“My dear Miss Anderson, I told you I would write.”
Star blinked back sudden unexpected tears. Travis had taken the time out of his chaotic life to write her. Did he know? Could he possible realize how important it was to her to know that he was still alive? Not just because she cared for him. Travis and General Stuart. Both had promised to care for her, and now they were the only ones left. Her dream whispered at the edges of her mind, but she pushed it down and read on.
August 20, 1863
My dear Miss Anderson,
I told you I would write, somehow. I apologize for my near illegible hand—it is incredibly difficult to write on horseback. Try it sometime if you disbelieve me. But as the post is going out tonight & as I can’t very well halt the entire column, if you are to get your promised letter, here is where I must write.
I hope this finds you in better health. Mum may not have your skill in Healing, but she makes up for it in sheer stubbornness. Are you adjusting well? I realize it’s a big change, but please try to relax. You are safe there. Remember that.
Camp life is the same as always. Days upon days of fatiguing boredom mixed with those random hours of hot madness. I can’t explain what I mean by that. But I suppose I don’t really need to—you understand. It’s been very interesting having my brother as my commanding officer. He was promoted so recently that, at times, both of us respond to ‘Lieut. Black’. The company’s still adjusting to the change. He’s much more organized than was Capt. Logan. Nothing against the captain—he taught us how to survive. Rob’s just more methodical. He’s still an engineer at heart, but we try not to hold that against him.
We’re along your river. Again. Or should that be still? Mostly scouting & raids. I’m praying for a change soon, any kind of change. I realized that I’ve been in this same routine for almost 2 years. It is getting far too familiar, & that leads to carelessness. One cannot be careless out here.
The sun is disappearing now. We’ve stopped for the night, & if I don’t find my messmates, I shan’t have any supper, so I must say farewell for now. If you can, please write back. When you have use of your arm again, that is. Until then I remain
Your Friend,
Travis
P.S. Please tell the folks that Rob and I are both well.
P.P.S. Your old friend James also sends his greetings.”
James? Do I know a James? Oh! James Ewell Brown. Jeb. Somehow, Travis had been in contact with General Stuart. Thank you, Travis. I would not have the general any more worried about me.
She sat for a while in the muted September sun, letter clutched tight in her hand. Noises in the hall behind her brought her back to herself. The Scotts were leaving. The sound of Tim’s happy babbling made her struggle to her feet. To her extreme pleasure, he rushed over to give her a hug. She handed the letter to Caro in order to hug him back properly.
“Next time can we see your horse?”
“Next time,” she promised, giving in to temptation and mussing up his hair.
“What’s this?” Caro wondered aloud, staring down at the crumpled paper.
Star blushed. “A letter from Travis. He wanted to know how I was recovering from my accident.”
“Ahh,” his mother said. “Does he have any words for us?”
She blushed even deeper. “Not really. Just that he and Rob are both well. But I’m sure that he’ll send you a letter soon.”
Caro laughed. “I rather doubt it. Travis is notorious for not writing. Yours is the first letter he’s sent these two years.”
“Oh.” Suddenly the letter took on an even greater importance.
The Scotts were by now all gathered on the porch. Star gave a hand to Emma and to Daniel, apologizing again for her sudden departure.
“You look like you’re feeling quite the thing now,” Daniel boomed, patting her hand between his meaty palms. This time Starla was prepared, and didn’t shrink away from him. Not much anyway.
“Much better, thank you. Your son is a darling child,” she added, reaching down and giving Tim’s shoulder a squeeze.
Emma’s plain face grew proud. “Thank you. He is indeed a good boy.”
Mother, father, and son went down to the carriage. The Blacks joined them, Caro passing the letter back to Star as she went by.
That left Kitty on the steps with Starla. There was silence as the two girls took stock of each other again. Star noticed Kitty glaring at the scrap of paper in her hand. Her expression was not friendly, made worse by its distortion of her beautiful face. “I’ve known Kitty since she was born,” Travis had said. Kitty was the one who had come to him when he was injured.
Contact made with the enemy, was Starla’s bleak thought. Their strength and assets are far superior to our own, and they are eager for a fight. But bolstered by the thoughtfulness behind Travis’ letter, she stood straighter, staring down into Kitty’s hazel eyes. Fine then, let us be enemies. I am ready.
15. “In For A Penny…”
Early October, 1863
“Starla,” Caro hissed, swaying with the motion of the carriage. “You have flour on your nose.”
Clutching her father’s big leather bag tight in one arm, Star rubbed furtively at her face.
They had been baking, something Starla was woefully deficient at, when the message came.
“Mrs. Black!” The voice was urgent, frantic. A man stumbled through the kitchen door, leaning against the doorframe gasping for breath.
Caro looked up in shock, hands flour covered from the dough she was kneading. “Why, Charley, whatever is the matter?” Aside to Star she whispered, “The Scott’s groom.”
“It’s young Tim. There’s been a dreadful accident and Mrs. Scott asks that you come quickly.”
She was already wiping her hands on her apron and heading down the hallway. “Dr. Hofmann?” she called over her shoulder.
He shook his sweaty head. “He’s not in. But everyone knows you’ve a fair hand at healing.”
She nodded, distracted, then motioned for Star to follow her. “And you’ve an even better hand,” she said quietly. “Will you help?”
“Of course. Let me get my things.”
She looked back over at Caro. “Is it gone?”
“Yes, dear.” A pause. “Just how much Talent do you have, lass?”
“Enough.” And far too much experience over the past year.
The Scott home was not many miles from Black Forest, at least, not as the crow flew. But the road was muddy and rutted and the trip took time, more time than Star liked. If the boy was wounded badly, time was not their friend. She dreaded what might have happened to that cheerful little bundle of curiosity.
“What exactly is wrong with Timothy?” she yelled at the groom over the pounding of hooves and the rattling of wheels.
He looked confused. “I’m not rightly sure, miss. He was in the barn with the judge, then he brought the kid back in the house, screaming and bleeding all over.”
“How long ago?”
“‘Bout a half hour.”
Blast, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut, seeing again the friendly round cheeked face, the bliss he had radiated when they had gone out to see Iris and she had allowed him to crawl up on her warm, silky back. Please let them have been able to stop the bleeding. A boy that small can’t handle much blood loss. Please don’t let me be too late. I could do nothing for Percy, but now, I have the knowledge, the ability….
The carriage slewed to a halt, practically spilling its passengers out onto the porch. Kitty met them at the door, her face even whiter than usual, eyes red rimmed.
“Thank heavens you came, Caro. Father’s with him now in the kitchen. Mother’s fainted.”
As soon as Star saw Daniel seated in at the kitchen table with his little boy struggling weakly in his arms, her fear faded into action. This was something she knew, something she could handle. She took a few deep breaths to focus, then knelt before the whimpering child.
“Hello, Tim,” she said in a gen
tle voice. “I know you hurt, but would you let me look you over?”
He shook his head, clutching his arm closer to his body with a fresh wail.
“We put compresses on it to stop the bleeding, but didn’t want to do much more, since it was broken so badly.” Daniel looked distinctly green as he spoke. There was the rustling of skirts as Kitty paced back and forth in the doorway.
“Would you take over for Mr. Scott, Caro?” Star asked without looking up. “And tell Miss Scott to go away—she’s distracting me. Oh, and I need some boiling water, and laudanum, if there is any to be had. I’m out of chloroform and ether.”
She vaguely heard Kitty huff at her request, but the pacing stopped.
“Look, he’s my son,” Daniel began in a shaking voice.
She didn’t let him finish. “I can’t have you fainting on me in the middle of taking care of that arm. Now would you kindly let Caro hold the child and go get the things I asked for? We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”
She ignored his shocked expression, barely heard Caro explain, “Estella has had training as a nurse, even more than I, being how her father’s a physician and all,” as she switched places with Daniel.
A bottle of laudanum was pressed into her hand. Star nodded her thanks, measured just a few drops into a glass of milk, and presented it to Tim, who was still screaming.
“I need you to drink this, Tim,” she said, bringing the glass up to his mouth. “It’ll make the pain go away, I promise.”
He clenched his mouth and eyes shut and tried to wiggle out of Caro’s strong arms.
“Fine then, I tried to give you the easy way.”
She suddenly pinched his nose shut and forced his mouth open, tipping the contents down his unwilling throat. His look of surprise would have made her laugh if the situation hadn’t been so serious. She waited a few minutes for the drug to start working, at the same time dampening some of his pain.
“Now, bachgen, will you let me look at that arm?”
He shook his head again, but didn’t resist as hard when she reached over and took his arm in hand. Under the soaked compresses the wound was dirty and bits of hay stuck to the drying blood. Star pulled her bag closer, her own arm twanging as she did. Somebody placed a pot of steaming water on the table beside her. Tim’s eyes were closing as she started to sponge him off. He winced once or twice and then lay limp in Caro’s arms. Both women sighed with relief.
“Lay him on the table, would you, Caro?”
With her patient finally asleep and senseless, Star could go to work. Daniel had spoken truly. Both bones of the forearm were broken quite badly, the fractured radius piercing the skin. Setting the break posed some difficulty, since one bone had to be set and kept in place before the other. She was thankful she’d finally learned how to knit the bones together some, but by the time she was done, she was dizzy with effort, and even the unflappable Caroline Black was pale. Star sent her off for some splints.
“Then I’ll need you to stabilize the arm while I put in some stitches. That, and I’m not sure how much longer he’ll stay unconscious.” She’d purposely kept the dose of laudanum very low, afraid of what too much might do to so young a child.
Caro was regaining her composure. “What else do you need me to do?” she asked.
“Nothing. All I have left to do is the wrapping, and that I could do in my sleep.”
Actually, I probably have done it in my sleep, she thought, cutting a piece of flannel, placing the splints, then winding the arm about with bandages.
There was a tiny moan: Tim was waking, brown eyes unfocused, still half drugged. Picking him up, she sat him in the chair and knelt before him. With the last of her energy, she pulled out some of his pain again.
“You can cry if it hurts, Tim,” she said quietly, binding the strips of muslin tighter. “Even grown men yell when it hurts.”
He tried to stare at her and sniffed hard. “Really?”
She smiled softly, his little boy voice tugging at her memories. She brought her head close to his with an air of conspiracy. “Really. Even Mr. Travis yelled when his leg got hurt. He yelled real loud, just like an angry bear.” Well, maybe he hadn’t, but she couldn’t very well tell him that Travis had cussed at her while she worked on him.
“Did he now?” someone remarked behind her. “And how would you know what happened while he was a prisoner of war, Miss Anderson? It’s not as if you were there.”
Kitty. Blast. She didn’t move, wouldn’t give the girl the satisfaction of watching her squirm. “Someone who was there must have told me. As in Travis himself.”
She could hear Kitty’s foot tapping, a tiny drumroll on the kitchen floor. “Someone who was there. There was someone else. A nurse,” she said slowly, as if she were connecting the pieces in her head. “She saved my life, he said. Miss Star, he called her. Starla Anderson. Now, why did I not make that connection earlier, Miss Estella Anderson?”
Tying off the ends of the bandage, Star got stiffly to her feet, weak kneed from Healing. Fear and anger writhed together in her stomach. She schooled her face carefully before turning around.
“I am quite certain I do not know, Miss Katherine Scott. Perhaps because your poor little mind was not used to the strain of putting two thoughts together?”
The fair face flamed scarlet; Kitty was speechless for a bare minute. Then in a storm of skirts she flung herself from the room, screaming for her parents.
Timothy looked up at Star in dismay. “She’s awfully loud too. Is she mad at you?”
“Yes, she is. You see, I’m not supposed to be here. It might cause a lot of trouble if people find out I’m staying with the Blacks.”
“Will you get a whipping?” That was Tim’s idea of trouble. He clutched at her one armed. “I don’t want you to get a whipping. I like you.”
“And I like you too,” she whispered back, sitting down heavily and pulling him onto her lap. There was a thunder from the sitting room. Amazing how much noise just four people can make when they’re in a hurry, Star thought wearily, holding the warm little body closer.
Daniel Scott halted in the doorway, a rifle held tight in his big fists. “Where is the villain? I’ll shoot the Reb that dares set foot on my….” His voice trailed off at the sight of Star and his son, who was swiftly falling back asleep.
“Oh, good grief,” Caro said from the hall, clearly relieved. “There’s no soldier in there.”
“I didn’t say soldier, Caro. I said Rebel. And she’s a witch too.”
“And how brave of you, Miss Kitty, to leave your darling brother here in the clutches of such a despicable, treacherous wretch as myself.” Star smiled thinly over the top of Tim’s brown curls at the confused Scotts. “Your daughter has made the incredible discovery that I am no other than Travis’ infamous Rebel nurse. So, are you going to shoot me now, or should I go outside, so as to not leave a stain on your nice, clean kitchen floor?”
“Starla, mind your tongue,” Caro said sharply over Emma Scott’s gasp and her husband’s sudden oath. “You needn’t make such a fuss over it. Nor you two either.”
I don’t want to mind my tongue. I have hidden for far too long, so I might as well come clean, then leave. At least this way I will still have my pride. “I’m not making a fuss, Caro,” she said with a calm she did not feel. “I just find it rather ironic that I come over here to help these fine people, and they repay my skill and kindness with threats and curses.”
Daniel let the hammer down slowly, and leaned the gun against a wall. Body still taut with anger, he sighed deeply and said, “I’m sorry to have insulted you so, Miss Anderson. I am sure, however, after the events of the past few months you can understand our apprehension. We are truly grateful for all you have done for Timothy. But I would like you to leave our house. Now.”
She set Tim down; he rubbed his eyes sleepily and whimpered. She ran a hand regretfully through his curls, then stood tall, eyes burning. I have indeed stayed too long, she thought, and forg
otten who I am.
“My pleasure, sir. My only request is, as you care for the Blacks, that you not publicize this event to their harm.”
“Starla. Sit down and be quiet for moment.”
“I will not. He’s right, you know. I shouldn’t be he—”
A tiny tornado swept into the kitchen, pushing Star back into her chair. Caro Black had lost her temper in true O’Donnell fashion. “You keep saying you owe us so much, Starla Anderson. Well then, sit you down and shut up and stop making an ass of yourself.”
Her gray eyes were storm dark. Star shivered suddenly. She’d seen that look before: “So you’re just a fool in your own right.”
But Caro was only getting warmed up. “And you, the Honorable Daniel Scott. I don’t think I’ve ever heard more unseemly speech from you. Can a tree betray its roots? No? Would you deny being an American, even were America on the losing side? No more will she deny her home. Katherine Scott, you dare to call her a witch, because of a God given Talent that has saved countless lives, including Travis’? Do you consider all those so blessed to be evil? I too have Talents. Will you call me witch also? Both my sons are Talented. Are they then warlocks? If that be your mindset, I would suggest a swift parting of our ways.”
There was silence in the kitchen, then the rustling of fabric as Tim crawled back over Star’s skirts and into her lap, curled up, and fell asleep once more.
Emma came forward almost immediately, reaching out to stroke her son’s hair as he slept. “I’m dreadfully sorry for our rudeness, Miss Anderson. It’s just the shock….” Her voice trailed off as she noticed the blood that stained Star’s bodice and skirt. She looked for a moment as if she might faint again, but instead held out her hand. Star took it willingly.
An Uncivilized Yankee Page 26
