I quickly sidestepped to keep up with his long-legged mount. “Sir, I know what it looks like, but I assure you that I’m quite capable with my one working arm. And you need me, the guys need me. I can watch your backs, cover for advancements, guard prisoners—”
Captain Truckey held up a hand to stop me. “You don’t need to sell me on your qualifications, Private; I know your talents and abilities, one of which being a stubborn streak as long as the Mississippi. And I know if I refuse, you’re likely to disobey direct orders and sneak in during the skirmish, and then I’d have to hand out punishment. Looks like three months of latrine duty didn’t cut through your orneriness much.”
“Sir, three months of latrine duty did me quite nicely. I’m sure I’d be much more trouble without it, sir.”
“Hmm.” He paused, reining his antsy horse back down to a walk. “Okay. Against my better judgment, fall in, soldier.”
“Yes, sir!” I saluted again, trying to keep the grin off of my face.
I quickly joined the ranks of the 27th, and immediately started to scan for my friends, but a tap on my shoulder stopped me.
“Bobbi?”
“Woody!”
“I thought that was you!” He threw an arm around me, crushing me with his enthusiasm. “We thought you’d been killed! But here you are, brighter than sunshine and as fit as a fiddle!”
I groaned as my shoulder protested his greeting. “Well, fit as a fiddle, minus one string.”
“Oh, your arm! Are you gonna be okay?”
I nodded. “No worries. But how about you? What about Preacher and Kenny? Toby?”
“We’re all fine, except Toby ain’t talking to anyone. We feared you’d been killed. Such a relief to see you alive!”
“Thanks, Woody. That’s good to hear.” I started scanning the crowds again. “Where is Toby anyway?”
“Over there,” he said, pointing.
I followed his finger. The sight of Toby made my heart jump clean into my throat, and then slam sorely back down into place again. The pain etched in his face, the shadows bruising his eyes. I longed to go to him, but the angry words he’d last said to me haunted my memory.
“What happened anyway?” Woody asked. “Ever since he got back, he’s been sealed tighter than a letter addressed to someone else.”
I didn’t see how any more harm could come in telling him the truth, so I gave him the short version.
Woody’s eyes grew big and he whistled out a low sigh. “Goodness, that’s just awful! I can see why Toby’s upset, but he should be grateful; you saved his life!”
“Maybe he’ll see it that way too, some day,” I mumbled.
Woody patted my good shoulder sympathetically. “He saw what happened, Bobbi, now he just needs to understand it. He’ll come back to us, I promise.”
I sure hoped so. In the meantime, I needed to revert back to soldier stance. “Tell me, Woody, what’s going on with the war?”
“We’re heading towards the Spotsylvania Courthouse near the Ny River. Supposed to be some Rebels hanging around—”
Just then a soldier raced by on horseback yelling, “Enemy ahead! Charge!”
The entire army rushed ahead like a raging river washing through the rapids. At the intimidating sight of us, the smaller Rebel force turned tail and retreated back toward the Ny River, taking cover behind trees and boulders to fire musket shots into our advancing troops. I quickly repositioned to the right flank of Toby without him seeing me. There I could watch his back, yet not distract him with my unwanted presence. I couldn’t do much else, darn my shoulder anyway. Some of the troops whooped and hollered to increase our intimidation factor, but I kept quiet, concentrating on sticking close to Toby and scanning the surrounding fields and forests for hidden enemies with my Colt loaded, cocked and ready.
My lungs burned as I sucked in the smoky, powder-infected air, and my eardrums numbed to the explosions of weapons and war cry. Then a musket ball shot past, prickling the hairs on my neck. It found a target, the fellow running on my heels. With an agonizing cry, he stumbled to the ground. The men behind tried to avoid him, but a few couldn’t help stepping on the fallen soldier. I felt a spurt of relief that I didn’t know him. Guilt quickly followed, guilt at finding solace in someone else getting shot, not me or my friends. But I shoved the guilt aside; no room existed for guilt in the midst of battle. I could allow myself to feel later.
We chased the Rebel troops for almost a mile down the road towards the Spotsylvania Courthouse. The Ny River came into view as the sun cleared the treetops, casting a rainbow of sparking light across the water ripples. The Rebels squeezed out a few more shots before crowding the pontoon bridge to cross the river. We spread out along the bank to force the enemy farther back, and we soon took control of the bridge.
By noon, the Rebels retreated, leaving behind over fifty wounded prisoners.
“Privates Rivers and Dove!” Captain Truckey waved us over to him.
I glanced at Toby to gage his reaction at finding me there. Had he noticed my presence? Did he care? Would he even acknowledge me?
He did not. He didn’t even glance in my direction or seemed surprised to find me there. It was almost as if I didn’t exist. I bit down hard on my lip to stop its sudden and unexplainable trembling, until the pain and the taste of blood nudged me back in control. I fell in behind Toby and approached Captain Truckey.
“Good job, soldiers, excellent charge. General Wilcox wants us to cross the Ny and follow the retreating Rebels while a portion stays behind to guard the bridge. You two are to stay here and guard the prisoners. Think you can handle that with one arm, Rivers?”
I nodded and held up my Colt. “Not a problem, sir.”
“Good. You will be relieved later when the prisoners are transported to the nearest prison. Meet back up with us then.”
We saluted as the captain guided his horse onto the bridge, and then took position to follow our orders. I glanced again at Toby, and found his face fixed in a stony silence, refusing to meet my eyes. I swallowed the sharp retort poised on my tongue, impatient to lash out at his stubborn and new-found hatred of me. I knew starting an argument wouldn’t help. And if I did, and if he still refused to respond, I wouldn’t put it past my temper to throw down my gun and tackle the stubborn fool with my fists. Instead I forced my attention on the prisoners.
They made a sorry looking bunch, skinny, dirty and desolate. About half wore what looked to be tattered Rebel uniforms, while some donned civilian garb and others even had on a mismatch of Union uniform castoffs. All of them looked sick and worn out, except for their eyes. Each and every one of them had a spark in his eyes that boasted pride and shouted unending strength. They also looked hot and thirsty, standing in the midday sun.
I glanced around, my eyes zeroing in on the house nearby. An expertly carved wooden sign over the door announced it as the Gayle House, but the large shade trees in the yard interested me more.
“Rebs, move over to the shade,” I instructed with my gun. I purposely avoided a discussion with Toby over the decision in fear he would continue to ignore even a direct question. Besides, the look of relief in the prisoners’ eyes, even a slight one, convinced me that I’d done right.
The group of ragtag prisoners moved slowly, the more fit of them assisting the wounded and ill. They settled beneath the giant sweeping branches of an oak, with the breeze carrying the sweet scent of a nearby blooming lilac. I suggested to one fellow that he could fill up a few canteens at the well pump behind the house. While he did that, a couple of others pulled out scraps of paper and began writing letters home. Most of them just closed their eyes, too exhausted to fight sleep any longer.
Toby still hadn’t said a word, or even spared me a glance. He stared straight ahead at the prisoners, his rifle clutched in a grip so tight that the tips of his fingers turned white. The silence stretched painfully, quickly toying with my nerves. It didn’t take long for my patience to dry up and become as explosive as gunpowder.
/>
“Damn it, just talk to me already!”
At first, I thought my outburst had produced nothing but even more frustrations for myself. But then, though he still refused to look at me, Toby finally opened his mouth and spoke.
“What’s to say? What’s done is done. My brother is dead and you killed him.”
“But he left me with little choice! He had a gun aimed at your heart, just about to squeeze the trigger!”
“You don’t know that; you didn’t know him. Randy would never have hurt me.”
“You’re fooling yourself if you believe that. I’ve seen what hate looks like; I’ve stared straight into the eyes of hate and I’ve seen what it can do.”
“He was my brother; he wouldn’t have—”
“Hate doesn’t discriminate due to shared blood. I know that better than anybody. My pa—” I broke off, unable to share that part of my life. I took a step closer to him. “Believe me, Randy would have killed you. And I couldn’t let that happen.”
Toby didn’t reply, didn’t even blink. He just kept his eyes pinned on the weary prisoners.
I took another step closer, softening my voice. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I aimed to wound him, to interrupt his mind set on destroying you. But my aim proved off for once. Toby, I am so incredibly sorry.”
Toby kept silent, staring straight ahead.
In desperation and despair, I blurted out, “You know, it just as easily could have been you who shot Randy! If you hadn’t seen his face, hadn’t recognized him, it could have been you aiming at a faceless Reb!”
Toby slowly turned to look at me, his eyes blazing with anger and hopelessness. “But it wasn’t me, was it?” He turned to walk away, throwing a last dagger over his shoulder. “And for your information, no Rebel is faceless!”
His barb pierced my heart with its honesty, and I watched him move away to take up a guard position on the other side of the prisoners. I didn’t know what to say or even think. What had happened to me over the past months to make me forget that this war didn’t just cut down strangers, but cut down my fellow Americans? Maybe this “forgetting” helped me cope, helped me to do my job, to get through the battle and still be able to sleep at night. I blinked back the tears that flooded my eyes as I watched Toby across the prisoners’ circle. My new friend seemed determined to hate me, and could I really blame him? I reached up to wipe away a tear that escaped.
“Dang blast it!” I kicked at a rock, sending it clanging against the iron water pump.
We plowed through the rest of May with battles on the North Anna River and the Totopotomoy Creek, fighting for almost twenty hours straight on May 12th and 13th. In all that time, Toby never said a word to me. Woody, Preacher and Kenny all tried talking to him, but he seemed to have cut himself off from everyone. Despite his sullenness and determination to keep his distance, I never once stopped watching his back. Maybe in time, he would accept what had happened and we’d be friends again…or maybe not.
On the last day of May, Captain Truckey ordered me to accompany a troop of wounded back to the hospital tent, with secondary instructions to get my shoulder checked when we got there. I tried to assure him my shoulder had healed just fine, but he insisted. Since I’d last been there, the medical unit had moved to catch up with the troops, and it didn’t take long to find them. Strange thing, the entire trip back I had a feeling of being watched, though I never sensed hostility. Still, it felt a relief to reach camp as exhaustion dragged at my bones. By the time I delivered the injured to an orderly, I felt more than ready to settle in my bed roll and snatch a bit of sleep. But before I made it through the bustle of the hospital grounds, I over heard a horrible rumor.
“Did you hear? Doctor Davis caught a stray musket ball! He’s dead!”
Oh, no! Cora!
I forgot about sleep and quickly sought out Cora. I didn’t bother scanning the hospital tents; for one, I’d just been there and hadn’t seen her, and two, if the rumor even had the slightest bit of truth, I knew the horror-stricken Cora would be in the tent she and her pa shared.
I didn’t bother knocking, and pushed aside the tent flap. “Cora?”
Immediately, I knew the worst had happened. Cora sat in the high-backed chair in front of the desk, her tear-drowned eyes staring into the corner. I softly approached, kneeling beside her. When I gently laid a hand on her shoulder, she jumped both out of her skin and out of her reverie, clutching at her heart as if to slow its pounding.
“Bobbi!”
“I didn’t mean to startle you—”
“You heard?”
I nodded. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” And I meant it, too. Just because my own pa refused to love me, didn’t mean it was an impossibility for others. From what I’d seen, Cora and her father didn’t have an affectionate relationship, but they did have a mutual respect and a certain closeness resulting from working side by side through a bloody war.
Cora blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged hanky. “I still can’t believe it happened, and here, in the medical area, a mile from the actual fighting.”
“What happened, Cora?”
She took a deep breath, held on to it for a second, and then ruefully let go. “A few soldiers stood off to the side after their minor wounds had been bandaged. One decided to try out that new Henry Repeating Rifle that an officer had with him.” Cora shrugged. “The soldier got confused and Doctor Davis paid the price.”
A mistake, her pa’s life wasted from a stupid mistake! I sucked in a lung full of air to control my anger. I had no affection for the austere doctor, but I did feel Cora’s pain. When I thought I could speak without spitting sparks, I turned back to my friend. “Did you see it?” I didn’t mean to be gory; sometimes seeing the tragedy made it that much harder to push it out of your mind.
She nodded. “I tired to help him, Bobbi. I really did. But even all of the training he gave me couldn’t save him. The bullet pierced his heart.” Tears welled up and over flowed, tracking down her flushed cheeks. “A stupid stray bullet finding the ideal target!”
As she laid her head on my shoulder, I patted her back, just trying to provide a pillar for her to lean against; I felt helpless to do anything else. Later, I would help her make arrangements for the body, I would stand with her at the funeral, and when she felt ready, I would listen to her talk about her pa. But right then, I just stood there, holding her hand and easing her hurting heart.
After a few moments, she sniffed and then looked up at me. The sadness in her eyes mirrored a similar expression that most of the country wore those days, but it still tore at my heart.
“I don’t know how much more death and destruction I can take,” she admitted. “I keep patching up the boys, pulling out musket balls and sewing up gashes, and then they get sent right back out into the storm. The next time they might not be so lucky. Why are we doing this, Bobbi? It’s been so bloody long, I don’t even remember the reasons. Nothing makes sense anymore. At least you know why you’re here.”
I took another deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It’s not quite that simple. True, finding my brother is my main focus, but other factors have come into play. This country has allowed herself to fall into a real mess. I’m trying my best to help put her back together, back into the country that I love. And then there’s the people here that I’ve come to love— I mean, care about. You and the guys and Captain Truckey. I’m also here to help watch your backs and keep you all alive and kicking. And that’s why you’re here, Cora, to patch up the fellows and keep them kicking. Of course, if you feel it’s time to move on, then you have to follow your instincts. But remember, you just took a seriously low blow and it will take time to heal. Maybe you can use that time to think about what you want and need; don’t make any rash decisions. And in the meantime, remember that we need you, need your expertise, your healing hands…heck, just in morale boosting alone, you’re priceless! One smile from pretty Nurse Davis lifts every soldier’s spirit!”
A small smile escaped Cora’s misery, fleeting but real. She sat up and dabbed again at her red eyes, a hint of her strength reappearing.
“You’re right. I’m needed here, for now at least. I’ll try to stay and keep boosting morale, as you so delicately put it. Though, I don’t know what the future will hold.”
“None of us do, Cora. None of us do.”
I opted to stay the night near Cora, bunked down outside in a nearby grove of trees. If anyone noticed me, I’m sure my actions would raise a few eyebrows. But most would probably chalk it up to puppy love, and I wasn’t about to set them straight. I heard Cora crying in the darkness, but didn’t dare sneak inside to comfort her; too many witnesses moving about the hospital grounds, and if someone caught me sneaking into her tent, her reputation would be ruined. And now, with her pa dead and the protection that he’d provided gone, Cora didn’t need the burden of misplaced rumors, whispered speculations and unwanted advances. I wished I could stay in camp to keep a closer eye on her, but for one, I had direct orders to return to the field, and two, I knew Cora could take care of herself. Plus, she wouldn’t be completely alone; the rest of the medical staff surrounded her day and night.
I quietly slipped a note to Cora under her tent flap before setting out early the next morning. I didn’t take time to brew coffee or make a hot breakfast, instead nibbling on some weevil-infested hard tack as I made my way back to the 27th. I couldn’t help grinning, remembering when I used to take the painstaking time to pick through and remove the wiggling little buggers. Now, I just chewed them up along with the hard tack. Added flavor, as Toby always said. And the hard tack could use as much added flavor as it could get. But then the thought of Toby put a painful clench in my stomach, and I quickly stashed away the remaining food. I increased my pace, eager to get back where I belonged.
With a start, I realized I’d forgotten to have my shoulder checked out while in camp. I gingerly tested it myself, checking out the range of motion and stiffness. Seems good enough to me. Almost a month had passed since the dislocation, and I’d dumped the sling weeks ago. My self evaluation would have to do. I hoped Captain Truckey didn’t ask me directly if a doctor had examined me; what he didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him.
Echoes of Dark and Light Page 20
