by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XXXIV
MAJOR LYON MAKES A DISCOVERY AND DELIVERS A MESSAGE
Deck found Artie lying in a sheltered spot, on a hastily constructedcouch of pine boughs. Over the wounded young man stood SurgeonFarnwright, binding up a ghastly wound in the shoulder.
"What do you think of this, Surgeon?" asked the major, anxiously.
"Your brother is in a bad way, Major," was the grave response. "Thebullet has shattered the shoulder blade and gone into the back."
"What are his chances of recovery, in your opinion?"
"Not the best, to be candid. They would be better if he could be removedimmediately to some house where he would not be disturbed. In such casesas these, sudden jarrings are ofttimes fatal."
"I will see what can be done for him," went on Deck. "In the meantime,do your best for him."
"I always do my best in all our cases, Major," returned the surgeon, andturned away to aid some others who were wounded.
In a few minutes Colonel Lyon rode up and was taken to Artie's side. Thepoor fellow was now conscious, and on seeing them he tried to smile, butthe attempt was a sickly one.
"Don't talk, Artie," said the colonel, as he saw the young captain makethe attempt. "We will do what we can for you, and your recovery dependsupon your keeping quiet."
"If you will relieve me from duty, I will try to find some house towhich Artie can be taken," put in Deck. "I am afraid the field hospitalis too far off."
"The trouble is, if we take him to a private place he will have nodoctor's care," answered Colonel Lyon. "Surgeon Farnwright must remainwith the others that are wounded."
At this announcement Deck's hopes fell for an instant. "Well, I'll seewhat I can do anyway--if you will let me off," he returned soberly. "Itwould be too bad to have him die for the want of care. Mother wouldnever forgive us--or Dorcas and Hope."
"That is true, Dexter." The colonel's voice sounded strangely husky. "Doyour best,--and spare no money, if money is of avail," and he turned toconsult with Surgeon Farnwright once more.
The major had noticed, during the ride along the timber road, a littlefarmhouse, set in a grove of walnuts, standing about a quarter of a mileback from the scene of the battle described in the last chapter. He nowset off for this farmhouse post-haste, to see what accommodations itmight offer.
It was past noon, and from a distance came a heavy firing. Although hedid not know it, the Confederate cavalry had crossed the creek in force,and were now charging straight for Crawfish Springs and the hospitallocated there. The brigade under Colonel Long was sustaining the mainattack, although other of General Mitchell's cavalry was in thevicinity.
As Deck rode toward the farmhouse, he noticed that all of the lowerwindows were boarded up, as if to resist an invasion. Some of the upperwindows were also served in the same way, but two or three of them werepartly unprotected.
Riding to the door, he dismounted, and used the iron knocker lustily.The clank-clank brought forth no reply, and he used the knocker again,with additional force.
"Please don't hammer that door down!" came in a shrill female voice, andnow the head of an elderly lady appeared at one of the upper windows.The lady carried a pistol of ancient pattern in her hand, and herwrinkled face was full of determination.
"I should like to talk to you," said Deck, and he felt half like smilingwhen he saw the old-time weapon.
"I don't want to talk to you," was the short reply. "I have nothing todo with this war."
"I am sorry to disturb you, madam, but one of our captains has beenbadly wounded and he is in need of some quiet spot where he can rest."
"My place is no hospital, sir. Take him to the regular army hospital."
"Unfortunately, that is just what we cannot do--for the present. Heneeds absolute quiet, or he may die."
"I don't want him here--don't want anybody here," was the slow butpositive reply. "As I said before, I have nothing to do with this war."
"Perhaps you are a Southern sympathizer?" went on Deck, hardly knowinghow to proceed.
"If I am it is none of your business, young man. I can tell you onething, I am not afraid of a suit of soldier clothing, no matter whowears it."
"Oh, Aunt Clarissa, don't be rude," came in a soft voice from behind theelderly lady, and Deck saw a dainty hand placed on one of the gauntshoulders.
"You be still, Rosebel," was the crusty interruption. "I can manage thismatter very well alone. Do you think I am going to open my house to anyof the military--least of all to those Yankees? I am sure if I won'thave our own soldiers here I won't have those who are fighting us!"
"But he says the captain is badly wounded, and may die," pleadedRosebel, and now she pressed closer to the window, to get a better lookat the young Union officer below.
Her soft voice interested Deck, and he came as close as possible underthe window to see her fully. As he gazed at her he gave a start. Wherehad he seen that face before? Somewhere, he was positive of it--butwhere?
"Rosebel, get back," ordered the elderly lady, and tried to crowd themaiden from the window, but she would not budge.
"Aunt Clarissa, remember, Paul is in the army," she said. "I know I didnot want him to join, but if he was wounded and among strangers--" Shedid not finish, excepting with a long sigh.
Deck could hear her words plainly, and at the mentioning of the name,Paul, his heart gave a bound, then sank like a lump of lead in hisbosom. He had found the missing sister of the young Confederate captainwho lay in that cold trench many miles away, with a stick for aheadstone, upon which was inscribed:--
ROSEBEL'S PAUL LIES BURIED HERE.
"Your name is Rosebel?" he said; and his voice was as soft as when hehad spoken to Kate Belthorpe in his most sentimental mood.
"Yes."
"And your brother Paul was a captain in the Confederate service?"
"Yes." And now the young lady's eyes began to fill with wonder.
"You lived in Chattanooga with your brother, and you--you had adifference of opinion about his joining the army?"
"We did have--and I am sorry for it," answered the maiden. "But who areyou to speak thus to me? Do you know my brother?"
"Rosebel, do not be hasty in talking to this young man," interposed theaunt.
"I did know your brother, Miss Rosebel. I do not know your other name."
"And yet you knew my brother!"
"He must be telling falseho--" began the aunt, but the girl's hand overher mouth checked her.
"I fell in with a young Confederate captain whose name was Paul,"explained Deck, sadly. "He said he had a sister Rosebel living inChattanooga. He had quarrelled with that sister, and in anger had hiddensome money away so that she could not get it."
"It was Paul!" cried Rosebel Greene, for such was her full name. "Oh,tell me about him, and how he came to tell you this. Is he well?"
The young major looked at her, then turned his face away.
"I am very sorry for you, Miss Rosebel, very sorry. He fought as only atrue soldier can fight--to the end."
"He is dead!" came with a moan. "Paul is dead, Aunt Clarissa! Oh, whatshall I do now?" And the girl sank into the elderly lady's arms.
It was a trying moment for Deck, especially so as he could do nothing,in his present position, to aid the young lady. He waited and saw bothfemales leave the window. A minute after the front door was opened bythe elderly lady, and he was asked to enter.
"I hope you are not fooling my niece," she said. "What is your name?"
"A man would not be human to fool upon such a heartrending subject,"answered Deck. "I am Major Dexter Lyon, of the Kentucky cavalry. May Iask that young lady's name?"
"Rosebel Greene. I am Miss Clarissa Pomeroy, her aunt. Rosebel used tolive in Chattanooga, but when Paul went to the war and took all theirmoney with him, she came to live here with me."
"Paul did not take the money with him, Miss Pomeroy. He left it behindhim, in hiding. I was with him when he died, and I promised to find hissister, if possible, and t
ell her where the money was secreted."
The two entered the little sitting room of the farmhouse, where Rosebelhad sank down in a rocking-chair, crying silently. In a broken voice sheasked to be told about Paul, and sitting beside her, Deck gave her theparticulars just as they had occurred, and told where the money was tobe found. The recital brought tears to Deck's eyes, also, which hehastily brushed away, and Miss Pomeroy was likewise visibly affected.
"I am glad to know Paul wasn't so bad as to run off with the money," theelderly lady observed, after a vigorous use of her handkerchief. "Thehouse in Chattanooga is shut up now, but even if it wasn't, it isn'tlikely anybody would hunt down in the cellar for that money."
"I would rather have Paul back!" moaned Rosebel Greene. "Oh, Paul, Paul,how much I shall miss you!" And unable to restrain her emotions, sherushed from the room.
Deck was in a quandary, and looked at Miss Pomeroy. She saw hisperplexity, and quickly made matters easy for him.
"You may bring that wounded officer here," she said. "We will do thebest we can for him. Who is he?"
"His name is Captain Artie Lyon. He is in reality my cousin, but he hasalways been a member of our family, and I look at him almost as a twinbrother."
"If he is so close a relative we will do our very best for him, MajorLyon," answered Miss Pomeroy. "I have had some experience as a nurse,and Rosebel is excellent around a sickbed."
"What he wants principally is quiet," rejoined Major Deck; and after afew words more he withdrew, his thoughts divided between poor Artie andthe bereaved girl left behind.
It was no easy matter, in those trying times, to obtain an ambulance,and after scouting around for the best part of half an hour withoutsuccess, Deck decided to have Artie carried on a stretcher to thefarmhouse.
The young captain was in considerable pain, and the journey was by nomeans easy for him. Four men carried him, and Deck went along. Two restswere taken before the dwelling was gained. At the doorway both MissPomeroy and Rosebel met them. A small bed had been put up in the sittingroom, and Artie was placed upon this; and hardly had this beenaccomplished when Surgeon Farnwright dashed up on his horse, to give theladies instructions and to leave some medicine for the patient. Rosebelhad now dried her tears, and went to work bravely, working with thetenderness of a sister over the sufferer.
"He shall not be disturbed," she said to Deck. "Aunty and I will takecare of that."
Knowing he was needed in the field, Deck remained no longer than hedeemed necessary. An urgent call from Crawfish Springs had reached theRiverlawns, and Colonel Lyon was now on the way to that locality, takingwith him all but the twelfth company, which was escorting the prisonersto the rear. The major joined the command just as it was coming up inthe rear of Colonel Long's brigade.
The fighting had been heavy, and the Confederate commander, Wheeler, hadlost many men. They had come over the Chickamauga, hardly thinking thatany Union cavalry remained in the neighborhood. For a time thebattle-ground was near Glass's Mill, but gradually the Unionists weredriven toward Crawfish Springs, while the Confederates massed themselvesin the direction of the field hospital of the Army of the Cumberland.
Again Deck found himself in the fray, fighting as hard as ever. TheRiverlawns had suffered heavily, but the organization still maintainedits full number of companies. It supported Long in the second and thirdattacks and lost seven additional men, including a second lieutenant andtwo sergeants.
By this time word came to Thomas from Rosecrans to fall back toRossville, on the road to Chattanooga. To further this movement, somecavalry was needed to protect the immense wagon trains, and theRiverlawns were called to perform part of this service. It was no easywork, and there was but little glory in it; yet it had to be done, andevery cavalryman, from Colonel Lyon down, went at it heart and soul. Onthe way to Rossville, the wagon train suffered two raids, but theConfederates were beaten off with a heavy loss. In the meantime, anammunition train arrived, and infantry and cavalry were alike suppliedwith whatever was wanted. The movement of the wagons was slow, but bymidnight the Riverlawns' duty came to an end, and they went into camp onthe high ground not far from the turnpike running from Chattanoogathrough Rossville to Ringgold.