Caleb racked his fuzzy brain for the information he knew he should be seeking. “The mission? Was it a success?”
The major rubbed a finger under his nose. “From a strategic point of view, yes, but those Indians fought to the death.”
Exhausted, Caleb sank back on the pillow. He had so many questions, some that only God could answer. “Thank you for coming, sir,” he managed weakly.
The major stood. “No problem, Captain. You work on getting better. I need men like you.”
Caleb closed his eyes. The army might need men like him, but not him. He was leaving this all behind and for the promised “greener pastures” of the Flint Hills. A place of tranquility and peace where he could become a different man.
* * *
Eight days after the battle, a chaplain arrived from Fort Riley to conduct the service to honor the dead. The mood at the fort was subdued. It was almost as if the men had too much time to think...and remember. Effie Hurlburt assembled a makeshift choir for the event, and in her spare time after working at the hospital, Lily played the piano for their rehearsals. The entire fort gathered at the cemetery on a hot July morning. The soldiers stood in ranks and the women clustered together.
Lily listened to the singers. Every chorus of “Abide with Me” threatened to undo her, and the final, piteous notes of taps hushed even the birds. The service was more personal for her as a result of her own brother’s death at Lookout Mountain and her brief, but poignant encounter with Sydney Long. The young soldier had already known tragedy, but for his life to be cut off so soon...unthinkable. Following the ceremony, she fulfilled the difficult task of writing his parents. She had delayed so that she could describe the service. Yet she knew that mere words, no matter how heartfelt or eloquent, would be of little comfort.
Caleb, still weak and chafing about the slow pace of his recovery, had wanted to attend the service, but Ezra Kellogg would not permit it. Lily knew Caleb felt it was his duty to be with his men to bid farewell to their comrades. “They were good soldiers,” he had told her. “It was an honor to fight side by side. I just wish...” He had clamped his mouth shut, unable to continue.
Because the chaplain planned to stay at Fort Larned for several weeks, Will and Fannie took advantage of his presence to plan their wedding. Fannie was living temporarily with the Hurlburts, and she and Effie were thriving on making arrangements. Lily continued to be in awe of Fannie’s equanimity. “Naturally, I miss my parents and sister,” she confided one evening to Lily. “I would’ve liked them to be at my wedding, but it was more important that I be with Will.”
The officers’ wives had pitched in to purchase a rich, amber-colored material for a wedding dress. Lily had agreed to make the gown, and deep in a chest containing her mother’s clothes, she had found some antique lace with which to trim the collar and cuffs. She was humbled and pleased when Fannie asked her to stand up with her and Will. If Caleb was sufficiently recovered, Will hoped he would serve as his best man. Ezra was pleased with how well Will’s bones were mending, but the eager bridegroom had said whether his arm was healed or not, nothing would postpone the wedding.
Working on Fannie’s gown was therapy for Lily. She could lose herself in darts and hems and briefly forget the sad events of recent days. Watching Fannie and Will was a tonic in itself. Their obvious love spread a kind of magic wherever they went and occasioned many a smile.
One evening as Lily was leaving the hospital, Caleb detained her. “I’d like to go outdoors.”
“You are too weak to walk that far.”
“Not by myself. But if you helped...?” He hoisted himself to his feet, pausing to get his legs under him. “If you put your arm around my waist, like so—” he guided her arm “—and I rested my hand on your shoulder, we could make it.”
She staggered slightly when he shifted his weight onto her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Apprehensive, she braced for their first step. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
Sounding more like the old Caleb than he had since his injury, he said, “To the contrary, it’s a fine idea.”
Was it her imagination or had he squeezed her shoulder? “We must proceed slowly,” she said primly.
“Slow is good.” They advanced toward the door. “I am so weary of confinement.”
“You’ve been very ill. Healing takes time.”
Just outside the door was a row of benches, and Caleb, supported by Lily, slowly eased himself onto a seat. His breath came in gasps. Even that small amount of exertion had cost him dearly. “Here.” He patted the seat beside him. “Sit with me.”
Lily could no more refuse than fly. Besides, if she didn’t stay at his side, who would help him back to bed?
“‘Healing takes time,’” he repeated, expelling a long sigh. “There will never be enough time.”
The resignation in his voice caused Lily to study him carefully. His hands clenched his knees and his jaw was rigid. “Are you talking about your wound...or something more?”
“Oh, the injury will heal,” he said dismissively, “but any man who has seen battle will tell you that though scars may form, there are some wounds that are with you until Gabriel’s trumpet blows.”
This was the moment for which she had waited, but would he risk confiding in her? What she said next would make all the difference. “Caleb, you would honor me with your trust. Perhaps you could begin by telling me about the baby.”
“The baby?” His expression went blank, and Lily immediately regretted making an assumption.
“When you were delirious, there were two memories that recurred over and over in your speech. One was something about a little girl and a doll. The other was the word baby. You kept repeating it with great agitation.”
“Washita.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The Battle of the Washita River. More even than my experiences in the War between the States, it haunts my dreams.” He seemed to go into another world, one inaccessible to her.
After a few moments, she prompted him. “The baby?”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t save it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It isn’t a pretty story.”
“If it affects you, I want to hear it.” Lily sensed they were on the verge of passing into strange new territory.
Briefly he recounted the nature of the mission they were to undertake with Black Kettle and his encampment. “But something went horribly wrong. To this day, I don’t understand what. One minute we were poised to disperse the Indians there, and in the next, we were thrust into horrific confusion. They fired on us, and our men began slaughtering them—men, women and children.” He paused with a ragged hiccup. “I tried to stop them, but there was confusion on every side. I could not believe the evidence of my eyes and it plagues me still.”
He paused, and Lily knew better than to interrupt the memories now spewing from a place deep within him. When he resumed the story, it was as if to leave out any detail would dishonor the victims.
“There was bloodshed all around, but two images seared themselves into my brain. The first is of a little girl, not more than seven I wager, who still clutched a sad little cornhusk doll with a blue dress. The poor child lay on her back, eyes vacant, shot through the chest.”
With economy of motion, Lily laid her hand atop one of his, now busy kneading the fabric of his trousers.
“Nearby was a woman lying facedown, her long braid blood-soaked. She must’ve been shot protecting her baby. I could hear the baby crying, oh, so weakly, but when I attempted to dismount to save the child, I myself was attacked. By the time the gunfire ceased and I returned to the scene, the infant had suffocated.” His tortured eyes sought hers. “I have killed men in battle, both in the recent war and now fighting Indians, but I never signed on to be part of a massacre. And that’s what the Battle of the Washita was. As God is my witness, I never would have gunned down a woman or child. But I was there. I am guilty.” He swiped a sleeve ac
ross his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Lily,” he said, his voice shaking.
Lily had no notion how to respond. She had wanted him to be more forthcoming, to share himself with her. Well, her wish had been fulfilled, but in no way had she been prepared for the anguish of his nightmarish memories. Healing? She realized she didn’t know the first thing about this kind of wound.
“So there. Now you know what kind of man I am. Damaged.”
Reaching up, she turned his ashen face toward her and gazed purposefully into his desolate eyes. “Here’s what I know. You are a man who has seen what no one should ever have to witness, a man who grieves for innocent souls caught up in violence, a man who cares deeply about human life.” She hesitated before adding, “A man who will always have my utmost respect.”
“Those are fine words, but you may change your mind after you think about what I’ve told you. Until the end of my days, I will live with what I’ve done. That is not a burden to put upon another.”
She wanted to say she would gladly accept that burden, yet how might such a sentiment be interpreted? Would she be committing to a deepening of their relationship? Her mind blocked further contemplation of that question. Now was not the time. Instead, she offered what solace she could. “Caleb, God has forgiven you. I have forgiven you. Can you forgive yourself?”
“I despair. Where was God that day? Where is He now?”
“God was present in your compassion, with the mother who so fiercely protected her child and with every man who ministered to another on that battlefield. In the same way, He is here holding our hands and healing our broken hearts.” Lily had no idea where her answer had come from. Perhaps divine inspiration?
“I’d like to believe that.” He straightened up and his voice grew stronger. “I will try to believe that.”
“We can pray for such understanding.” She studied his pale face and trembling hands. “I fear our conversation has tired you. Let me help you back to your bed.”
On the return trip, his body hunched with exhaustion and pain, and she took the full brunt of his weight. He seemed too tired to utter a single word. She eased him onto his bed and poured him a drink of water.
Finally he spoke. “You must think me a coward.”
She guided the cup to his mouth. “Quite the contrary. To have confessed what you just did is an ultimate form of bravery. It took courage to reveal yourself to another.”
He swallowed, then waved the cup aside and fell back on the pillow. “I shouldn’t have told you such a gruesome story. It is not fit for a woman’s ears.”
“Caleb, your trust in me is a gift.”
“Trust. Yes, that must be it.” He sighed again and closed his eyes.
Lily tiptoed from his side, knowing that after such an ordeal, he needed his sleep.
* * *
Caleb lay still, his eyes shut, listening to Lily’s skirt brush the floor as she moved away. Trust? What had he been thinking? How had she wormed that story out of him? Lily was the woman he loved, yet he had undoubtedly shocked her. From boyhood, he had been taught to honor and protect women, to treat them with gentleness, but what had he done? Spit out the venom built up within him during his years in the army and revealed his own dark nature. The weird thing was that, despite his shame, he also felt so great a relief it was scary. Like when he was a child and held his emotions in check until, finally, at night he loosed tears upon his pillow.
His lungs ached now with the breath he held. He didn’t know if he would ever breathe easily again until he next saw Lily. He didn’t want her pity, nor would he welcome any attempts she might make to heal his past. He threw an arm over his face. What did he want? He knew. He’d spent much of his recuperation thinking about it. Especially after today, though, he had little prayer of receiving it. He wanted her to look at him with unconditional love, to accept him with all his flaws and promise to be his forever.
He rolled onto his side, away from prying eyes, and, at last, asked God for forgiveness...and another chance with Lily.
When he awoke from a deep sleep a few hours later, the hospital was dimly lit. Only a few of those wounded in the recent engagement were still there, joined by one or two others with seasonal maladies. He roused himself, sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. One thing had become clear to him in the night. Self-pity would ill serve him; it was the resort of a coward. What had happened to him in the past was unchangeable, but perhaps the future was still in his hands. His immediate goal was to recover his strength. Then to pursue Lily with all his heart. That was a battle too important to contemplate losing.
* * *
The next afternoon Lily was surprised and pleased to find Caleb sitting at a small table reading and looking rested. She had fretted through the night about the physical and emotional strain to which he had subjected himself, both walking outside and then sharing his horrific memories. Unspeakable as his descriptions were, she knew there were many more wrenching details he could have shared, more than any woman could possibly imagine. The self-control it took for most of these battle-scarred soldiers to function as well as they did was admirable. Beneath that veneer, Lily suspected that what they most needed was understanding and tenderness.
She approached Caleb and stood over him. “What are you reading?”
When he looked up at her, she saw none of the fatigue of the previous afternoon. “I’m boning up on Paradise Lost. Remember, you promised me a discussion of Milton’s version of Eve’s fall.”
“Be that as it may, I’ve had quite enough of serpents lately.”
“But the one in the poem talks.”
“He talks, yes, but as a tempter. Oily he is. Can you really blame Eve for biting into the apple?”
“You women always fall for a glib tongue.”
She was about to whack him with her handkerchief when she noticed the mischievous grin on his face. “Sir, I think you are teasing me, and, in truth, that is welcome. You must be on the mend.”
“I hope so. I’ve lost too much time here.”
“Your body needed that time,” Lily reminded him.
He sobered. “As did my soul.”
It was his only reference to their conversation of the previous afternoon. She could pursue that train of thought, but that choice was best left to him. “Healing can’t be rushed.”
“I’ve heard you say that before, Miss Kellogg.”
She smiled. “It’s sound advice.”
“And I will heed it, though with a strong dose of impatience.” He pointed to the vacant chair across the table. “Do you have time to sit for a spell or is duty calling you?”
She glanced around the room to satisfy herself that there were no pressing needs among the patients. “I would like that.” She sat down. “Especially because I have received a letter that might interest you.” She reached in her apron pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “This is from Moses.”
“Please, read.”
“‘Miss Lily, you bin good I hope. Ole Massa snake bin keepin’ in his hole?’”
Caleb winked at her. “If only Moses knew. Those snakes follow you like bees to honey.”
“Let’s not talk about it.” Lily smoothed the wrinkled page and continued.
“My post is Fort Sill in Injun Territory. It’s hot, missy. Like burning coal cinders. Officers keep us busy, but they a good lot, by and large. I hope you safe. I don’t forget how nice you be to me.”
Lily folded the letter and returned it to her pocket. “It’s signed ‘Your true friend, Moses.’”
“Your kindness and generosity of spirit obviously meant a lot to him.”
“As his bravery and selflessness did to me.” She shook her head sadly. “If God created all of us in His image, why can’t we get along?”
“I pray unity is God’s ultimate plan. Until then, we fight the devil within us, I guess.”
Rather than continue with so deep a subject, she attempted to lighten the mood. “Clever, Captain. Now you’ve brought us ri
ght back to Paradise Lost and Satan’s starring role.” She rose and in a mock maternal tone said, “No more, sir, of serpents. This Eve has duties to perform, and they don’t include apples.”
When she turned to leave, he grasped her by the wrist. “Before you go...Milton also said that we can make a hell of Heaven or a heaven of Hell.” His eyes sought hers. “Lily, you have helped make a heaven of my hell.” He dropped her wrist, yet she remained rooted to the spot, speechless. “You have restored my trust.”
The remainder of the day, she replayed their final exchange, reveling in his compliment, yet feeling both the full weight of the responsibility he had placed in her and her anxiety about fulfilling whatever it was he wanted from her. What had started as friendship and simple attraction had escalated into something else, something she wasn’t sure she could handle, at least not without hurting Caleb, who was already so vulnerable. Or was she fooling herself?
* * *
A week later, Fannie stood admiring herself in Effie’s full-length mirror while Lily, on hands and knees, measured the hem of the wedding dress. “You are a wiggle worm. Hold still.”
“I’m so excited. Lily, I never dared dream of such a splendid gown.”
Effie bustled into the room, bearing a small notebook and pencil. “I am off to the sutler’s to buy ingredients for the cake. I pray the man has vanilla in stock.”
Fannie laughed. “No matter. The wedding will be perfect regardless of what happens.”
“How can you say that?” Lily mumbled with pins in her mouth.
“Because I am marrying my Will. All the rest is just, oh, dear, I’m afraid I’m about to make a joke, icing on the cake.” Effie hooted and Lily spat pins all over the floor, reflecting that since Fannie’s arrival she’d laughed more than she had in a great long while.
After Effie departed, Lily helped Fannie out of the nearly completed gown and folded it carefully. While Fannie dressed, Lily poured two glasses of the lemonade Effie had left for them. They carried the drinks onto the porch where, thankfully, a breeze made the heat bearable. Fannie turned her big brown eyes on Lily. “I know we haven’t been acquainted long, but I am so very fond of you. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
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