The Discovered

by Tracy Winegar

  “What do you want?” she asked. Not even a hello or how do you do from her.

  “Is the man of the house in?” Dr. Bland asked.

  “He is not,” the woman spat. “He heard you were coming and left. There is only my sisters and I.”

  “What a true gentlemen, running off and leaving the ladies to fend for themselves,” Dr. Holt muttered.

  “You are not welcome here. We don’t care to have you on our property. It would be best if you would please leave.”

  “Whether you care or not, we are in need of this house. We have wounded. They need tending to, and we plan on using it as a hospital,” he replied.

  “You run our father out, and now you aim on running us out?” she fumed.

  “You may stay as long as you are out of the way,” he assured her.

  “You can’t just walk in and take over. This is our home and we should have a say. You can’t go around taking what’s not yours. It’s downright uncivilized.”

  The two doctors were fed up with her. They pushed past the group of girls without further word and motioned for us to bring the gurneys with the injured right on in. We paraded past them into the front parlor where we unceremoniously laid the men out upon the hardwood floors.

  “Have you got a pump in the kitchen or should we draw water from the well?” Dr. Holt asked one of the girls.

  “If you think we will help you, you’re mistaken,” she replied coolly.

  “Rest assured that we will only be here a short time. The sooner we finish, the sooner we’ll be out of your way,” Dr. Bland said. “Now we need water.”

  None of them answered, just kept their jaws clamped in defiant silence. They were clearly unwilling to accommodate us in any capacity. This did not bode well with the doctors.

  “We have wounded men here. They are suffering,” Dr. Holt said, as if he might appeal to their tender natures. He seemed to think that by saying this, they might come to their senses. They remained unmoved. I suppose in their minds, one less Yankee was something to celebrate.

  “I was born in this house,” the oldest said. “As was my father before me. And I will tell you I would rather see it burn to the ground with every one of you damn Yankees in it than have it used to your benefit.”

  This riled Dr. Blanding something terrible. He gave her a hateful smirk and bowed ever so slightly to her as though he were deferring to her. His lips were formed into a malicious smile, and he looked at Dr. Holt as if to prove a point. Then he looked her in the eyes with a casual shrug.

  “I’m sure something can be arranged,” he told her.

  “Well, aren’t you fair specimens of Southern hospitality?” Dr. Holt blurted. “Bunch of snuff-dipping, dilapidated, lantern jawed, bipeds of neuter gender…” he went on.

  I was shocked, and so were they. Their eyes grew to the size of saucers, their mouths dropping open. One of them audibly gasped. Confederates or not, they were ladies. It disturbed me to hear him slander them so. A man should not be abusive toward a woman, no matter how disagreeable she might be. I was ashamed for him and the rest of us.

  “How dare you!” The oldest huffed, her indignation mirrored in her sisters’ faces. It was sore for them to be so insulted. “You surely are the vilest of men, sir, speaking to a lady that way! Rotten to the core!”

  The doctor cocked his eyebrow and began to laugh at her in an amused chuckle, happy to see he’d affected them so.

  “I have men here who require medical attention. If you will not assist us then get out of the way. I have no time or patience for a foul mouthed trollop such as you.” He looked over at me and motioned by wagging his pointer and middle finger for me to come to him. I quickly did so, not wishing to further test him.

  “I need you to fetch me some water, son,” he said.

  I took off at a trot determined to oblige him. There was a pump in the kitchen after all. I took up a bucket and filled it and brought it back. When I returned, everyone was working at something and the three girls were gone. For the next several hours I did as I was directed to do, assisting the doctors in whatever capacity they required of me.

  After several hours, many of the men fell off to sleep, as did the doctors. They both were sitting in chairs with their heads leaning back, snoring softly. Sam caught my gaze and motioned with his head for me to follow him. He walked out of the room. I waited a short while and then I followed. I wandered down the hall, not sure where I was going, and then he startled me as he reached his hand out from a darkened doorway and pulled me in.

  The study smelled stuffy, of cigar smoke and old leather. It was dark, with only the moonlight streaming through a window for light, but I could make out the shapes, two armchairs and a desk, and I could see the walls were lined with bookshelves filled with musty old books. Sam pulled me into his arms and held me close.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “I wanted to kiss you,” he said. I felt my heart beat faster. I wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of being in his arms or the threat of being caught, or maybe both.

  “They might catch us,” I replied.

  “Yes, they might. But I thought I ought to take the chance. I might not get another like it, what with Mr. Haney always lurking about trying to keep you safe from me.”

  “Well, then, I suppose you’re right. We really should make the best of it,” I said.

  He went to put his lips to mine, but our hats struck one another, fell from our heads and tumbled to the floor. We both laughed for a moment, then quickly forgot about them. He drew close to me again and put his mouth resolutely against mine. Everything about it was delicious, his smell, his taste. I thought it could go on endlessly and I would never grow tired of it.

  I wrapped my leg around him, trying to draw nearer if it was possible. Sam responded by lifting my other foot from the floor, turning me around and sitting me firmly on the desk. He bent down over me with my head cradled in his hands, holding it with the pads of his fingers as if it was precious and fragile, as if it might break if he weren’t gentle enough. Then he kissed me proper, his mouth settling on mine as my breathing came in fast, soft gulps and my pulse thrummed in my temples.

  Although I felt lost in it, there was still a part of me completely aware of where I was, still listening for the sound of echoing feet upon the floors in the hallway just outside. And when I heard it, I pulled away quickly, rolled over the back side of the desk and disappeared into the shadows as I pressed myself to the floor. None too soon either. The door creaked open and Dr. Holt peeked his head in.

  I could see most of the scene from the gap in the middle of the desk, where the owner must have sat with his chair tucked beneath, neatly writing out expenses in his ledger. Sam was left bleary eyed and in shock as he dropped his hands awkwardly to his sides and turned to face the doctor. I felt very badly for having left him in such a way, but it was better than the two of us caught together.

  “What are you doing in here?” the doctor asked Sam.

  Sam cleared his throat. He smoothed his jacket with his hand. He was on the spot and couldn’t think of an answer.

  “I…” He cleared his throat again, a long grumbling noise. It would have made me laugh, if I weren’t so unnerved. “I was just looking at this impressive library. There are some volumes here that look quite interesting,” he said. The doctor’s brows furrowed and he frowned thoughtfully.

  “In the dark?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to wake anyone,” Sam replied.

  “I see. Well, we will be pulling out soon. Take what suits you so it shan’t go to waste.” He rubbed his face, as if he were trying to wake himself and then staggered back out the door and left Sam and I alone.

  Sam took in a deep and shuddering sigh, relieved it was over. But I couldn’t help myself; I burst out giggling, as quietly as I could manage under the circumstances. I couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see me, as he leaned against the desk in the darkness, but I could sense he was smiling.

 
; “Be quiet, you coward,” he said in mocked annoyance.

  I left before him, making an excuse of visiting the outhouse when I returned to the parlor. Several minutes later, Sam slipped in with a few books tucked beneath his arm to make it look good. He caught my eye and gave me a concealed wink when he thought no one else was paying attention. I felt a rush of excitement over him behaving so brazenly with a room full of witnesses who might have caught him.

  The stars began to disappear from the sky, but it was not quite daybreak, still an inky shade of blue. I was nudged awake and told we would be leaving soon. We gathered up the wounded the doctors had worked so feverishly on a few hours before, carefully laying them out on the litters. We stuffed our gear into our haversacks, slung them over our shoulders and headed out. We carried the wounded out the front door, over the porch and down the stairs. In the hush of the lonely hour, Dr. Bland’s voice rang clear and true. There was no mistaking his words.

  “Burn it!”

  Chapter 28

  BEFORE I KNEW WHAT WAS HAPPENING, Dr. Bland tossed one of the kerosene lamps he’d carried from the house onto the front porch, just beneath one of the great windows facing out onto the lawn. The oil erupted in a small explosion, igniting the wooden boards on the porch. From there the fire spread rapidly, vivid orange flames licking the painted clapboard in quick order. I was in shock, the sickest sort of feeling running through my body.

  It was all happening so fast, and I knew there was nothing I could do. I could only stand there with my mouth open, my lips quivering, in terrified awe. This couldn’t be happening! It was all a big mistake. The thought We are not the sort that would burn down the home of a bunch of defenseless women! ran through my mind.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped, turning on the doctor with a cry of outrage.

  “Personally granting their wish,” he said with a hard smile.

  “The women are still in there!” Sam yelled.

  For a moment the doctor looked chagrined, but only for a moment. Then he set his mouth in a defiant grimace and turned his back to the house, picking up his things and motioning for us to follow. No one did. We were all frozen in shock.

  “We must go in and get those women out!” Sam insisted.

  “They were plenty capable of taking care of themselves,” Dr. Bland shot back.

  In the back of the home more bright fires appeared, as the slave quarters were set ablaze. A flurry of activity ensued, people running and yelling and hustling to get buckets of water to try to put the flames out. It was a lost cause. There was no way they were going to save the property.

  Relief washed over me when the front door burst open, and the three sisters, screaming frantically, came spilling out into the cold in their night dresses and shawls. They huddled together on the lawn, watching in horror as the house burned. They may have been out of a home, but at least they were alive. And I was ashamed to say while I was sincerely sorry for them, I was thinking about Sam. How glad I was he hadn’t been forced to go in after them.

  There was a tremendous heat burning my eyes and making me cough. I tucked my nose and mouth into my shirt as I watched helplessly. Sam dropped his head, as though he were unable to bring himself to witness it. The sky was as bright as noonday and ash began to rain down upon us in large sooty chunks, falling as soft as feathers.

  The worst of it was the slaves. Everything they owned was in those huts, the only homes they’d ever known. They all milled about watching the flames eat up their lives, helpless to do anything to stop it. Their faces glowed from the light, faces that registered fear and despair. One small girl cried inconsolably with her arm stretched out, her hand, fingers open and clutching, toward the cabin she and her family lived in, as if she might be able to pluck it up in her hands and hold it safely there.

  When I saw her, I could not stop myself, I began to cry too. The quiet seemed unbearable, the only sounds popping wood and sizzling rawhide from the tanner’s barn where his stock was now nothing but ash. In the surreal aftermath, there was nothing but a hollow misery wrapping us all in its spell.

  I heard Dr. Holt mutter, “They wanted their liberty and now they have it. They are free to go.” As though what they’d done was a favor to those poor, dependent people. The only way of life they’d ever known was gone, just like that, and they were thrust into the cold world without even a coat to cover their backs. There was no satisfaction in it.

  “We stayed here long enough. It is time to move on,” Dr. Bland said. “Move out.”

  I knew there was nothing we could do for those poor people, but I felt an overwhelming guilt as I turned my back on the place. We picked up the litters with sick and wounded men, and we left. Yet, there remained in my heart a sore spot as tender as a bruise which aches when you put pressure on it. That place and those faces were forever seared into my memory.

  War is a summer sport. When winter came we settled in for our annual hibernation, just a few short miles from Brandy Station. There was, upon the banks of the Hazel River, a thriving colony of us, over one hundred thousand in numbers, circled up like wagons. Like ants in an anthill, we went out and brought back all we needed to sustain us through the long months ahead.

  At the center of our hub, General Sedgwick took up residence in the Welford Mansion, a grand and beautiful home. The mansion was brick, with two massive chimney stacks on each end of the home, two stories, and I counted eight windows on the first floor and nine on the second. No doubt he would be quite comfortable in such a majestic shelter. I wondered what it would be like to live in such a place.

  At first, the 121st were assigned to a soggy and wretched location. But good Colonel Upton had Dr. Holt pronounce it unfit, telling the uppers we would be susceptible to disease and bad health if we were to stay there. Our regiment was lucky enough to be granted permission to move to the other side of the river where we became an island unto ourselves. The rest of the army camped together, and we watched them from across the Hazel in our own little city.

  We began right off making preparations to hunker down for the cold months ahead. We were set up just like miniature city blocks, with wooden sidewalks connecting it all. The men built a number of dwellings for housing and other provisions. The cabins were large enough for a man to walk through the door standing upright, with fireplaces, and all that was required for comfortable living. We were not limited in what we could build, only as much as the imagination would allow. There was a roughly built post office, hospital, and of course the sutler’s little place where you could go to buy whatever you might want, which was somewhat like a general store. I dared not go in there after my run in with our sutler last year. When I chanced to see him, I looked down and acted as though I was not aware he was there, and he thankfully did the same.

  Upton and his staff took up residence in a local farmer’s home, where we kept our horses in the barn there and viewed it as the headquarters and stables of the 121st campsite. Along with his aides, Upton would be more than comfortable in such a lovely home. It was nothing like the mansion but very fine nonetheless. The rest of us built around his living quarters.

  Colonel Olcott didn’t stay with Colonel Upton at the farmhouse. He decided he would have his own place, a fine lodging indeed. He asked for those who were experienced carpenters to assist in building his dwelling. Sam, being very qualified to do just that, was paid extra money to help in the construction of it. It turned out well for him because he was let out of other duties to work on it, a well-deserved break from the mundane tasks he would normally be assigned to. I envied him a little. While I was mucking out the stables, he was given the prestigious job of working on Olcott’s cabin all day.

  When it was finished you can’t imagine what it looked like. Bigger and better than any of the others! There were carpets upon his floors, real furniture requisitioned from some of the farmhouses round about, such as a bed, a table, and two fat easy chairs by the fireplace. Sam secretly took me through it for a personal tour once it was completed.
He showed me with pride his handiwork and we sat in the easy chairs to try them out and see how they felt.

  In his spare time, when he was not working for Olcott, Sam helped me build a cabin too. He was still boarding with Mr. Haney, so it was to be all mine. We cut timber from the surrounding forest, notched the logs, and stacked them log cabin style. I spent hours filling the cracks in with mud from the river bank and papering the inside walls with old newspaper. Sam built up a straight and sturdy chimney for the fireplace. He also built a proper door that latched from the inside. We even took wood slats and covered the dirt floor with them, so there was a proper wood floor. It would be warm and cozy even in the bitterest cold.

  One day, after working in the stables, I returned to my cabin and found the most wonderful surprise. I walked through the door and there was a small drop leaf table with two mismatched chairs, a single slat shelf on the wall behind the table where a worn out pot and assorted cracked dishes were stored, and a proper bed, the frame made by hand from logs with a mattress stuffed full of hay. It all fit just right. Any more would have been too much. I gasped out loud as I stood upon the threshold taking it all in. My own little house! It was more than I could have asked for.

  I waited impatiently the remainder of the day to say my thank you. I managed to get a piece of calico which I covered the table with so it looked like a table cloth. I set the table with the dishes he got me, and I made the best meal I was capable of making under the circumstances. I wanted it to be just right. When Sam came around for dinner, he knocked on the door just as it began to get dark.

  “May I come in?” he said, trying to suppress a smile.

  “You may,” I conceded. I stepped aside and ushered him in. “Won’t you have a seat?” I asked, offering him one of the chairs at the table. He sat down as I scurried over to the fireplace and brought back the pot filled with stew meat and potatoes.

  “Smells very good,” he said. “Thank you for having me.”

  I dished a portion to him and then to myself, then sat down opposite him. I wondered if this was how it would be if we were back home, if he were coming to court me. The thought pleased me. I couldn’t wait any longer to speak.