After a moment, he said, “It’s a good chance it’s him. When a family doesn’t hear from a soldier for a long time, he’s either dead or deserted. The first of which means the family will usually receive an official notification letter. Even the ones who are hurt the worst can dictate letters to the nurses and volunteers.”
His words made a shiver run up Elise’s back.
As they came down to the edge of the lake, Gettler popped up from a bush. “Stop right there. Are ye armed?”
“I’m Dr. George Harvey,” Uncle George called out, “chief medical officer for the Fifty-Fourth Ohio Volunteers.”
Gettler came forward. He dropped all caution, lowered his musket, and reached out to shake Uncle George’s hand. “Glad to meet you, Doc. I’m Private James Gettler. Leastwise I was a private. I ain’t sure what I am now. Foller me. I’ll take you around to camp.”
Duffy wasn’t quite as trusting as Gettler, but even he seemed relieved to have help arrive. As Uncle George dismounted, Gettler introduced him to Sergeant Duffield. Then Uncle George said, “I understand a boy here is ill.”
Duffy waved toward one of the tents. “He’s just a kid.”
“Most of them are,” Uncle George said. He untied his bag from Sierra and ducked as he entered the tent.
Gettler came over to Elise. “Shore don’t know how to thank ye, little missy. That bread and cheese was mighty tasty.”
“I’m pleased to help,” she answered.
Just then, Uncle George came out from the tent. “Elise,” he said, “could you come here?”
Elise knew she had no stomach for sickbeds or sick people in them. She hoped he wasn’t expecting her help. When she came to his side, he said, “This is Alexander Boyd, Elise. He’s inconsolable. He knows he’s going to die, and he’s begging to see his mother and sister.”
CHAPTER 12
Sad Reunion
The reality of her uncle’s words hit Elise hard. She knew how desperately Mrs. Boyd had waited for word of her son during the past months. And now here he was, only a few miles away from her, dying. Hot tears burned Elise’s eyes. “What can we do?”
“Come and talk to him for a moment. Then we’ll see about talking reason to these men.”
Everything inside Elise wanted to run away. She forced herself to follow her uncle inside the small tent. On a pallet on the ground lay a handsome young man. The dark hair lying across his forehead made his face seem even paler than it was.
Uncle George motioned her to go to the boy. “Hello, Alexander,” she said, kneeling down beside him. “I’m Elise Brannon. I’m friends with your mother and sister. They live in my aunt’s boardinghouse.” She motioned to Uncle George. “In Uncle George’s house, actually.”
Alexander managed a smile. “You wrote the play,” he said with effort.
“Yes. Verly and I wrote a funny play and put it on.” “She wrote me about it.” He coughed a little then. “I didn’t want Mama to know I was here. Didn’t want her to know I ran scared, but now I don’t care. I’m gonna die anyhow. But I’d sure like to see her and little Verly.” He reached out his hand and took hold of Elise’s arm. “Bring them here, will you? Please?”
The look in his eyes broke her heart. “I’ll get them both here. I promise.”
His hand dropped. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.” Then he said weakly, “Tell Mama I’m real sorry.”
When they were back outside the tent, Uncle George said, “Thank you, Elise. The boy needs something to help him hang on until they get here.”
“But the sergeant won’t let us bring anyone. What’ll we do?”
“Leave that to me.”
Elise watched as Uncle George talked to the men. He almost seemed like his old self again. Using his gentle persuasion and promising to stay with them through the night, he convinced them to let Elise go back to town to fetch Mrs. Boyd and Verly.
Duffy at first was dead set against it, but the others countered him. “We can skedaddle right out of here, soon as the wimmen-folk are gone,” Gettler said. “I feel bad enough beings I’m a deserter. But I’d feel a might sight worse iffen I didn’t let that boy see his own mama when she’s so close.”
Elise was relieved when they finally agreed, but she was greatly disturbed that she should be the one to bear the awful news. She had been so sure it would be Uncle George who would tell the Boyds about Alexander.
As Elise mounted Dusty, Uncle George said to her, “Tell Mrs. Boyd to rent a buggy at the livery stable and come as quickly as possible.”
“A buggy can get through iffen she comes in thataway.” Gettler pointed out away from the lake in a westerly direction. “When I hear you comin’, I’ll go up to the road to direct you.”
Elise nodded. “I’ll hurry.”
As Elise turned her horse to head out, Duffy spoke up. “Don’t think about double-crossing us, little girl. Or you’ll be mighty sorry.” “I have no plan to,” she assured him.
All the way back into town, Elise rehearsed how she would tell Mrs. Boyd the news, but she could think of no easy way to tell her. When Elise approached the house, Verly was on the front porch with sewing in her lap. As soon as she saw Elise, Verly got up to disappear into the house.
“Verly,” Elise called out, riding Dusty right up to the porch, “don’t go.”
“I don’t care to stay in the presence of the likes of you,” she snapped.
“Verly, go get your mama, quickly. It’s an emergency!” “Well,” Verly huffed, “what if she doesn’t want to talk to you?” Elise let out a deep sigh. As calmly as she could, she said, “It’s time to put down your anger, Verly. This has to do with Alexander.” Verly’s blue eyes narrowed. “Are you playing a trick on me?” “It’s no trick. Please hurry.”
Verly dropped her sewing in the chair and ran inside. Soon Mrs. Boyd came out the front door, ashen-faced. “What is it, Elise? What about Alexander?”
“Dr. Harvey is with him right now. He’s with a band of deserters….”
Mrs. Boyd grabbed the porch post to steady herself. “No!” “You’re lying!” Verly said. “Alexander wouldn’t.” “Verly, hush,” her mother said sharply.
“Alexander’s gravely ill. Dr. Harvey says you’re to rent a buggy and come quickly. Quickly,” she repeated. “The fastest way is for you to ride behind me to the livery.”
“I’ll get my cloak and bag.”
“I’m coming, too,” Verly said.
“We can come back and get you,” Elise said.
When Mrs. Boyd came back out, Aunt Ella followed. “Your uncle is helping a band of deserters?” she asked Elise.
“That’s right, Aunt Ella. But please keep it quiet. They’re frightened, desperate men.”
“Bless you, Elise,” Aunt Ella told her. “You seem to be helping a number of people these days.”
Mrs. Boyd wasn’t accustomed to riding, but Elise brought Dusty close to the porch. With Aunt Ella’s assistance, Mrs. Boyd was able to mount behind Elise.
“Ella,” said Mrs. Boyd, “could you have food ready when we come back for Verly?”
“Of course. Come on, Verly.” Aunt Ella put her arm around Verly as they went back inside.
In less than an hour, Mrs. Boyd was driving a buggy out of town, following Elise’s lead on Dusty. Verly had said not a word. Elise’s heart ached for the girl. What a terrible blow this must be for her.
Gettler was standing at the road when they came to the turnoff. He waved his musket for them to stop. “Sorry lady, but I gotta search your buggy.”
“We’ve nothing but food for your men,” Mrs. Boyd told him.
His eyes lit up. “I shorely thank you, ma’am, but Duffy still says I gotta look around.”
“Please, can’t you search it when we get there?” Mrs. Boyd fought back tears, her voice desperate.
Gettler softened. “Guess you ain’t planning to harm nothin’.” He stepped up to the buggy. “Allow me to drive you around, ma’am. Be faster that way.” Mrs. Boyd sc
ooted over, and Gettler jumped up and took the reins.
“I’ll meet you at the camp,” Elise called out. She turned Dusty off the road onto the trail, hoping against hope that Alexander was still alive.
Duffy saw her coming and reached for his musket. “Where’s Gettler?”
“He offered to drive the buggy for Mrs. Boyd. They’re coming around by the road.” She slid down to the ground. “Is Alexander …?”
“Barely alive. The boy seems to be hanging on in desperation. Your uncle’s with him.”
Another soldier, barely a boy, came up to her. “We thank you for bringing the doc up here,” he said shyly. “My leg’s a whole bunch better now that he’s fixed it.”
Elise smiled at him. “Dr. Harvey needed you boys almost as much as you needed him.”
“Now how can that be true?”
“It just is, that’s all.”
Duffy stiffened as the crunching of the buggy wheels sounded in the distance. “I hope that fool Gettler searched that buggy,” he muttered under his breath.
“Did you want him to inventory the food Mrs. Boyd brought with her?” Elise asked him.
Several of the men snickered, and Duffy said no more.
The moment the buggy pulled up and stopped, Verly and her mother stepped down. “Where is he?” Mrs. Boyd asked. “Where’s my boy?”
“He’s here,” Elise said, pointing out the tent where Alexander lay ill. “Uncle George’s with him now.”
As she said the words, Uncle George appeared at the entrance. “He’s been asking for you,” he said to Mrs. Boyd. Stepping out of the way, he motioned for the mother and sister to go inside. Then he came to Elise’s side and put his arm about her shoulder. “You got them here just in time.”
Elise turned and buried her face against Uncle George and wept. He patted her gently in an effort to comfort her. “It’s all right,” he said. “Even after seeing so many thousands die, I still never grow used to it.”
The other soldiers stood about awkwardly, as though they weren’t quite sure what they should be doing. “Boyd was a good boy,” Gettler said. “He wasn’t too keen on cutting out when we did, but we talked him into it. Then he fell sick along the way. I been feeling sorta bad about the whole mess.”
Gettler couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or so, but he seemed older than the rest. He was squatting near the fire, staring into it. “Two other boys with us died along the way. It’s a rough way to travel—running scared.”
Uncle George looked down at Elise. “What do you say we take a look at what’s packed in that buggy?”
Elise dried her eyes on her handkerchief and nodded in agreement. They brought out two hams, which made the soldier boys sit up and take notice. A towsack was filled with sweet potatoes, apples, and turnips, and a basket held a side of bacon and a dozen or so eggs.
“Iffen we’d had this fare earlier,” one of the men said, “ol’ Boyd there mightn’t have fell sick.”
“Fer sure,” echoed another.
Suddenly, from the tent came a deep, wailing sob, and Elise knew. Young Alexander Boyd was dead.
“They’ll need you now,” Uncle George said to her.
“Me? What can I do?”
“You go in there and hug them and cry with them. That’s what’s needed at this moment.”
Everything inside of Elise fought against it. The grief was too heavy. Too much.
Again, Uncle George’s arm was around her shoulder. “Jokes and humorous plays are blessings, Elise, but then the time comes when we weep with those who weep. Just as Jesus bore our griefs, we reach out and help others to bear their grief.”
Elise couldn’t see that she would be of any use. But she forced herself to obey Uncle George. She made that long walk from the buggy to the tent. Verly and her mother were kneeling beside Alexander’s still form, leaning on one another and weeping. Elise went over and put her arms around them. Then she wept.
CHAPTER 13
Alexander’s Funeral
Shadows stretched long fingers across the clearing, and a cool breeze swept off the lake. Elise felt weariness deep into her bones. It had been an incredibly long day. They were sitting around the fire. The men had fried slices of ham in a skillet and baked the sweet potatoes in the hot coals. They offered tin plates of food to their guests. Elise managed to eat a little, but neither Mrs. Boyd nor Verly had any appetite.
At first, Mrs. Boyd insisted that she remain by Alexander’s side through the night, but Uncle George advised against it. “The air will grow quite cold tonight,” he told her. “There’s nothing you can do for Alexander here. You must go into town and make arrangements. Ask Alan to assist you in hiring a buckboard to transport the coffin. I’ll stay here at camp to make sure his body is safe. I’m used to this.”
Uncle George glanced around at the men. “I have an idea the soldiers will break camp and move on now.”
Duffy nodded. “We got no choice,” he said. “We’ll leave at daybreak.”
“Let me drive the buggy back for you,” Elise offered. “I can tie Dusty on behind.”
“Thank you, Elise.” Mrs. Boyd reached out to clasp Elise’s hand. “You’ve done so much. If it hadn’t been for you, Verly and I would never have been able to say good-bye to Alexander.” She began to weep again. Verly remained ashen-faced and still.
When the Boyds and Elise were settled in the buggy, Gettler came up to Elise. “Can you find your way out?”
Elise nodded. “I know the way.”
“Yer a right perky little thing. Hope someday I’ll have a young’un just like you.”
The kind words made her smile. “Thank you, Gettler. I’ll be praying for your safety. For all of you.” “I’m much obliged.”
Dusk was gathering as Elise drove the buggy away from the lake and onto the main road. Uncle George had lit the lanterns on the buggy, and the pale golden light shone down the road ahead. Elise made no attempts at conversation for fear of saying something wrong. Mrs. Boyd had gotten control of herself, but Verly continued to sniff and make whimpering sounds into her handkerchief.
They hadn’t gone far when suddenly a horse came out of the underbrush onto the road. Elise pulled back on the reins. Then with relief she recognized Milt.
“Elise Brannon,” he said. “What’re you doing out and about at this time of night?” He shaded his eyes against the lantern glare. “And other ladies with you? What’s your papa thinking of? Doesn’t he know there’re bands of deserters in the area?”
“Oh, Milt, we just came from a camp of deserters. This is Mrs. Gladys Boyd and her daughter, Verly. Mrs. Boyd’s son was with the band.”
“My boy was ill,” Mrs. Boyd said, “but because of Elise here, we were able to be with him before his homecoming.” She dabbed at her eyes with her hankie. “You must be Milton Finney. I’ve heard
Elise speak of you.”
“That I am.” Milt rode up next to the buggy. “And please accept my deepest consolation on the death of your son, ma’am. I hope you know that just because he was with deserters doesn’t mean he was a coward. Many men both old and young have walked away from the fighting by the hundreds, not so much due to fear, but due to a weariness of all the killing.”
“Thank you for saying so,” Mrs. Boyd replied. “Your kind words are a blessing at a moment like this.”
“I’ll ride along with you for a ways,” he said. “At least until you get to the edge of town.”
“Thanks, Milt,” Elise said. “That would make all of us feel better.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, if I might be so forward, but have you plans for your son’s coffin?”
The words brought a little sob from Mrs. Boyd, and she turned her head away. Elise rubbed her fingers together in a sign of money so only Milt could see and shook her head. She and Uncle George had already discussed Mrs. Boyd’s dire financial situation, wondering how they could help her purchase a coffin for her son without offending her pride.
Milt caught Elise’s m
eaning instantly. “Sorry if I caused you anguish, ma’am, but I’m a right fair carpenter, and I have plenty of lumber. I’d like to offer my services if you would allow me. Your son will have as fine a coffin as can be purchased and at no cost to you.”
Mrs. Boyd looked over at Milt, and Elise could see a glint of hope in her eyes. “I’m not accustomed to receiving gifts from strangers,” she said, “but it does sound like an answer to prayer.”
“I’m not a stranger at all, but a friend of a friend.” He made a little wave to Elise.
“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Boyd answered. “So you are.” “I’ll work through the night and have it done by midday tomorrow.”
When they reached the edge of town, Milt tipped his hat. “This is where I’ll leave you.” To Elise, he said, “By the way, those boys up there at the camp, have they heard of Mr. Lincoln’s amnesty plan for deserters?”
“Amnesty plan?” Mrs. Boyd repeated. “There’s amnesty for the deserters?”
“Yes, ma’am, there is.”
Mrs. Boyd looked at Elise. “Did you know?”
Elise shook her head. “Even Uncle George didn’t know.”
“All they have to do is report to the nearest recruiting office, and they’ll be offered work camps till the end of the war. They need have no fear of prison.” Milt turned his horse to leave. “I’ll go back and tell them. Then I’ll get to work on that coffin. See you tomorrow.”
“See you, Milt,” Elise called out. “And thank you.”
As they rode down Montgomery Road toward Walnut Hills, Mrs. Boyd said, “If only the men had known, Alexander might still be alive.”
“You can’t know that,” Elise said. “Papa always says no use speculating on the past unless you aim to learn from it.”
“That’s true,” Mrs. Boyd agreed. “I should be very thankful. How many thousands of mothers have lost sons in this war and were never able to say good-bye. And so many of them were unable to provide even a coffin for their boys’ bodies.”
Elise didn’t know what to say, so she kept quiet and concentrated on driving the buggy.
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