by Zina Abbott
After everyone left, Penelope sighed with relief. She would not have an audience while she gathered hers and Jeremy’s belongings, including the wet diaper. She picked up her son, wrapped his blanket around him, and smiled at the messenger as he helped her down the stool that served as a step. “Thank you, sir.” She looked around. “Where are we going? I need to know so I can find my way back here after I get my child fed.”
The messenger pointed to a set of stairs. “Up there, ma’am. If you’d like, I’ll get your valise from the back. That way, there’ll be no need for you coming back down here until we’re ready to leave in the morning.”
“That would be helpful, sir. Unfortunately, I have no more dry diapers for my son except for the three hanging in the boot. If you collect those and bring them to me, I would appreciate it. Otherwise, I’ll still need to make the trip back down here.”
“I’ll take care of it, ma’am.”
“Ma. Eat.”
Penelope pulled Jeremy to her and kissed his forehead. “In a moment, Jerry.” She returned her attention to the messenger. “Thank you. Do you know where I might find enough water to wash clothes? I planned to be at Downer Station long enough to wash and dry several more diapers, but, as you know, that did not happen.” She glanced at the bodice of her gown. Even in the dark, the lantern provided enough light for her to see the bloodstain. “I’ll…um…need enough to wash my gown, too.” She pressed her eyes shut. Will the blood even come out of the silk? My one gown is far too shabby to wear when greeting a prospective husband for the first time, and the other I hoped to keep clean to marry in.
The man shook his head and chuckled. “Don’t you worry, ma’am. Most people end up looking a little worse for wear after making the journey. Still, I’ll get your things from the boot and see if I can rustle up a wash tub. Water barrel’s outside the kitchen shack, and they’ve already got the stove going for supper.” He nodded toward Jeremy, who had started squirming in his mother’s arms. “You just worry about getting that boy fed, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“That would be most appreciated.” She looked around as she turned toward the stairway leading to the upper story made of clapboard. At the top of the stairs, she saw the captain supporting a shaky Mr. Pierce, who still used her black sash as a sling. “Where did the ambulance go?”
“The doc unloaded his supplies, and they pulled it on the other side of the stairs. I think some of the soldiers are helping get the wounded upstairs while the rest are unhitching the team. A couple of men already took the first pair of mules through the tunnel to get fed.”
Penelope glanced at the building in an attempt to gauge its size. It served as a station, as well as a fort headquarters. Along with the military men already inside, she thought she overheard two injured soldiers were inside, too. Add to that, two more injured men, the captain, and the passengers from the coach, she suspected the building would be crowded. It did not bode well for her to be able to conveniently wash and hang laundry.
Holding Jeremy in the crook of one arm, Penelope, her hand gripping the carpetbag and oiled cloth, used her free hand to grasp the handrail as she ascended the stairs. She barely placed her boot on the top step and reached for the doorknob when the door flew open. A hulking form stepped toward her. The act of leaning away from him threw her off-balance. She slid a foot back but soon realized nothing but air supported her heel. Aware she was about to tumble down the stairs with Jeremy in her arms, she cried out in distress and instinctively grabbed for the handrail.
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Chapter 10
~o0o~
M arcus grabbed for the woman in front of him. His hands on each of her upper arms, he pulled her tight against his chest. He heard the air leave her lungs and felt the baby squirm in response to being pressed between two adult bodies. He rolled his eyes heavenward and shook his head. I nearly knocked her and the boy down the stairs.
Slowly, once he felt confident the woman before him had regained her balance, he stepped back and leaned his body away from her several inches. He dipped his head to study her face beneath the brim of the black bonnet. “My apologies, Mrs. Humphry. Are you well?”
As she lifted her face and her gaze met his, Marcus felt something shift inside of him. He felt his heart thrumming and his rate of breathing increased.
She offered a tentative smile. “I am, Captain. Thank you.”
Marcus responded by staring at her. He suddenly felt like a gangly schoolboy suffering from his first crush. It’s because it’s been so long since you have been close to a woman. It can’t possibly be because you are attracted to her. Besides, she would have nothing to do with him on a personal level. Did she not believe the answer to her prayer was to travel west to marry another man?
Marcus eased his grip on her arms and stepped back. He pressed his back against the door so she could pass. The motion of pulling her to him, and then releasing her again, reminded him he received a flesh wound to his shoulder. I’ll have to see to that after I take care of the others. In an attempt to regain his equilibrium, he cleared his throat. “I will need to stay mindful of our cramped quarters. I’m been accused of being abrupt while moving about to accomplish my purposes without giving proper warnings to others regarding my intents. In an operating theater, my focus is a good trait. In this instance, it almost proved disastrous.” He waved his hand with an invitation to enter. “Please, come inside, Mrs. Humphry.”
As Mrs. Humphry stepped forward, she dipped her head. “No harm done, Captain.”
“Down, Ma!”
Marcus turned his focus to the baby in her arms and smiled. “If he’s anything like my son at that age, I’ll bet he’s hungry and ready to get down and run. I’ll introduce you to the officers stationed here later. For now, I’ll leave you to seek out the stagecoach manager for assistance while I go down and direct my men on carrying Sgt. Mulroney up the stairs.”
“Thank you. As you said, I must care for my son first. However, if I can be of service to you later, please let me know.”
“I will.” As Marcus held his position until she stepped past him, he realized how much he wished to take her up on her offer. Although she probably spoke the words as a polite expression rather than a genuine offer of assistance, he suspected it would not take much persuasion on his part to convince her he could use her help. He had four wounded to see to. He was attended by an infantry patrol and cavalry squad, none of them having any medical training to their credit. It would be a long night—and probably another long day or two—before he could leave behind any men healed enough to resume their duties. Only then could he transport the others to the Fort Hays hospital to finish recuperating. I should have insisted a hospital orderly come with me.
“Welcome to Fort Monument, Captain. I’m Capt. John Conyngham and this is First Lieutenant David Ezekiel. With injured men here and no post surgeon, we’re mighty glad to see you.”
Marcus turned to the commanding officer of the post, a fair-haired man in his late thirties, and his second in command. He returned the lieutenant’s salute and acknowledged the captain with a nod. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll be with you in a few minutes, after I settle the wounded I brought with me and assess the injured men here. In the meantime, if you can start gathering lanterns and seeing they are filled with oil, I’d appreciate it.”
The captain clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Don’t have many. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll also need to know where to billet my men for the night. I’ve got a white cavalry squad and men from the 38th Infantry, if that makes a difference.”
Lt. Ezekiel stepped forward “Your men from the 38th can join our company from the 38th. If they’ve been here before, they’ll know where to go, but I’ll make sure. As for your cavalry men, I’d suggest next to the corrals. The stock handlers for the stage company will expect them to care for and clean up after their own animals. I’ll see to it, sir.”
Marcus gave a single nod. “We did. As long as they can get to a fire, I’m sure the men will see to their own supper.” I’m not looking forward to a supper of coffee and hardtack, but it wouldn’t be the first time.
The post commander grunted. “Good. Both the station and the fort are having trouble getting food and supplies through. We knew you might be coming, so there’s a little bit of buffalo and bean stew left on the stove. I’ve kept a man in with the injured, plus I put my cook on double-duty checking on them, too.”
“Thank you. If you have any more fresh buffalo, even if it’s just bones with a little meat, please direct your cook to boil it into broth. That, along with their regular meals, will help them recover.”
Capt. Conyngham hesitated. “If you plan to be here a day or two, maybe your cavalry could go buffalo hunting. We could use more meat. We’re short on horses here, but the lieutenant could go with them to show them the country so they don’t get lost.”
As Marcus returned to the ambulance, he realized the captain’s suggestion was a good one. He would prefer to wait at least a day, maybe two, to make sure the men were all stable before he returned to Fort Hays.
Back outside, he discovered the corporal had pulled out the handles on the stretcher and directed his men until two were in the wagon box at the sergeant’s head, and the other two were on the ground. In the light of the lantern held by the fifth member of their squad—one of the men assigned to the top of the stagecoach—he checked the safety strap buckled around the patient’s waist to secure him to the stretcher while they traveled. Seeing everyone appeared ready, he directed the men as they carried the injured man upstairs. Once they were inside, he led them to the sitting room that had been converted into a hospital ward.
A single lantern lit the room. Lighting a second lantern, Marcus dismissed the men who came with him to the lieutenant’s care and moved to speak to the two injured soldiers he came to Fort Monument to treat. Because they were both black soldiers, he assumed they were from the 38th Infantry.
The first man’s shoulder was bandaged. Handling him as carefully as he could, he helped him to a sitting position. He noted the sheen of perspiration on the soldier’s face. He ignored the man’s grunts of discomfort as he lifted the arm and unwound the fabric. He examined the place of entry before he rewrapped the wound and helped the man lie flat on his pallet once more. “What’s your name, Private?”
“Gager, suh. Pvt. Gager.”
“Pvt. Gager, I’m not sure yet if the bullet damaged your bone or is only lodged deep in your muscle. I’ll know when I get it out tonight. Thanks to that bullet, your wound is infected, and that’s what’s causing your fever. When was the last time you ate?”
“Took a little gruel several hours ago, but nothing since then but water.”
“Don’t eat anything else, Private. If you feel you must ask for water before I work on you, take a few sips to relieve the worst of your thirst but no more than necessary. As much as drinking lots of clean water is important to hold your fever down and help rid your body of infection, the anesthesia I plan to give you for the surgery can sometimes cause nausea. I don’t want you to empty your stomach on my operating table.”
“Yes, suh. I’m fine for now. You don’t have any laudanum or the like, do you? Even a shot of whiskey…”
“I have laudanum. I’ll give you some in a few minutes. Later tonight, after I get that bullet out, you should be doing a lot better.”
“Thank you, suh.”
Marcus moved to the other soldier. He sat listlessly with his back slumped against the wall. He also appeared to be running a fever. A small spot of blood stained the side of his shirt. “How are you doing, soldier?”
The man struggled to sit more upright and lifted the fabric. “Pvt. Colby, suh. Took an arrow to the ribs. Yanked it out, but my side’s still giving me fits.”
“Did you get the arrowhead out, too? Sometimes, if they stay inside the body, they can cause more problems than a bullet.”
The infantry man grinned as his trembling hand reached for his pants pocket. “Got it out, suh.” He held up a typical Cheyenne arrowhead with remnants of his dried blood. “Keeping it as a souvenir.”
Amazed that the arrow came out instead of separating from the shaft and staying inside, Marcus shook his head. “It will be something to tell your children about.” He ignored the man’s weak chuckle as he removed the bandage wound around the soldier’s torso, which revealed a deep gash in the man’s side. The opening was surrounded by reddened, puffy flesh. Marcus gently poked around the outside edge of the swelling. “Looks like it went in deep enough to get a good infection going, Private. I’m going clean your wound out and put in a few stitches. I want to examine the shirt you were wearing. If part of it is missing, I’ll check to make sure none of the fabric stayed inside you. However, I have three men to tend ahead of you. Do you have a clean shirt in your rucksack?”
The private slowly shook his head. “This was my clean shirt, Captain. Other’s all tore up.”
Marcus stood. “We’ll make do. I’ll put some carbolic acid solution on this for now. It will start you healing.” He turned to the two black men attending the wounded. “Which one of you is the cook?”
The man in his thirties with a smattering of gray in his dark, curly hair raised his hand. “I am, sir.”
Marcus noted the corporal chevron on the man’s sleeve. “Corporal, I need some willow bark tea to help relieve this man’s pain and fever. Do you know how to make that?”
“Yes, sir. Don’t have the willow bark, sir. Also, the missus with the baby is in the kitchen. She’s cooking mush, plus I got water boiling for her laundry.”
“I have willow bark with me. I’ll get it for you and let Mrs. Humphry know you need to use the kitchen. I’ll also need clean bowls.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please boil water for me, too. I’m a firm believer in using soap and water on wounds and between surgeries. Which reminds me—do you have an oiled cloth I can put over the captain’s table? I have one, but it’s a good idea to have two so I don’t ruin the wood surface.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get that, too.” The cook shook his head and grinned. “Captain won’t be happy if we ruin his table.” He pointed toward the next room. “You can see, he uses it for his desk, as well as eating.”
The next stop was the cavalry sergeant. “Sgt. Mulroney, you will be my third surgery tonight after Pvt. Gager and Mr. Pierce.”
Marcus felt his body automatically shift into defense mode. He knew from experience his decision to treat the men in the order of urgency could be controversial. Many white men objected to waiting behind a black man for treatment. During the Civil War, he relied on orderlies or others to decide the order of treatment. It often was based on first come, first served, which resulted in more deaths than necessary. Sometimes, those decisions were made based on race or what country a man came from. As a doctor, Marcus did not care if the soldier was a white man from a well-off Northern family or a former slave from the South, like many of the men now serving on the frontier. He now decided his own order of treatment based on medical necessity. Right now, the infantryman already battling infection because of a bullet lodged in him for days had the greater need over the cavalry sergeant whose wound was more recent.
When the sergeant responded with a nod of understanding, he relaxed.
Marcus started for the door leading outside. It was time to bring the rest of his medical supplies into the building so he could set up his operating theater. After that, he would talk the captain into giving up his dining table for the next few hours. He had a long night ahead of him.
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Chapter 11
~o0o~
A fter dishing hers and the other passengers’ plates of a meat and bean dish, the
station manager joined Penelope in the kitchen. He assured her, once he washed dishes, she could wash a few clothes. When she told the stationmaster of her plan to wash all of Jeremy’s diapers and clothes, his first concern was the amount of water involved. The barrel would not be refilled until the following morning. Even then, she was informed, the men would not bring water up from the river if they suspected an imminent attack. She assured him she would use as little as possible. He reluctantly agreed and found the washtub and filled a pot with water to start it heating.
After Penelope ate her portion of the bland meal and cut up a chunk of meat for Jeremy, a corporal who introduced himself as the cook found her the smallest pot in the kitchen. He brought her more firewood and stoked the fire. After he left, she cooked oatmeal mush using the remainder of the milk from the can she opened that day to feed Jeremy.
The cook entered again to wash the dishes used by the other passengers and the few military men billeted inside the upper floor of the building. “Need to get water boiling for some willow bark tea. After that, the water kettle is all yours.” After seeing how deeply he dipped into the water barrel in the corner of the kitchen shack, she realized how little water she had to work with. To speed the process, she helped him dry dishes and wipe down the kitchen.
Her thoughts turned to the man who could help Mr. Pierce. Did Captain Garrett get a chance to eat? She shook her head. Why should she concern herself with him? The man was capable of seeing to his own needs.
The lieutenant popped his head in long enough to tell her the men needed more coffee. She volunteered to make it while she waited for her laundry water to heat. She poured the last bit of coffee that looked thick enough to pass for tar into a tin cup and refilled the coffeepot before she set it back on the stove. She found and roasted coffee beans before grinding them to add to the pot.
As she poured hot water into the wash tub, steam billowed up on Penelope’s face. After rolling up both sleeves, she sighed as she plunged her hands into water almost hot enough to scald. She began to scrub the white bird’s-eye diapers. She already decided to wash them all, plus Jeremy’s gowns and soakers. She hoped the bucket-full of rinse water allowed to her was sufficient to remove the soap. The last thing she needed was for Jeremy to end up with rashes. She shook her head. One point in her favor was that none of the diapers had been soiled. In spite of the derisive comments made in her hearing, having the child-size chamber pot and taking the time—no matter how inconvenient to herself and her fellow passengers—to sit Jeremy on it each morning until he produced made laundering his diapers easier.