Lost in the Mist

by Wanda C. Keesey

  Victoria noted the new arrival and Connie's presence at the same time. She moved to care for the wounded man. Bending over her charge she spoke softly, “I don't have time to talk to you.” Looking around at the moaning patients, she continued, “I don't know when I will. The fighting has just begun and there is much to do."

  With a shaking hand Connie reached for Victoria. “You have to come with me. But you must come alone. Where is Carpy?"

  Without stopping the care she was administering, Victoria whispered, knowing that those within hearing would think she was talking to her patient. “I cannot come with you. As you can see I have much to do. Carpy has joined the men on the line with a promise to come back to defend the ward if the enemy should show signs of succeeding."

  "Victoria, listen to me.” The urgency in her friend's voice caused Victoria to look into Connie's face. “There's a Union Corporal in the swamp. He is dying. You have to help him."

  "Kone, look around us. There are many soldiers dying here today and many more are already dead.” Seeing the despair in Connie's eyes she tried to make her see the uselessness of her request. “Why should I care if another Union killer dies? He will no longer be able to end the lives of our own boys.” She turned back to her duties, her eyes angry.

  "He can see me,” Connie said and waited.

  Victoria's hands stopped working for just a second, then she finished the job of securing the bandage and covered the patient with a quilt, one of the scant few remaining on a dwindling pile.

  Annabelle came into the enclosure and put the bucket near the makeshift table at the door. “The battle has moved back into the swamp. I think we have driven them to the river."

  "You weren't foolish enough to go over the hill, were you?"

  Connie watched impatiently as the two women discussed the battle.

  Finally Victoria started pushing her rolled sleeves down. “New wounded will be coming in. The surgery is already busy. We will have many to tend to this night. I will get the bread for supper.” Connie knew she referred to food for the men lying on the cots, not for herself or Annabelle. “When they next come by, tell the corps men to bring the broth. I gave them venison jerky this morning. I must rest and take in some fresh air."

  "We will look after them, my friend, you should try to sleep. You look weary.” Annabelle watched Victoria put her dark cloak over her blood splattered apron.

  When she turned to make the journey down the rows of cots, Victoria took a handful of rolled bandages before slipping through the tent opening.

  "Show me the way, Kone, and be quick before I have time to think better of this folly."

  Hesitating only briefly as she heard the popping of distant shooting, Connie realized it was indeed folly for her to take Victoria onto a battleground. Although there was no danger to herself, there was a very real danger to Victoria. It was too late to back down. She had to lead the way into the swamp.

  "Keep your head down,” Connie commanded.

  They moved as quickly as they could. Victoria no longer held back, instead she urged Connie forward. “Hurry, we must move him to safety. If he is found, they will kill or imprison him ... which is the same thing for he will surely die of his wounds. If I am seen here it will not go well for me. My husband...” She shook her head and pushed through the thick underbrush plunging into the swamp.

  Connie pointed in the direction she had come and the two moved further down the grade and deeper under the shelter of the trees. For one moment fraught with panic, Connie wasn't sure where she was. Had she come this far? Had they passed the man they were looking for? Victoria stopped many times to see of any of the men lying on the damp frozen ground were alive. To one who was, she gave encouragement. Telling him to find his way over the ridge and to seek help there, for his wounds were not too severe. She didn't stay to see if he took her advice, but she motioned Connie to continue.

  They heard the moan at the same time. Following the sound Victoria lead the way to their right. When she saw the faded blue through the brush, Connie was flooded with relief.

  Kneeling next to the pale body, Victoria asked, “Is this the one?"

  "Yes, his name is Andrew.” Connie nodded as she watched Victoria gently remove the clutching fingers from the bloody wound, the familiar whisper of comfort drifted back to where she stood.

  Was this the reason she was drawn back in time? If it was, then it was over. The disturbing panoramas from the past and the unexplained time travel would end. With a start, Connie realized that she was saddened by the thought ... but she was still here. If this was the reason, perhaps it wasn't the only reason.

  Kneeling next to the couple, Connie spoke softly, “You have to move him. He can't stay here. Soon the army will move back, bringing their own wounded and neither he nor you can be found."

  Never taking her eyes from the man in front of her, Victoria agreed. “I know. I will use my cloak to drag him.” Making sure the bandage was secure she prepared to stand.

  "Are you an angel, too?” The deep whisper startled the young woman.

  The soldier watched Victoria as she smiled down at him. “No, I am not an angel. And soon you will want to curse me for the pain I will cause. You are too weak to walk, and I am not strong enough to carry you.” Getting to her feet, Victoria took her garment off and spread it on the ground next to the Corporal. “You will have to roll onto my cloak and I will pull you, but we have to hurry."

  "I can't let you do this. Help me up. I will walk.” The soldier reached up.

  "You are too weak.” Seeing that the man wasn't going to do as she bid, Victoria took his hand and braced herself against his weight.

  He groaned as he sat up. “Wait a minute, while my head clears."

  Victoria went to her knees. “We don't have much time. The troops will return. If we are caught, we will both be shot."

  The words worked like cold water splashed in his face. Lifting his good arm, Andrew pulled his left leg up and braced himself. Together they were able to put him on his feet.

  "I have to get my cloak. It is well known and will be recognized if I leave it behind.” Victoria helped Andrew find purchase against a nearby tree, before she quickly retrieved and donned her garment. Putting herself under his good arm, she held him around his waist and started over the rough ground.

  "Kone, will you go ahead and see that the way is clear?"

  "Is that her name? Kone? Then you see her, too.” Andrew tried to turn in Connie's direction, his struggles causing Victoria some trouble in keeping her balance.

  "We will talk of her later. You have to save your breath and what strength you have. The walk in not an easy one, and the more we talk, the more likely it is someone will hear us, so hush.” The stern look on the young face made Connie smile.

  Hurrying ahead she looked for lingering or approaching troops. Checking often to be sure the couple was following, she knew she had done the right thing, but it wasn't over. Without knowing why she was sure of that, she still didn't know why she was the one chosen, but there was still something...

  Connie heard voices and the crunch of snow and ice under foot. Quickly she held up her hand. The couple behind stopped, the trees were quiet except for the distant sounds of a waning fight. Two Confederate soldiers walked in the trench at the edge of the swamp. They didn't seem to have a destination or purpose, but stopped and leaned against the frozen rock and dirt bank.

  One man took a pouch of tobacco from his knapsack. “Do you have any papers?” he asked the other.

  "No, I used the last of them to write to my mother."

  "I guess we chew it then.” He took a pinch of the brown leaves and put it in the corner of his mouth, offering the pouch to his friend.

  Connie looked around desperately. She had to get them to move on. As her eyes searched for a solution, she was amazed to see a cloudy bubble form near the men in the ditch, as she watched the bubble became a mist and the mist became a man.

  "Joe!” she shouted, a smile of rel
ief filled her face. She knew Joe had seen her when he waved. Maybe he could help. First she turned to Victoria. “Stay where you are and be quiet. I'm going to get help.” Connie glided into the trench and approached Joe. He stopped her with a raised hand, stepping back as he did.

  He was right; it could be dangerous for them to get too close. They had no idea what might happen. Maybe he could hear me. “I need to get these men to move on."

  "No problem,” Joe answered. His voice was quiet and tinny but she could hear him. She retreated to her post at the head of the trench.

  Joe moved in front of one of the soldiers and the man drew back in surprise. That man must be Jeremy.

  "What's wrong?” his companion, the man with the tobacco, asked.

  "Nothing, it's nothing. Let's get out of here. The place is crawling with strange things. Can't you feel it?"

  Without comment the men followed as Jeremy led the way back to the base camp. Connie threw a kiss to the shadowy figure as Joe followed his reluctant friend. Calling softly, she motioned for Victoria and Andrew to move ahead.

  As the couple entered the woods where the tents were set up, Connie looked back at the swamp and saw men coming out of the dense underbrush. Some were being carried, some helped, and some struggling on their own. The unhurt stopped to help the injured. No one noticed the man and woman walking in the shade of the trees ahead. Connie hurried to catch up.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Thirty-One

  The interior of the small tent was filled with muted light, the heavy canvas and surrounding trees allowing little more than was necessary to see. The struggling couple released strained puffs of visible moisture in the cold air with each breath. Victoria's head brushed the low ceiling as she tried to coax the injured man to one of the straw mattresses.

  "Just a few more steps, then you can rest,” her soft voice encouraged, as her own efforts weakened. “Stay still. I must fetch water to clean your wounds. Don't talk or make any noise.” She turned quickly and taking a wash pan went to the creek nearby.

  When she returned she pulled the tent flaps together against the winter chill. A quiet groan drew her to the wounded man. Using a cloth she washed the Corporal's bloody face. The musket had done a lot of damage, but it could have been worse. Instead of breaking the skull bone as it was meant to do, the butt had glanced off, leaving an open head cut. Seeing to the damage to his eye would have to wait until the swelling went down.

  The bleeding in his arm was slowing, but the cut was deep. Gathering needle and horsehair that she had prepared, Victoria sewed the wound after cleaning it. It worried her that she could see bone at the bottom of the injury.

  "Can you hear me, Andrew?” she spoke quietly.

  His lips moved but only a small groan emerged.

  "Kone, are you still here?” She waited for a response.

  "Yes, what can I do to help?” Connie sat on the other side of the mattress. “I don't have the strength to lift in your time, but I'll do what I can."

  "Watch him and keep him quiet. I will get some powders to lessen his pain.” Looking at her twentieth century friend, Victoria leaned closer. “Annabelle and I will be busy in the ward. I don't think Carpy or anyone else will have cause to stop here unless they hear sounds from an empty tent. I will try to have Andrew moved as soon as I can. I have friends that..."

  "I know, the Weatherlys at the Blackstone Pub, I saw—” Connie said.

  "Yes, the Weatherlys. I will contact Molly, and she and Zack will hide Andrew. They might be able to get him across the river to his own hospital.” Victoria narrowed her eyes. “How do you know of the Weatherlys? When do you see me at the Blackstone? It is not the type of place that a lady is likely to be seen."

  "I've said too much, and I don't know any more. I will watch Andrew and keep him quiet until someone comes for him."

  Gathering a basket of dried food and a bag of roots for tea, Victoria reluctantly left the tent, closing the flap as tightly as she could.

  Her walk to the ward took an eternity. She thought she should be angry that Kone brought this danger into her life. But how could she? This man was injured and needed her help. And he saw her friend, he heard her. Who was this man that he could do this? Something else, a feeling? Something wouldn't let her abandon him. She knew her Papa would treat him as any other soldier wounded in battle, not a Union soldier, but he would be taken to the prison camp. She wouldn't let that happen. Molly would be working at the kitchen tent. Victoria would speak with her when she left the food for the ward.

  Her steps quickened with determination.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Thirty-Two

  Connie sat near the tent opening wishing with all her might that she could do more. Why was she here if she couldn't get water or start a fire to heat it, bring medicine to fight infection, or even put a cool cloth on a fevered brow? Her abilities in the past were limited to a light touch, movement and speech.

  All Victoria had asked was that she keep the patient quiet. For how long? Connie had to go back to her own time.

  A noise—was it from outside or inside—snapped her to full awareness.

  "This is the tent, Zack. I came here to get food for the hospital yesterday. Between you with the rabbits and squirrels and the vegetables Victoria is able to gather, the hospital gets the best of the food.” The words were the husky whisper of a woman.

  The tent flap opened. Connie inspected the couple in the threshold. They were both lean and of average height, stooping to get through the door, neither could stand upright except in the center. The woman's features were hard. Her eyes had felt more tears than laughter. The man was quiet, not saying a word, he chewed on a wad of tobacco, his narrow eyes darting everywhere, always alert.

  "That's him. Be careful, he has head and arm wounds,” Molly instructed. “Take him to our tent for now."

  Answering with a grunt, Zack pulled the quilt off of Andrew and reached to lift him.

  Feeling the motion, Andrew flailed out with his good arm, fighting the man with more strength than Connie would have thought he had left. Quickly she went to his side.

  "Andrew, these are friends. They'll hide you. Victoria will come to care for you and you'll get well and be safe.” She hoped she was telling him the truth.

  Turning his feverish eye toward her, Andrew nodded weakly and allowed Zack to lift him to his shoulder.

  Molly held the flap open and led the way to another tent nearby.

  * * * *

  Connie watched until they were out of sight. She checked the area—they hadn't been seen.

  Hurrying to the ward tent, she entered to find it packed with the wounded. The floors were covered with the bodies of men in pain or unconscious. Three more ladies had joined Annabelle and Victoria. They all worked feverishly to tend the soldiers.

  Connie made her way through the beds and mats to Victoria. Without waiting to be recognized she told her briefly that Molly and Zack had taken Andrew to their tent.

  Talking softly, Victoria didn't look up from her work but Connie could see the relief on her face. “He will be safe with them. I will take powders to him as soon as I can. He will be well ... won't he, Kone?"

  "Yes, Victoria, he will, thanks to you.” Connie didn't know why she was so certain, but she was. “I have to go back to my own time now. But you will see me again, several times."

  "You said I would see you at the Blackstone, what other times will I see you?” Victoria glanced quickly at her friend.

  "I don't know for certain if there will be more, but I will see you at your father's grave many years from now. And you will...” Should she tell Victoria that she comes forward in time to see her? “Have a good life.” No, some things were better left unsaid. “I will continue to read the journal, maybe there will be another visit. For now I have to say good-bye."

  "Good-bye, Kone. I will miss you. I don't know why you brought me to Andrew ... I first saw him this day, but I have known him all my life. I
do not know his full name, but I do know that I want it to someday be mine. I do not know what witchcraft you perform, but I thank my God that you were here to perform it."

  Connie left the tent feeling the loss of her friendship with Victoria. Stepping away from the tent, her arms wrapped around her against the cold, Connie walked through the woods toward the sound like thunder that made the ground shake. What had she done? Saved a life, and broke up a marriage all in one day.

  She turned to watch the buzz of activity surrounding the hospital tents, wagons bearing wounded lined up to be unloaded. The scene faded as the sun's sharp rays burned away the cold.

  Clarity returned to the field in front of her. Peace and tranquility replaced the havoc of war and death. Spring's rebirth replaced the dead of winter icy grip.

  The transitions had been smooth, both leaving and returning. Connie felt only the slightest dizziness as the ground under her became firm. Staggering a little she reached for Brian's hand.

  "...gone so long. Do you think she's all right?” Tracey asked.

  "I'm fine, Tracey,” she answered for herself as she turned to face her friends, watching as relief relaxed their features.

  "Boy, have I got a lot of questions for you,” Joe blurted out as his eyes sparkled with excitement.

  "And I'll answer all of them, if you can get me some water.” Connie struggled to pull her emotions and mind back to the present and her own life. She looked up at Brian as she removed her jacket. Without a word he took her hand and led her down the slope to the blankets under the big willow.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Thirty-Three

  Friday

  The loud chatter of birds waking the sun and heralding the joy of living woke Connie. Before opening her eyes, she tried to make some sense from the confusion of dreams and real events. Had she dreamed the Battle of Fredericksburg? Had she really helped save the life of a Union soldier? The only things she was sure were real were the warmth of the quilt that covered her and the cool of the sheets she lay on.