“Is she awake?” Emily asked.
“She is awake and in a lot of pain,” the physician replied. “I’ve given Mrs. McCabe a bottle of laudanum to ease some of the discomfort. But there will be much more to come.”
Valerie winced, imagining it.
“We’re all going to have to take turns caring for Catherine.” Angst and sorrow bore down on Becca’s features. “Can I have everyone’s solemn promise that you’ll help Catherine get better?”
“We promise, Ma, don’t we?” Leah glanced around. Everyone’s head bobbed in agreement.
Valerie’s included.
Becca left to see Dr. Owens out.
“That poor woman, burned so terribly.” Leah lowered herself back onto the settee. “I hope it’s found out Catherine didn’t intentionally set the fire. I hate to think she’d do something so hateful.”
Becca returned to the room and paused at the entryway. Her gaze fixed on Valerie, and tears gathered in her eyes. “Oh, honey . . . ” She strode across the room and pulled Valerie into an embrace. “I almost lost my son, Catherine, and–and a daughter today.”
Valerie held the woman as she cried it out. “I’m all right, Becca.” No one had fretted over her like this since Mama did when she was a little girl. “Calm down. I’m all right. And we’ll keep praying for Catherine.”
Leah, Sarah, and Em came and put their arms around Becca too.
They stood there, bundled, all wrapped up in each other. Valerie had never experienced anything like it. She rather enjoyed the feeling of being a part of something so uniquely special—
Something called a family.
Twenty-one
Reins in hand, Ben steered his team down the unpaved road that wound through Tennessee. He and Luke followed the 1st Ohio Infantry to the lower part of the state. Up ahead the drum beat out the time to the soldiers’ march. His photographic wagon clattered behind them. He breathed in deep of the fresh crisp March air, then blew it out on a sigh. His heart begged to keep going on to Missouri, but his brother struggled with leaving his comrades.
“You and Clint sure about this?”
“We’re sure.” They’d stopped in Nashville long enough to send and receive a telegram. The reply from Pa had been disturbing. Barn destroyed in fire. Jake and Catherine injured. Livestock all lost. Praise the Lord everyone else OK. Ben gave his younger brother a side-glance. “I want to be home. But I don’t want to risk getting separated from you again. That head injury of yours isn’t all the way healed. I just appreciate the fact that Clint chose to stick with me—at least for a couple more months if that’s what it takes.”
Luke didn’t reply, and Ben prayed he’d have a change of heart. He wasn’t contractually bound as he never officially enlisted. And this regiment was marching to Pittsburg Landing, where they’d engage the enemy. If he had to go, Ben decided to make good use of it. He figured that since he’d helped the South by working for Colonel LaPorte, he’d now do his part for the North by documenting everything leading up to the battle and photographing what he could during and after the fight. He knew of several publications that might be interested in purchasing his and Clint’s articles and pictures. But he and Clint both would toss aside the opportunity in a second if Luke wanted to go home too.
Finally, his younger brother spoke up. “I can’t explain it, but I need to be there for these men, pray with them before the battle. I told Captain Marshall that I’m not willing to fight alongside them, but if I must, I must. I’m a chaplain, concerned for all souls, Fed and Reb alike. Captain Marshall called me an ‘unwilling warrior.’”
Ben gave a short laugh. “Guess that describes a lot of us, eh?” He wasn’t willing to pick up his gun and kill another man either, war or no war, although he’d do it in self-defense.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I started thinkin’ on it for a future sermon, about being an unwilling warrior. As Christians we’re supposed to ‘fight the good fight,’ as Paul wrote, but many of us aren’t willing. We want life to be like that Sunday afternoon when we’re sittin’ on the front porch—” He made a faraway gesture with his hand. “—with smells of Ma’s fried chicken coming through the open window.”
Ben groaned. “Boy, don’t make me more homesick than I already am!”
Luke laughed. “Sorry ’bout that.”
“But I get your point.”
Up ahead, some of the men sang “The Girl I Left Behind Me” as they marched along, and Ben’s heart ached as he missed Valerie for the umpteenth time today.
He shifted his weight on the hard bench. Maybe some temptation was in order. “What say you about us getting home for Easter Sunday? Pa always delivers a fine message from the pulpit. It’ll fire you right up.”
“Always does. Hmm. I reckon I’ll have to see what happens in the next few weeks.”
“So you’re not opposed to it?”
Luke sent him a frown. “Opposed? No. I want to go home as bad as you. But God’s not done with me here yet.”
“Fair enough.” Ben started thinking, praying. He’d discuss logistics with Clint later, but if there was even a remote chance they’d make it, Ben wanted to try. “Home by Easter Sunday.” He grinned. “Has a nice ring to it.”
***
Valerie finished preparing the dozens of bars of soaps that the McCabes planned to hand out in town today. They prayed some of the working girls would accept more than the gift of a lavender-scented bar. Attached to each ribbon was verse sixteen of Mama’s favorite psalm. As for me, I will call upon God; and the LORD shall save me. It seemed an appropriate message for this Saturday before Easter.
“Are those all set to go, sis?” Jake entered the kitchen and stood with hands on hips, gazing at the kitchen table. It was nice to see the bandages gone from his hands and forearms where they’d been burned.
“I just got done.” Valerie lifted the basket off the table and gave it to Jake.
“And you don’t mind staying with Catherine?” Becca asked. “I know you’ve been avoiding her.”
“I haven’t wanted to upset her, but if she agreed to let me sit with her, I’m fine with it.”
“She’ll probably ask for laudanum.” Becca pulled on her gloves.
“I can administer it.” The drug was all Catherine asked for—that and water. She refused to answer questions or talk about what happened. At first, Dr. Owens thought perhaps her vocal cords had been singed. But her requests came out loud and clear.
Jake pursed his lips and gave his head a shake. “I don’t agree with it, but the doc says to give her as much as she wants.”
“She’s in so much pain.” Valerie had spent countless nights listening to Catherine moan in agony. “Her wounds can’t heal if she’s writhing.”
“I reckon . . . well, we won’t be gone that long, and if something should happen, we’re just right up the road.”
“I know, Jake.” Valerie widened her eyes. “You’re a regular mother hen.”
Becca laughed.
“And you’re getting as sassy as Sarah. See! The way you rolled your eyes just now!” He shook his finger at her. “That’s got to stop.”
“Oh, Jake, really.” Becca tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”
“Good-bye, Jake.” Valerie smiled sweetly just to irk him.
He narrowed his gaze, but she saw the grin working its way across his mouth.
Once he left, she sighed in relief. The man needed a wife in the worst way to soften him up a bit—Emily and Leah both said so. And Valerie knew that softer side of him existed. She’d glimpsed it the night he learned General McCulloch was killed in a battle in Arkansas. Jake said he would have ridden days to attend the man’s funeral, but his father needed him here. A new barn needed to be built by the fall.
And then the news came about the battle near the Shiloh Baptist Church in Tennessee. It was a Union victory, and Jake hadn’t been himself. Not because the North won another fight, but he worried—as they all did—about the well-being of Benjamin, Luke, a
nd Clint. Days later, a telegram arrived stating they were unharmed. Valerie had never felt such relief. It reminded her how very much she loved Benjamin. After the news, Jake returned to his normal, exasperating ways.
With everyone gone now, Valerie crept up the steps. Since the fire and her hand surgery, Catherine occupied the room in which Valerie had resided. Valerie moved in with Sarah. Peering in the doorway, she saw that Catherine slept peacefully. Only a thin sheet covered her. Valerie turned to go.
“Wait.”
Valerie slowly pivoted. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I was merely resting my eyes.” Catherine’s voice sounded raspy. “Come in. I’ve been wanting to talk with you. Privately. You never came.”
“I’ve kept my distance for obvious reasons. But I felt comfortable enough to stay with you for a few hours today.” Valerie stepped into the room. It smelled of disinfectant combined with the sickening odor of decaying flesh that somehow defied Dr. Owens’s painful debridements. But the window had been cracked open to allow for some air circulation.
“Please sit.”
She did, but cautiously so. She had no reason to trust Catherine, except in her incapacitated state she seemed harmless enough. She took in her appearance. Becca had cut her brown hair in an effort to conceal the part that was badly singed, which made Catherine’s large eyes even more prominent. The gauntness of her face spoke to her lack of appetite, and Valerie feared Catherine was dying.
“I never meant you any physical harm. That day of the fire. I saw you walk around the wagon, and I became suspicious. I put the lantern down and followed you. I eavesdropped on your conversation with Jake, and I was jealous of you again. I thought it should be me who was well liked and treated as a sister. You stole my place.”
“Catherine, I’ve told you—”
“Wait.” She sounded winded and worked to catch her breath. “I marched off, forgetting I’d set the lantern down on the ground. I kicked it over, and the kerosene splashed up onto my dress, catching fire. I tried to extinguish it, but it ignited the dried hay. Then suddenly it was everywhere. The fire. I coughed and choked on the smoke and ran for the side door. I bumped into something, and that’s the last I remember.”
“You ran smack dab into Jake.” Valerie had heard his version. “But why have you kept your silence these past weeks?”
“I didn’t think I could live with myself if I admitted that it was my fault the barn burned to the ground. The McCabes must have lost so much, livestock and property. Am I right?”
Valerie didn’t see any point in lying. She nodded.
“I knew it. And all because of my stupidity.”
“It was an accident.” Valerie reached out and stroked Catherine’s forearm, careful to avoid the heavily bandaged area that covered what was once her right hand. “The McCabes love you.”
“But you hate me?”
“No, I don’t. And now that you’ve told me what happened, you need to tell everyone else.”
Catherine turned her face away. “I don’t think I can bear the guilt and shame.”
“You didn’t mean to—”
“But in a way I did. Can’t you see?”
“So you still hate me? After all that’s happened? After all I did for you?”
Catherine turned her head away, and anger coursed through Valerie’s being. But before she could say more, raucous hoots and shouts followed by laughter drifted in from outside. It wasn’t even noon yet. Could men from the saloon be spilling out into the street already? Only twice since she’d come to town had she known of any trouble, and both times the sheriff took swift care of it.
Valerie stood and crossed the room. Looking out the window, she couldn’t see far enough away to figure what happened. In any case, the disturbance had ceased.
She whirled back around and touched the neckline of her calico. It was then she remembered—
“What about Benjamin’s pocket watch?”
Catherine closed her eyes. “Yes, I took it.”
“Can I have it back?” Hope filled her.
“I’d return it if I could.” She winced as she swallowed. “While you slept that night at the Widewater, I took the watch, walked to the end of the hallway, and tossed it out the window. If I couldn’t have it, I didn’t want you to have it either.”
Valerie’s jaw slacked. But then, what could she expect from a woman whose hostilities ran so deep?
“Don’t you hate me now?” Catherine’s tone teetered on mockery. Her eyes looked like ice.
“No, I don’t hate you.” Was Catherine trying to drag her into her cesspool of resentment and bitterness? Well, she refused to go there!
“It was a despicable thing for you do to, Catherine. Benjamin’s watch was precious to me. But I don’t hate you.” She pitied the woman more than anything.
“Just wait until Ben gets home. Then you’ll see that I was right about your so-called marriage. You’ll hate me then—and you’ll hate him.”
“Never.”
A frightening chill passed through Valerie. She turned and closed the window, but it didn’t seem to be coming from outside. Something had changed inside this room—and not for the good. “I think I should go. Call me if you need anything more.”
“Valerie, wait.”
She halted her strides.
“My laudanum . . . ” The words sounded forced through great pain. “Would you give me some more?”
She strode to the bureau and poured some into the spoon. After feeding the liquid to Catherine, she replaced the utensil on the saucer and pushed the cork back into the cruet.
“Just give me the bottle, and I won’t have to trouble you again.”
Valerie almost complied but suddenly realized an overdose would be fatal. Valerie wondered how she’d forgive herself if she was a party to Catherine’s demise. For safekeeping, she tucked the bottle into her dress’s front pocket.
Never forgive . . .
But unforgiveness was worse than poison.
Understanding filled her. Enslavement came in many deceivingly pretty packages. Fear. Guilt. Jealousy. Envy. Greed and covetousness. Revenge. Father and James succumbed to theirs. After all, God said the love of money was the root of all evil. The McCabes obviously knew all about such bondage. That’s why they tried to rescue the working girls on the edge of town.
“You’re no trouble, Catherine.” Feelings of benevolence stirred inside of her.
She strode to the side table and picked up the Bible. Gently she leafed through the pages until she found Psalm 55. “This was my mother’s favorite passage of Scripture. I’ll read it to you.”
Catherine didn’t object.
Valerie cleared her throat lightly. “Give ear to my prayer, O God; and hide not thyself from my supplication . . . ”
The woman dozed off before Valerie reached the third verse.
***
Having straightened the drawing room, Valerie practiced the coming Sunday’s music on the pianoforte. She couldn’t imagine what was keeping the McCabes. Had there been trouble in town? Surely she’d have heard by now if there was. She stood and walked to the windows. Maybe she ought to run next door to Leah’s. She and Em were home today.
Valerie took to the stairs and checked on Catherine. Still asleep. She replaced the bottle of laudanum on the bureau, but set it far enough back that it remained out of Catherine’s sight and reach.
Back downstairs again, Valerie walked to the kitchen, and just when she reached the mudroom, the door opened. She stepped back when the darkly clad man entered.
Recognition set in. “Benjamin?” She felt frozen in disbelief.
He slid off his wide brim hat and inclined his head. “Mrs. McCabe, I presume.” His gaze traveled over her, and a smile inched across his face. “I see you’ve adjusted to life out here quite well.”
She glanced down at her work dress. She looked a sight and hardly resembled the exquisitely clad woman he put on the steamer in New Orleans.
He
opened his arms, and without another thought, she ran to him. She heard his laugh as she threw herself into his embrace. It felt good to hold him tightly and press her nose into his neck. He’s home! It seemed too good to be true.
He squeezed her and spun her around in the kitchen. When her feet finally touched the floor again, Benjamin leaned in for a kiss. Reality caused her to tense, and Valerie stopped him by touching her fingers to his lips.
“We need to talk,” she said in the most determined voice she could find.
“All right.” Surprise and skepticism were etched into his features. “Everything OK?”
“Well, yes, but—” Gazing into his clean-shaven face and getting caught up in that golden-eyed gaze of his, Valerie fought to recall her complaint.
After a grin, Benjamin got his kiss.
“I love you.” The words leaked from her heart.
He released her. “Now there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” She did her best not to feel hurt.
“Later,” he promised. Then his eyes moved over her, and he shook his head. “Just look at you.”
Embarrassed, Valerie patted a few hairpins into place.
“I’m not as pretty as when you last saw me in New Orleans.”
“No, you’re not. You’re beautiful.” He touched her cheek, then kissed her again.
The door opened. “Sorry to bust in on you like this.”
Valerie stepped backward and saw a young man standing in the mudroom. He resembled Benjamin except his eyes were as blue as Becca’s.
Valerie smiled. “You must be Luke.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When he inclined his head, Valerie glimpsed the purplish scar that ran down along the side of his face.
Benjamin narrowed his gaze at him. “I told you to give me ten minutes.”
Luke shrugged carelessly. Then he removed his hat and smiled at Valerie.
“Luke, meet my lovely bride.”
She righted the skirt of her calico, wishing she’d known they were coming home today.
Unwilling Warrior Page 24
