Desert Hearts
Page 14
“Will lose his leg, the surgeon thinks. But otherwise fine, thanks to you.”
Michael shook his head. “I thought he might. His knee was shattered. Poor lad.”
“He’s young and healthy. He’ll adjust.” The colonel poured himself a glass of brandy and offered some to Michael, who shook his head.
“I’d likely fall asleep on ye, sir,” he said with a smile.
“What are your thoughts on the attack, Sergeant?”
“The lad told me there were about twenty in the band, with two women captives. It didn’t sound like it was planned. More like they came upon the wagons and took the opportunity offered them. And their behavior when they came upon the lieutenant suggests the same thing. They lit out as soon as they saw our men, according to Mahoney.”
“And the lieutenant?”
“He had to follow, sir, seeing as how they had captives and were leading an army mule loaded with supplies.”
“Yes, he did,” said the colonel sadly. “He was a good man, Thomas Woolcott, and an expert soldier. A great loss, a great loss,” he murmured, “both to the army and his wife.”
Michael kept his voice even as he asked, “And how is Mrs. Woolcott, sir?”
The colonel shook his head. “My wife has been with her since she received the news. She can’t get her to sleep or even lie down. She hasn’t even cried yet. I believe it is all too sudden for her. You know her story?”
“A little, sir.”
“Thomas Woolcott was the one who rescued her when she was a girl. She depended upon him, I believe, perhaps more than most wives.”
“I have a message for her from her husband, Colonel Gray. It may comfort her a little.”
“You should deliver it yourself, Burke, but get yourself some well-deserved rest and see her in the morning. You did well, Burke. As did Mahoney,” said the colonel with a kind smile. “I promoted him to corporal.”
Michael grinned. “He deserves it, sir. And Lieutenant Woolcott would have approved.”
“I am happy to have the two of you back safely.”
“Thank you, sir.”
* * * *
Michael slept through reveille the next morning and when he finally awoke and saw that the barracks were empty, he groaned.
“ ‘Tis busted to private I’ll be for this,” he said aloud as he got himself washed and dressed.
The mess was almost empty, but he spotted Elwell in the corner and sat down next to him.
“The colonel told the officer of the day to let you sleep, Michael. I see you did. It was bad, I hear.”
“Not for me, for I didn’t even see them.”
“No, but you were with the boy and Mr. Woolcott. I hear he went quickly?”
God bless Mahoney, thought Michael. “He did.”
“Why is it that we lose all the good officers and the ones like Cooper live to old age, ripe like cheese and stinking too, with their own self-importance,” said Elwell bitterly.
“God knows, Josh. Have ye heard anything about Mrs. Woolcott?”
“Only that she is taking it very hard.”
“I am going to call on her,” said Michael, sliding off the bench. “I have a message from her husband.”
“I don’t envy you, Michael. I’d rather face a howling savage than a grieving woman.”
* * * *
Mrs. Gray greeted him warmly when she opened the door and saw him standing there, cap in hand.
“May I speak with Mrs. Woolcott, ma’am?”
“The colonel told me you have a message from her husband?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t know if she’ll even hear you, Sergeant, but come in.”
Michael stood in the parlor, waiting. He could hear Elizabeth pacing back and forth, back and forth, and Mrs. Gray’s soft murmur. After a few minutes, Mrs. Gray led her out.
There is no life in her at all, thought Michael, and his heart ached for her. She stood there, her face white, her eyes wide and staring, and just looked through him.
“There is Sergeant Burke, my dear, as I told you.”
Elizabeth extended her hand as though he were a stranger. “Sergeant Burke, yes, how kind of you to come.”
“If you would sit down, dear, the sergeant could too. He is quite worn out, you know,” said Mrs. Gray, deliberately appealing to Elizabeth’s feeling for another’s need. There was no sense in appealing to her for her own.
“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth perched herself on the sofa and Michael sat next to her.
Mrs. Gray gave a small sigh of relief. It was the first time Elizabeth had sat since receiving the news.
“I will get you both some tea,” she announced and hurried into the kitchen.
“I wanted to express my deepest sympathy, Mrs. Woolcott.”
Elizabeth gave him a quick, polite smile. “Thank you, Sergeant Burke. So very kind of you.”
It was as though they had never met before. As though he’d never danced with her, or argued with her. Or laughed with her over that foolish puppy.
He cleared his throat. “Em, I was with the lieutenant when he died, ma’am.”
A slight shiver went through her.
“It was a quick and easy death, I understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. But the lieutenant was conscious for a short while.” Well, that was the truth, at least. “He gave me a message for you, ma’am. Would you like me to deliver it now, or would you rather wait,” Michael asked gently.
Elizabeth folded her hands together slowly and carefully placed them on her lap. She turned a little to face Michael.
“You may tell me now, Sergeant.”
“Em, the lieutenant asked me to tell you…he said it very strongly, Mrs. Woolcott….” Michael felt his own throat tighten with emotion. He felt that Thomas Woolcott was speaking through him somehow, telling his wife something it was important for her to hear, that he wanted her to hear, although it took almost his last conscious breath to say it. “He said, ‘You made me very happy, Elizabeth, very happy.’ ” Michael’s voice broke as though he were saying his own farewell to a beloved wife.
Elizabeth sat very still. At first Michael thought she hadn’t taken in the words at all, but then she began to shake. A low moan, which seemed to come from the depths of her soul, made Michael reach out to her, but she flinched at his touch. “Oh God, Thomas.” The words were torn from her throat and she was looking down at her hands, clasped so tight that her knuckles went white. Before Michael could stop her, they loosened and flew up, hitting her forehead again and again and then raking her arms with her fingernails. It was as though she were trying to reach the pain, to make herself feel it even more.
“Elizabeth,” said Michael softly, trying to hold her hands still, “ye’ll be hurting yerself.”
“He didn’t deserve to die like that,” she cried out, and hearing her, Mrs. Gray rushed in.
Harsh wracking sobs were being torn out of her. And words. “Oh, Thomas, was I really a good wife to you?”
“Whist, whist,” whispered Michael, putting his arm around her shoulder. “His last words were of how happy you had made him.”
Elizabeth rocked back and forth, tears pouring down her face. Her crying reminded Michael of the keening women at home in Ireland.
Mrs. Gray waved him away and he stood up, letting her take his place. She pulled Elizabeth against her breast and held her like a child. “There, there, dear, let it all out.”
Michael stood there awkwardly and then became conscious of a whining and barking from the back.
“Should I let the dog in, ma’am,” he asked. “He might comfort her a little.”
Mrs. Gray nodded as she went on rocking. Orion almost knocked Michael down in his eagerness to get to his mistress, but once he entered the parlor, he only pressed up against her, crooning low in his throat as he thrust his nose into her hand.
“I’d better go then, Mrs. Gray,” said Michael, feeling terribly awkward. He had no real place here, much as he wanted it.
Mrs
. Gray nodded and he bowed and left.
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth was lost in a pain that was inarticulable. It felt like the only way to release it was through her body: she wanted to beat her head, she wanted to open a vein, she wanted to bite through to her very marrow. Her sobs went so deep that in a few minutes she was retching, though she had eaten nothing since she had heard of Thomas’s death. Losing Thomas meant losing the person who had stood between her and the loss of her family. He had taken their place immediately, before she had had time to grieve for them. Now that he was gone, so were they, all over again. She didn’t think she would live through it.
Mrs. Gray stayed with her, letting her grieve and only holding her back from hurting herself. When at least the worst paroxysms of grief were over, Elizabeth knelt by the sofa, her head against it, her face swollen and her dress soaked with tears. Orion was pressed up against her and for the first time since he had come in she was conscious of his presence and reached out to pull him closer.
“Come, my dear, you are exhausted,” Mrs. Gray said, gently pulling her up. “Let me get you into bed.”
Elizabeth let herself be led into the bedroom. She curled up on the bed and was asleep almost instantly. Mrs. Gray pulled a quilt up over her and, pushing her tangled hair back from her face, murmured, “Poor lamb.”
When she left, she almost tripped over Orion, who had lain down in the bedroom doorway.
“I have some things to do at my own home, Orion. Will you guard your mistress for me?”
Orion gave her a measured look, as though to say, “Don’t worry, she is in good hands with me, ma’am.”
* * * *
Elizabeth slept most of the day away. When she finally awoke, the sun was almost down and the room was in shadows. She lay there for a minute, trying to remember why she felt so exhausted, why she only desired unconsciousness. Then she saw Thomas’s second-best blouse hanging over the chair. His left epaulet had begun to pull off and she had intended to mend that as well as strengthen the buttons. She would never have the chance to do that small wifely duty. She would never be able to do anything for Thomas again.
The tears started again, but this time her grief was easier to handle. This time she cried only for Thomas, not for her family or herself, but for the kind man who had taken a young girl under his protection. Who had never done anything to make her unhappy. “Oh, Thomas,” she whispered brokenly. She was back standing on the porch, watching him turn to give her one last wave. If only she had run after him, if only she had flung herself in his arms and kissed him and said she was sorry for her mood that morning.
She had to use the privy and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours and felt a little dizzy. She almost tripped over Orion.
“I almost stepped on you, you foolish dog,” she said, her voice hoarse from all the crying.
The dog scrambled up and pressed close to her skirt. It almost seemed to her that he was trying to take Thomas’s place as her support. His last puppy mannerisms had dropped away overnight, or so it seemed, and he stood there as calmly and steadily as a grown dog.
When she got back from the privy, Mrs. Gray was just coming in the door, followed by her striker carrying a covered pot.
“I am glad to see you up, my dear.” And looking more yourself, she thought. The blank, trancelike look was gone, thank God.
Elizabeth nodded.
“Private, put the soup in the kitchen and take these rolls and cakes,” said the colonel’s wife, handing him the basket she had been carrying. “Just a little something from the officers’ wives, my dear. Now come, let me help you wash up and we’ll sit down together for a bowl of that soup.”
Elizabeth hadn’t thought she could even look at food, much less taste it, but her appetite surprised her. She finished a bowl of soup, two pieces of corn bread, and felt better.
“Charles and I want you to come and stay with us for a while,” said Mrs. Gray after they had finished.
“Oh, no, I can’t inconvenience you and the colonel like that, Mrs. Gray,” Elizabeth protested. “And I need to get used to being on my own.”
Being on your own is one thing, thought Mrs. Gray. Being homeless is another. Clearly in her grief, Elizabeth had forgotten that army widows gave up their quarters almost immediately. Once a husband died, the wife of any man was out of the army and on her way home as soon as she was able to travel. Except that Elizabeth had no home. A fact Mrs. Gray didn’t want to remind her of.
“Why don’t we talk it over in the morning, then,” was all she said.
Elizabeth agreed.
“You will be all right for tonight, my dear?”
“Yes, Mrs. Gray. You have done so much already. And please thank everyone for the food.”
Elizabeth walked her to the door, her hand resting on Orion’s head. After Mrs. Gray left, she sat down on the sofa. She would often sit here of an evening, doing her mending or knitting while Thomas took the chair opposite and read. She had always felt so comfortable and safe in her marriage. Presumably Thomas had too. She had loved Thomas, of that she had no doubt. She had expressed it in a variety of ways. He must have experienced it, for he had said she had made him happy….
Was that all a good wife did, she wondered. Make a home for her husband. Cook his meals, darn his socks, entertain their friends? Put up with the rigors of army life with grace and humor? She had done all that, so she supposed that made her a good wife.
Shouldn’t there have been something more she was giving him? Surely love shouldn’t have felt so safe, so much a habit? Had she ever risked anything for Thomas? Oh, from a civilian perspective, she supposed it would look as though she risked some danger. But she had relied on him so completely to take care of her that she had hardly been conscious of the dangers.
Had she really made him happy, giving him only a part of herself? The tears started again and the sense of her own shortcomings. If only she could know that what she had given had been enough for him. Had he meant what he had said to Michael Burke? She had to talk with him, had to know exactly how Thomas had looked and sounded his last moments on earth.
She should have been with him. He should have died in his own bed, years from now, with her holding his hand. With her…. She got up suddenly and walked over to the small glass-fronted cabinet where they kept their few pieces of good china and two shelves of books and pulled out Thomas’s Bible. Its leather cover was worn and the pages had lost almost all their gilt edging. She turned to the Psalms and as she read, imagined herself next to her husband, offering the comfort of her hand and heart and the well-known words. As she read them aloud, she thought, surely Thomas would somehow hear her. Please, God, she implored, let my love reach him wherever he is. “Lo, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death….” She could see him walking a dark valley, alone, and she pictured herself running after him, grasping his hand. He looked down and smiled at her and pulled her into his arms. And then he left her. Just before he disappeared, he turned back and smiled, just as he had on that last morning.
She huddled sobbing on the sofa until she had no more tears and then stumbled back to bed.
* * * *
The funeral was two days after Thomas Woolcott had been brought in and everyone wondered whether his widow would attend. Word had spread that Mrs. Woolcott had been sick with grief. But early in the morning, Mrs. Gray led Elizabeth out. She was very pale, and her eyes looked bruised from all her crying, but she nodded to all those who approached her with great dignity and whispered her thank-yous as she received the condolences of the officers and their wives.
The service was mercifully short. When the captain read the Twenty-third Psalm, Elizabeth had to dig her fingers into her hands to keep from crying. She would not start. She would not disgrace Thomas by giving in to her grief.
The funeral procession was also brief, for the small cemetery was right inside the stockade. Thomas’s flag-covered coffin was carried on
a caisson and the colonel and his wife and Elizabeth followed behind. Thomas’s company brought up the rear and many of the men had tears in their eyes as they saw his coffin lowered.
Michael’s eyes were dry, but his heart was aching for Elizabeth. She looked so small and alone as she stepped forward to toss a handful of red dirt on the coffin. God bless the Grays, he thought as the colonel’s wife put an arm around her waist and led her away.
There was food and drink for the officers and noncommissioned officers back at the colonel’s quarters, and Michael intended to pay his respects quickly and then leave.
Captain Taggert and Lieutenant Cooper came up the stairs behind him and he heard Cooper mutter something about the “damned mick.” His face burned but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of acknowledging the insult.
“I am glad you came, Sergeant Burke,” said Mrs. Gray, greeting him warmly. “Mrs. Woolcott especially wanted to speak with you.” Mrs. Gray’s voice became chillier and more formal as she turned to greet Captain Taggert and Mr. Cooper. “So good of you to come. Please help yourself to some refreshments.”
‘Twas a strange, cold thing, this reception, thought Michael as he nodded and chatted and filled himself a plate. Elizabeth was surrounded and he stood off to the side, observing the ritual. Back home, before the famine, there would have been some life in the room. Someone would have toasted the dead man and someone else told at least one funny story about him. There was nothing in this gathering to bring Thomas back to life in their hearts and no stories to pass down to keep him in their memories.
Cooper was hovering around Elizabeth as though he had some special right to be there. Michael had to admit that the man looked genuinely sympathetic, but he wanted to knock him down anyway. But then the colonel called Cooper over and people drifted away and Elizabeth was left alone for a moment.
I’ll just be goin’ over and offerin’ my sympathy and then I’ll be out of here, thought Michael as he approached her.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am, Mrs. Woolcott,” he said formally.
She looked up at him and this time he could tell she saw him, because her face softened and her eyes filled.