by Jim Cox
“We’re here to see Mrs. Esther Taylor,” one of the three men in blue said.
Esther rose and stepped forward. “I’m Esther Taylor. What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“My name is Corporal Norman, ma’am—Major Engle sent us. The major requests, on behalf of Dr. Potts, for you to come to Fort Gibson and help him with patients. There have been a lot of injuries in the last couple of days, and Dr. Potts needs help. He wants you to come if you’re willing.”
“Where were the men fighting?” Esther asked. “Are there still newly wounded men coming in?”
“At the Battle of Cabin Creek, ma’am,” he answered. “The fighting ended yesterday but it had been going on for two long days, and many men were sent back to the doctor at the fort.”
“Were there many men killed, Corporal Norman?” she asked.
“The last I heard was eighty-eight, ma’am, and that included both Union and Confederate men.”
“Do you know why Dr. Potts wants me, Corporal Norman?”
“Yes, ma’am. Dr. Hill told him before he moved out that you were capable at applying medicine and wrapping injuries…Dr. Hill was our doctor before Dr. Potts came.”
“Yes, I know. Dr. Hill is my son-in-law,” Esther said with a smile.
“All the men liked him and hated to see him leave,” the corporal said with a smile. Esther smiled back and nodded her agreement.
“I’ll need to go back to the ranch house to clean up and pack a few things before going to Fort Gibson, Corporal Norman.”
The corporal’s face fell a bit as he shook his head. “The major said to bring you back to the fort as soon as possible, ma’am. We don’t have time to ride back up to the ranch house—men are dying.” Esther stared at the young man, and after a short pause the magnitude of the situation starting to sink in, she nodded her agreement. “And another thing, Mrs. Taylor,” the corporal said with a brightened face, “I don’t want you to be too surprised when you get there…you’ll be doctoring white men, Negros, and Indians from both sides of the war.”
Chapter Forty
It was a little after midnight when Esther entered the fort’s infirmary. She still wore her wrangling clothes but had removed her chaps, spurs, and hat. Her hair was a matted down mess, her face and hands were dirty, and patches of dirt covered her jeans. As Esther’s eyes circled the room, she was appalled at the number of injured men lying on cots and the bare ground, crammed side-by-side with little room to walk between. Many of the men’s arms, legs, torsos, or heads were wrapped with blood-soaked material giving off a terrible odor and needed immediate attention. She heard men groaning, some were crying, and some were trashing about in severe pain. Esther’s stomach started churning, and she was starting to feel as if she was going to vomit. I can’t stand to work in these conditions, Esther thought. Dr. Potts will have to get someone else.
As Esther stood taking in the deplorable sight, a gray-headed man wearing a white doctor’s coat, splotched with blood, came toward her. “I’m Dr. Potts,” he said. “Are you Mrs. Taylor?”
“Yes, sir, but please call me Esther.”
“Thank you, Esther. We don’t have time for formalities around here.”
“Please excuse me, Dr. Potts. I was on the range when Corporal Norman summoned me. I didn’t have time to go to the ranch house and get cleaned up.”
“Don’t worry, Esther; we can find you some different clothes in the morning—I’m glad you came. I’m making my rounds now. Would you please wash-up and come with me? I’m in dire need of your help,” he said pointing to the wash basin. Esther started to tell Dr. Potts she wasn’t suited for the job, but after giving the matter a second thought, she turned for the wash basin.
“I’ll wash up and join you, Dr. Potts, and start learning what it is I’m to do while I’m here.”
“Thank you, Esther,” the tired man said.
When Esther returned from the wash basin, she looked much better and had put on a white apron. They took a few steps together before the doctor stopped and said in a firm tone, “Esther, I need to prepare you with what you are about to experience. We have thirty-one patients in the infirmary, and most of them have bullet or knife wounds that are not easily treated. There are men here without arms, some without a leg; we have one man here with both legs gone at the hips. There are men here with missing appendages who came in a mutilated state. I had to perform several amputations. Two men came to us with severe facial injuries, and one man has been blinded and is in terrible pain. We have three men who’ll be dead within a day or two from gut shots.” The doctor paused with an intense stare at Esther, “It’s going to be heart-wrenching, Esther, and most women wouldn’t be able to take in the sights or hear the terrible groans. Are you sure you can handle it?” Esther stood quietly for a few seconds, letting the doctor’s words soak in, then she nodded.
The sights, sounds, and odor were as overwhelming as the doctor had warned, and Esther nearly had to leave the room on a couple of occasions from nausea, but she stood the course. She helped the doctor remove blood-soaked bandages exposing raw flesh and rewrapped them, which as he explained, would become her responsibility. She listened as patients groaned in pain or pleaded with the doctor to give them a heavy measure of Laudanum to ease the hurt. Two men pleaded for a gun to end their lives. Other men asked the doctor to pray with them, which he always did if asked. Men with minor injuries thanked Esther for coming by, remarking she was the first woman they’d seen in weeks. A few told her she was pretty and one even said she was beautiful.
Esther was moved to tears more than once during rounds because of the horrible pain the patients were bearing. Her eyes would also water-up when she visualized her son’s face in the bed. She even wished a couple of times he might be in one so she’d know he was still alive.
Esther woke the next morning to the smell of coffee, not even remembering going to bed. Virginia was sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of her small room with two cups of steaming coffee sitting on a table beside her. “Virginia,” Esther called out as she sat up rubbing her sleepy eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I got word early this morning you’d come to the fort late last night to help Dr. Potts. He asked me to bring you some clothes since you came direct from the range. They’re lying on the end of your bed.”
“Thanks, Virginia, but right now I’d like to have that cup of coffee sitting on the table beside you.” Esther scooted out of bed and walked to the table in her undergarments—her range clothes, boots, and hat were lying on the floor beside the bed. After taking a couple of swallows, she returned to the bed and sat on its edge remembering the long night.
“What does Dr. Potts have you doing, Esther?” her friend asked.
“It’s terrible, Virginia. There are thirty-one injured men in the room. Some may be able to return to their regiments after a few days of treatment.” Esther paused with a sadden face, “Other injuries are extremely serious—some of these men got through the battle but won’t survive.” Esther explained the terrible wounds she’d witnessed and what the doctor expected of her.
When Esther got to the dining room for breakfast, Dr. Potts was sitting at a table filled with men in blue. The food line was long with soldiers, but they immediately paid their respect to her and sent her forward to the front of the line. Esther quickly filled her plate with fried potatoes, sausage patties, and two biscuits. She sat down at a table adjacent to the doctor’s, and a cup of steaming coffee was handed to her.
The doctor smiled his approval she was up and about, then rose and said, “I’ll be in the medicine room, Esther. When you finish eating, you can join me there,” Esther hurried through her meal, drank one cup of coffee, and went back to the infirmary.
Dr. Potts had two carts filled with medical supplies by the time Esther got to the medicine room. “This will be your cart, Esther. It’s filled with the supplies you’ll need. The other cart has supplies for men with more difficult injuries that I’ll be handling.”
Esther nodded and reached for a clean apron hanging on a wall peg. “By the way, Esther, I see your friend was able to bring you a clean dress this morning. I’m sure the men will like the change. It’s good for them to see a pretty woman.” Esther blushed and smiled.
Esther had been told to take her time, to do the job right, and to try to leave each patient more cheerful than when she approached him. “Good morning, William. My name is Esther, and I’ll be taking care of you this morning. I hope it’s all right with you.” Esther said in a joyful tone even though her stomach was full of knots.
“I guess it’s okay,” William said rather nonchalantly.
“Do you go by William or do folks call you Bill?” Esther asked with a wide smile as she started removing the bandage from around his right thigh.
“My ma calls me William, but nearly everyone else calls me Bill.”
“I thought that was probably the case. Where are you from, Bill…where’s home?”
“I’m from Missouri, ma’am, near a little town called Puxico. I live with my Ma on her eighty-acre farm—Pa died a few years back, and I’m the only son left. The farm will be mine when Ma passes on if I ain’t killed in this here war we’re fightin’.”
“You say you’re the only son left; how many brothers and sisters did you have, Bill?” Esther asked to distract him as she cleaned the puss around the entry and exit bullet holes before redressing them.
Bill looked up and started to answer her question, but paused and asked a question of his own, “May I ask you something, ma’am?” Esther nodded. “What is your name? I ain’t gonna call you by your first name; it ain’t proper.”
“Thank you, Bill. My name is Esther Taylor,” she said smiling.
Bill gazed at Esther for a few seconds and then said, “You sure are pretty, Mrs. Taylor. You remind me of my Ma. She’s a mite older than you and ain’t nearly as pretty, but I believe she has the same inside beauty as you. She’s a God-fearing woman and would do anything for a person in need even if she had to go without herself.
“You asked about my brothers and sisters, Mrs. Taylor. I had two sisters, but one died having a baby; it died too. My sister that’s still alive is married and lives in Illinois. Her husband is a Union soldier off to war someplace.” Bill paused and then said, “I had two older brothers, but they got killed near-on two years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your family losses, Bill. Were you the youngest?”
“I’m twenty, Mrs. Taylor. My sister who died in childbirth was the baby of the family.”
“What about you, Mrs. Taylor? I’ve told you a great deal about my family, what about yours?”
Esther cringed; she had not expected to be asked about her family. “I have a son and daughter, Bill. My daughter lives in Cape Girardeau with her husband. He was the doctor here at the fort before Dr. Potts came.”
Esther became quiet as she started circling Bill’s thigh with a strip of bandage. “What about your son, Mrs. Taylor,” Bill asked, “Where is he?”
Esther’s eyes became watery. “I don’t know where he is, Bill. I haven’t heard anything of his whereabouts since he joined the Confederacy when he was seventeen, and that was nearly three years ago. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”
Bill reached for Esther’s hand and said, “Don’t give up, Mrs. Taylor. Have faith that he’ll show when this crazy war is over.”
Esther looked up into his eyes, “Thank you, Bill. That means a lot to me.”
“What about your husband…where is he?” Bill asked, not giving up on his prying.
“I don’t have one, Bill. I’m divorced.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. And then after a minute or so in thought, he said, “It shouldn’t take you long to find another man, Mrs. Taylor; as pretty as you are.”
I already have, she thought. Doyle, where are you. Please, Lord, send him back to me.
Esther had finished and was packing to go to the next patient when Bill said, “I have a wife named Rachael and a little girl named Leah, Mrs. Taylor. I’ll be sure and tell them how nice you were to me if I make it back home.”
Esther turned the cart and quickly wiped her eyes with a strip of the bandaging material.
Chapter Forty-One
Esther continued her work in the infirmary for the next three weeks. She won over the hearts of the men with her sincere interest in their lives and welfare. She knew all their names, where they lived, details about their parents and siblings, and what their dreams for the future were. She always remained cheery which she found was contagious among the patients. As the days passed, five men died, but many of the other men’s injuries improved sufficiently enough for them to be released. Some reported back to their battalions, and some were discharged from service if their injuries rendered them unfit for active service. The Confederates were sent home or placed in a prisoner camp.
While the men got physically and mentally stronger, Esther started a group entertainment time after the noon meal. She’d read to them, lead them in singing, emphasizing Happy Birthdays, and they had parties with pies or cakes the cooks prepared.
By mid-August of ʼ63, three week after Esther’s arrival, there were only the five amputees left in the infirmary that Dr. Potts would soon be sending to superior medical facilities, and Esther’s help was no longer needed.
Esther was carrying a bag of her belongings when she found Dr. Potts in the medicine room. “I’ll be leaving now, Dr. Potts,” she said with an extended hand. “I’m going over to spend a couple of nights with Virginia at her boarding house before I go back to the Crooked Rail.” Esther received the doctor’s hand and continued, “I want to thank you, Dr. Potts, for thinking I was worthy to assist you in a time of emergency, and for teaching me how to do the nursing here.”
Esther relaxed her grip on the doctor’s hand, but he continued to hold firm as he said, “I’m the one who should be doing the thanking, Esther. You did a superb job and contributed to the well-being of the patients as much as I did.” The doctor took on a big smile as he released her hand. “The fact of the matter is, by the end they wanted you to tend their dressing instead of me, and I can’t say I blame ʼem.” Esther smiled with beaming eyes.
Esther spent the day with Virginia, talking the hours away. The two discussed the town and war rumors circulating, along with other matters of interest. On one occasion, Virginia asked about Mark and Doyle’s situation which caused Esther to become downtrodden. “I’ve concluded, Virginia,” Esther had to pause because of sobs. After composing herself and wiping her eyes, she continued, “I’ve concluded Doyle and my son have likely been killed. Otherwise, I would have heard from them.”
“Don’t give up, Esther; keep hoping…have faith; maybe a miracle will happen.” Tears streamed down Esther’s cheeks as she shook her head.
The women were having their late afternoon coffee when they heard a knock at the door. It was Corporal Norman. “May I speak with Mrs. Taylor?” he asked. When Esther heard her name mentioned, she hurried to the front door.
“What is it, Corporal Norman? Why were you asking for me?”
“Dr. Potts sent me, ma’am. He was hoping you hadn’t left yet. I’m to tell you a regiment of Confederate soldiers have crossed into the Oklahoma Territory coming our way, and the entire regiment at Fort Gibson will be leaving at first light to turn them back. He predicts the injured will be brought back here for medical attention.”
Esther cut him short, “Dr. Potts wants me to stay here and help him out again, is that it, Corporal Norman?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s about the gist of it.”
Esther looked at Virginia and then turned back to the corporal. “Tell Dr. Potts I’ll be there in the morning.”
The fighting took place at mid-morning the next day, July 17, 1863, in Muskogee County, less than a half day’s ride from Fort Gibson. It would come to be called, The Battle of Honey Springs, and had the most casualties of any Civil War battle fought in Oklahoma. One hundred six
ty-seven Confederate and Union men were killed that day.
By mid-afternoon, wagons loaded with injured men started rolling into Fort Gibson and by noon the following day the last wagon of injured men came in, bringing the total number of patients lying on infirmary cots to fifty-seven. The injuries were much the same as what Esther had experienced before. Except now, she was accustomed to the sight and smell, and she knew what her job responsibilities were, so she was able to help the doctor keep pace as he tended so many in the small facility.
Days passed, and again men who had healed were released. Esther had been with this second group of men for seven days and figured she’d stay on three or four more days. During one of her last days, while she was giving medical attention to a Confederate soldier by the name of Simon Pruitt, her world turned upside-down. “Mrs. Taylor,” the soldier started, “I know it ain’t likely, ʼcause you’re a Union person. And also ʼcause there’s probably hundreds of folks across our country with the name of Taylor, but do you have a son about my age?”
Esther’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, I do, Simon. Do you know a young man with the name of Taylor?”
“Yes, ma’am, but he wouldn’t be no kind of yours ʼcause he’s a Confederate soldier.”
“My son is a Confederate soldier, and I haven’t heard from him in three years,” Esther said breathlessly, almost in tears. “Do you know his first name, Simon?”
“Yes, ma’am; we’ve been fighting blue bellies side-by-side for the past several months. His name is Mark, Mrs. Taylor…Mark Taylor.” Esther had to sit down on the empty cot across the aisle as tears rolled down her cheeks. It’s probably not my Mark, she thought, but I need to find out more.
“Did he ever tell you where he was from?” Esther asked.
“I heard him say a lot of times he was from New Orleans. He said he worked on the docks, loading ships, and said he even made trips to some foreign countries delivering goods.”