“That’s good,” Therese said. The more he rested, the better. He’d have a horrible shock when he awoke.
His abdomen was bandaged, along with his right arm, and there was also a small wound on the right side of his head.
“What happened?” Therese asked Michael.
“From what I heard, a grenade landed in front of him.” Therese knew that was a new weapon, like a small bomb. “He must have had his right leg extended. Fortunately, it didn’t take both legs. Shrapnel from the grenade also hit him in the belly and up his right side.” Michael met Therese’s eyes. “It’s incredible he survived.”
Therese clasped her hands together. “Now we’ll need to do everything we can to make sure he lives.”
Michael took a deep breath. “Yes.” His uniform was covered in dirt and dried blood, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. He stood. “I need to get going. I’m headed home. My father has been collecting supplies for the unit, and I’ve been ordered to pick them up. I’ll stop by River Pines and tell your mother what happened.”
“Thank you,” Therese said. “It will be so much better coming from someone she knows.”
“Yes,” Michael said. “I thought so too.”
“Tell her to come as quickly as she can. Dr. Talbot is going to ask friends of his if she can stay with them, although they’re Quaker, and I’m sure she’ll have Badan with her.”
Michael cocked his head. “And you’re afraid they won’t approve.”
“Oh, I know they won’t approve.”
Michael smiled a little. “It’s amazing how accommodating people can be at times, even if they don’t agree.”
Therese wasn’t sure what he meant, exactly. But maybe she did. Dr. Talbot probably fell into that category.
“I could give you a ride back to the Galloways so you can rest,” Michael said. “Warner will need you once he wakes up.”
Therese glanced at Polly.
“I’ll be here until eight o’clock tonight.”
“I’ll come back then.” Therese gazed down at her sleeping brother.
“Dr. Talbot sent the buggy to get you earlier,” Polly said. “I’ll ask him to arrange for the driver to take me home and then pick you up.”
A wave of relief washed over her. God was seeing to Warner’s needs—and hers too.
Michael told Warner goodbye, even though he wasn’t conscious, and then Therese did the same. She numbly followed Michael to his wagon, which was already hitched, and let him help her up to the bench. The stable boy handed him the reins, and Michael pulled the team of horses, four in all, onto the street.
Therese wrapped her arms around herself against the late afternoon chill. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’ll get some sleep once I reach home.”
“How is it—on the front?”
He sighed. “Usually it’s pretty boring, but then we’ll have bursts of chaos, like in the middle of last night. Then everything gets crazy and falls apart.”
“Were others injured?”
He exhaled. “Two others were killed.”
Therese put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no.”
He nodded and turned toward her. “And for what? What’s the point of all this?”
Tears welled in her eyes. Perhaps Michael hadn’t changed as much as she thought.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Forget I said that.”
“No, you’re right.”
He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m committed to the cause. To states’ rights. To the Confederacy. To saving our economy. To all of that…” His voice trailed off. He really had changed for the worse. “I’m tired. I just need a good sleep, is all.”
They rode along in silence past the capitol. She wanted to ask him what could possibly have happened to change his ideals this way, but she held her tongue. When he turned on Grace Street, she said, simply, “I appreciate what you did for Warner. Driving him so far to get good care.”
“It was fortunate they were already sending me to get supplies. I had a good excuse to take him straight to your hospital, which from what I’ve seen is currently the best around.” He smiled a little. “Besides, I’d do anything I could for your family.”
Again her eyes welled with tears at the inconsistency of what he was saying. If he admired her family so, why didn’t he remember her father’s lessons?
When they arrived at the row house, Michael walked her to the door and then helped explain to Mr. Galloway, who’d just gotten home from his office, what had happened.
“Oh, dear,” he said. “Sounds as if your brother may have a rough time of it these next few weeks.”
Therese nodded. “I’ll go back to the hospital tonight. Michael is on his way to tell my mother. I’m sure she’ll be here soon, and then I can attend to my teaching again.”
“Let’s see how things go,” he said. “Delpha seems to be feeling a little better. You should concentrate on your brother for now.”
“Thank you,” Therese said. “I’m going to get some rest, and then Dr. Talbot will send a buggy for me later this evening. I’ll spend the night looking after Warner.”
Mr. Galloway nodded and then invited Michael inside.
“No, thank you,” he answered. “I need to be on my way.”
“Have you eaten?” Therese asked.
He nodded. “Polly sent me to the kitchen when I first arrived at the hospital, before Warner’s…” His voice trailed off.
“Ask Auntie Vera for a box of apples and a bag of potatoes when you stop by River Pines,” Therese said. “They should have plenty to share. That would be good for the troops.”
Michael thanked her, said goodbye to Mr. Galloway, and then as he turned to go smiled wearily at Therese. “We’ll all get through this,” he said gruffly.
She nodded, hoping he was right. He was the one whose change of heart was so troubling. She truly hoped he’d make it through and see the error of his thinking.
Therese tried to rest on her cot in the attic, but the image of Warner helpless on the table flashed over and over in her mind. This war had to end soon. If Dr. Talbot was right, the Confederacy didn’t have much of a chance. If the Union won, Auntie Vera and Aggie and Badan and the others would be free. Warner would end up with River Pines. They would be poor as church mice, but they would be alive and together—as long as Warner survived his wounds.
Her mind turned it all around, over and over, as tears trickled down the sides of her face. If only she could help somehow, but what could any one person do? She wondered if her mother was right about the spy networks, that they were all around her in the city. There was an older woman who roamed the streets that Eleanor told her was rumored to be a spy. If even children knew about such things, they were most likely true. The Union Army was both to the north of Richmond and to the south. Surely information was dispatched that helped with their planning. With so many in the city working for cabinet members and for Jefferson Davis himself, surely secrets were leaked.
Therese knew Mr. Galloway dealt with the kind of information the Union could use if they had access to it. He did work for the secretary of state. There would be lots of important secrets in that department.
Therese had never been a brave soul, but she realized that if she could do something to help end the war sooner—even spying—she believed she should do it. Lord, she prayed, if You can use me, please do. Show me how I can help stop this terrible suffering. The prayer didn’t stop her mind from racing, and finally she admitted she wasn’t going to be able to sleep. She headed downstairs and joined the family in the parlor. The candlelight cast shadows around the room as the girls turned toward Therese. Eleanor said how sorry she was about Warner.
“But he’ll be all right, won’t he?” Lydia interjected.
“I hope so,” Therese answered. “I’ll go sit with him tonight and take care of him. I’m thankful I at least have a little experience helping the wounded.”
“That is fortuitous, isn’t it?
” Mrs. Galloway said over her knitting needles. She was most likely making socks for the soldiers. “Your volunteering at the hospital now puts you in the position to take better care of your brother.”
Therese nodded, though she knew Dr. Talbot and Polly would be the ones who would truly take good care of Warner.
The lamp burned dimly in the room, most likely to cut down on the use of fuel. Therese couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Galloway had a stack of papers in his lap. She couldn’t see what any of the writing was, though. A shiver ran through her. The family had been so good to her—could she really consider spying on them? Even if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do with that sort of information anyway. She couldn’t exactly employ the techniques of Rose O’Neal Greenhow, such as smuggle it in her hair or use candles in the window to signal passersby, if there was no one to deliver the information to.
Therese gazed around the room, trying to put such thoughts from her head. Eleanor was reading a book, and Lydia was using a stub of a pencil to write on a piece of paper. Florence was curled up next to her mother, her eyes nearly closed. Therese enjoyed working for this family. They’d been nothing but kind to her. But technically they were the enemy. Would she really consider spying on Mr. Galloway in his own home?
Just as the clock in the parlor struck eight, they heard a knock on the door. A moment later the maid appeared, saying that a Polly Talbot was here for Therese.
“Oh, dear.” Therese hurried to the door, afraid Polly might have bad news.
But before she could say anything, Polly blurted out, “He’s no worse. I came because I’m going to work the night shift. I’ll go back with you.”
“Oh,” Therese said. “Are you up to that?”
Polly nodded. “Two nurses sent messages that they aren’t feeling well, so I volunteered to stay.”
After telling the family a quick goodbye, Therese grabbed her cloak. The night air was cold, and she and Polly sat side by side in the buggy for warmth. Polly said Warner was awake. “He’s still groggy, but I told him you’d be back soon.”
As they rolled down the dark streets, Therese longed to ask Polly if she knew of any Union spy networks in Richmond or of any other way to help bring the war to a close. But it would be foolish to ask, even in a whisper, with the buggy driver so close. Maybe she’d find the opportunity—and the nerve—to mention it later.
When they reached the hospital, Therese led the way up the stairs to the east ward with Polly following her. Polly seemed tired but determined to do all she could. Therese would help with the other patients too and not just Warner.
After she’d hung up her cloak and put on her apron, she went straight to her brother’s ward. A few of the hanging gaslights were lit around the room, casting long shadows and a little light. Therese knelt beside her brother’s head and whispered, “Warner, I’m here.”
His eyes opened slowly. “Mother?”
“No, it’s me. Therese.”
“Where’s Mother?”
“She’ll be here in a day or two. Michael’s on his way to tell her.”
Warner reached for Therese’s hand. “Thank you, sister.” He smiled a little and then closed his eyes again.
“Rest,” she said. “I’m going to help with the other patients, but I’ll check often to see if you need anything.”
“Do you work here?” He kept his eyes shut.
“I volunteer. I started a couple of weeks ago.”
“Does the surgeon know what he’s doing?” Warner murmured.
“More than you can imagine.”
“But did he really have to take my leg?”
“He wouldn’t have done so if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”
“All right. I’ll trust you.” A tear slipped down the side of Warner’s face, and he clenched his eyes closed. “Go on now.” His voice faltered a little. “Others need your care.”
Therese patted his shoulder and then helped Polly distribute the nighttime medication. She didn’t see Dr. Talbot until they were nearly finished with their rounds. He was in the west ward, leaning over a young-looking soldier and tending to a throat wound.
Polly walked toward him as soon as she saw him, saying, “I heard of an interesting case today from my employer. He mentioned it when I stopped by his office earlier to tell him I was working another shift tonight.”
“Oh?” Dr. Talbot didn’t look up from the wound he was cleaning, but once again he seemed capable of listening to her talk as he worked.
“It was about an injury that happened near Vicksburg. Mr. Baxter was sharing an old war story.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “A soldier had his femoral artery shot straight through.”
“Left or right?” Dr. Talbot asked.
“Right,” Polly answered.
“That would certainly put an end to things, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” Polly said. “He died on the battlefield.”
“Too bad someone didn’t know to do a tourniquet.”
“Someone tried—another soldier. But he was too late.”
Therese tried not to listen—or at least not to look as though she were listening. Something was so strange about their conversation, as if they weren’t just talking about injuries. Her brow furrowed, she busied herself tending to a nearby patient.
“Goodness, that’s fascinating,” Dr. Talbot said. “I hope next time that happens the outcome is better.” When he finished the wound he was working on, he stood and stretched, only then noticing that Therese was there too.
He gave her a smile and announced that this would be a good time to take a break and walk over to Mr. and Mrs. Corbetts’ house to ask if they would be able to accommodate Therese’s mother. “The fresh air will do me good,” he said. Then he excused himself and left the room.
Therese and Polly kept working, finally collapsing halfway through the night on cots in the crowded dormitory room for the nurses. But by dawn they were up again, administering medication to the soldiers, including the farm boy from North Carolina who was running a fever. Therese comforted him as best she could and then gave him a shot of medicinal whiskey.
When she ran into Dr. Talbot later, he told her that he’d spoken to the Corbetts, and they would like to host her mother. “They’re ready for her whenever she arrives. And they have a cot off the kitchen where her driver can sleep.”
Therese thanked him even as Polly began chiding him about not getting any sleep the night before. “You won’t do anyone any good if you keep working around the clock like this,” she said, and Therese realized he did look exhausted, his usually neat hair tousled and circles dark under his eyes. “Go take a nap.”
He relented without any struggle, dragging himself wearily to the stairs and heading up to his quarters on the fourth floor.
When Therese next checked on Warner, he was sleeping, although not peacefully. She felt his forehead and found it warm. She filled a basin with water and grabbed a cloth from the closet, pulling a chair to the side of his cot. She mopped his forehead with the cool cloth, hoping to bring down the fever. A few minutes later, Polly came by and lifted the sheet that covered his stump.
“How does it look?” Therese asked.
“Inflamed. We’ll need Dr. Talbot to look at it as soon as he wakes.” They worked through the morning, feeding the invalid soldiers, many who had been in the hospital for months and months. After that they began bathing patients.
When Warner awoke, he wasn’t himself. Therese tried to get him to eat, but he spit out the porridge.
“Don’t take it personally.” Polly sat a few rows away, feeding another soldier. “Warner’s not acting that way on purpose.”
“He has to eat so he can have more morphine,” Therese said.
“Give him the medicine anyway,” Polly answered. “He needs it more than the food.”
Therese did as her friend instructed. Warner didn’t spit out the morphine, and in no time he had fallen asleep again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Therese and Polly continued to work throughout the day. Therese wasn’t sure how her friend did it, but even though Polly had to be near exhaustion, she continued to lead the way, redressing wounds, administering medicine, and tending to the needs of the patients.
In the late afternoon, Dr. Talbot appeared at the door. Polly motioned him over to Warner, saying, “He’s been running a fever.”
The doctor stepped to the cot, first feeling Warner’s forehead and then lifting the sheet to look at the stump. “Get me a pan of hot water,” he said to Therese. “And soap and clean rags.” Therese stepped to the door as he asked Polly when Warner’s last dose of morphine was.
When Therese returned a few minutes later, Warner had his eyes open, and the doctor was explaining that he intended to wash out the wound again. “We’ll wait a few minutes until the morphine begins to work,” he said.
Someone had pulled a small table to the end of the cot, and Therese set the basin of water down and then the other things. The sheet was pulled back, but she avoided looking at Warner’s wound. She’d stayed up by his head.
Polly approached Warner with a glass of water. Therese helped him raise his head enough to drink, and he quickly drained the glass.
“Thanks, Polly,” he said, handing the glass back and then turning his attention to his sister.
“Are you ready?” Dr. Talbot asked. “We should get on with this.”
“As ready as I can be.” Warner searched Therese’s eyes. “What is he doing, exactly?”
“Like he said, cleaning the wound. It’s infected. Polly is assisting.”
“Is it going to hurt?”
Before Therese could respond, Warner let out a scream. Then he stammered, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It can’t be helped.” She slipped her hand into his. “Squeeze tightly.” She felt as if he might break all of the bones in her hand, but he didn’t scream again. Not until Dr. Talbot took a sponge to the wound, and this time Warner sounded as if he were being murdered. Mother appeared in the doorway mid-scream.
My Daughter's Legacy Page 18
