When You Love a Scotsman

by Hannah Howell

  “I am going to have to get the doctor,” she said and dragged her hand through her hair, fleetingly wondering what had happened to the ribbon that she had tied it back with. “I’ve never dealt with bleeding this bad.”

  “Nor I,” said Maude, and Rose shook her head in an echo of Maude’s words. “She can’t last long if it doesn’t stop. Should we take her to him?”

  “I’ll bring him back. Moving her now could only add to the problem. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Take your rifle,” called Rose as Abigail ran to the door.

  “I planned on that.” She grabbed her rifle from where it leaned against the wall just inside the door and, after a careful survey of the street, bolted for the infirmary.

  She had barely gotten inside the door of the infirmary when the doctor appeared at her side. He looked at her in shock, but she had no idea why nor the time or patience to find out. It was hard enough to ignore the sounds and smells of wounded men.

  “Julia is bleeding too much,” she blurted out.

  “I thought you said the birth went well.”

  “It did or so I thought. She was bleeding but not badly, no worse than any other I have helped. Now it is just flowing out of her and I can’t stop it.”

  “What have you done for her?”

  “Tied her rags on as tightly as I could and raised up her hips and legs. It isn’t really helping.”

  “I see. I’ll look at her, but you need to finish up here for me.” He put a threaded needle in her hand. “It is a long shallow cut low on the belly. Didn’t go deep enough to open him up but still needs closing.” He turned and pushed her gently toward the nearest bed.

  “Matthew!” she cried out when she saw the man sprawled on that bed.

  “It’s not deep,” the doctor said in a firm, steady voice. “He jumped back in time. Are you going to be able to do this?”

  Abigail took a deep breath and, as she let it out slowly, she wrestled down her fear. “I can do it.”

  “Good. I’ll go see if there is anything I can do for Julia.”

  “She is in the jail,” she told him as he started to leave.

  Forcing herself to think only of closing the wound, Abigail hurried to Matthew’s side. His eyes were closed but, she was fairly sure he was not sleeping. Looking at what the doctor had on his table, she found something to clean off the wound area. The cut was a long ugly slice across his belly and he was extremely lucky that it had not been deeper.

  What really troubled her was how difficult she found it to make that first stitch. She had stitched up a lot of wounds, yet the thought of running a needle through Matthew’s flesh made her stomach churn. Scolding herself for cowardice and sternly reminding herself of how important it was to close his wound in order to stave off infection, she finally took that first stitch and proceeded to work with her usual speed.

  Matthew grit his teeth against the pain. Forcing open one eye he realized it was Abbie stitching him up. He looked around for the doctor, did not see him anywhere, then looked back at Abbie who was busy working with her usual concentration and speed. When she tied off the stitching and sat back, the way she stared at his wound and covered her mouth gave him the distinct feeling that she was trying not to laugh. Since he saw nothing funny about a stomach wound, shallow or not, he frowned at her.

  “Abbie,” he called, and she looked at him in surprise. “Why are ye here?”

  “The doctor had to go see if he can help Julia. I did not realize you were the one who needed stitching. I worked as fast as I could,” she said as she carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. “Any other wounds?”

  “The doctor already tended to them. Two.” He appreciated the look of worry on her face as she hurriedly searched him for signs of the wounds. “One wee scrape on my arm and a through and through wound on my leg.”

  She reached for the sheet covering his wounded leg, but he snatched it out of her hands. “Nay. Best not.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  He used his other hand to point to a pile of clothing on the floor. “Doc doesnae cut the clothes off or make any attempt to protect one’s modesty.”

  “Too much trouble,” said the doctor as he walked up to them.

  “Julia?” Abigail asked warily, worried that he was back so soon, and felt the sting of tears in her eyes when he shook his head.

  “I am sorry, Abbie. It happens sometimes. I examined her and she is badly torn up inside. Something must have just given out. She is desperate to speak to you, however.” When Abbie frowned and looked at Matthew, he added, “I’ll watch this fool.”

  “Fool?” Matthew grumbled, but they both ignored him.

  “Go, Abbie. There is not much time left and she was very adamant about talking to you.”

  Abbie stood, lightly kissed Matthew, and then hurried away. She hated to leave him, wounded and bedridden as he was, but he was not dying. This time her friend truly did take precedence and she could be sure of the reason because the doctor had told her.

  “The woman is dying?” asked Matthew.

  The doctor nodded. “Bleeding to death. The strange thing is she talks to her dead husband.”

  “Abbie said that. She kept going out to his grave to talk with him.”

  “Which was probably enough to start her bleeding. Gave me a chill when she talked to him because she acted as if she could see him at her side.”

  “Weel, maybe she finds comfort in that wee dream.”

  “I find myself hoping that it is more than a dream.”

  He checked Abbie’s stitching and then grinned. “This will leave an interesting scar.”

  “What does it look like? Abbie looked as if she was going to smile, too.”

  “You are going to have a big grin on your belly. It is placed very nicely beneath your belly button. Tattoo on a couple of eyes and you’d have a whole face there.” He laughed.

  “Ha. Funny mon. And what the hell is your name anyway?”

  The doctor blinked. “Harvey Deacon Pettibone the Third.”

  Matthew shook his head. “Eastern nobility.”

  “And always a doctor. One in every generation. When are you going to marry that girl?”

  “Abbie?” He blushed at the disgusted look the doctor gave him. “I dinnae ken.”

  “Coward.”

  “About that? Aye, straight down to the bone.” He smiled faintly when the doctor laughed.

  * * *

  Abbie slowed her step as she approached Julia’s bed in the cell. She had run all the way from the infirmary but her step had lagged once she reached the door of the jail. She had nursed a spark of hope all the way to the jail but it had begun to die as she neared the place. Now it completely died. The scent of death lingered over Julia and she was as pale as any still living person Abbie had ever seen.

  “Thank you for getting the doctor to come,” said Julia as she tried to hold out her child to Abbie. “Please, take him.”

  Taking the child, Abbie held him cradled in one arm and sat on the edge of the bed to clasp Julia’s cold hand. “The doctor said you were anxious to talk to me.”

  “Yes. I know I am dying and there is something I have to settle before I go join my Robert.” She shook her head when Abbie started to speak. “No, I know the truth, Abbie. The doctor was very kind, but he did not try to hide the truth from me. I want you to raise my boy. Take him. He will be an orphan soon. You will do that, won’t you?”

  Abbie did not know what to say. She was a young, unmarried woman. How could she raise a child? She did not even have a place to live.

  “Abbie, promise me. Promise me you will care for my boy.”

  “As best I can, Julia,” she finally said, prompted by the woman’s growing agitation.

  “Thank you. It makes it easier to let go. The address for his family is in with my things so maybe you could send them word?”

  “I will. Do not worry on that.”

  “Good. They lost their son and may be pleased to know he
lives on in his boy.” She struggled to reach out and was finally able to smooth her hand over her baby’s head. “Be a good boy for Abbie.”

  Julia closed her eyes before Abbie could say anything more. It was a huge responsibility Julia was setting in her lap. Abigail had no idea how she was supposed to take care of a newborn. The woman’s hand slipped off the child and when Abigail looked back at Julia’s face, she sighed. There was no arguing the matter now. The woman was very close to dying. Abbie sat watch and a few minutes later she knew her friend was gone.

  Getting up, she turned toward the women and saw them all watching her. “We best prepare her for burial now.”

  Maude walked over and looked at the baby. “How are you going to care for a child?”

  “I have no idea, but it was what she wanted. Her dying wish, if you will, so how can I do anything but what she asked? Now is not the time to think on it though.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Maude looked back at the other women. “Come along, ladies. Let us get her ready. Never seen a woman so eager to join her husband.”

  Neither had Abigail. She could not help but wonder if that need to be with Robert had aided in Julia’s death. The woman had not really had any great need to stay alive, had no fight in her. Not even her child had changed her mind as Abbie had hoped it would.

  When it was finally safe again and time to take Julia to the graveyard, Abbie briefly wished they had a minister, but the man had fled to save his own skin. Wrapping the child up warmly, she followed the women out to the graveyard, Maude and Rose carrying Julia’s body. She gave a start when she saw two soldiers finishing the digging of a grave next to Robert’s. They nodded at the women politely and quietly went to stand near the trees ringing the graveyard.

  Mrs. Beaton set a large basket by Abbie’s feet and she settled the baby in it. She then turned her attention to saying a final farewell to her friend. She wished they had a coffin, but there were none around and no one to make one. The man who did such work had been killed in the first attack on the town.

  When Rose said a rather beautiful prayer then sang, Abigail had to swallow hard to keep from weeping. Then the men returned to bury her friend. She picked up the babe and found one standing right in front of her.

  “How did you know to come and do this?”

  “The doc sent us.”

  “That was good of him.”

  “We’ll mark a wooden cross for her, ma’am,” he said quietly.

  “Thank you. I was just wondering how to get one put up. She was Robert’s wife, a mother, and only twenty-three.”

  “A sad business this. You should ask the major if there is any money for a soldier’s widow even if only Robert’s pay that he didn’t collect.”

  She nodded and made her way back to the house. It took some time to find a source of milk for the baby and a way to give it to him but fortunately Mrs. Beaton kept a few goats and one had just birthed a kid. By then the baby was sound asleep and Abbie felt it would be acceptable if she left for a little while to see how Matthew was doing.

  A tickle of guilt struck her and she frowned. It was sad that she was able to go and see the man she loved but Julia never could have. Then she abruptly stopped and thought over what she had just accidentally confessed to herself. She loved Matthew MacEnroy. It was past time she stopped playing and do something about it.

  But what could she do? she thought. It was not the woman’s place to speak or push the man to speak. She certainly had no idea how to nudge him to speak or even if he felt the same way. It seemed the only thing she could do was just what she had been doing, even if it was breaking a lot of rules. She would continue to show him, in all ways she could, that she cared and hope he would finally speak of how he felt. Unsatisfactory as that solution was, it irritated and she marched into the infirmary.

  Chapter Twelve

  Matthew tried to shift his body into a more comfortable position. It was not easy when his stomach was sewn up. Every move he made seemed to tug on the stitches. He cursed softly as that pinching pain struck again when he shifted his hips.

  “Such language. Tsk. Tsk,” drawled James.

  Matthew scowled up at his friend. “If not for that idiot with his knife I wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable position.”

  “Better this than the gutting the man was trying to accomplish.”

  “True. Just dinnae feel inclined to admit it. Will have to remind myself of that more.”

  “It was a fierce skirmish. Good thing you saw them coming.”

  “Abbie did. One of the fools lost his cap and she saw it on the water. Gave it to me and I looked down the river for them but almost gave up too soon. They werenae even being quiet. That’s why I finally spotted them. Voices carry well on the river.”

  “They were not soldiers. They were Night Riders or marauders or whatever the hell they call themselves now. Hell, they could even have just been some good old boys who thought they’d kill them some blue bellies. So, you and Abbie were down by the river, eh?”

  Matthew sighed. “Why is everyone suddenly interested in my love life? The doc and now you.”

  “So, it is a love life, is it? Going to marry the girl?”

  “That is my business and my business alone.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Could be because I am in pain.”

  “Well, here’s something to take your mind off that. They just buried Julia.”

  “Ah, hell.”

  “Yup. Doc sent some men over to the graveyard to dig a spot next to Robert. No coffin. We ran out of the ones we had and no one around to build another.”

  “I could have except for this hole in my leg.”

  “And shoulder and belly. They put her in a sheet. Abbie was tending to the baby, poor mite. Orphan now.”

  “I suspect there will be a lot of those when this war ends. Will certainly be a lot of bairns with no das.”

  “News is we are headed out.”

  “Where to?”

  “South.

  “We’re already south.”

  “Obviously not the right part. They are already packing up things so think it must be true. Rumor is there is going to be a hard drive into the enemy’s lands in an attempt to end all this. The army in Virginia needs more men. Thinking this is going to take a long time to end as there are a lot of places where there is fighting. This area will be slow to let it go. Still a lot of Reb soldiers in the area or Reb sympathizers.”

  “Already feels as if this war has gone on too long.”

  “Much too long,” said the doctor as he walked up and began to check Matthew’s wounds, “and the hate and resentment will last even longer. Always does.”

  “That’s cheerful news.”

  “Realistic news. I studied a lot of history. Fascinating subject.” He glanced at Matthew. “Or are all you Scots close friends with the English?”

  Matthew glared at James who just laughed. He then caught sight of Abbie pausing to talk to Boyd who still could not move his arm and helped out at the infirmary where he could. She looked a strange mixture of annoyed and deeply saddened.

  “Ah, Julia was interred a little while ago.”

  “Interred? Listen to our doc with his fancy words,” said James and laughed when the man glared at him.

  “You should hit him for that. Hard. Set him straight,” urged Matthew and then grinned. “Right in that big smile he is always flashing.” He laughed along with the doctor but then winced as that also pulled at his stitches.

  “Just thought you ought to be warned,” the doctor said to Matthew.

  “Ah, aye. I could read it on her face.” He nodded toward where Abbie still talked with Boyd. “Since I am wounded and bed-bound”—he rubbed his forehead to try and chase away a throbbing headache—“I thought she would be gentle even if her mood was sour.”

  “Such naivete,” the doctor murmured. “We’re moving out soon. Day or two at the most.”

  “What about the people in the town?” asked James
.

  “I am afraid they will be left to fend for themselves or leave for someplace they believe will be safer. You”—the doctor pointed at Matthew—“will be and so will Boyd. No need to drag either of you to a new posting when you are both wounded as you are. So you can go home.”

  “That could prove a dangerous journey”—he rubbed his bandaged arm—“especially since I wouldnae be able to shoot nor would Boyd.”

  “Then I will speak to the major as soon as I can and he’ll send one able-bodied soldier with you.”

  “I’ll just meander over there with you, Harvey,” said James.

  “Hey, how did ye ken his name?” asked Matthew.

  “I asked.” James turned to smile at Abbie as she walked over. “How do, Miss Abbie. Sorry about your friend.”

  “Yes, it was a sad waste. Thank you.”

  She watched the doctor and James walk away and then sat down on the edge of Matthew’s bed. “Why are you rubbing your head?”

  “Headache, and it is getting worse, so let me apologize now if I get a wee bit snappish.”

  She grinned. “I think I can survive.”

  “I am sorry about Julia, Abbie.” He took her hand in his and brushed his thumb over the back of it.

  “She was the first friend I made in this place.” She shook her head. “Since I left Pennsylvania, too.”

  “I think Rose and Maude like you well enough.”

  “Oh, they do, but they are a bit older, have lived more, and all that. Julia and I had a more common ground to work on. Perhaps that is why she chose me.”

  “Chose you? For what?”

  “To care for her son.” She smiled faintly at the way his eyes widened with shock. “She made me promise. So, I fear I am no longer a simple country lass”—she grinned—“to go for a stroll with. I am a mother now. Julia even made out a rough will, had it signed by some of the other women too, naming me the boy’s guardian. I also promised to try and contact Robert’s family.”

  “Ye think they might want the bairn?”

  “They might, but Julia made no allowances for that, and if they take a long time to come around, I may not want to oblige them, either. Then I have to wonder why she didn’t mention them or choose them for her baby. She gave me no warning about them. It is a puzzle I will have to solve when and if it arises.” Abigail frowned when he let go of her hand to yank the blanket over himself. “Are you cold?”