Kentucky Bride

by Caryl McAdoo

  Ephraim and Bonaparte returned a week after news of Robert E. Lee’s surrender reached Bowling Green. Mama refused to go with them but didn’t say a word about Daisy leaving with Gigi.

  The new life in Texas and how Bo and Daisy faired on his thousand acres ranch will have to be told another time. Needless to say, no one lives happily ever after forever.

  Just like Jesus said, “In this world, you will have tribulations, but be of good cheer for I have overcome this world.”

  Please read Book #9, next of the

  North & South: Civil War Brides

  P. Creeden’s

  VIRGINIA BRIDE

  Now, a sneak peek at Caryl’s next release

  A Nurse for Jacob

  Nursing the Heart Collection, book four

  Coming July 2nd!

  New Orleans, May 4, 1868

  Lydia admired the two-story building from the corner of Gaienne and Old Levee Streets, strode up the walk, then stopped at the Infirmary’s front door and adjusted her cap. She smoothed her apron, ready to open the portal to her new life.

  The attendant at the admissions desk eyed her a bit too hard, then stood.

  “May I help you, Miss?” The old lady’s tone implied she hated surprises and had a strong desire to know it all. Perhaps she loved order above all else.

  Hopefully, a smile would soften her.

  “Yes, ma’am. Might you please direct me to the matron? I’m Nurse Lydia Andrews from the Harrow School of Nursing, graduation class of 1868, reporting for duty, ma’am.” She almost started to salute for fun, but instead, just smiled.

  The woman didn’t seem amused or impressed.

  “I believe the matron is expecting me, ma’am. She’s discussed me coming with Miss Clara Barton herself.”

  A feminine wailing came from down the hall to the woman’s right and drowned out her response. The lady shot a furtive glance in that direction then looked back. “Uh . . .”

  Another scream, that one louder than the first and even more painful sounding, caused Lydia to take a step toward the commotion.

  “Ma’am? Is someone with her? Should I go see?”

  The receptionist shrugged. “She’s been like that for a while now. Doctor Johnston should be here any minute. I’ve already sent word upstairs.”

  “I see. Thank you.” Lydia did a quick sidestep. “I’ll just go take a peek and see if perhaps I may be of assistance.”

  Another scream threatened to pierce the air asunder. She picked up her pace then burst into the exam room.

  The extremely pregnant woman lay on the table, her husband holding her hand. He appeared as though he might pass out any minute himself.

  Lydia grabbed a stool, plopped down at the table’s foot, and threw the sheet back. The baby’s head had presented. Another contraction hit. The lady pushed, screaming again, but not as loud that time.

  The baby’s head didn’t move.

  It took the poor woman three more contractions with Lydia helping to get the baby out. She cleaned the child’s mouth then swatted the little one’s bottom, being rewarded with a nice, healthy, albeit plenty angry, cry.

  As precious as anything could ever be, the newborn boy had been through quite the ordeal himself! And he wasn’t one little bit happy about it.

  She laid him on his mama’s belly, tied off and cut the cord, then readied to receive the placenta. The afterbirth looked complete, but she saved it in case the doctor wanted to examine it.

  Another woman came in, took a quick look and ran out again. In mere minutes, she returned with water and towels.

  It didn’t take long to realize the new mother was bleeding too much. The baby’s head had torn open a six-inch gash in the birth canal. Lydia’s eyes searched those of the woman.

  “Where’s Doctor Johnston?”

  The other lady, maybe twice her age, only shrugged. “I’m sorry, I have no idea. Two hours ago, he was in surgery. Two gamblers got into it, and he was working on the loser. Haven’t seen him since then.”

  The mother didn’t have much time.

  “I need morphine, a hypodermic syringe, a curved needle, carbolic acid, and some cat gut. Can you get that?”

  The woman stood there.

  “I’ll go! Just tell me where is it?”

  “Right over there in the doctor’s cabinet.” Shaking her head, she pointed to the aforementioned cupboard. “What else do you need?”

  “More water and towels, please. If you will.”

  Twenty-five stitches in, with at least that many or more to do, a shadow blocked some of her light. “Good job, nurse.”

  The voice belonged to a male. She glanced over her shoulder then returned to the business at hand. “Would you like to take over, sir?”

  “You’re doing fine. Be sure to blot plenty of carbolic acid on the wound. We follow Joseph Lister’s practices here at Touro. Come find me when you’re done.”

  “Yes, sir. Then would you please move so you won’t be blocking the light?”

  “Of course.” He stepped back.

  “Excuse me. Who are you, sir?”

  “Doctor James.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Though her shoulders ached and her bladder protested, Lydia finished suturing the tear then took a moment to admire her work. Not a bad stitching job if she said so herself.

  After a quick trip to the water closet, she checked one last time on mama and baby. Both were fine, so she set out to locate Doctor James.

  Stopping again at the receptionist desk, she smiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name before.”

  “Everyone calls me Miss Haddie.” The lady gave her a stern but not entirely unpleasant look. “Nurse Rowland said to send you to her office when you finished in the delivery room.”

  “Yes, ma’am. So, where would that be?”

  “Up the stairs, first door on the right.”

  “And where’s Doctor Johnston’s office?”

  Her expression changed a slight bit, carrying a tinge of disrespect. “Why do you want to know that?”

  “He said for me to find him.”

  “Ask the matron.”

  Being as polite and cheerful as she possibly could, she smiled, nodding, but the desire to put the woman in her place was strong. But! What did she know?

  The lady might be someone’s important old maid sister who couldn’t get a job anywhere else.

  “I will thank you, ma’am.”

  The lady huffed, sat down, then studied her desk as though the most important piece of paper ever lay on it, and she had to memorize every detail.

  Quite dismissed, Lydia hurried up the stairs. The Infirmary had once been a grand mansion, much like the one she’d grown up in back in Culpepper County. Even with the additions, it still had a homey feel to it that she liked. She knocked on what she hoped would prove to be the correct door.

  “Come in.”

  A rather pleasant-looking lady sat behind an oak desk—if she had her woods right—smiling like a cat that just spied a new mouse.

  “Nurse Lydia Ann Andrews, I presume.” She literally beamed. “We are so glad to have you here at Touro. Clara’s letter bragged on you quite profusely.”

  “How kind of Miss Barton. And yes, ma’am, thank you. I’m as pleased to be here. Anxious to help in any way.”

  “Well, I hear tell you’ve already been baptized into service. I am surprised you’re neither over thirty nor plain. We aren’t that picky here at Touro.” She laughed at her humor.

  “I’m Helen Roland, but everyone calls me Matron. Judith told me what you did this morning. I’m overlooking it this time, because you’re new, but nurses don’t deliver babies here, and most certainly don’t sew on anyone.”

  “Yes, Matron.”

  “That’s only for the doctors to do, as well as the administration of morphine. Do you understand me, Nurse Andrews?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Of course. Who’s Judith?”

  “The nurse who helped you this morning. For the fores
eeable future, you will be paired up with her in the west wing to learn our ways. You come highly recommended, Lydia. I know you won’t disappoint me again.”

  As much as she wanted to protest, she needed the job, and the woman sat in the seat of authority at Touro. “Of course not, Matron. I’ll make every effort not to. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, that’s all for now. Go back downstairs. There are patients who need tending.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She turned to go then back around. “If I may ask, Matron, where is Doctor James’ office? He instructed me to find him.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Just get downstairs and to work. I’ll take care of him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jacob hated a lot of things. Talking with Helen Roland would be at the top of his list, and he avoided that as much as possible. He pushed her door open without knocking. The woman looked up.

  Shock turned to the incredulous look he detested. Though she was his subordinate, the matron acted just the opposite.

  “Where’s the new nurse?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I need her in surgery. There was a big fight at the docks. Bensadon and I can’t handle it all. I need her now. Right now. Go wherever it is you’ve assigned her and get her up to the surgery ward.”

  “What about Smith?”

  “He’s off. Now get to it. We need her.”

  “What about—”

  “Nurse Rowland. Do what I tell you. I’ve seen her work, and I need her now. You know how slow Bensadon is.” His volume surprised him.

  It must have gotten to her, too. She pushed her overweight self up with great and obvious disdain then waddled toward the door. He spun around and hurried back to surgery.

  His angel of mercy’s timing proved perfect. Just as he prepared to close the worst of the three he’d been assigned, she walked in. “Doctor James, sir. Matron said you needed me?”

  “Yes. Come close this man up. If he starts bleeding again, call me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lydia had hoped, but never dreamed she’d be pressed into services doing a doctor’s job on her first day.

  But then the Bible said your gift would make a place for you, and from that first day Mama brought a soldier into their home, she’d been gifted with the ability to see and do what needed to be done

  In spite of the blood, guts, and pathetic cries of the wounded, she remained calm.

  Sure and steady, she threaded the catgut and sutured that man’s flesh back together, beginning with the worst cut then the next. Doctor Johnston had almost finished the last man when she slipped in beside him.

  “Would you like me to finish here for you, sir?”

  “Please.” He handed her the curved needle and catgut. “They just brought in one more. He’s in the west wing examining room. Come down there when you’re done with this one.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man offered a weak smile then hurried out. It took her a few minutes to complete the task, longer than she expected, but she cleaned up then checked to make certain the others hadn’t started bleeding again.

  Satisfied, she hurried down the stairs. The doctor’s motion and the too-distinguishable sound of a saw cutting bone greeted her.

  Stepping to Johnston’s side, she took hold of the glob of bloody gauze Judith held with her head turned away, lifted the compression and spotted the bleeder. Grabbing the forceps, she clamped off the offending artery.

  “Get water, Judith. And clean towels.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  It seemed quite strange for the older lady to be ma’aming her, but that proved the nature of the beast. For a year, grown men had followed her orders as if the words had come from General Lee’s own mouth.

  The nurse returned with the towels and a bucket of water.

  Without missing a beat, Lydia dipped one corner of a towel into the water then mopped the doctor’s forehead, receiving a genuine smile for her efforts. She then dunked the entire towel and wrung the excess moisture from it before handing it to Judith.

  “Please clean the part of that leg Doctor Johnston is trying to save.”

  The saw cut two more bleeders; one a vein that she let ooze, but she quickly clamped the second, another artery. Thankfully, he finished without further trouble, and she got busy bandaging the stump. With the patient cleaned up and ready, she wheeled the man off to a ward.

  To her surprise, the doctor followed her.

  “Come with me, nurse.”

  She should return and help Judith clean the mess, but . . . he was a doctor, and she’d been taught well to follow a doctor’s orders. She fell in behind the man. At the top of the stairs, he stopped.

  “What is your name?”

  “Lydia Andrews.”

  His head bobbed as if writing her name on some chalkboard in his mind. He stopped at the door next to the matron’s, flipped it open, and held his hand out, gesturing for her to precede him in. She did.

  “Lydia Andrews. Please, sit.” He walked around his desk, sat down, then pulled a bottom drawer out and retrieved a bottle half full of amber liquid and two glasses. He poured both half full and held one out toward her.

  “You are, my dear, an angel of mercy. Where did you attend school?”

  Holding her palm toward him, she rejected his offering. “Thank you, sir, but I don’t drink hard liquor. I’ve just graduated from Harrow’s School of Nursing near Baltimore.”

  Tossing back the contents of her glass, the doctor picked up the other, rolling the glass in his hand. “They’re teaching labor and delivery and how to suture a wound or clamp off an artery to nurses now?”

  “No, sir. I spent over a year in Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. My mother, aunt, and I aided in the care of the wounded in his main field hospital.”

  The man snorted as though he didn’t believe her. “How’d that come about?”

  Dedication

  Blessed be the Name of the Lord, for He is great! He is worthy to receive all praise and glory and honor and power! There is no one—no not one—to compare with the Lord God Almighty!

  And how is that this magnificent Creator loves me so much as to give me stories like KENTUCKY BRIDE? My 52nd title to be published! Like all my stories, I dedicate it to You, Abba, praying it will bring You glory!

  I knew Ron would have fun being in a Civil War series! He is always watching documentaries and is such ‘a general’ himself! His name means ‘wise leader.’ I’m so blessed that he’s the wise leader of me! He keeps me out of so much trouble.

  So, KENTUCKY^ BRIDE is also dedicated to him, the love of my life, my soulmate. We’ve been together since we were sixteen and he’s still the one! We’re still having fun, and he’s still the one! ??

  In my humble opinion, the generations that lived through the Civil War were not the chosen generation! I would have hated to live during those days. I’m glad the slaves were freed.

  I hate it all the way around the stump they were captured and carried away from their families and homes. Their treatment was abhorrent! But I just don’t think there had to be a Civil War to settle the dispute and set the people free.

  Many agreed but were swept along by the politics of the day! So, it is to peace I dedicate KENTUCKY BRIDE, not the peace offered by the world, but the peace God gives.

  Acknowledgements

  First on my lips to be acknowledged for anything that is good is my Abba, my Heavenly Father Who loves me so much more than I deserve. I am so blessed that He called me by my name to be His!

  For every book I write, every new song I sing, the very air I breathe, I give all the glory to God!

  The I acknowledge my dearest husband, the man God made me to complete. He is the best blessing to my life and the most awesome person I’ve ever known. I say all the time how blessed and highly favored I am, and Ron is proof of that.

  The Lord has put together such a wonderful team to help get my books ready for the marketplace. I couldn’
t say enough on how much I appreciate them!

  My number one, most faithful Lenda Selph reads and proofs every story! She goes through it twice, sometimes three times and checks things I would never even think to check! Thank you and God bless you, my dear friend and sister, Lenda; I love you and so appreciate you!

  And I love Cass Wessel, Judy Schexnayder, Debbey Cozzone, Trudy Cordle, and others who beta read my stories, too, and help me get them cleaner and more error/typo free! It’s always amazing how every pair of fresh eyes can find uh-ohs everyone else missed!

  Another acknowledgement goes to my sweet friend Sandy Barela, founder of Celebrate Lit Promotion and Publishing. Her blog tours—which I highly recommend—really help get the word out on my new releases!

  It takes a team, I’m not in this alone. God is good! He give me GREAT READERS! Where would I be without you? My gratitude, love, hugs, and blessings to you all!

  Caryl’s Titles’ Five-Star Reviews Texas Romance Family Saga

  Vow Unbroken book one

  With an intriguing plot line and well-developed characters, McAdoo, who's written nonfiction and children's fiction, delivers an engaging read for her first adult historical romance.

  --Publishers Weekly

  After reading Caryl McAdoo's story of Henry and Susannah in "VOW UNBROKEN," I felt like I'd had another adventure with Tom Sawyer and Becky, this time as young adults.-Alan Daugherty: The News-Banner

  Hearts Stolen book two

  Get ready for a wild, uplifting, heart-tugging, page-turning ride. Hearts Stolen grabbed me at the start. Sassy’s feisty, fighting spirit…I couldn’t set it down. Burnt dinner, but forget eating, I ate this book up. This master storyteller weaves Texas history into a well-crafted plot with unforgettable and totally loved characters.

  --Holly Michael, author of Crooked Lines and Tsunami: 2004, Still Wading through Waves of Hope

  Hope Reborn book three

  With memorable characters, Caryl’s signature humor, and plenty of adventure, drama, and romance, “Hope Reborn” is anything but fluff. A strong message of salvation runs through, but well within the storyline. Enjoyed a unique twist with May writing the stories of the previous characters – clever and fun! --Pam Morrison, Tennessee