Fight for Glory (My Wounded Soldier #1)

by Diane Munier

  He had no papers on him. No spare flesh either. He’d not taken a good meal in a long time. Teeth so black. Hands that knew work. Shoes wore out, everything thin. He had no money or provision. A bedroll, but traveling light. That saber…belonged to his daddy I’d bet.

  I was out of time so I went in the house, looked at the mother. Her eyes were closed, but she held that child, and it looked to sleep as well. I fetched the bucket and filled it with water and brought it in the house. I took the knife and cut the potatoes and carrots into pieces and put some water over them, setting them on the hob to boil. I found the cellar and added salt and a lid over.

  I went for Missus’ cup and brought her water. I put the babe back in the drawer. She had wet on the bed. I figured she could water in the drawer and the clothes would catch it. I couldn’t fix her yet, but I would shortly.

  I woke the missus, lifted her little head and held the cup to her parched lips. “Drink now, lovely,” I said, not believing such came out of my mouth. She’d inspired such a river of kindness coming out of me, I wanted to get out of here and run the field.

  I had to down what she’d left myself. I would fetch her more. It was the first time I felt the tiredness. I hadn’t moved out of it much since coming home. I didn’t sleep, just a snatch here and there.

  I wanted a drink.

  He came then, his big feet on the porch, slamming that ham of a hand on the door. I pulled it open. His eyes were on fire cause he was itching for something to happen, ever since he got hair in the secret places and ever since he decided to be mad he couldn’t go off to war. We’d nailed him to the farm, Garrett and me, and he intended to make me pay for it. But now he had him an adventure all right. Now he’d get a taste.

  His words were all over each other. He’d seen the bodies, the one against the tree and the one side of the house.

  “Finished?” I asked him when he had to take a breath because he pretty much ran here once he found my tracks.

  He nodded, his mouth open.

  “Drive Bess home. Take this boy to Allie. He’s got a cut on his finger needs looked after. Keep him there. Tell her to dote on him, not that you’ll have to tell her. Tell Pa I need me a box for the mister. He has those doors in the shed, tell him to use those and fasten sides. I’m putting him in the earth tonight if the missus will have it. Time that box is finished have Seth drive it over here. He can do chores round here. You go to town and fetch Jimmy. Tell him we got killin’ here and he should bring a box for this drifter. Got all that?”

  He nodded. He was so excited he’d run out of words for the first time in his life.

  “And Gaylin? Tell Ma we got a new baby here. Missus is wore out. Bring the teas, tell her to come by herself for I need her quick. Real quick.”

  I thought he was going to stop breathing.

  “Get on it, now. And you keep your eyes clear. I don’t know if this one traveled alone. I don’t know a thing.”

  He nodded, turned to leave, remembered the boy. I walked toward Johnny who was already awake. I picked him up, and he didn’t fight it. I carried him through and put him on the seat next to Gaylin. “You been a real good boy. Your daddy would be so proud. Miss Allie will take care of you now. Your Ma is fine, but she needs rest. And your baby sister is fine, too.”

  I put my hand on his knee for a minute.

  “Mister Tom?” he said, “I want to stay with you.”

  “You will,” I told him. “I’ll be home real soon.”

  I looked after as they pulled away. Now what made him say that? I was deeply touched, I don’t deny, but it’s not what I ever wanted or imagined. I was going west before snow. I couldn’t settle. Not since the war.

  When I got back in the house I could smell the potatoes starting to boil. The woman was looking at me. I hadn’t expected that either. I told her about Gaylin, and that Ma would be here soon. I told her I’d sent the boy on. She swallowed hard.

  “There’s some supper cooking,” I said.

  “I’m not hungry,” she whispered. Then she lifted her little hand toward me.

  I wiped my hands down my legs. “Missus,” I said, “I better check…the blood.”

  She looked at me, those brown eyes so pure, so scared. Such a beauty this one, oh I didn’t like the way she made me feel. I was going in the fall. My plans were set.

  So I pulled the cover back, and there were the rags soaked red, and I caught a curse before I let it out. I went for more rags, and came back. Her eyes on me, shame, but past caring too. So without words I took those rags away and God almighty there sat a clot of blood the size of an apple. I looked at her, but she kept her eyes on me. I took away the blood, so carefully. When I lifted her hips, more blood came, and I put the new rags on her best I could. Her legs had the red smears, and I longed to wash this from her, but my real concern was all she had lost and no let up. Ma would bring her teas. But it would take another hour before she came.

  I pulled the quilt over her once she was wrapped.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  “Do you have the tea…for the bleeding…from Shepherds Purse? Ma uses it…sometimes.”

  She shook her head. “It’s too early,” she said.

  I nodded. “Where’s the baby’s….”

  She pointed to a lady’s round box that set in the corner near the basket where I’d found her rags. In there I saw the diapers, one pin threaded in the cloth and two small gowns. I took the baby out of the drawer and laid her on the bed. I put the diaper between her curly legs, and pinned it in front. But putting the gown on was far worse, yet I managed it with sweat and determination. Missus laughed a little, and did not protest when I put the child back in the makeshift bed.

  I looked at her, and she appeared to have fallen asleep again, so I pulled back the cover. She was soaking through again, and I had enough rags for one more go. I hated to move her to change the rags, so I just added these, and she did not protest when I moved her hips to put them beneath.

  So my ma found me kneeling at the bedside holding Miss Addie’s hand. I had been staring at her pale face. If God let her go in the earth this day, I would ride out tonight, harvest be damned. I hadn’t wanted to come back here, but Pa had come to get me in the brickyard in Springfield, and I had not been able to deny my mother the comfort. So home I came…to this.

  My ma put her hand on my shoulder, but I was reluctant to let go of Missus’ hand. I showed her all the blood and she told me how to make the tea, the fixings in her basket on the table. I pulled the spluttering soup off the hob and set it on the hearth to cool. Then I dug for the tea. The kettle was empty so I filled it with the dipper and built up the fire so it would heat quick. Ma had brought a sack bursting with cloth. I hefted this to the bed.

  Ma wrapped her in the quilt, so the rags were held in place, then said, “Lift her.” I carefully slid my hands beneath Missus. Ma had wrapped her to the chin. She opened her eyes to see me, then closed them and seemed to rest. She was lighter than ever in my arms and I felt like laying my face on hers. I felt like crying.

  “She’s lost a lot of blood. There is a stew in the crock. Get me some of the gravy soon’s I finish this bed.” Ma said, in her bustle.

  So all of the bloody bedding was pulled off, and the tick was turned, but it was wet on the other side too, though not so much, and Ma hurried around and made that bed. Then I laid Missus down.

  “Get out,” Ma said, ready to unwrap her. “Fill that wash pan with warm water and bring soap,” she ordered me.

  I hurried to do this, and brought it back. Ma had her unwrapped. She kept sheeting over Missus’ body, her little feet sticking out, and her small hands. I placed everything for Ma then went to dish up some gravy. Once that was done, I added my vegetables to Ma’s stew. The kettle was heating, so I poured some water in the pot and added the leaves. I stirred this till it was brown, then poured off some of the brew and took that into the missus, so anxious to see her take it.

  “The blood….” I said to Ma.<
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  “Get,” Ma said, quickly covering the missus as she’d been putting the clean rags in place.

  “Ma,” I snapped. It was too late for that.

  “Get that tea down her,” Ma said, looking at me over the tops of her glasses. Her hands did not stop tending the missus. When she had her covered to her chin, she moved to the baby, tsking her tongue.

  “Missus,” I whispered. She opened her eyes. I did not like the look of them so far away. “Lift up.”

  I knelt and slid one arm behind her head, lifting her shoulders. With the other hand I held the tea and brought it to her lips. I knew it was tepid, so she could take it. She took a sip and made a face. Well it was strong for a reason.

  “Drink it all,” I said, holding the cup against her bottom lip. She cringed, but she swallowed it all. I gently laid her down. I felt such hope knowing the tea was inside her.

  When I stood, grinning I think, my eyes locked with Ma’s. She was thoughtful, holding the newly diapered baby.

  Don’t get any ideas, I thought. She was always shoving someone’s daughter at me. I was leaving. My plans were set.

  I looked at the missus once more. I had to let her go now. Didn’t I know how to do that? Let go? I surely did.

  Tom Tanner

  Chapter Three

  The first thing I did when Ma released me from my duty with Mrs. Varn was see to her horse. Then I walked the trail that saber made. Even in the setting sun the trail read easy, so easy William would say it read like a primer, though he could not read a primer for he’d never been given the chance being both Indian and Negro. Well, he rode with Jimmy now. Deputy William I called him, and it made him smile in his silent way.

  So I followed this trail which took me in time to a tributary of the big river. He had made his camp here, but he’d carried his roll, so he had no intention of coming back. He’d eaten a chicken, one he surely stole, and he smoked a cheroot to its tip. My guess was he came here and stayed a couple of days, perhaps he had watched them before he showed, but that trail looked broken through only once.

  Back at the house I watched the road for our sheriff, a title I had not yet grown accustomed to when speaking of Jimmy. Since the war he would always be Captain Jimmy. I also watched for Seth who would bring the box for the mister. I was eager, but I had to give Pa time to do the building.

  Seth was my youngest brother, and the quietest, my favorite, truth be told, though I had not given myself to him as I found him too young and too composed for my liking. But Pa said there was a call on him, and it seemed so.

  They favored Garrett, these two younger sons, and though Seth was not given to blame, Gaylin would never forgive me for not bringing Garrett home. My sister now, she was the soft place, and much as she loved the eldest son, it was always me she’d pattered after.

  I took to digging the mister’s grave under that tree. As I dug I looked to the lighted window, and wondered how the missus fared. Whenever I made another clean foot, I went to the house and inquired. The bloodstains were disappearing in the slow descent of evening, and I tried to take note not to bring mud on the porch, but I did some, I came so often.

  With the quilt still up, I did not see, but I checked, and sometimes Ma was in the kitchen and she would say, “She rests,” or something of this color, and so I would go back to my digging, my angry digging, for it wasn’t right this war that did not go away, that we all lived with now, forever changed in ways we could not mend.

  The woman had done the shooting. She had been the David to stand before Goliath. I saw the tale soon as I’d ridden up. The boy had rambled truth, but the scene put it together. She was the one. And then she had birthed. God Almighty.

  Take life, lose life, give life. All in one, this innocent. Did I not say that all was there, in the quiet scene, waiting to take hold? So I did not trust the quiet, even as I finished that grave, even as my brother brought me a cup of water and said he’d finished with the chores.

  It was a large thing, this death. I’d known so many battles where we did not have the gift of mourning, of considering all we’d lost before we were moving again. So now in peace, this death, this grave, it rubbed in the wounds I kept sealed in my heart, the angry catter-wailing wounds of loss.

  This man had to have whiskey somewhere. Just one drink, Lord knows I deserved it. I’d find it in the barn at least. I threw aside the shovel. But before I could get to the barn Ma called, and I veered from my mission and hurried to the house. From Missus’ bedside she called me, and I forgot to wipe my feet I was so alarmed.

  When I rounded the quilt, there she was, sitting up just the tiniest bit, her hair braided and lying along her breast. Her dark eyes were open and following me as I walked beside her. She just looked and I wondered if she was too weak to speak. The babe was held to her side, and were my fingers not so dirty I would have taken that little hand and let it curl around me. But I swallowed my discomfort and my strong gratitude that this woman lived.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and then she said the word that would brand my mind, “Tom.”

  I didn’t plan to go to my knees, but she took me there, I guess, for I alone knew all she’d been through this day. “It was a fine piece of shootin’,” I said. “I’ve seen men couldn’t do such.” Not to mention her own husband. He had not protected them. He did not strike me as a man that could, and the anger I felt went to him as much as that soldier.

  She kept looking at me, but she had tears. I wanted to comfort her, but of course I wouldn’t with Ma looking on, and me so unfit.

  “You’re such a good man,” she said, and I was sure I’d heard wrong, so I leaned even closer and my filthy hand started to lay itself on the baby’s head, but I snatched it back just in time before I defiled her.

  “Such a good man,” she said again, and my face was so close to hers now. It flashed through my mind to kiss her cheek, and then I could die, but Ma was behind.

  So I raised a little, and got to my feet. I waited for words, but I wasn’t Seth and had no gift or call for such, so I nodded as I stared at so much beauty, I stumbled from that room nearly blind. And Ma followed, fussing at me for the mud, but I went out unable to respond…just unable.

  Tom Tanner

  Chapter Four

  It was dark when Gaylin drove the wagon onto the Varn’s land. “Jimmy is riding trail on Boyle Monroe. William is with him. When they get back to town they’ll come out. Mullens sent the box, and we’re to leave it open until tomorrow so they can get their picture.”

  “No,” I said. “We’ll box this one and you can take him back to town. If we don’t, every dowager will come out to see. Let them have their sideshow in town, well away from here.”

  Whatever Gaylin wanted to say, it made him kick the wagon’s wheel. I knew he’d speak for he held nothing. “I ain’t ridin’ with that one back to town in the dark.”

  “Seth can come then, but you be back by mornin’, and take Mrs. Varn’s team in cause Pa will need these in the field tomorrow. Go to the barn and switch them out. Seth will be here with a box for the mister anytime now. So get to it.”

  “You ain’t my pa,” he said, and I knew he was soft and tired and I should have mercy.

  “And if I was I’d give you a hidin’ for your smart mouth. Do as you’re told.”

  “I don’t need to go tonight. Soon’s the sun’s up…”

  “You’ll go now. I know you. You run your mouth enough it’s all over town already. They’re skittish as is with these fellas about. Come morning they’ll be all over here. You’re taking this body tonight. Change out the horses.”

  I didn’t stick around to get his reaction. I needed to get this soldier’s body out of here. I wanted to tell Missus she need not look upon him again.

  I went to where I’d placed him earlier that day. While Gaylin changed out the team, Seth showed, the new coffin made ready using the doors just like I’d said. He helped me bring the box up close to the mister’s body beneath the tree and though we kept
him wrapped, we brought the heavy coffin to the ground and settled Richard Varn’s body in Pa’s good carpentry.

  I knew how it was…the things folks did, the tender things. So I told Seth to wait on me and I went in to the missus. She was holding the baby, lying in the bed while Ma cleaned up some.

  “Missus,” I said, “I am gettin’ ready to…bury Mr. Varn and…was there something…?”

  She took in a big breath. “There is…it’s going to seem…foolish. But…there is a hornet’s nest he found in the woods…and a picture beside…him and Johnny. It is by my son’s bed…well under it.”

  “Yes Ma’am,” I said. “Then I will bury him out yonder?”

  “Yes.” Her face crumpled for a moment, but she got a hold.

  I turned in search of the nest.

  “Mr. Tanner?”

  I stopped.

  “Thank you.”

  I nodded. “And the other…I am sending him off to town so you need not look upon him no more.”

  “You are so splendid sir,” she said.

  I went around the quilt. I could not stay near her. But before I could go look under that boy’s bed Ma handed me a gray nest, and a picture of such drawn in a child’s hand, the father and son joining arms beneath the hanging nest attached to the limb of a tree. They had big smiles.

  I took that outside in time to hear my brothers speculating on the coffin brought from town for the drifter. “It won’t fit him bent that way,” Gaylin said.

  I put those two things in with the mister then turned my attention to the other.

  Well, I had Gaylin help me lift that drifter’s sad remains and we set him some in that box in the bed Mullen sent, but he was not quite in, like a box of matches spilt and scooped and put in the tin but sticking out here and there. So using that hammer I made that old one fit, and I didn’t ask their opinion. I knew they heard the bones crack.

  I nailed the lid loosely so Jimmy could have his look-see and told them to get their hands out of their pockets and take this one’s old dead ass down the road. I was angry to burst for this coffin had surely been made for a woman or child and not a man and if Mullen or my brother had no more sense than that there was no one to blame than their damn dumb selves. And it slammed to me that had I lost that mother in there I would have needed just this box and I was full up sick of this world’s sorrow.