“They won’t take my arm off, will they?” the man asked, his eyes frankly pleading. “I mean, if you can help me keep it—”
“It must remain clean.” The doctor gently lowered the man’s bandaged limb to his side. “You tell the hospital doctors to change your bandage every day, to wash their hands and their instruments. It’s what the Bible commands.”
Alden shivered with a vivid recollection. Flanna had said the same thing about the latrines…and so had O’Neil less than a week ago. Could it be possible? Had she been right under Alden’s nose for weeks?
“Enough of this,” he called, his voice grating in the gray gloom. He shouldered his way through the men until he stood before the doctor. Scarcely aware of his own voice, he mumbled, “Are you finished here?”
“Yes.” The doctor brushed his hands on his jacket and stood, but did not lift his gaze to meet Alden’s. “Please, don’t misunderstand, Major, I meant no harm.” The voice was dusky, fragile, and shaking. Flanna’s voice…or had his wistful imagination deceived him? “But Gulick takes the shortest way when he doesn’t have to. These men will need their limbs.”
Desperate to settle the question, Alden glanced around at the curious observers. “Get along, all of you,” he ordered, placing his hands on his hips. “Take these wounded men back to their companies and make them comfortable. This soldier has finished for the night.”
He waited for a moment as the observers hastened to aid the wounded, then the group began to disperse. Alden cleared his throat when a pair of men lingered by the fire. “Is there some problem? I ordered you to get back to your company.”
“Private O’Connor is one of our messmates.” Alden recognized the man who spoke—William Sheahan, the veteran. “He’s plumb tuckered, and I thought I’d show him where we’re bedding down.”
Alden’s last doubts blew away at the mention of the private’s name. O’Connor? Flanna would have the audacity…and the honesty…to enlist under her family name.
Tamping down his emotions, Alden gestured toward the retreating men. “I need a word with this soldier. Now you two get along with the others. I’ll take care of Private O’Connor.”
Sheahan’s brows drew downward in a frown, but he and his companion left, leaving Alden alone with the little private. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if perhaps he’d taken leave of his senses. This Private O’Connor had to be Flanna, yet he couldn’t bear the thought of her being here, bearing up under all they’d endured in the long march and the tragedy by the river. He’d been heartsick even at the thought of Roger climbing up that cliff. If he had known Flanna was among the men, he’d have moved heaven and earth to stop her.
“Major Haynes?” Flanna’s voice was lower, huskier than it had been when she spoke to the men. “If I’ve done wrong, I’ll gladly endure the consequences, but if not, let me go. There are others I could help.”
Alden rubbed a hand over his face, considering his options. The thought of genteel Flanna O’Connor living among Union troops was so absurd he actually began to laugh, though his emotions stood a good distance away from real humor.
“How long,” his voice cracked as he looked at her, “did you think you could get away with it? Didn’t you realize you were bound to eventually encounter me or Roger? We would know you, Flanna, no matter what you chose to wear.”
She lifted her head then, her green eyes peering out from deep wells like caves of bone. He saw a tiny flicker of shock widen her eyes and panic tighten the corners of her mouth, then her features relaxed. “How did you know?” Her voice was her own again, dusky and cultured.
“It’s not every day that a private begins to operate on his fellows—and does well enough that the others actually bring their messmates to him.” He folded his arms. “Still, I wasn’t certain until I saw this.” He nodded toward the pan of water in the fire. “You did the same thing when you operated on Private Fraser.”
“Private Fraser?” She looked away toward the rippling creek, her eyes clouding as if with memories. “And how is that soldier faring?”
Alden shook his head. “I’m sorry. According to the captain of Company B, Henry Fraser drowned yesterday.”
A change came over Flanna’s features, a sudden shock of sick realization. She swayed on her feet, and Alden stepped forward to steady her.
“Oh, did I do wrong?” She sagged against his arms. “I should have said something! That poor girl should never have—I should never have—oh, Alden!”
She lifted her face, and through the dark shadow cast by her soldier’s cap he saw tears running down her cheeks.
“There, don’t fret.” He patted her shoulder as he pulled her close. She had to be utterly exhausted; no wonder she babbled things that made no sense. “You are a brave girl, Flanna, and you’ve done a great deal of good today.”
“I couldn’t—do—enough.” She gulped in air as her tears began to flow in earnest. “Up there on the hill, I couldn’t do anything! Men were dropping around me, and I couldn’t shoot, I couldn’t help them, I couldn’t do anything but run!”
“Hush now.” He pulled her into the circle of his arms, and felt strangely comforted as she slipped her arms about his waist and leaned against him. “You’re with me now, and I’ll take care of you.”
She didn’t answer, but pressed her face to his chest and wept in long, gulping sobs that shook her shoulders and dampened his coat. Not caring about anything else, Alden held her close and forgot about the war, about his brother, about everything but the courageous woman in his arms.
Time enough to think about those things tomorrow.
Flanna awoke to a smattering of birdcalls and the sound of men’s voices. The sun had risen and life bustled outside the canvas wall.
Awareness hit her like a punch in the stomach and she sat up, realizing that she was not where she ought to be. She was in a large round tent, away from her messmates, and the sun had already risen to the level of the treetops. She’d slept through reveille—and no one had attempted to wake her.
“Morning, Miss Flanna.”
She turned. Charity sat cross-legged on a blanket behind her, her dark face wreathed in a smile. “Glad to see you’re finally waking up.”
Flanna pressed her hand to her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “What—what day is it?”
Charity pushed a cup of coffee toward her mistress. “It’s Wednesday, far as I can tell. October 23.”
Flanna took the cup. “And we went up the mountain—”
“Two days ago.” Charity gave her a compassionate look. “Major Haynes found me and told me he knew what you was trying to do. He put you to bed here in this tent and gave orders that no one was to disturb you, no matter what. He even has a guard standing outside the door.”
Flanna sipped the coffee and tried to focus her clouded thoughts. “Did he seem angry?”
Charity snorted softly. “I thought he would be, but no. He told me to let you sleep as long as you wanted, then I was to come and get him so he can talk to you.”
“Don’t go yet.” Flanna lifted her knees and rested an elbow upon them, propping her head on her hand. What would Alden do now? He’d have her put out of the army, of course. He was military through and through, and this deception flew in the face of every last regulation. He’d probably scold her, just to fulfill his duty, and he’d make her put on a dress as soon as he could requisition one. He’d probably forbid her any contact with her messmates, even with O’Neil, who had become as close as a brother.
But he hadn’t seemed angry when he confronted her. Flanna didn’t know how he found her, but in some way she had felt relieved to enter his arms and surrender the burden she’d been carrying. She wasn’t meant to be a soldier. She wasn’t meant to doctor men either; so many things had been forced upon her. But the reason for her charade was as valid as ever, and she wouldn’t let Alden expose her if it meant she’d have to return to Boston. She’d just have to find a way to convince him to let her go home. But how?
>
“Charity,” she whispered, lowering the cold coffee cup to the ground, “what are we to do now? Virginia is so close—”
“Land’s sake, Miss Flanna!” Charity’s voice rang with reproach. “You ain’t thinking of running away now, are you? Those woods are full of soldiers, and they’ll shoot you before you even see them. Don’t forget about that line of dead men laid out on the ground the other night. I’m not aiming to be one of them, and neither should you.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Flanna crossed her arms on her knees and lowered her head, wanting to block out the sights and sounds of the war.
Charity was right; she couldn’t run. Her original idea of slipping away into the woods seemed totally foolish, for she had seen how fire could flash from those trees and cut men into pieces. In a blue uniform, even in civilian man’s clothes, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Are you ready for me to fetch the major?”
Flanna nodded without lifting her head. Charity scooted forward and hurried out of the tent.
Flanna looked up and propped her head on her hand. Alden Haynes would have a plan, of course, and she would have no choice but to follow it, at least until she could think of something on her own. But until they returned to camp, she would have to remain in uniform as part of the army.
Half an hour later, Alden Haynes cleared his throat outside the tent, waiting for permission to enter.
A bemused smile crept to Flanna’s lips. Here they were, in the midst of the wilderness, yet Alden still insisted on drawing-room manners. “Come in, Major,” she called, running her fingers through her hair again. Odd, that she had stopped caring about her appearance until this moment.
He came through the doorway with his hat in his hand, then stopped and looked at her intently. Careful to keep any expression from her face, Flanna met his gaze. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she didn’t want to anger him while he held authority over her life. While she’d been waiting it had occurred to her that he might feel personally offended by her deception. And while she doubted that he’d recommend that she be sent to prison, she might very well be confined to house arrest in Washington like the infamous Mrs. Rose Greenhow. If she’d wanted censure and confinement, she would have stayed in Boston.
Alden did not speak for a long moment, and Flanna finally broke the silence. “Should you be in here without a chaperone, Major Haynes? After all, you are an officer, and I an unmarried lady.”
“Forgive me for forgetting that you are naturally shy and modest.” His words were loaded with ridicule, and he arched a golden eyebrow as he settled onto Charity’s blanket. “But surely you can understand my lapse in memory. After all, you have been sleeping among some of the most thoroughly ill-bred men in Massachusetts. You, my own brother’s fiancée—”
“Not quite.” She lifted a finger to correct him. “We agreed that the engagement would not be discussed until after the war.”
“I see.”
They exchanged polite smiles, the type that men and women give each other at formal dinners and cotillions.
“In any case, I shall send you home.” Alden looked down and absently swiped at a leaf on his coat. “I don’t know how you managed to fool everyone, but this army is no place for a woman.” His voice gentled as he lifted his gaze. “I’m certain you see that now.”
“Tis no place for anyone.” She hesitated, knowing that she was treading on dangerous ground. “You’re sending me home—to Charleston?”
“To Boston.”
“No.” She met his gaze without flinching. “I left Boston, and I won’t go back there until I see my father. I’m going home.”
Alden closed his eyes, then exhaled an audible breath. “I thought you might be stubborn about this. All right—there may be a way. Once we get to Washington, I’ll talk to Colonel Farnham. Perhaps we can arrange a safe passage for you, or an exchange. I understand that others have crossed into enemy territory under a flag of truce.”
Flanna paused and considered his suggestion. If they returned to Washington within the week, she might be home by Christmastime…but what sort of Christmas would it be? Her cousins and brother were doubtless encamped in woods like these. Her father would keep the house dark and cold, not willing to enjoy any comfort while his loved ones suffered deprivation. But he’d feel better if she were home. And together they’d wait out the war and pray for the boys.
Flanna lifted her chin and assumed all the dignity she could muster. “If you can do that for me, Major, I promise to be a good soldier until we arrive back in Washington.”
Another thought abruptly occurred to her—one that had been pushed aside in her contemplation of the future. “Who have you told?” she asked. “Do my messmates know the truth about me?”
“No.” Alden leaned back, a frown puckering the skin between his eyes into fine wrinkles. “I’d be foolish to tell anyone that we were traveling with a young woman. Your messmates wouldn’t know how to handle the news. Half would curse you, half would want to manhandle you—though, of course, I’d have to shoot anyone who insulted you with so much as a rude glance.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to put you in this difficult position.”
“I haven’t even told Roger.” His voice deepened. “I suppose I ought to tell him, but Roger’s such a blustering sort, he’d make a fuss and the word would be out.” Flanna looked up, and the wounded look in his eyes pierced her soul. “Forgive me for not telling him. I suppose you’re worried and you want very much to see him.”
“Was he wounded in the battle?”
“No.”
“Then let him be, please.” She lowered her eyes from Alden’s direct gaze. “I wouldn’t hurt Roger for the world, and this—well, he wouldn’t be happy about it. You know him better than I do, and I trust your judgment. You are wise not to tell him.”
She leaned forward and lifted the edge of the canvas at her side, peering out at the camp. Her messmates would be sitting around the fire swapping stories, each man coping with the recent horror as best he could.
“What did you tell them about me?” She dropped the canvas and turned back to Alden. “My messmates, I mean. Where do they think I’ve gone?”
Alden rubbed a hand over his chin, and she heard the faint rasp of two days’ stubble. “They think you’re under guard for stealing medical supplies. They’re pretty aggravated with me, for you’ve become the hero of Company M. But I couldn’t let you keep living with them.”
“Yes, you can.” Flanna broke into an open, honest smile. “Major, you’re stuck with me until we get back to Washington.”
“But I’m going to send you away. You can’t stay in the army.”
“Very well, but why should you inconvenience yourself by trying to shelter me? Charity and I were faring quite well within Company M.”
He quirked his eyebrow. “You can’t mean that you want to go back there. I couldn’t allow it. First, I cannot be responsible for your safety among those fellows, and second”—he lowered his voice—“you are a known Confederate sympathizer. I’d be committing treason if I allowed you to return to your company. If anything went wrong, anything at all, they’d say you had something to do with it. They’d be blaming you for the ambush on Ball’s Bluff if they knew who you were.”
“No one will know.” She pasted on a nonchalant smile. “I’ve maintained my disguise thus far, and I can continue for a few more weeks or months, no matter how long it takes.”
“You will not continue one moment longer than necessary.” She heard bridled anger in his voice and knew she was testing the limits of his tolerance. “I should tell the colonel now.”
“Why? You can’t protect me alone, you have too many other responsibilities. And you can’t tell everyone I’m confined to the guardhouse until we get back to Washington.”
“You can’t keep up this disguise! If I had seen your face clearly even once, I would have known you were a woman!”
“You have a knack for recognizing
women?” Flanna’s mouth trembled with the need to smile. “I don’t think you do. If you had, you’d have known that Henry Fraser was not from Carolina. Henry was really Henrietta Fraser, a poor country girl desperate enough for bounty money to enlist in the army. She didn’t call for me in Boston because I’m from the South—she asked for me because I was a woman!”
Alden’s face went blank with shock, and Flanna congratulated herself on a point well made.
“So you see,” she glanced out the doorway, “out there I can be a man and no one will know.”
Beneath the smooth surface of his handsome face there was a suggestion of movement and flowing, as though a hidden spring was trying to break through. “I would have known you,” he whispered, a trace of unguarded tenderness lighting his eyes as he looked at her. “I would know you anywhere.”
Flanna halted, caught off guard by his tone. His eyes seemed to hold more than brotherly affection and friendship, but she couldn’t consider any further complications now. She had other plans. She had to go home.
“You didn’t know me,” she said simply. “You saw me by the medicine wagon, you spoke to me, you ordered me to look you in the eye, but you didn’t know me.”
He shrugged off her objection. “I was distracted.”
“Please, Alden.” She transferred her gaze to her hands. “I want to see my father. I’ll do anything you say once we reach Washington, but please allow me to continue as I was. The men trust me, and I can help them, but only as a man. The sick ones wouldn’t let a woman near them.”
“You are the Velvet Shadow.” His eyes squinted with amusement. “I should have realized. You were tending the men in Company M’s sick tent.”
“I can keep on helping them if you hold your tongue. Dr. Gulick is inept, and usually too drunk to know what he’s doing. Please, Alden, for the sake of my comrades, don’t say anything. Not yet.”
The Velvet Shadow Page 22