Honor Before Heart

by Heather McCorkle

  Inclining her head, she gazed at him through a curtain of her golden hair. His breath drew in sharply and his eyelids fluttered. She accepted his arm and stepped from the tent.

  “We shall indeed.”

  Behind them, the candlelight extinguished, plunging them into the soft glow of twilight. A tail thumped against Ashlinn’s leg as Cliste jogged past to take up the lead. Abigail’s soft footsteps followed behind far enough back to give them a bit of privacy, but close enough to be a proper escort. As they walked, they exchanged pleasantries about the weather, news they had heard from New York from various people about anything that didn’t have to do with the war. Such conversation had become a bit of a routine of theirs, a way to feel normal amidst so much abnormality. Occasionally a soldier called out a greeting to them, but for the most part, they passed through the camp unnoticed.

  Shortly after they left the encampment behind, Abigail dropped back a bit farther. Ashlinn turned her head away from Sean to hide a smile. She would have to thank the woman for that later. To her delight, Sean pulled her in closer until their sides touched. Both the heat of his body and the heat its nearness arose in her chased away the chill of the October evening. Ahead of them and to the right stretched an orange and red sky that glowed with the false promise of warmth. Still only a pale ghost in the slowly darkening blue sky, the full moon hovered near the opposite horizon as if awaiting its turn for dominion.

  Ashlinn’s gaze went from the sunset to the encampment and back out to the moon. “I do not believe I have been this direction before.”

  “Aye, you have not.” The mysterious tone of his voice made Ashlinn wish she could see his face better in the lengthening shadows.

  The edge of the forest approached and each step closer it seemed to grow darker and darker. “Is it safe so far from camp?” she whispered.

  His free hand came to rest atop hers, the rough feel of his palm against the back of her hand sending shivers up her arm. She had purposefully not worn gloves in hopes that he would touch her like this. The feel of his calluses, most of which were formed from years of holding a violin and a bow, stirred her in a way she couldn’t explain.

  “No worries, I shall always keep you safe,” he said, voice low enough to feel like a caress all on its own.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked, partly because she wanted to touch him more and partly because his words made the world sway. “Are you takin’ me somewhere special?”

  A soft “hmm” of pleasure vibrated through him. She smiled, knowing her lack of careful etiquette in allowing her accent to come through had caused it. The fact that he loved it when she showed her heritage touched her as deeply as his kisses did. Deeper, even.

  “I am. But I have a confession to make. We won’t be alone.”

  The smile melted from her face and she lifted her head from his shoulder to fix him with a hard look. “Why, Sean MacBranain, are you leadin’ me on?” she teased.

  Eyes widening, he shook his head. “Oh no. I would love nothin’ more than to spend this evenin’ with you, alone.” He leaned close to whisper the last word in her ear.

  Shivers raced from the sensitive skin of her lobe all the way to her core. Continuing to walk, he straightened and returned his focus to the forest they were about to step into. “But, I have a feelin’ you may enjoy this nearly as much.”

  She glanced back to make sure Abigail was far enough back to be out of hearing range before she whispered to him, “I doubt that.”

  His deep laugh sent shivers dancing across her skin. “I will take that as a compliment.”

  Curiosity piqued, she paid special attention to their surroundings. The darkness of the forest wrapped around them like a cloak seeking to hide them from the rising moon. Air crisp enough to be refreshing but cool enough to portend the changing season filled her lungs with the taste of pine and alder. They walked through the trees for some time, fallen leaves crunching beneath their feet. Well, hers at least. Somehow, Sean seemed to avoid making any sound at all as he moved. It was a soldier’s skill that she could mimic when she had to but couldn’t do it unconsciously like he did.

  Up ahead she began to notice a soft glow that was definitely not moonlight. For one, its yellow hue suggested a low fire or candlelight. The most convincing reason was that it emanated from about waist high. Cliste bound straight for it and shadows soon swallowed her. For a moment, she had hoped he had been referring to only Abigail when he said they wouldn’t be alone, but then she heard voices. They were soft as if the people were whispering, and from the din, she guessed at maybe fifteen people, possibly more.

  “Sean, what…” Her voice trailed off as the trees parted.

  Gathered in a small clearing, seated on stumps and logs, were eighteen people, both men and women, white and Negro. Several of the men wore bandages. In the center of the group was a small fire over which sat a cauldron. An ebony-skinned man rose and hobbled over to them, leaning heavily upon a walking stick. The bandage around his leg was dark with blood.

  “Thank ya for comin’, Sergeant MacBranain and Miss O’Brian,” he said in a deep voice filled with pain.

  “You’re most welcome, Jedidiah.” Sean motioned to those gathered, then looked at Ashlinn. “After hearin’ the stories of all you’ve done for the soldiers, these fine folk would like to learn your methods.”

  Ashlinn could hardly believe his words, even as she looked at the eager faces gazing at her from around the fire. “You…you want me to teach you?”

  Surely that couldn’t be what he meant. Her methods were frowned upon by nearly all the medical people she knew, and definitely by all of the doctors serving in the war.

  White flashed as Jedidiah grinned. “Very much so, ma’am. If ya will have us as students.”

  Abigail stepped around from behind them to join the group, one shoulder ducking under Jedidiah’s to help hold him up. The way her big brown eyes looked anywhere but at Ashlinn made her think the woman had more than a little to do with this.

  “You all know what the doctors say about my methods, do you not?” Ashlinn asked.

  The group exchanged glances, each falling at last on Jedidiah and Abigail. Jedidiah nodded to Abigail and it was she who spoke, finally meeting Ashlinn’s gaze.

  “They do, ma’am. But they also know dat ya patients survive, and many of dem do not lose der limbs. Ya way is better. We all know dat.”

  An amazing feeling began to spread out from her chest. These people wanted to learn from her. Never had she imagined anyone would acknowledge her medical skills, let alone ask her to teach them. Her ways—her father’s ways—were patterned after forward-thinking doctors in Europe, men ahead of their time. People in the medical profession in America had yet to embrace practices so foreign to them. Yet here these people were asking her to teach them. Sure, they were nurses and soldiers, most of them freed slaves, but the situation was no less miraculous to her because of that small fact.

  Eyes brimming with the power of her emotions, she looked up at Sean. Respect for her was etched all over his face. The last bit of the icy wall she kept around her heart melted upon seeing it. Suddenly he was no longer just a handsome man that she cared about; he was someone special and precious. A heavy breath rattled through her as she turned her attention back to the gathered crowd and nodded toward Jedidiah.

  “You have wounded, I assume?”

  Abigail smiled, eyes full of pride, pride in Ashlinn. Damn if these people weren’t bound to make her cry tonight.

  “We do, ma’am.” Abigail helped Jedidiah ease down onto a blanket that spread out near the fire.

  Casting Sean a smile that she hoped held all the promise of things she would say to him later, she started toward the group. “I see that you have begun to boil water, good. Clean hands and instruments are the first key to avoiding infection.”

  She gathered her skirts up in one hand and knelt beside Jedidiah on the blanket, wishing Sean had at least
given her a clue about the nature of the night’s outing so she could have worn breeches. Then again, if he had, she wasn’t sure she would have come for fear of not living up to these people’s expectations. But, since she was here…

  “When were you wounded, Jedidiah?”

  The big man grimaced as she moved aside the tattered edges of his pant leg. “Earlier this mornin’, ma’am. Stepped on somethin’ durin’ picket duty that exploded.”

  Chills raced through Ashlinn. Had the Rebels come up with some new barbaric weapon that didn’t even require them to be in the area? This war was truly was turning men into monsters. Shaking the thought off, she returned her focus to the task at hand.

  “Bring a few of those candles closer and fetch me some of that water.”

  People rushed to do as she asked and soon candlelight poured over her and Jedidiah. After peeling away what remained of the man’s pant leg, she drew in a deep breath and set to washing her hands. Multiple lacerations tore upward through his calf and shin, many deep enough to see muscle, one deep enough to see bone. She was going to need a lot of stitching material.

  “Can ya save it, Doc?” Jedidiah whispered.

  Realizing she had been quiet for some time as she planned her approach, she looked at Jedidiah and smiled. “Quite possibly. Many of these scars won’t be pretty, but we can likely save your leg so long as we clean it out proper now and you keep it clean while ’tis healin’.”

  Moisture glistened in Jedidiah’s eyes before he bowed his head. “Thank ya, missus doc, thank ya so much.” The emotions in his thick voice choked Ashlinn up.

  She had to swallow hard and look at his wound again to force her mind back to a medical state. Holding her hands out for Abigail to pour water that was just short of scalding over them, she began to lecture those gathered on the importance of cleaning wounds, hands, and instruments. Many knelt around her and Jedidiah in a circle, their eyes following her every move. As she talked she glanced at Sean who had seated himself upon a log in the shadows beside the fire. The pride shining in his eyes humbled her and lifted her up at the same time. That combined with what Jedidiah had said put her in an almost euphoric state that she had never even imagined possible. Doctor. The man had called her “doctor.”

  Chapter 19

  The late-night lessons continued once a week, sometimes more often when the nurses brought a special case for Ashlinn to treat. Watching her teach brought him a measure of peace and joy he hadn’t even realized had been missing in his life. She was so good at it, attentive to her pupils and instructive in the most positive way.

  It was becoming difficult to find the supplies she needed. Taylor horded laudanum and opium for use on officers and those he deemed worthy, and he suspected the man was hiding iodine simply because he knew Ashlinn wanted it. At least he seemed to be backing off and avoiding her for the most part. But then, Sean’s frequent visits likely had a lot to do with that.

  Throughout October and into November their subtle courtship continued with long walks, visits by a communal fire, and the occasional concert he and his men put on. While she still pushed the limits of his sense of honor with her delicious kisses and suggestive caresses, that was different now. She was often content to sit and talk long into the night, or just listen to him play his violin.

  Then, on November 5th, the order to march came once again. The 69th brigade and their medical personnel packed up and left Bolivar Heights behind. With all the good memories he and Ashlinn had made, he was sad to leave but glad to be on the move again. At least then it felt like they were doing something. He wanted this war won and over with so the two of them could get back to New York and begin a real courtship. The days ticked by into weeks as they marched through the cold rain to Warrenton, then to Rectortown, and on through Manassas Gap. Only the outer edges of the regiment encountered resistance, and even then the skirmishes were few and far between. Sean did his best to visit Ashlinn every night after he had checked to ensure his men were settled, but more than once he collapsed into his tent from exhaustion without seeing her. Most of those nights Cliste had come to him so he at least had been able to send Ashlinn a letter.

  Finally, twelve days later, they stopped and prepared to set up a more permanent camp in Falmouth, Virginia. Though his feet ached and his muscles struggled to hold him upright, Sean saw to his men. Many shivered in their wet, woolen coats, cold fingers fumbling with tent strings and poles. After gaining his lieutenant’s approval, Sean picked out five of the men who looked as though they could remain upright the longest and sent them to gather wood from a nearby area. As they turned to leave, he took the canvas tent from a soldier’s hands that shook so badly he was about to drop it anyway.

  “Why don’t you have a seat while I get this for you, Johnny?” he said with a smile.

  Nodding, Johnny sank down onto his knapsack and laid his rifle across his knees. Elbows resting just behind the weapon, his head drooped and soft snores sounded from him before Sean had even laid out the tent. By the time Corporal Fergusson—recently promoted thanks to Sean’s recommendation—returned with the group gathering the firewood, he had helped erect over twenty tents. Before darkness could fall, they had two fires blazing. Warming his hands by the flames for a brief moment, Sean watched the rest of the brigade begin to cover the countryside like ants.

  “Feels like we’ve walked the whole of Virginia durin’ this blasted war. Not exactly how I wanted to see America,” Fergusson said from across the fire, where he sat with his feet propped toward the flames.

  “For certain. Is that what you’ll be doin’ after the war? Seein’ the country?” Sean asked.

  Fergusson nodded. “Figured I might as well. How ’bout you? Plannin’ to settle down after?”

  Sean fought the smile that tried to form. As he opened his mouth to respond a figure approaching behind Fergusson drew his eye and held his tongue. Followed by a retinue of nurses that paused to check each soldier they came across, Ashlinn strode with an ease that suggested she hadn’t been marching all day. But Sean knew she had; she just hid her exhaustion well so no one would suggest she see to her own needs first. Giving him a smile that was genuine but not quite as big as normal, she stopped at Fergusson.

  She walked around the corporal’s side, ensuring he saw her before she placed a hand on his shoulder. Sean loved how sensitive she was to a soldier’s quirks like that.

  “How are your feet?” she asked.

  “Right as rain,” he said through a smile so big it could be seen through his bushy mustache.

  The man was in worse need of a shave than Sean was. But then, Fergusson always wore at least a few days’ shadow. The thought made him run a hand over his own bristly face and grimace.

  Ashlinn dropped her bag and put a hand on one shapely hip. “I am not a lass with some weak constitution that you need to protect. The truth, out with it.”

  Smile falling into a look of shame, Fergusson let out a long sigh. “They hurt, but I’ll live, Doc.”

  For a moment, the weariness dragging down Ashlinn’s eyelids banished and Sean caught a glimpse of her blue eyes widening, filling with tenderness. Since she had begun teaching the other nurses back at Bolivar Heights, many of the soldiers had taken to calling her doc, and it never ceased to elicit a reaction from her. She hid it well, but Sean always saw it.

  “Let’s have a look then,” Ashlinn said, just a trace of the tenderness from her eyes entering her voice.

  She pulled over a log and sat near his feet.

  As he erected a cooking pot over the fire, Sean watched them, fighting the urge to laugh at the defeated look on Fergusson’s face. It wasn’t so much that the man was trying to be tough and impress Ashlinn. Like himself, Fergusson wished for their men to be seen to first. The rare trait was part of why Sean was so fond of the corporal.

  Grumbling about how fine he felt, Fergusson slowly unlaced and removed his boots. His socks came off much slower, sticking to his skin and making a
horrible peeling sound that suggested blood might be involved. Bright red blood and the broken skin of raised blisters confirmed it. Not even cringing, Ashlinn opened her bag, removed a bottle, and took one of his feet in her hands.

  “This is going to hurt,” she warned a moment before she began pouring it over his wounds, catching the excess with a clean cloth.

  Crying out, Fergusson flinched. “Bloody hell!”

  “I warned you.”

  Was that humor in her tone? Sean grinned.

  “You didn’t say it would be like pourin’ fire over my feet.” Fergusson sounded like a young boy again.

  “Aye, well, I thought you might be a bit tougher,” Ashlinn said in all seriousness, but Sean could see the smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

  She continued to clean his blisters as she talked, effectively distracting him from the pain. When she finished, she handed him a small jar of ointment.

  “Put this on the wounds and stay off your feet for as long as you can. When you must walk, wrap the wounds in this.” She handed him a clean cloth. “’Tis clean, and it needs to stay that way. Let nothing that has not been boiled and dried touch your feet for at least a day. Anything else could introduce things into the wound that could cause infection.”

  She rose and placed his heels upon the log she vacated.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The look he gave her must not have been very convincing because she turned to Sean with a hand on her hip. “You see that he does as instructed.”

  Sean hid his grin behind a stern look. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see that he follows your instructions to the letter.” He walked around the growing fire and offered Ashlinn his arm. “I shall show you to the worst off of the men if you’d like.”

  Both hands going to his arm in an intimate touch of skin on skin, she smiled while he tried to swallow his rising desire. True, it was only her palms on his arm, but even that touch made him light-headed. “Thank you, Sergeant MacBranain, but you have work here to do. The other nurses and I can manage.”