One Wore Blue

by Heather Graham

  “It’s all right—keep going. There’s a Reb to see me?”

  “Claims to be your brother, sir!”

  “And there’s cavalry near us? Then, soldier, he most certainly is my brother. Where are the Rebs?”

  “Right across the stream. We got the message from a little boat a Reb whittled out of a tree branch. We’ll probably start fighting real soon, but since it’s not quite daylight yet, the major can make sure there’s no firing till you both get back to your right sides. The Reb says that if you’ll see him, he’ll be waiting just downstream.”

  “Hell, yes—I’ll see him!” Jesse announced. He donned his overcoat against the coolness of the morning air and followed the man out of his tent. The Union troops were already dug into their positions for the morning, ready for trench warfare. Jesse hurried down the line toward the stream.

  “Make way!” The soldier leading him along called out. “The colonel here has got some kinfolk to see!”

  Men made way for him. He passed by Colonel Grayson, in charge of the infantry unit on the front of the line. He saluted, and Grayson returned the motion. “Don’t take long out there. I’ve orders to start shells flying by the first real light.”

  “Thanks,” Jesse told him. He kept walking, leaping out from the trenches to hurry along the stream. Surrounded by the mist rising from the water, he could already see the figure of his brother. He wore an overcoat and a plumed hat, both of a gray color that seemed one with the mist of the morning.

  “Daniel?” Jesse called. His footsteps moved faster. He was running.

  “Jess!”

  Suddenly he stood dead still in front of his brother. They looked very much alike, he knew. He was older, but Daniel might have been a mirror image of himself in the mist—except that one wore blue and one wore gray.

  Daniel might have been thinking the same thing. For a long moment they stared at one another gravely. It had been a long, long year, and they had both changed in that time.

  And yet they hadn’t changed that much at all. Jesse took a step forward, and they embraced, and he saw that they were both trembling.

  “Daniel,” he said, stepping back. “Damn, it’s good just to see you well and alive.”

  Daniel grinned. “You too, Jess.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long for brothers, Jess.”

  “Been home recently?”

  Daniel nodded. “Christa’s fine. I’ve been worried, though, what with the Union troops on the peninsula. I’m not real popular with some of the Union troops. My boys and I have done a fair amount of harassing of Union troops. I’m worried about Cameron Hall.”

  “Cameron Hall?” Jesse exclaimed. “Why would Union troops want to burn the hall? Legally, it’s mine, not yours.”

  “Well, Jess, it’s in Virginia, and it’s in the Confederacy, and I’m part of that Confederacy. I reckon that’s the way they see it, I don’t know. I’ve told Christa to go stay with John Mackay until it’s over. Mackay’s been ill, and he can use her over there. I don’t know if word’s gotten through to Kiernan yet about her father.”

  “Mackay is ill?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “What is it?”

  “Something in his lungs. But Jesse—”

  “I wonder if I can get a leave, get to him. You all are giving us such a pounding here—”

  “Jesse, stop. You’ve got to listen to me.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Kiernan is—”

  “Oh, Lord!” Jesse breathed, gripping his brother’s arm. “What’s happened? What’s wrong with her? Where is she?”

  “Jesse—”

  “Daniel, if there’s anything—”

  “Jesse, I’m trying to tell you!” Daniel exploded. “She isn’t ill! She’s going to have your child!”

  He might have been hit by bricks, he was so stunned. Of all the things he had expected that morning, the last was the information that he was going to be a father.

  “But how—”

  “Jesse, you know damned well how!” Daniel said, grinning with a mild rebuke.

  “How do you know?” Jesse demanded.

  “Jacob Miller came to see me right before we headed out this way. He thought you should know. He also thought you should know that he and his sister think you’re all right—for a Yank. I told him that I felt the same way myself. Jesse, you’ve got to marry her.”

  “Daniel, I’ve been trying to marry her!”

  “Hey!” came a loud shout from Jesse’s lines. “Tell the Reb to get his head down, and you get back here, Colonel Cameron. The fightin’s about to commence!”

  “Get back, Daniel,” Jesse said. He embraced his brother fiercely one last time.

  “Hey! Hey, sir! The firing is going to start!”

  “Keep your head down!” Jesse ordered Daniel.

  “Yeah—and I’ll expect to hear about a wedding!” Daniel retorted.

  “Is she still at Montemarte?”

  “I don’t know, she might be on her way home. Jesse, damn you, now you get back, and keep your head down!” Daniel said. Jesse nodded, and they both turned away, hurrying back to their lines.

  The first firing started the minute Jesse stepped back down into the trenches. It went on for hours.

  Jesse worked mechanically through the day. There were long spells when it seemed that his mind was completely empty, numb. Shells exploded overhead, and screams and screeches could be heard constantly. At one point his field hospital seemed overrun by the Rebs, but then they were repulsed, and the Union managed to move forward bit by bit.

  The wounded poured in.

  Five doctors worked under Jesse, and all five worked feverishly. He searched for bullets with his bare fingers and bit down hard on his jaw every time he saw that there was no way to save a man’s life but to remove a mangled limb.

  At least he had chloroform and ether. He had heard that the surgeons on the other side had run out. It was difficult to believe in the field tent that they were lucky in any way, but Jesse believed that they were. He had sufficient help to make the operations successful, a man to deliver the anesthetic and make sure that the patients were receiving enough air along with it, a man to secure the patient, a man to hold the limb, and a surgeon to carefully sever flesh, then muscle, then bone.

  By the end of the day, he was weary of it, and weary of war. He wanted to go back to treating influenza and stomach disorders. He wanted to deliver a baby.

  He wanted to deliver his own. Jesu, Kiernan! There were other things out there in the world. It had been a day just like this when she had stood by his side, the perfect assistant. She had never blanched, she had never failed him.

  She had promised that she would never marry him.

  You will marry me! he thought furiously.

  Calling to an orderly, he had the last of his patients taken on a stretcher from the field surgery and proximity to the field to a wagon. Then he was listening intently.

  The firing had stopped. The battle was over.

  He stepped out of the tent. It was nearly dusk, and it was quiet on this side of the stream, and quiet on the other.

  A soldier was hurrying past. Jesse caught hold of his arm. “What’s happened?”

  “We got beat back in most places, Colonel. We’re pulling out of here now. Setting up camp due east. There’s still some wounded right across the stream. But be careful, sir. There’s still Rebs around.”

  “Order my men out except for Corporal O’Malley. Tell them to break down into the wagons, but leave the canvas standing and leave behind my instrument bags. If I find anyone, O’Malley can assist me.”

  “Yes, sir, Colonel Cameron. Don’t forget there’s still Rebs out there.”

  “Thanks. Don’t forget I rode regular cavalry for years.”

  “Yes, sir!” The soldier grinned. “Is that all, sir?”

  Jesse nodded, then hurried to the stream. He crossed through the water, and it was so cold that he c
ould feel it even through his high black boots.

  Then he stood still. The scene before him was one of contrast. The stream itself was peaceful, with its cool water dancing over rocks and fallen branches.

  But by that stream lay the bodies of the fallen. Jesse looked from the bloodred skies of the coming dusk to the devastation in human life spread before him.

  He went from man to man. Bodies covered in blue were intertwined with bodies clothed in gray. He bent down and sought pulses on both.

  “Jesse!”

  He was startled to hear his name called. Standing, he looked around the field. He felt a shudder rip through him.

  An officer was calling to him, a cavalry officer in gray.

  Daniel.

  He ran across the field and fell to his knees at his brother’s side. Daniel’s hand was clutched low over his gut. His fingers were sticky with blood.

  “Damn you, Daniel!” Jesse swore. “I told you to keep your head down.”

  “I did keep my head down!” Daniel insisted. “He shot me in the gut!” He tried to smile but winced and went white, and his eyelids fell as he lost consciousness.

  Jesse ripped open his brother’s frock coat and shirt. A quick probe with his fingers told him that the bullet was still in Daniel’s body. He had to remove it as soon as possible. And he had to suture some of the blood vessels. But Daniel was weak. He’d lost a lot of blood and was losing more and more of it as minutes passed by.

  “I’ve got to get you to the field tent.”

  “Yank, you touch the captain again,” a voice suddenly warned him, “and you’ll need a field tent yourself!”

  Jesse turned around, inwardly damning himself. He should have been listening, he should have been paying attention. But his brother was wounded, and he hadn’t heard the approach of the two Rebel soldiers who were now aiming their rifles at him.

  “He needs help,” Jesse said.

  “Well, he don’t need it from no Yank! We’ve come for him—he’s our captain.”

  “You can’t take him. If he’s not helped right away, he’ll die.”

  “Hell, you’d kill him if we gave you a chance! But we ain’t gonna give no Yankee surgeon that chance. Get your hands off him, and we’ll let you live. We’ve got some fine southern prisons.”

  “You fools!” Jesse swore suddenly. Ignoring them, he hefted his brother into his arms and faced the two. “He’s my brother! And I’m a damned good surgeon, and I won’t let my own flesh and blood die! I’m taking him. So shoot me!”

  The two men looked at each other, then stared at Jesse.

  “Tom,” one said, “the captain does have a Yank brother who’s a surgeon.”

  The other man asked suspiciously, “How do we know that you’re his brother?”

  “Hell, just look at me!” Jesse swore with exasperation, and started walking forward. “I haven’t time for this.”

  He heard the click of a gun. He scarcely hesitated. Daniel was rousing.

  “Daniel, will you tell these blind soldiers of yours that I’m your brother?”

  Daniel grimaced. “Boys, he’s my brother! Oh, hell, Jess! Are you taking me back to the Union lines?”

  “Yep.” He didn’t add that he had no choice if he was going to live.

  “Captain!” the soldier called Tom called.

  “Get on back, boys. Jesse’ll patch me up right as rain, and I’ll be back myself then.”

  The Rebels still wouldn’t let Jesse pass. Tom stubbornly stood his ground.

  “Supposin’ you save the captain, Doc. They’ll take him to one of your Yankee camps. Maybe they’ll try him and shoot him as a spy. Maybe one of those other Yank sawbones will get his hands on him—”

  “You think I’m going to let them take my brother to a prison camp!” Jesse exploded.

  The men stared at him for a minute. “How you gonna stop ’em?” Tom asked.

  Jesse could feel his brother’s blood, warm and wet against him. “I give you my word, I won’t let them take my brother. Now, either shoot me, and shoot to kill, or let me pass. He’s bleeding, and he needs help fast.”

  This time, the men let him pass.

  Jesse bore Daniel’s weight across the stream. Daniel’s eyes were half open.

  “Am I going to make it, Jess?”

  “You sure are. I won’t let you die.”

  “If you think I’m going to die, will you try to get me home? I sure would like to go home, Jess.”

  “So would I,” Jesse told him. “So would I.”

  He had never felt the yearning to be at Cameron Hall so strongly. He wanted to be home, and he wanted Kiernan to be there. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to touch the beauty of new life, to sit before a fire with her, to stare out upon the river. He could almost see it.

  Daniel groaned, and the image was dispelled. His throat tightened until he almost choked on it.

  God, if you ever let me save a life, please, let it be this life, he prayed.

  The last daylight faded as he carried his brother into his hospital field tent and tenderly laid him down.

  Twenty-Two

  Kiernan didn’t think she’d ever been on a longer or more grueling journey than the one she took that April.

  Rains had washed away much of the roads. The war had kept them from being repaired.

  She often climbed down from the wagon to walk as Tyne and Jacob set their shoulders to help the horses pull it over a deep pock or scar. They had to stop for fallen trees and move them, and they had to stop from sheer exhaustion. With no accommodations nearby, they slept in the wagon, the four of them together, huddled tight for warmth.

  There were continual stops for the soldiers.

  Just as they had come down the drive from Montemarte, Thomas had returned and given Kiernan a pass that he had procured from a Yankee colonel. It would get her through the Yankee lines, he had assured her.

  She thanked Thomas heartily. It had not even occurred to her that she might need such a document. But during the journey, it had stood to her advantage a number of times.

  Northern Virginia was a very curious place these days, she realized quickly. Yanks were here, Rebs were there, and towns of total devastation lay in between.

  It was not possible for them to take a direct route. They were on the road for a week before they reached Richmond, where they learned that the armies were engaged in a number of serious battles right on the outskirts of the city. Yanks had come from the peninsula in huge numbers. All along the frontiers of the southern capital, the magnificent boys in gray were repelling the invaders.

  “On to Richmond!” the Yankees cried.

  But the southern boys, commanded by the genteel and remarkable Robert E. Lee, were holding them back. Jeb Stuart’s cavalry had actually ridden right around the enemy.

  The tension in the city was crackling. She had never imagined that Richmond could be anything like it was now—so vastly overcrowded. The roads were filled with soldiers—and politicians. Prices had skyrocketed with the influx of so many people. Janey went off to buy food and came back grumbling that she hadn’t even enough money for a potato.

  Kiernan, exhausted and overwhelmed by all they had learned in Richmond, stood by the wagon and told Janey not to worry. “Spend whatever you have to spend. We’ll rest tonight here and try to make home by tomorrow night.”

  “Miz Kiernan,” Tyne told her, “you ain’t been listening. The soldier boys been fightin’ right outside the city. There’s a defense ring around it. They ain’t gonna let us through.”

  “They’re letting us through,” Kiernan said stubbornly. “All I want is to go home!” she exclaimed. “And they’re not going to stop me—the Rebels or the Yankees!”

  She took Patricia and Jacob to a restaurant near the beautiful capitol building while Tyne and Janey went to see about accommodations for the evening.

  She remembered the restaurant well. She and her father had come here often enough in earlier years. Now there was a crowd in the front, wa
iters in line to get in. She managed to get close enough to see inside.

  At least it hadn’t changed. The tables were covered in snowy-white cloths, the silver and crystal were elegant, and a violinist played while the diners ate and chatted. Entering the restaurant, Kiernan realized they were hardly dressed for the elegance of the place, which had persevered despite the war. Her voluminous cape hid her condition amazingly well, and the children somehow managed to present themselves at their best despite their days upon the road.

  She was dismayed by the line of people waiting for tables. The sight of them all nearly made her burst into tears, she was so exhausted. Worrying about John Mackay had taken its toll on her, and sleeping in the wagon had not been easy. She was always uncomfortable these days with so much weight to carry about. But she was also determined, and usually, no matter what, she was able to remain calm.

  But this long line to eat a decent meal was nearly her undoing.

  “Why, Mrs. Miller!”

  A man was coming across the room toward them. He was tall and lean and dressed in an impeccable dove-gray frock coat and white ruffled shirt. Kiernan could have sworn she had never seen him before, but he seemed to know her.

  She glanced at Jacob anxiously. “Who is that?”

  “I’m not sure!” Jacob whispered back. “Maybe he’s one of your business partners.”

  “Business!” she exclaimed suddenly. Patricia, exhausted too, opened her innocent brown eyes wide to Kiernan. Kiernan just smiled. “Miller Firearms,” she murmured. “They’ll get us home.”

  “Mrs. Miller!”

  The man Was upon them. A spark of life invaded Kiernan’s system, and she extended her hand for the man to kiss. “I saw you last in Charles Town,” the man said, “at the trial of the detestable John Brown. You were still Miss Mackay back then. I heard about your husband, and I’m so very sorry. Still, everything is still moving smoothly here in Richmond. Andrew Miller, Thomas Donahue, and your father picked the perfect site for their operation in the Shenandoah Valley!”

  “Yes, they were very clever, Mr.…?”

  “Norman. Niles Norman, Mrs. Miller, at your service. If there’s anything at all that I could do for you—”