by J. R. Ayers
‘Marie Hayes was quite tall. She wore what served as a nurse’s uniform overlain with the same type of apron her fellow nurse wore. She was blonde and had pale smooth skin and hazel eyes that shone with a subtle curiosity. Jack thought she was very beautiful as did Campbell and both men applied liberal charm and smiled so much their lips began to ache. She wore a Saint Christopher medallion around her neck on a velvet ribbon.
“Nice,” Campbell said. “It matches your eyes.”
“It belonged to a boy who was killed last year.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Campbell said. “Someone you knew?”
“He was going to be my husband. He died during the first battle of Galveston.”
“It was a bloody affair.”
“Were you there?” she asked.
“No. But my brother was.”
“Where is he now?”
“In a grave somewhere in Tennesse.”
She touched the medallion tenderly. “His mother sent it to me. They returned it with his personal effects.”
“Had you known him long?” asked Jack.
“Eighteen years. We grew up together.”
“Why didn’t you marry him before the war?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I was foolish not to I suppose. I thought our union would distract him. But it seems our unconsummated love may have been a greater distraction. Haven’t you ever loved anyone?”
“No,” Campbell said.
“And you?” she asked Jack.
“No ma’am.”
“So polite. And so handsome.”
“You have beautiful eyes,” Campbell said.
“Do you like them?”
“I do, very much so.”
“And you, shy one?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“So why nursing?” Campbell asked.
“I wanted to do something for the Cause. You see I didn’t care about myself anymore after Charles died. If I would have married him perhaps he would be alive today. I didn’t want him to go to war. But he wanted to go and I didn’t know how to stop him.”
“You could have married him,” Jack suggested.
“But I didn’t. He was killed and that was the end of it.”
“What’s the other nurse’s name?” Campbell asked.
“Charlotte Mason. She hails from Bexar County.”
“Husband? Beaux? Fiancé?”
“No to all three. Why do you ask?”
“Because young Saylor here is dying to meet her.”
“Is that true mister Saylor?” Jack was silent lost in the richness of her magnificent eyes. “She’s very beautiful, but we both have work to do,” Marie said. As you know there were casualties today. You have a wound yourself mister, uh. . .”
“Campbell.”
“Campbell?” That’s Scottish isn’t it?”
“No, it’s Texan. Navarro County actually.” She smiled and her teeth shimmered in the low light and she tossed her head in a coquettish manner that made Jack feel warm and happy.
“You’re a funny man, Mr. Campbell,” she said.
“Have you been nursing long?” asked Jack.
“Since the beginning of sixty-three. I started when Charles died. I remember thinking if I could help someone get better then maybe I wouldn’t feel so guilty about Charles. Silly idea though, I’m as self loathing and racked with self condemnation as ever these days.”
“Was it quick? Charles’ passing?” asked Jack.
“Thankfully, yes. Canister round I believe they call them. Blew him all to bits. Nothing left but his boots and saber and this medallion around my neck.”
“Do you suppose the war will last much longer?” Campbell asked.
“No.”
“What’s gonna stop it?”
“The Confederacy will break. Just a matter of time.”
“Perish the thought.”
“You think not?”
“No. We’ve had a good summer.”
“Ah, I see.”
“I am Scottish, you know,” Campbell said. “Grand daddy came from Aberdeen.”
“And you mister Saylor?”
“A mutt I suppose. Some English, some Scotch-Irish. . .”
“You look Indian. Any Cherokee in your blood line?”
“Don’t know.”
“He’s a transplanted Scott same as me,” Campbell interjected. “What about you Miss Hayes?”
“Cornwall.”
“England?”
“Of course. Where else would it be?”
“I was through Cornwall Mississippi once. You a Mississippi girl are you Lady Hayes?”
“Never been. I must get back to the infirmary. Nice talking to you gentlemen.”
“But what about my wound?” whined Campbell.
“Put some whiskey on it and daub it with bacon grease. You’ll be spry in no time.”
Then she faded into the night and Campbell let go a sigh and Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and they walked away feeling better than they had all day.
Walking back to the barracks Campbell said, “Miss Hayes prefers you over me.”
“Of course she does,” said Jack.
“You think she likes train rides?”
“I think she’s a lady.”
“So, a lady can’t like train rides?”
“You talk too much Campbell.”
“Yeah. Curse of the Scotts I guess.”
Chapter 4
The next morning Jack went to call on Marie Hayes. She was not in the infirmary and Jack went to the stables where the ambulances were housed and asked a livery hand if the nurses had been by.
“No sir. Probably patchin’ up some troops. There is s a war on, you know.”
Jack said he knew and the livery hand asked what he needed a nurse for and Jack suggested the man go about his business.
The day was hot as usual and Jack was keen on finding shade before it was time to muster for morning drills. But he longed to see Marie in the pure morning light and spend some time watching the sun dance on her golden hair while she told him a little more about herself.
He walked along the thoroughfare toward the river hoping to see her on the bank washing soiled bedding. It was quiet, hot, and so humid the air was like warm taffy on the skin. He looked across the field of wagons and cannon and rows of bivouacked muskets and wished he was home with the green fields and the pecan trees full of birds and fruity nuts and leaves so lush a man could make a hat of them. This war, this damnable war must see its end. Man was not created to visit such savagery on his fellow man. Jack longed for the peace that seemed so elusive. Wouldn’t it be grand to stroll along the river with Miss Hayes and take in the sweetness of a summer morning with nothing more threatening than sunburn to worry about? But it wasn’t safe near the river. The occasional cannon ball from Union guns still arrived from across the river with a whistling rush and a sharp bright burst and black billowing smoke smelling strongly of burnt gunpowder.
Miss Hayes was not to be found that morning so Jack returned to the barracks and chatted with Campbell until it was time for his regiment to begin their daily drills.
Later at supper he ate quickly and walked to the infirmary to visit with Miss Hayes. Charlotte Mason was with her and not far away Corporal Campbell waited for the surgeon to treat his festering wound. It was actually a beautiful evening with few clouds and less humidity although the sun held its strength and a warm pestering breeze insisted on mussing up Miss Hayes’s golden locks. She sat on a bench outside the tent cutting strips of cloth from a bolt of cotton. Miss Mason was sitting with her, but upon Jack’s arrival she excused herself and went into the tent to assist the surgeon.
“She seems nice,” Jack said.
“She’s very nice. She has to be, she’s a nurse.”
“You’re a nurse, aren’t you?”
“Nurse’s aide actually.”
“What’s the difference?”
“About two years of medical training.”
�
��Oh.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“No.”
“We work as hard as the others, but no one respects us.”
“Why not?”
“They don’t respect us when there’s no fighting going on. But after a battle when men are wounded they respect us a great deal.”
“I don’t see the difference.” Jack said.
“There’s a huge difference. A nurse is more like a doctor. It takes a long time to learn her craft. A nurse’s aide is limited in the type of care we can render.”
“You don’t have any formal training?”
“Of course I do. Six months in Austin at an excellent school.”
“So how did you wind up here?”
“General McGruder doesn’t want women near the front. So we stay back here where it’s safe This was my assignment, same as you.”
The thud of a distant canon round echoed off the low hills across the river. “I wish this war would just go away,” Jack said.
They looked at each other in the golden twilight and Jack took her hand. “Don’t,” she said softly.
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
Jack leaned forward to kiss her and there was a sharp smack as she slapped his face. Tears materialized in the corner of his eyes and he touched the tip of his nose where her hand had made contact.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I felt like you were taking liberties.”
“You’re right, I was.”
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I hope I didn’t hurt you. I did hurt you, didn’t I?”
Jack was angry but he kept his composure. “You did what you felt was right,” he said. “I probably deserved that.”
“Your face, it’s so. . .red.”
“It’s just you’re so beautiful and I thought nurses liked—”
“Liked what?”
“Never mind.”
“You don’t need to insult me, Jack. I said I was sorry.”
“We’re not getting along too well are we?”
“We could, if you’d behave yourself.”
“It’s just that we don’t have a lot of time. I may be shot down any day now.”
“Yes, you might. So I guess you should kiss me after all.”
Jack put his arm around her and kissed her, softly at first then harder pressing his lips firmly to hers. She began to shiver and he held her close and felt her heart beating and her eyes opened and she began to cry as huge tears slid down her face wetting their lips.
“You won’t hurt me will you, Jack?” she murmured. “You’ll be good to me, won’t you?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because we’re here in this place. You’re a soldier. You’re loyalty is to your command. You may leave me tomorrow. Or. . .die, like Charles.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“On my oath.”
After a while Jack walked with her to the door of the tent and said goodbye and went back to the barracks. Campbell was lying on his bed smoking. He looked at Jack and said,
“So, how’d you make out with Miss Hayes?”
“Tolerable. And you and Miss Mason?”
“Not ready for a train ride just yet.”
“Imagine that.”
“She likes me, though.”
“How do you know?”
“She spent a lot of time wrapping my wrist. Her fingers are very soft. I couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like under my coat.”
“You’re a randy ole’ clod, aren’t you?”
“Quite right my boy. That’s why I’m planning to visit a whore house right after taps.”
“That costs.”
“I still have your fiver. Wanna go with me?”
“No.”
“Miss Hayes satisfy you that much, huh?”
“I think we should suspend talking lest we have cross words,” Jack said kicking off his boots. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me when you come in later.”
Chapter 5
Jack was away for three days on routine patrol in the hills above Brownsville. When his regiment finally retuned to camp it was dark and much too late to call on Miss Hayes. He made it a point to look her up the next morning, however. She wasn’t in the infirmary yet and he had to wait by the tent until she arrived.
While he waited Jack watched the ammunition wagons and supply carts pulled by shaggy burros and horse mounted Calvary troops in their plumed hats and rows of gray-clad Infantry moving in unison down the long dusty thoroughfare outside of town. He tried to make out if some of the troops were from his division but the dust was so thick and the humidity so pervasive that he could not tell with certainty if the banner fluttering above the formation belonged to his unit or one of his sister regiments. He and his comrades had been given a twenty-four hour furlough from camp duties and Jack planned to spend as much of it as possible with Miss Marie Hayes.
Campbell had chosen to remain in his bunk snoring away his short respite from duty. He hadn’t been fairing too well with Miss Charlotte Mason and his disposition was one of quiet reticence, a rare development for one normally given to much light-hearted banter and jocularity. Jack had his doubts there would be a train ride in his future any time soon.
Jack bided his time and picked his teeth with a sliver of oak and watched the road for any sign of Marie Hayes. At last he saw her coming down the lane and he straightened his hat and smoothed the front of his shirt and stepped forward to greet her. She seemed taller than he remembered and even more beautiful in the full light of the white hot sun.
“Good morning, Mr. Saylor,” she said.
“How are you Miss Hayes?”
“The surgeon was within earshot and Jack suggested they move closer to the trees where there was more shade and less of a chance for an eavesdropper to overhear their conversation. When they were positioned under the limbs of a huge elm she asked, “Where have you been?”
“Out on patrol.”
“You couldn’t have let know you were leaving?”
“I didn’t know until they told us at morning muster.”
“You could have gotten a message to me. I’m not that hard to find.”
They were off the thoroughfare in the shadow of the trees but Jack felt vulnerable, as if a thousand eyes were watching them and a thousand ears listening to their every word. He took her hand resisting an urge to steal a kiss and said,
“Isn’t there somewhere else we can go?”
“No,” she said. “We have to talk here. I have a job to do, remember?”
“But I missed you.”
“You shouldn’t have been gone so long.”
“It was only three days.”
“That’s a life time, given the situation.”
“No argument here.”
“What do want from me Jack? Do you think you love me?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve know me for a week.”
“Time doesn’t mean anything anymore,” Jack said. “War is ugly, and hateful. You have to grasp beauty when and where you can. And you have to love when you get the chance. Death isn’t going to sit around and wait on a prolonged romance, not in a hellish time such as this.”
“You make a good point. But we may have to redefine what we mean when we use the word love.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Well, I think what you are feeling is something more akin to need versus what we traditionally recognize as romantic love. You do need me, don’t you Jack?”
“I suppose so, yes, but I also love you.”
“But what do you need me for? Are you a virgin? Have you been to the sporting house in town? Or maybe you’ve been in the arms of some sweetheart back home. Is that the kind of need you’re after Jack?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know. That kind of talk makes me uncomfortable.”
“Why” Don’t you want to make love to me?”
“Well, yeah,
but. . .”
“Why should I give myself to you? Are you prepared to marry me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Hah! Marry me, make love to me and then march off and get yourself killed. I’ve been down that road before Jack Saylor.”
“I’d come back to you.”
“Who? Who would you come back to?”
“You.”
“My name is Marie. Can you say my name Jack? It’s not a very complicated name.”
“But you are. Complicated I mean.”
“You don’t love me Jack. You’re young, no more than a boy. You have lustful thoughts. Boys are made like that.”
“I do love you, Marie. I adore you.”
“Well, you said my name. That’s a start I suppose.”
“I need to see you alone. After you’re off shift maybe.”
“I’m never off shift.”
“When can I see you then?”
“Come back after nine. Maybe I’ll be here, maybe not.”
“May I have a kiss before we part?”
“No. I want you to think about what my lips would feel like if we kissed willingly.”
“Then I’ll say goodbye for now.”
“Goodbye Jack Saylor.
“Goodbye Marie Hayes.”
As Jack walked away he thought of Marie’s eyes and the way she looked at him and the curve of her lip when she refused his kiss. He thought she must be a little crazy, but war made people crazy and being crazy was no excuse to abandon every emotion that makes a human being human. He questioned her purity, her frank words pushed his thoughts in that direction, but he found he didn’t care as much as he should. Pursuing her was better than traipsing off to a whorehouse where Mexican girls, some no more than children, climbed into men’s laps tugging at their zippers while keeping an eye out for an officer who tended to pay better than the enlisted grunts.
Jack saw his pursuit of Marie Hayes like a game, a game of chance; Faro or five card poker or a wager on a swift horse like the one owned by Campbell. She hadn’t mentioned what the stakes might be but that was alright with Jack since he had nothing but his heart and self respect with which to wager. He was wrestling with an emotion he had no experience with and it vexed him greatly. It was clear she had the upper hand in the little game. Maybe he’d just forget the whole thing and stick to train rides and Mexican senoritas with warm hands and cold, false smiles.
