Beyond All Price

by Carolyn Poling Schriber

  “First, I didn’t go out and purchase the dress. I am a seamstress by trade. I was making this set of widow’s weeds for a customer who believed her husband was at death’s door. Unfortunately, she died before he did, leaving me with an unpaid-for but perfectly serviceable gown. I could not afford not to put it to good use. As for my marital status, I’m not sure you would want to hear the whole sordid story.”

  “Oh, but I must. I am not accustomed to making decisions before I am in full possession of the facts. Continue, please.”

  Nellie sighed and tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. She was obviously struggling with her emotions. “I eloped. The young man was a glorious musician who came to my hometown in Maine for a concert series. He could make his horn laugh and cry, and he beguiled every audience. He was handsome and charming, and I was angry with my father and my whole family, for that matter. I have four brothers, two older and two younger. Sometimes it was hard being the only girl. When my handsome musician asked me to run away with him to his home in Bangor, I never hesitated. Certainly I was too young and stupid to think of the consequences. I was imagining a whole new family, wedding vows, and a cottage with a white picket fence.

  “That fantasy didn’t last long. He took me with him to his home town, but there was no family home there, only a sister who refused him entrance into her residence. He lived in a boarding house, where the landlady had no room for me. He provided for my keep by finding me a position as a seamstress in a wealthy family’s home. Otis informed me he didn’t believe in church services, but we didn’t need a wedding anyway because we were already . . . I think the term he used was ‘hand-fasted’. He said I could call myself Mrs. Leath if I chose, but I shouldn’t expect him to make a public spectacle of himself or our relationship.”

  “I’ve heard of hand-fasting, but I thought the custom died out many years ago,” the colonel offered. “You could have returned home, couldn’t you?”

  “No. My father would never have forgiven me. Oh, he would have taken me back in—good Christian man that he pretends to be. But I would have been a virtual prisoner. I would never have been able to escape from him again. And I needed to be far away from him before he. . . .”

  The colonel frowned. It was obvious there was more to the story, but he hesitated to probe more deeply into what was clearly a festering wound. Instead he simply waited for the young woman to regain control and continue.

  Nellie swallowed hard and blinked to dispel the unwelcome tears that threatened. “There was more. I soon learned that while my so-called husband made a bit of a living by playing his horn in saloons, his real purpose was to break into the card games that went on there. He was a drunkard and a gambler who cheated every time he could get away with it. When he lost at poker or faro, as he invariably did, he settled his debts by stealing something or passing off a forged deed to a piece of property. We were soon on the run, leaving one town after another, often in the middle of the night and almost always a few steps ahead of the local sheriff.”

  “Which is how you got to Pittsburgh?”

  “Yes, eventually. We arrived last winter. But by then I had pulled myself together and decided to take charge of my life. I didn’t want to go hand-in-hand to prison with Otis, even if he did claim we were ‘hand-fasted’. I took the advice of a kindly woman who befriended me for a few weeks while we were still in Bangor. She had hired me to work in her tavern in exchange for a small room upstairs. She saw my husband come home drunk night after night and warned me I needed to find a way to support myself.”

  “And you did that, how?”

  Nellie smiled ruefully. “Well, my stint as a seamstress had given me some valuable experience. All I lacked were the tools with which to ply my trade. I began taking small amounts of money out of Otis’s pockets when he came home drunk. He never noticed because he never remembered how much he had.”

  “So, you are a thief, too!”

  “No. No. I told myself it was simply a housekeeping allowance, one I was entitled to, even if I was only an ersatz wife. I used the money to put a small down payment on a sewing machine and set myself up as a dressmaker.”

  “Wait. A payment on a what?”

  “Have you not seen the new sewing machine? I suppose not. A gentleman such as yourself would not need such a device. Oh, but they are wonderful time-savers. Not only can I now make a dress in a matter of hours rather than days, the manufacturer allowed me to pay a small amount every week rather than the entire $50.00 at once. I could use the machine to make the money I needed to pay for it.”

  Nellie’s face had brightened with enthusiasm as she spoke, but the smile soon faded. “Besides, my hateful husband didn’t care what I was doing, so long as I met his needs and didn’t pester him about mine. When he was ready to move on, I made a daring suggestion. I had taken a position as wardrobe mistress for a local theater, and I convinced him it would be better if I stayed here in Pittsburgh and saved some money while he went on to the next town.”

  “Thus the separation.”

  “You know, I don’t think I would have put it in those terms when he first left. I planned to rejoin him eventually, although the time away from him came as a relief. I did have to move into a small room in a tenement down by the river, and I was often afraid in that neighborhood. But I was also learning to stand on my feet and growing a backbone, perhaps.”

  Colonel Leasure gave her an appraising look. “A strong one at that,” he thought to himself, observing her comfortable but erect posture.

  “Then, when Colonel Campbell started to recruit men for the Twelfth Regiment back in April, I saw a chance to escape my past and serve my country at the same time. I asked him to take me on as a nurse for a three-month enlistment, and he agreed. It was a period of learning and renewal for me, and I was sorry to see the regiment disbanded. I returned to Pittsburgh with regret, particularly when Otis immediately learned of my whereabouts and tried to renew our relationship.

  “I received a letter from my so-called husband, ordering me to join him at once in Cincinnati. He has purchased some property after a fortuitous winning streak at the gambling tables and is busy turning the house into a brothel. He said it was a sure money-maker because of all the lonely young soldiers who passed through that town. He wanted me there with him to serve as the the madame of the establishment.” Nellie blushed and rose to her feet to cover her embarrassment.

  “Oh.” The colonel had no idea how to respond.

  “I didn’t even consider going, of course. I wrote him a scathing letter, telling him my position in life had been in decline ever since I met him, but I would not allow him to drag me down any further. I reminded him we were not legally married and told him never to contact me again.” She was pacing, now, in her agitation. “I couldn’t believe his attitude. In the face of this terrible war, he was so shallow that all he could think of was a way to make money from it!”

  She turned and faced the colonel. “That’s why I’m here. I would like to be the kind of woman who keeps the home fires burning for her patriot husband. But since he is such a greedy coward, I must assume his responsibilities. Perhaps by accompanying your regiment, I can somehow atone for his failings.” It was a noble speech, but one that sounded terribly rehearsed, even to Nellie.

  “I still don’t know how you found the Roundheads,” the colonel said. “My regiment is newly formed and not even christened with an official number.”

  “A customer mentioned it to me. I delivered a dress I was making to a Miss Witherow and found her all a-twitter over a visit from a distant cousin. His name was Robert something. Moffatt, maybe? In any event, he had arrived in Pittsburgh and had been given a pass to visit his mother’s relatives. He told the family all about his new regiment—how it was formed by Scotch-Irish Presbyterians who had settled in western Pennsylvania—and how they were nicknamed ‘Roundheads’ in honor of their ancestors who fought on the side of Cromwell during the English Civil War.

  “Miss
Witherow intended to return his visit today to bring him a hymnbook. I begged her to allow me to accompany her, although I didn’t tell her why. It seemed to me a group of fighting men who claimed descent from the Covenanters would be decent, God-fearing souls, men with whom I could feel safe.”

  “Cromwell? Covenanters? Do you really know about such things, or are you trying to impress me?”

  “You underestimate me, Sir. I am well-educated, I assure you, even if I have been exposed to the dregs of our society in recent times. I became a teacher after I finished school, although my family made mockery of my employment. My oldest brother, Isaac, used to grumble I would end up as a know-it-all spinster schoolmarm, relying on him and the rest of my family for support all my life. I ran away from home and my teaching position. Now I’m trying to find a new purpose for my life, one that will involve some other type of service to others. I’m hoping this war may offer such opportunities, if you allow me to accompany your troops.”

  “I can’t pay you, you know. The army has no arrangements even to pay our soldiers. A woman volunteer will be unpaid help.”

  “I need only a place to sleep, a bit to eat, and a useful task that will help me regain my self-respect. I will not demand remuneration beyond that.”

  Colonel Leasure frowned with hesitation. “We don’t know how soon we will be shipped out. Surely you would need time to settle your affairs.”

  Nellie shook her head. “I pay for my meager room by the night. The theater where I was once employed is closed for the season. The manager there helped me finish paying for my sewing machine, so technically it belongs to him and can be left there. My other belongings will fit into a small hand satchel. I can be ready to ship out, as you put it, by morning.”

  “Ah, but tomorrow is Sunday” Col. Leasure was still hesitant. “Surely you will want to attend your church services. I wouldn’t want to think the Roundheads took on a matron who failed in her Christian duties.”

  “Do you intent to go to church tomorrow, Sir?”

  “Certainly. Our boys are marching to the nearby Presbyterian Church for services.”

  “Then I will be here early to attend those services with them.”

  Colonel Leasure knew when he was beaten. “Thank you, Mrs. Leath. We will look forward to having you join us. Private Stevenson?” The speed with which the soldier responded left little doubt he had been eavesdropping. “Will you escort Mrs. Leath to wherever Robert Moffatt is entertaining his young cousin, so she can make her way home to fetch her belongings?”

  Hardly had Nellie cleared the flap when Geordy burst into the tent. “Father,” he exclaimed, forgetting his new military demeanor. “Did you invite that woman to join the regiment? Whatever will Mother say? What is she to do? I can’t believe you really hired her.”

  “I did, Geordy. I am the commander of the regiment, as I recall. I hadn’t planned on having a woman accompany us, but I think she’ll prove to be invaluable.”

  “Yes, but where is she to stay?”

  “That is your task, young Aide-de-Camp. Go see if you can round up an extra tent, and pitch it somewhere near here, so the staff officers can keep an eye on it. She’ll need a cot, a camp stool, a writing desk of some sort, and a chamber pot, I suppose. We’ll wait until she returns to determine her other needs. Come. Get on with it, Son.”

  “But, Father, she’s awfully young.”

  “Yes, she is. But she has the oldest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  ggg

  2

  The Old Camp Grounds

  Nellie examined the ties that were meant to fasten the flaps of her new tent, and then shook her head as she imagined the neat little bow she would create. Not much of a lock, she thought. But then I’m no longer living in a criminal-infested tenement, either.

  She turned slowly and looked around. Lieutenant Geordy Leasure had done a commendable job of procuring her new military lodgings. Her box tent was shaped much like a little house, with side walls about four feet high and topped with a sloping roof that rose to ten feet in the middle. Its floor dimensions of ten by twelve feet made it by far the largest room she had occupied since running away from her Maine farmhouse two years ago. On the floor, a thick layer of straw protected her skirts from the dirt beneath. Geordy had provided what looked like a sturdy cot, with a clean pillow and blanket. At its foot sat a small empty trunk, presumably for her meager belongings. Along the other wall, he had arranged a couple of packing boxes with boards laid across them to form a rudimentary table. A marvelous folding chair offered both a back and arms for her comfort, along with a camp stool for guests or patients. On the table itself were other items arranged for her use—two tin cups, a metal plate and folding eating utensils, a container with a hinged lid for transporting food from the officer’s mess, and most welcome of all, a candlestick with extra candles and a box of matches.

  Nellie swallowed hard. This is home, now, my girl. Buck up and settle in. She walked to the cot and stared down at it for several seconds, but somehow she could not bring herself to sit down on it. She reacted similarly when she approached the camp chair. Finally she perched on the little stool, feeling herself tensed and poised to flee. Something close to panic seemed to close her throat. Dear Lord, what have I done? I have no medical training. I’m the only woman in this whole regiment, and I can’t possibly deal with the duties expected of me. I should leave now, she thought, before anyone comes to depend on me. But I have nowhere else to go.

  She closed her eyes in despair, as images of the day she had spent swirled behind her lids—the officers in their uniforms, staring at her in disapproval; the young recruits with frank curiosity in their glances; the sea of tents that threatened to swamp the old fairgrounds; the smoke of dozens of campfires; the noise and bustle of supply wagons moving through the camp; the bark of someone calling cadence from the distant drill field; the smell of burning coffee mingling with the rancid odor of hundreds of unwashed bodies.

  As she had approached Camp Wilkins that morning, she ran straight into Colonel Leasure, leading what appeared to be an entire army of men down the road. “Mrs. Leath. True to your word, I see. Come, we are headed to church.”

  The church in question was a small whitewashed building, with plain windows but a tall spire pointing to the sky. It was surrounded by a large cemetery and what appeared to be a picnic grounds. The pastor in his severe black suit and clerical collar came out onto the steps of the church to welcome this near invasion. Members of the congregation clustered behind him, craning their necks to see what was happening. Young women jostled each other to reach the front of the crowd and get a good look at this unexpected supply of eligible young men.

  “Welcome to our fellowship,” said Reverend William Sterling, stepping down to shake the colonel’s hand. “I’m afraid we have only a small sanctuary, but we’ll hold our service out here so all of your fine young soldiers may participate.” Several men carried a sturdy picnic table to the foot of the church steps, and from its top, the pastor led a simple service of Bible-reading and hymns. He preached a rousing sermon based on the story of the walls of Jericho that came tumbling down when the forces of righteousness approached them. The implications were not lost on the pious young Roundheads, and they cheered his efforts when he finished. Nellie, too, had been buoyed up by the enthusiasm and religious fervor of the crowd and felt herself smiling in a way she had not done for a long time.

  Now, sitting alone in her tent, that feeling faded as her recollections drifted on to the meal she had been served in the officers’ mess tent. The food had been plentiful but typical of army fare—beef stewed with dried vegetables, beans cooked in molasses, potatoes fried with onions, vats of coffee, and a cracker the soldiers called hardtack. Nellie recognized the hard little squares as the pilot crackers New England fishermen survived on at sea. But when she tried to explain the similarity, she realized no one really expected her to join the conversation. Cowed by their frowning reactions, she had withdrawn, nibbling at the tough b
eef and keeping her eyes on her plate.

  After dinner, Colonel Leasure sent Private Stevenson to usher her around the camp and introduce her to the men. Her reception was less than welcoming. Doctor Ferdinand Gross, the regimental surgeon, was particularly hostile. He greeted her perfunctorily at the entrance to his tent and began to hurl questions at her. What did she know of medicine? Had she any training? No? Any experience? Not much! What did she expect to be able to do? Nellie stammered to answer his questions but could not get the words out before he hit her with another inquiry.