A Stranger On My Land - A Civil War Romance

by Sandra Merville Hart

  “Someone’s hurt!” Jay scrambled up the slope toward the voice.

  “Careful, Jay! It could be a Yankee.” With the sure-footed steps of those accustomed to steep climbs, Carrie followed him closely.

  “Hey, Mister! Could you say something again? We can’t find you.” Jay didn’t seem at all frightened as he searched the leaf-covered ground beneath the trees.

  “I’m here. To your right.” The voice sounded closer.

  The siblings followed the raspy voice and stopped at the side of a seriously wounded soldier. Mud covered the young soldier’s bloodstained coat. A knapsack and uncorked canteen lay at his side. A rubber blanket covered half his tall frame.

  “Do you have any water?” Brown hair fell across his forehead, almost touching one blue eye.

  Carrie knelt beside him grudgingly. “Jay, go fetch some water.”

  His eyes filled with excitement, Jay picked up the empty canteen and the cork lying beside it before running toward the well outside the cabin.

  She stared at the man’s guarded face, wondering if she could trust him. “Which side do you fight for? I can’t tell what color your coat is underneath all that mud.”

  Intense blue eyes searched hers warily. “Would you help me if I said I’m a Union soldier?”

  She’d suspected as much. Jumping to her feet, she turned her back on him. Southern cannons had never threatened her life the way Northern shells had, chasing them into hiding.

  “My wounds finally stopped bleeding, but I won’t last out here in this cold too long. Last night’s rain gave me a good soaking.” His voice, hoarse with thirst, pleaded with her.

  She turned to face him. In spite of the scruffy appearance of a few days’ growth of whiskers, he appeared to be a gentleman. His brown hair touched his shoulders, so his beard wasn’t all that needed cutting. Neither of these detracted from his looks. With only a blanket as protection from the elements, the handsome young man probably wouldn’t survive another night in this cold November weather.

  He reached his left hand toward her. “Would you walk away and let me die because I fight for the North?”

  Shame filled her. Thrusting away the terrifying memories of the August day when Union soldiers shot cannons into Chattanooga while the townspeople prayed at church for the Confederacy, she kneeled beside him. Mama would never have walked away from a person in need, no matter what they’d done. “You’ve been shot?”

  He nodded. “My upper arm burns like fire.” At the sound of running footsteps, he touched his rifle.

  She placed her hand over his. “It’s just my little brother, Jay.”

  He kept his gaze riveted toward the sound until Jay bounded into sight.

  “I found another canteen like this one about a month ago.” Jay pulled the cork out and gave the canteen to Carrie.

  Her gaze strayed to the prone soldier. “Can you sit up?”

  Determination lit his eyes. “If you get me started.”

  She slid her arm under his shoulders and gently eased him to a sitting position. She brought the canteen to his lips. He drained it dry.

  Carrie watched the soldier’s gaze shift to Missionary Ridge and turned curiously. Intense fighting took place on top of the ridge. The sound of a thousand muskets mingled with cannon blasts that reverberated through the valley. Carrie shivered at the sights and sounds of a war her father had never wanted. She looked back at the wounded soldier and found no signs of triumphant gloating.

  The man put the cork on the canteen and slung the strap over his left shoulder. “I’m much obliged to both of you. My name’s Adam Hendricks, U. S. Army, Ninety-ninth Ohio regiment.” He grimaced in pain as his wounded arm shifted. “I prayed all day for God to save me.” He winked at Jay. “I wasn’t sure He could hear me over the gunfire.”

  Jay’s jaw dropped as he stared at the soldier. “Mister, God can hear the smallest whisper. Why, you don’t even have to pray out loud for Him to know what you’re saying. Ain’t that right, Carrie?”

  “That’s right, Jay.” She ruffled his blond hair, thankful for the reminder. Knowing what she had to do, her gaze returned to the soldier. “Mr. Hendricks, my name is Carrie Bishop. This is my brother, Jay. We can take you to shelter, but we won’t be able to carry you. It’s about half a mile away.”

  “If I can lean on you, I’ll walk as far as I’m able.” With his good hand, he tried to push himself up but failed.

  Carrie and Jay exchanged a look when they realized it would be a rough walk back to the cave for all of them. Carrie moved to the soldier's injured side. Putting her arm around his waist, she couldn’t prevent jarring his arm. He bit his lip but didn’t complain. With Jay supporting his left side, they lifted him to his feet. He was almost a foot taller than Carrie, but very thin.

  “I’m much obliged.” His legs shook for a moment, and he closed his eyes. “Jay, if you say one of those silent prayers for me, I think I can make it. And please call me Adam.”

  “I will, Adam.”

  Leaning on the siblings, he took a step. “You must be praying, Jay.”

  “I am, but you gotta remember to thank Him for answering.”

  He took another step. “Thank you, Lord.” His right arm hung uselessly at his side.

  “Pardon me.” Carrie halted as his arm hit her back. “If you put your arm around my shoulder, it’d be easier to walk.” Her face flamed, realizing her words might sound flirtatious.

  Color flooded his pale face. “Sounds like a good idea, but I can’t control my arm. It won’t listen to me right now. Would you mind?”

  He seemed as embarrassed as she felt. It somehow made her feel better. “Not at all.” She gently picked up his arm to rest on her shoulder.

  Even though his lips clamped shut, a gasp escaped him.

  “I’m sorry. Can you manage?” It occurred to her the bullet might have broken a bone.

  He smiled at her. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ve been through worse than this and lived.”

  “You have?”

  At the spellbound look on Jay’s face, Adam’s teasing grin seemed to come with great effort as he winced in pain. “Well, maybe I’m stretching the truth a bit on that one, Jay.” His step faltered. “Looks like I’m going to need to concentrate on my walking for a few minutes.”

  • CHAPTER TWO •

  Union tents filled the valley surrounding Chattanooga and were easily visible from this side of Lookout Mountain. The battle raged on across the valley. Carrie prayed it would keep the attention of Union soldiers on the fighting and not on their slow progress around the mountain. By the time they made it to the cave, Adam was barely conscious. The last fifty yards he dragged his feet, his head down and eyes closed. Exhausted from bearing the brunt of his weight, Carrie was almost too beat to dread what Aunt Lavinia would say when they brought a Yankee into the hiding place.

  Perhaps if they placed Adam on a pallet in the front room of the cave, Aunt Lavinia wouldn’t even realize he was there. After all, she hadn’t been out of bed more than a few minutes a day since they moved to the cave. Carrie would have to find a way to keep her talkative brother from mentioning Adam.

  As they neared the entrance, Carrie whispered, “Jay, we’ll keep Adam in the front room. Don’t tell Aunt Lavinia he’s here.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why not?”

  “She won’t want us to help him.”

  His eyes widened, but he agreed to keep silent. Adam didn’t respond to the whispered conversation. With his head already bowed, they were able to maneuver him through the low entrance. When Jay released him to gather blankets for his pallet, Adam collapsed on the floor. Their dog, Star, barked a welcome and came over from his place beside the fire to lick Adam’s fingers.

  “Carrie, is that you?” From the adjoining room, Aunt Lavinia sounded both worried and annoyed.

  “Yes, Aunt Lavinia, we’re back.” She removed her bloodstained cloak before hurrying to the next room to soothe her aunt. “Supper should be ready in a litt
le while.”

  “Well, I should hope so.” At fifty, her illness made her seem older than her years as she picked up the quilting square beside her on the bed. “You were gone long enough. The battle must be further away. The vibration from cannons doesn’t seem as strong today. I’ll just bet our army showed those Yankees who’s boss, and they’re running back home. Did you gather enough firewood?”

  Carrie managed not to gasp, having forgotten all about her original excuse for leaving their shelter that afternoon. “I … I’ll have to go back for a couple of loads after I build up the fire in here.”

  “Well, hurry up. The fire’s getting pretty low. I don’t need to get any sicker.” She coughed as if to remind her niece of her lung complaint.

  Since Carrie heard about it in some form or another every day, no reminder was necessary.

  Their cave didn’t go back very far into the mountain, but it had three high-ceiling rooms. Aunt Lavinia and Carrie slept in the middle room, which was the largest. A neighbor helped them bring a wagonload of furniture to the cave before his family headed south or they wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable. He had tried to convince Carrie and her family to flee with them, but her aunt wouldn’t hear of it. No Yankee was going to chase her out of town. Besides, her health would have made any trip a hardship, so they had moved to the cave. Aunt Lavinia’s narrow bed had been deemed a necessity and had been selected over a table. The mattresses from the other beds had also been moved with blankets, clothing, and all the food they owned.

  The back room was used as the stable for the chickens and cows to guard against anyone passing by hearing them from outside the cave. The chickens sometimes wandered into the bedroom, pecking the ground in search of fallen grain. The rooster crowed throughout the day and night, often waking Carrie from a sound sleep. Jay bedded down in the front room with their collie mix dog, Star, so named for the white star on the top of his head.

  Carrie quickly threw small twigs on the burning embers within the circle of stones in the middle of the chilly room. She must attend to Adam’s wound soon, although what she could do beyond providing a clean bandage remained a mystery. She had never removed a bullet in all her twenty years—or even seen it done. Hopefully, clean bandages, nourishing broths, and protection from the elements would be enough. The poor man had seemed all done in when he collapsed on the ground moments ago.

  Once the fire crackled with warmth, she placed a log on it and left through the six-foot wide passage to the main room. Jay had already removed the unconscious soldier’s coat and blouse. Dried blood and grime surrounded the torn flesh of his upper arm. At least she could remove the dirt.

  She dropped to her knees beside him. “Fetch me some clean cloths and a bucket of water.”

  Jay quickly returned with the items. He watched Carrie wash the arm as gently as possible. Adam groaned when her cloth found another wound. She lifted his arm to investigate. “There are two wounds, one on the top and one near the back of his arm, higher than the other by at least three inches. He must have taken two bullets.”

  Jay inspected it with her. “Maybe it was just one bullet that came out the other side.”

  Puzzled, Carrie’s gaze fell on Adam’s blue coat where Jay had tossed it earlier. Picking it up, she examined the sleeve. There were two holes corresponding with his wounds, but no bullets. “Since I don’t know anything about removing a bullet, I reckon one bullet is the best we can hope for.”

  After Carrie bandaged the wounds, Jay helped her wash his chest and back so they could put one of Papa’s old nightshirts on him. Papa was off in Virginia with General Lee’s army, so he probably wouldn’t mind. She couldn’t help noticing that the skin stretched over Adam’s ribs, as if he hadn’t eaten a good meal in a while. She didn’t have any older brothers—just Jay—so she felt a tinge of embarrassment to be performing such an intimate service for a handsome stranger.

  Jay suggested cutting off the right sleeve of the nightshirt so the bandage could be changed easily. Although Carrie didn’t like the idea of cutting up Papa’s clothes, it would make caring for Adam easier, so she agreed.

  When they finished, they covered him in the rubber blanket they’d found with him. “Why, it’s a poncho, Carrie. There’s an opening for his head.”

  She nodded. “I guess that comes in handy during long marches in the rain. I’ll dry out the wet blanket from his knapsack by the fire. Lying out in the cold rain after getting shot didn’t do him any good. Aunt Lavinia finished another quilt last week. Put that over him, too, while I start supper. Then step outside. If you don’t see any soldiers, gather up firewood.”

  Carrie made up the fire within the circle of stones in the middle of the front room before making potato soup from the dried potatoes she’d put on to soak earlier in the day.

  Jay came back with an armload of branches before leaving for another.

  Wondering whether Adam still slept from exhaustion or something worse, Carrie crept to his side. His flushed face felt hot to her cold hand. The poor man burned with fever, probably from the drenching he’d received from last evening’s rain. She soaked a rag in cold water and wiped his hot face.

  He stirred and opened his eyes. “Miss Bishop?”

  She dropped the cloth back in the water to make it cold again. “You can call me Carrie. Everyone does.”

  “Where are we?” His blue eyes searched the room before returning to her face.

  “This is a cave near my family’s property. We’ve been here since your army took over Chattanooga in September.” She tried to keep bitterness out of her voice. It was more than an inconvenience to stay here. They’d lived in fear for months.

  “Most folks leave when soldiers make camp in their town.” His gaze held hers.

  “We would have left if we could. My aunt is too sick to travel.” Aunt Lavinia’s condition had worsened after the Confederate army made their camp in Chattanooga during the hot days of summer. “After our horse went missing one night, I knew our cows and chickens would be next. So far no one has found this place.”

  “I’m glad of that.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Could I trouble you for another drink of water?”

  She gave him a dipper of cold water, which he drank as if parched. “I’m making soup for supper. It’ll be ready shortly.”

  “Much obliged to you.” His voice sounded stronger after he drank his fill.

  His eyes remained closed, so she put the cold cloth on his forehead.

  “Carrie!”

  Adam’s eyes opened at the sound of her aunt’s high-pitched voice.

  “That’s Aunt Lavinia. Don’t let her see you.”

  He moved the blanket aside and started to push himself up.

  Carrie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “She’s bedridden with consumption and hasn’t been out of that room in days. You should be safe if you stay in this front room. Just keep your voice low and try not to make much noise.”

  He relaxed back onto the blanket, but his expression remained wary. “I don’t mean to cause you trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble.” She stood and picked up a candleholder. “I’d better go see what she wants.”

  • CHAPTER THREE •

  Through the glow of a circle of candlelight, Adam watched Carrie leave through an entrance to the back of the cave. He wondered why she had decided to help him when she clearly didn’t trust him. Some soldier had stolen her horse, which troubled him. What he didn’t know was which side had done it. Perhaps she suspected Union soldiers, since she had been tempted to leave him to die on the mountain.

  He wondered about Aunt Lavinia, whom he hadn’t laid eyes on yet. She must hold a grudge against Yankees. Had she lost a relative to the war? There’d been too much bloodshed on both sides. Perhaps Carrie had hesitated to help him because of her aunt’s attitude. He’d have to keep his wits about him in case the woman acted on her anger.

  This main room was about twenty feet wide and obviously functioned as the k
itchen area with barrels, dishes, and a few pots. Two candleholders with lit candles and a glowing fire provided the only light. A mattress next to the wall showed where Jay likely slept. Were there any other members of the family? Should he be concerned about anyone else’s anger or hatred toward a Union soldier?

  He sniffed appreciatively. Could that smell be potato soup? After living on increasingly diminished rations for several weeks, he still didn’t have his fill. He remembered that wonderful day a couple of weeks ago when three river steamers came around Moccasin Point loaded with food. He had stood on the bank of the Tennessee River with other hungry soldiers who cheered them on. He drew five days of rations and ate two days’ worth in one meal.

  His eyelids drooped. His arm felt more comfortable, but the pain bothered him more than he cared to admit. Thanks to a night spent on the cold, wet mountain, he had a fever. When the second bullet found its mark, he’d been intent on getting to the rear of the army and finding medical attention. Obviously he had lost his way in the darkness. He remembered seeing the eclipse of the moon. Loud cheers from further up the mountain and from the valley early that morning brought a smile to his face. The Union had been victorious yesterday. He yelled for help, but no one heard. Hugh would have been looking for him along with others, but Adam had wandered too far from his regiment. He had prayed all day they would return and find him for he didn’t know how long he could survive under those conditions. Carrie and Jay had saved his life. He hoped to find a way to repay their kindness.

  A wet sticky bandage told him the wound bled again. The walk to the cave had almost done him in. Each step had jarred his arm, making the half-mile journey pure torture. His eyelids drooped as weakness overcame him. Hopefully, Aunt Lavinia wouldn’t choose this moment to leave her chambers because he couldn’t stay awake any longer.

  As he fell asleep, his thoughts turned to the green-eyed Carrie with hair the color of ripened wheat. Would she save him from enemies inside this shelter? Or must he flee before his strength returned?