Chapter 4
ALAINA stared wistfully out as the rain made long, wavering runnels down the windowpanes. Finding the right hospital had been difficult enough, but waiting for Captain Latimer had proven even more time consuming. She was beginning to wonder if anyone had bothered to inform the doctor that Al had come to inquire about a job. But what could one expect when a dirty-faced urchin asked to see a busy surgeon? Had she come wearing wide hoops and a fetching bonnet, Alaina wagered herself, she would have had better results.
The room into which she had been ushered was obviously one in which the doctors spent their leisure moments. The narrow cot, the sparse and stark furnishings, however, indicated little time spent in relaxation.
In the hallway outside the dayroom, brisk footsteps stopped abruptly at the door. Quickly Alaina stepped down from the high stool where she had perched and, hat in hand, faced Captain Latimer as he entered. Seeing the scowl that drew his brows sharply together, she became suddenly wary of her foolishness at being here. Whatever else she might think of the man, she knew that Captain Latimer was not really a fool. How long could she hope to hide her identity behind the guise of unwashed scamp?
Recognizing the young lad, the captain curbed his irritation at being summoned from his duties and crossed the room to the washstand. Pulling off the long, white coat that was liberally smeared with blood, he tossed the garment into a basket before he met the youth’s uncertain gaze.
“At least you appear to have learned a few manners since last we met,” he commented a bit more tersely than he had intended. Seeing the apparent confusion of the other, he indicated the tattered hat.
“I done thought about that there work you offered,” Alaina began politely, though she chafed at having to ask anything of a Yankee. “And seein’s how my uncle can’t afford another mouth to feed, I ‘spect it’s the only right thing fer me to do. That is, if’n you still need me, suh.”
“Of course we need you, Al. Right now, if you can begin.” At the quick, answering nod the captain briefly smiled. “Good, I’ll show you what needs to be done, then I must get back to work. A riverboat was ambushed a few miles upriver, and they’re bringing in the wounded. It would seem that your countrymen have difficulty recognizing the color of our uniforms. Several civilian passengers were brought in with the soldiers.”
Alaina bristled as if rubbed the wrong way with a burr. “Them civilian-whatevers ain’t no more’n packrats! They go upriver jes’ to steal cotton from the plantations, and you bluebellies sit back and let ’em.”
Cole splashed water into a porcelain basin and peered askance at the untidy youth. “Whatever they are, they’re still human.”
“Huh! Jes’ barely!” Alaina snorted derisively. “I ain’ gonna shed no tear over none of ’em.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t trust you in the wards,” Cole said, stripping off his shirt and splashing cool water over his face and shoulders. Sunlight glanced off a small, gold medallion which hung on a long chain about his neck, sending tiny flecks of light dancing across the wall. “I’m wondering if you might do more harm to our soldiers than they can bear.”
The gray eyes narrowed. “Jes’ as long as I don’t have to play wet nurse to none of ’em, I’ll do my work and do it good,” she assured him sharply. “You needn’t worry on that account. Of course—” She drew the last word out while she gave the man a scathing regard. Had she been of such a mind, she might have admired the wide, furred chest or the fascinating play of muscles that rippled along his ribs and arms. She relished more her hatred of Yankees. “If you think yer fellas got something to fear from an orphan boy, well, mister, you jes’ better not hire me on.”
Cole laughed aloud at the youth’s audacity. He had already come to the conclusion that Al was as blunt and honest as any boy he had ever known. And twice as dirty! “I thought your uncle told you to wash.”
Al’s lean jaw flexed with irritation. “You show me what you want cleaned, bluebelly, and I’ll see it done. But leave me outta your plans. A little dirt never hurt nobody.”
Cole grunted in derision. “I can’t even tell what you look like beneath all that grime.”
“You don’t need to, Yankee. Jes’ cause you favor water and bathing, there ain’t no need fer me to take up yer vices.” Alaina didn’t care for the way he contemplated her filthy garb and the washbasin and asked harshly. “Whatcha want me ter do ’round here? Ya did say you had to get back to work, didn’t ya?’
Cole slipped into his shirt again and, over it, donned a fresh white coat. He led Al through eight wards of the hospital, pausing in each to give brief, pertinent instructions as to what would be expected. The wards were large rooms, crowded with cots and, upon these, bandage-bedecked men. A thick layer of dust had accumulated beneath the beds, and old, discolored dressings were strewn upon the floor.
“We ain’t discussed wages yet,” Alaina pointed out. “How much you gonna pay me?”
“Same as any good Union soldier,” Cole replied. “A dollar a day and found.”
“I’ll take the meals,” Al stated flatly. “But since I ain’t gonna sleep here, make it a dollar ten and you got yerself a deal.”
“That sounds fair enough,” Cole conceded, half amused. “But you better be worth it.”
Alaina shrugged noncommittally. She wasn’t about to go out of her way to reassure any blasted Yankee. When the captain left her, she did not tarry. She filled a bucket from the cistern pump and into it pared thin shavings from a bar of lye soap. With a heavy broom she reached into every corner, beneath every bed, stand, and chair, raking out the piles of trash and dirt. Her activities were ignored for the most part by soldiers more engrossed in the boredom of their pain than in the presence of this tight-lipped lad. A rare attempt was made by an occasional soldier to exchange some brief word with the boy, but since Al was no more inclined to pleasantries than the others, these attempts were met with grim silence, and the lad hastily took himself elsewhere.
The day’s labor saw two wards clean. The filth and grime had collected for several weeks and had become almost a natural fact of life in the wards. It was near dusk when Alaina wearily surveyed the well-scrubbed floor she had just finished. Her knees were raw; her hands burned from the strong soap. It was a dismal thought that she had only six more wards to clean. But that, she told herself firmly, would have to wait for another day. Even for a young lad, it was quitting time, and she had no wish to travel the streets after dark.
Feeling a bit frazzled and worn, she plodded down the hall in her oversize boots. At least the results of her hard work were readily discernible. The two wards almost gleamed with their new tidiness. The floors were scrubbed, the windows washed, the tables dusted. Even Captain Latimer would find it hard to fault her labors. But then, she hadn’t seen him since early morning, and perhaps that was just as well. If the two wards were clean, she could hardly say the same for herself—and he did seem to resent her lack of neatness.
The ride home on the scrawny back of Ol’ Tar (short for Tarnation), her uncle’s ancient nag, did nothing for her fatigue. When she arrived home, Roberta was at the back door to meet her with her hair done in style and wearing a fetching gown of mint green muslin. Alaina felt the sharp contrast between them. Before leaving the house that morning she had rubbed a muddy mixture of dirt, grease, and water lightly through her own hair to disguise her dark, burnished curls. It was a disgusting mess that she longed to wash out, and as she passed her cousin, she hid her reddened hands with their short, broken nails and hurried to closet herself in the small pantry just off the kitchen. With the abrupt reduction of the Craighugh larder, the sizable cubicle had been made into a bathing chamber for the family, being conveniently near the kitchen hearth where a hot bath could be prepared without the laborious hauling of water. It was here that Alaina whiled away a good part of the evening instead of taking supper with the family. She lazed away the time, washing her hair, cleaning and trimming her nails, and rubbing a soothing salve on her red
hands. It was a small luxury she permitted herself, but after playing the part of a boy these weeks in her bid for freedom, it was a great relaxation just to be a girl again. Where the pleas of her mother had failed, the enforced confinement in the boyish garb was beginning to show some results, to make her long to be a lady.
On the fifth day of work at the hospital, Alaina started over again and cleaned the first two wards. This time her labors went quickly, as the depth of debris was less. She placed empty tins for the trash and the soldiers began to use them. She even had help from a few who were mightily bored with their humdrum existence.
Much to her discomfiture, she found her midday meal intruded upon when Captain Latimer brought his plate of food and joined her at the table. With a baleful eye, Al peered up at him and considered the other tables in the mess hall. They were the only two people in the room.
“What’s the matter, bluebelly? You cain’t find no place else to sit?”
“Excuse me, Al, I didn’t know you had a penchant for eating alone,” the captain apologized dryly but made no attempt to leave.
“Whatcha think I come in here so late fer?” Al queried impertinently. “I’m particular as to what kind o’ critter I eats with. Never had a stomach for takin’ down vittles with polecats.”
“Stop your caterwauling and eat,” Cole ordered tersely. “You won’t grow much bigger than you are now if you don’t learn to pay more attention to food.” Cole pointed to the leather pouch on the table beside Al’s plate. “What do you carry around in that?”
“What’s it to ya?”
The captain shrugged casually. “Well, I guess I’m curious. It’s not a change of clothes, I’d wager, since I haven’t seen you in anything but what you’re wearing.”
“If ya gotta know, it’s vittles,” Al grumbled. “What I can’t eat here, I take home.” She looked at the doctor narrowly and rubbed the tip of her nose with a thin finger. “You got some objection?”
Replying in the negative, Cole took a sip of coffee before he reached beneath his white coat and produced a narrow tan envelope with an official-looking stamp over the sealed flap. He tossed it on the table in front of her, and she noted that it bore the name Al Craighugh.
“What’s that fer?” Alaina questioned suspiciously.
“Your wage for the week.”
She tore open the missive. “But there’s seven dollars here,” she remarked, counting it out.
“The paymaster decided to make it an even amount. You’ve earned it.” He watched the lad tie the money carefully in the corner of a worn handkerchief. The captain continued eating for a thoughtful moment before he inquired, “What are you going to do with all that wealth? Buy new clothes?”
“Half goes to Uncle Angus to pay fer lodging, then I plan to save what I can from the rest,” Alaina stated matter-of-factly.
“If you’d like to earn some extra money, I have quarters in the Pontalba Apartments, and I could use someone to clean it during the week while I’m on duty.”
“You’re sure you can trust me, Yankee?” Al prodded.
“Do you want the work or not?” Cole asked impatiently.
“How fur a piece is it to your what-cha-ma-call-its?”
“Apartment.” Cole supplied the word and the information. “It’s right on Jackson Square. You know where that is, don’t you?”
“Yup.” Al nodded. “How do I get in?”
“With a key,” the captain responded with sarcasm and fished into an inside pocket for the mentioned object, giving it over. “I can get another from the landlord, so you can keep that. I will expect the same degree of cleanliness as I have seen here at the hospital, and for that, I will give you three dollars a week.”
“Three dollars a week?” Alaina repeated in amazement. “You rich or somep’n?”
“I can afford you.”
Alaina shrugged. “Makes no difference if you are or ain’t. I’ll clean yer ‘partment and won’t do no thievin’ neither.”
“Didn’t expect that you would. Would you like wages in advance?”
“I can wait. ‘Sides, you’d best hang onto what you can, jes’ in case Gen’ral Taylor takes New Orl’ans. Likely you could buy yo’self someplace to lay yer head when the Johnnies capture ya.”
“I’ll worry about that when the times comes, if it ever does,” the captain replied.
Alaina rose to her feet and hitched her britches. “ ‘Gots ter get back to work now, Yankee. Cain’t say as it’s been nice talkin’ to ya.”
Despite himself, Cole smiled as he watched the lad amble off. Sometimes the urchin could be completely exasperating, yet there was something about him that was likable, too. He just had the usual difficulty defining the latter.
The days sped past, and with each Roberta grew more restive and impatient for the arrival of the appointed evening when she and her parents would entertain Cole Latimer. She repeatedly inspected her best gown lest some flaw mar her grand display. Indeed, no bird of paradise ever lent more attention to her preening than did Roberta. Insistent upon perfection, she scolded Dulcie on the eve of the captain’s intended visit because the dining room and parlor had not been tidied for two days, as if, the black woman grumbled, there were not more important matters to be seen to than sprucing up the house for a Yankee.
Time progressed, as one might expect, and the day of Roberta’s challenge arrived, much to Alaina’s chagrin. While the older cousin dozed peacefully behind carefully drawn drapes, the younger girl dragged an indignant Ol’ Tar from the stall, mounted astride his knife-edged spine and laboriously prodded him into a reluctant saunter, directing him toward the hospital. Once under way, the ornery nag settled into a bone-rattling trot, punctuated by grunts and wheezes, until he was convinced that no amount of fakery would regain him the comfort of the carriage house.
Though it was still early in the morning when Alaina arrived at the hospital there was already a train of ambulances before its doors and attendants were unloading wounded by the score. Alaina could guess the reason. Although the Mississippi River had been open to Federal shipping since mid-July and Baton Rouge was considered secure, General Taylor was recruiting for the Confederacy in up-country Louisiana and was making himself felt by waging a continuous guerrilla battle against the outlying fringes of the Yankee Army.
The blood and gore soon forced Alaina to retire from the crowded hallways, and the last she saw of Captain Latimer that morning, he was sorting out the wounded and determining which could afford to wait a few hours, or even a few days. The latter cases were rare, for only the more seriously injured were sent back to the hospital for treatment. The rest were treated in field hospitals nearer the action.
Though the morning progressed, Alaina refused to venture near the surgeon’s wing and the persistent odor of chloroform grew stronger by the hour. How the captain could manage to be the sparkling guest Roberta expected that evening, Alaina could not begin to guess, and since she had determined not to be present at dinner, she would have to wait and hear the results at some later date.
In the late afternoon, it became difficult to carry out her chores, for she could no longer avoid the wards where the newly arrived wounded were being treated unless she totally disregarded her duties. As she worked, she often had to glance away as a running or gaping wound was uncovered, and her stomach heaved at the stench of putrid, rotting flesh. But when an oozing stub of a limb was brought into view, the sight proved too much, and she fled outside through the nearest door with a hand clutched over her mouth, helplessly retching. Her exit was badly timed, for Cole had taken a moment of rest outside and was there to witness her humiliation as she discarded her lunch behind a convenient bush. Too mortified to meet his amused gaze, she accepted the handkerchief he dunked in the watering trough. With trembling hand she dabbed the cool, wet cloth to her brow and face, then after a moment found the courage to peer up at the captain.
“Feel better now?” he asked solicitously.
Alaina’s pride had be
en pricked, and she was hardly in the mood to forgive the captain for being at hand to watch her abasement. “You owe me three dollars, Yankee.”
“Of course.” Unable to stop grinning, Cole counted out the bills and handed them over with a teasing gambit. “I would say you take to cleaning better than you would doctoring. I don’t think I’ve seen anybody quite as squeamish as you.”
“You got somep’n to say ’bout the way I cleaned yer ‘partment?” Alaina questioned angrily.
Cole shook his head. “No.”
“Then I’ll thank ya to keep yer comments to yerself, mister.” With that, Al stomped back into the hospital, almost threatening to let him find someone else to clean his blamed apartment. But then, it was probably the easiest money she would ever make, for Captain Cole Latimer was as neat as his appearance suggested. And three dollars seemed like a lot to waste for pride’s sake. As it was, she took pleasure in avoiding the captain for the remainder of that afternoon. Small revenge to be sure, but revenge she could afford.
The ride home on the narrow back of Ol’ Tar that evening was a further test of endurance. The old horse’s skill at finding his stable was unerring, and he grumbled only slightly as Alaina led him back to his stall. In the light of the dim lantern that hung from an overhead beam, she saw that Jedediah, Dulcie’s husband and the Craighugh’s coachman, had remembered her and left new hay in the manger and a fresh pail of water beside it. It was a relief that her labors were shortened this much, and she made a mental note to thank the man. She scooped a handful of oats into the grain box for the already dozing Tar, knowing that if Uncle Angus learned of it, he would sorely protest this squandering of the precious grain.
Ashes in the Wind Page 5