuts. And I rinsed me down. He stepped in the water. He was more dog than horse, and you could see Jimmy in the way of it, all the time spent babying this damn horse. I soaped my hair good. I’d shave my whiskers, too, and set my mirror on a rock, and he came for a look and knocked it down.

  And after, I laid on my back, the water chilling my willy, and me letting the crud and the stink wash away. I wished I had me some clean britches. I had the
shirt Jake gave me. It was cleaner and not torn. I was saving it for when I found Addie, but I would wear it now so should I come on folks I wouldn’t look war torn.

  I’d lost weight, but not muscle, that I had plenty. When I dressed, I felt better than I had in days.

  I wanted a look at that cut, but he was mad about it. I clicked to him and talked to him. I had rope, so I made a halter and after an hour I got it on him slow, so slow, and I could tether him then, and I washed it careful. In the worse part it was deep as the tip of my finger. I needed grease to harden it up. I ran my hands over him, sometimes I went so slow, my eyes closed like William taught me. He was sore, but sound. I carried water in my hat for the rinse. He seemed to know, damn horse, just like a human it seemed. He gave me a kiss when I was done, and we were pards then.

  I put my gear on my back and took that rope in my hand, and walking slow I led him like Mary with the lamb.

  I told him stories then, what I’d fix first at Addie’s house. How the windows fit poorly, and Johnny needed a room of his own. And most the time…he agreed.

  Tom Tanner

  Chapter Thirty

  I took to following the railroad tracks into the town where I’d seen Addie. I felt the tail of it walking through that station, a wounded horse plodding behind me, and sometimes he’d walk so close he’d nudge me along from my reverie…her little feet flying to me, between those snorting engines, it was her steps stood out to me. Johnny asking me…did I kill? I laughed at that. Guess I looked like I could do it, for I surely had. And Quinton, seeing how it was.

  For three days we followed the tracks then, walking alongside cause it was rough sometimes, and he didn’t like it when a train was coming so off we went, and I spoke to him, but when it’s in your mind like that, no talking takes it away.

  Day four we stopped at Rigsby. I met up with the sheriff there. He officed in a building no bigger than an outhouse except for that lean-to out back. Had him a man in there. We went back and forth. The army took the Gatlin, he said. They were through and fixing to search these hills when they got done talking about it. They had interest in me. They’d have to catch up to me first.

  At the livery, our horses were well cared for. My horse was glad to see me, and I stood for my homecoming while he searched me over for a treat. He found the carrots and went eager trying to work them out of my pocket. I didn’t know when they could go home with that bridge out, but it would go in good time, but I had me a feeling and William was in it.

  I made provision for the black. They were to see to him, and give the extra oats. I worked that grease in the wound myself. He made him a noise, made me laugh wishing Jimmy could hear it, like I was scratching his spot. I took hay in my hands and worked him over then, and he leaned hard into me. I slapped his good flank, though none too hard, and went for my own repast. But the feelings hit me I’d held walking away from Jimmy. They were big in me, and I had me a spell where I let it out.

  When I was fit again, I knew I needed to fill. Hated to do it, but the undertaker’s beans were my manna that day, so I said thank you and left it at that. But he explained the rails to me, all the way to St. Louis.

  I hopped first one I came upon pointed in the right direction. I’d taken to wearing her bandana again. I touched it eager. It would serve me. Guess I was like William now. I wouldn’t be able to sit with regular folks. I’d cleaned up some, but it wasn’t that. I needed the quiet…the open.

  I watched that country pass, some of it gently sloping, hopped one train, then another. I listened to the talk around, then shut it out. Last train I took went clear to East St. Louie. I hopped off and crossed the river by ferry, then entered the shores of St. Louie proper.

  This was a river town, it’s landing filled with folks bringing in goods and loading onto barges. I looked me around, and saw all walks. Smelled damp and fish, accents strange, like in the war, and folks of every stripe. Soldiers blue, ladies hurrying into the shops, men dressed well, dressed poor. Veteran begging, legs gone, and I digged Monroe’s money and put some in his cup. He wanted to talk but I played mute and walked on. I wondered how Johnny would see such. Paving stones under my feet, shops lined up with so much goods.

  I walked some, gawking, and not shy of it. They pointed me to the coach rental then. I picked one could hold us all, and rented the horses to pull it, even the driver. This was my moment, but there were still miles to cover. And so we took off, and I let him know the general way…Shiloh Township.

  “Shiloh Township. Seven miles hanging onto St. Louis like a baby and its momma,” was how he put it. He knew the store there, Varn’s Mercantile. So it was I sat me back, folded my arms and all the patience I ever learned had to be there now.

  It was a grand store. I would give Cousin his due. It smelled like starch and leather. Tack and rope overhead, even chairs and pans. Then tables piled, shelves too, and barrels with hardware and crackers. On the counter that pretty candy Allie liked.

  It was to be Johnny’s…this place. Well, I could not take this easy. She would have all of it now to make her choice. It was spacious and well cared for. He was not her husband. He knew what he was about here and said as much. No wonder he longed to take her. She was all he had missing. And he did buy in quantity no doubt. A family was a good deal.

  I tried to swallow it. Turning into the soldier again, the roses dying in my hands.

  The woman behind the counter, Ma’s age I reckoned. “I’m Mrs. Cole,” she said, eying me head to toe and thinking I was a vagrant, no doubt.

  “Where be the Mr. Varn?” said I.

  “He be at home, gathered there. If you need supplies best get them for we’ll be hanging the wreaths soon. Who you be?” she said.

  “A dear friend,” said I, trying not to grunt a laugh. But hanging the wreaths? “What ails?” I said, “I’ve just crossed the river.”

  “The mother,” she said.

  “What mother?” I asked, the voice of reason leaving me.

  “The widow Varn.”

  “The old one?”

  “The matriarch, widow of the deceased Charles Varn.”

  I felt the rush of relief bow my back. I had my hand on the counter.

  There was nothing I could buy them here he couldn’t give them and free. “I need me a shirt,” I said.

  She found me a shirt and I gave her the dollar twenty-five cents. “How do I find the house?” I asked, moving into the corner as I pulled the old shirt over my head.

  Well, she looked pretty shocked. There was the wounds, and some scars along my ribs, and I knew my ma would take the butter paddle to me for showing myself, but I cared not. “I’ve not seen them since the war.” Or before, or ever, I said to myself regarding the matriarch.

  So this Mrs. Cole shook her head a little and brought her eyes back to mine. By her look I drew her and repelled her. Repelled her mostly, I think, but she was watching me like I was hiding goods in my britches. Made my skin crawl a little.

  I pulled that clean shirt over, and pulled the bandana free from round the neck. I tucked it then, and her eyes flitted to my hands and back up.

  “I shall draw it,” she said, turning to a table filled with boots.

  Boots. Well there they were. “I need britches,” I called. “And boots.”

  Mine were through, but I’d put the leather in them to cover the holes. Well these were fair. I matched some to my feet. She was there again, measure in hand. “You….” She cleared her throat and handed it to me.

  “You got drawers?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said so softly I said, “’scuse me Missus?”

  “Yes,” she blurted then.

  Well I went back to the corner. I was a beast, I admit. But I was a man in a hurry, she had no idea. So she brought me drawers and I changed out for the shirt was long enough to hide my willy, and she brought me britches, and I pulled them on, just amazed they had all this, as if a cobbler and a tailor hid somewhere below making them to order. Such modern times couldn’t wrap my m
ind. So when I was changed out, all new and stiff with the freshness of so much at once, reminded me of that uniform they gave me, that feeling I had then like I was in it now.

  I had the house number and spoke to the driver about it. We took some turns then, me gnawing my lip, hanging my finger in that bit of cloth, then taking off my hat and working my fingers through my hair. There was so much of it, reckoned it would always mark me wild. I shoved my hat back on.

  I had to take a piss of a sudden. I had him stop that rig and I ran for a tree. Got back in quick as I could get those confounded buttons through the tight new holes.

  Oh glory to God I was so close to her the hairs on my arms stood like a storm was coming. Oh God, I loved her, that was the truth of it. It overtook me, and watered my eyes. I wiped them then, even as he pulled before that mansion Cousin held her in, my queen, and me there to storm these gates and pull her out.

  I got out, my steps measured like in parade, count and slow, pay attention. So I walked that path to the door, and I saw it, the black circle hung there. The mother. She had flown out of herself and left him. And I was here to take the rest.

  I had no pity for Cousin, I said. He’d taken what’s mine soon enough. I balled my hand and knocked upon that door. A girl in black dress, white bonnet answered.

  “We not be taking callers,” she said, and even with my new clothes, told me to go round back if I needed a drink before I left.

  “I am here for Miss Addie,” I said, to let her know it’s not the others I came for…the dead Missus or her son.

  He was behind her then, dismissing her. He stood there looking me over. I saw the grief in him. I made it worse, I knew.

  His mouth hardened, and the broken light in his eyes iced over. His lessons were coming hard now. My guess was it had gone his way before me.