Mary Bridgette

by Danni Roan

  The man was completely covered in mud and grime, and only the bright blue of his eyes made him recognizable.

  “Eric!” Mary squealed leaping into his mud covered arms.

  “Hey Mary,” a weary Eric said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I didn’t even know you were in France,” Mary replied watching the steam gauge then nodding as Eric took the wheel while she shifted into drive.

  The Tractor lurched, dug in then started a slow climb along the edge of the shattered road. Eric added more fuel to the furnace. Shouted out directions to the men who manned the gun then nodded to his cousin who added more power to the churning engine letting the machine dig in and pull them forward.

  “Those horses were about spent,” Eric said softly as he guided the tractor in the direction they needed to go. “I’m sure glad you showed up when you did. If that team died we’d have been behind the rest of the platoon. How’d you end up driving a tractor? For that matter how’d you find a tractor?”

  Mary laughed softly then told the tale. “I’ll have to get back to the hospital before they start to worry about me,” she finished.

  As they made the next turn, she geared back and Eric helped her down calling another man to come help with the steering.

  “I hope you can stop in again,” Mary said looking at her cousin with worried eyes. “I’ll be at the hospital this evening.”

  “We’re rotating shifts once we’re set up,” Eric replied. “I’ll be back.”

  ***

  “Miss Robertson, might I speak to you?” Mrs. Baker asked as Mary made her way back to the tent.

  “Of course,” Mary replied wearily.

  “Who exactly was that man you were hugging earlier?” Mrs. Baker asked looking at Mary’s bedraggled and mud smeared dress. “I’m afraid we can’t have that sort of conduct on the field.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mary said her face flaming. “It’s not what you think at all. He’s my cousin. The one you met in Tipton. I didn’t even know he was here.”

  “I see,” the older woman said. “Well I suppose this one incident can be overlooked, but please remember you are representing the Salvation Army, and we must strive not to show favoritism to anyone.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Mary said. She was suddenly weary as the excitement, danger, and sorrow of the day fell over her like a ghostly shroud.

  “Now I suggest you go find a change of clothing, get some food and find a place to bunk. We’ll be heading back to the hutments in the morning.”

  “Thank you Mrs. Baker,” Mary said.

  “Oh, and Mary,” the older woman chimed. “I’m glad you’re alright. You did good work today.”

  Chapter 7

  Mary slipped into a seat in the mess hall as night began to creep across the waste land that spread as far as the eye could see. She was weary and dirty but her heart was full from seeing her cousin. Mary knew that he was working hard to spare the horses as much as he could as well, adding his bulk and muscle to the effort, but he could only do so much.

  In the distance, she could hear the chirp of a night bird as a quiet settled over the camp and she longed for the wide open spaces and gentle peace of her prairie home.

  Moments later the squad that had moved the big gun walked in still covered in mud and looking exhausted.

  Eric slipped up next to Mary a tray of food in hand and took a seat.

  “You look terrible,” Mary commented, relieved to see him there.

  “And you look like a sight for sore eyes,” Eric grinned, but the gesture never reached his blue gaze.

  “What do they have you doing?” Mary asked as Eric tucked into his food.

  “I’m mostly moving guns and horses. We lose a good many of both, but I’ve been able to keep teams moving most days.” Eric grinned again. “Some men don’t like the way I ‘molly coddle’ the teams, but most of ‘em don’t want to push me too far. It’s all well and good to say drive ‘em hard, but if the horses are dead, nothing moves.”

  “Will you take the tractor now that we have it? I certainly didn’t expect to find it hidden in that half ruined barn.”

  “I hope so. We can’t keep killing horses this way. Even with teams being shipped in and farm animals collected we are running out of stock to move the guns. We need to do what we can to move the artillery.”

  “Have you heard from Joan?” Mary asked kindly.

  “I’ve had a few letters,” Eric said and this time a light flickered in the depths of his blue eyes. “Josh, Evan and Bryce are keeping her busy, and her last letter gave me even better news. Joan’s expecting again.”

  “Oh Eric, I’m so pleased.” Mary enthused. “I pray this whole horrid mess is over before the baby comes, and you can be home.”

  Eric nodded. “So you’re a doughnut girl are ya?” he teased, leaving the bitter sweet memories of home.

  “Yes, I didn’t know I’d be making thousands of doughnuts when I came to France, but if it helps, I’ll make a million of them.”

  “You’re brave,” Eric said. “Just be smart as well.”

  “Miss Robertson,” Doctor Niven strode to the table. “I see you have returned. However, I had expected to see you in the hospital tent earlier.” His eyes cut to Eric and he squinted suspiciously.

  “Dr. Niven, I’d like to introduce my cousin Eric,” Mary offered. “We happened upon each other when I was moving the tractor.”

  Eric rose reaching out a calloused hand toward the doctor. “Pleased to meet you,” Eric drawled as he stood to his full height.

  Dr. Niven was a tall man in his own right, but Eric still out stripped him by a few inches and the doctor swallowed nervously as he shook hands.

  “Pleased to meet you,” the doctor said. “Your cousin is quiet the accomplished young woman,” he said, his words clipped. “I hope the wound isn’t giving you any trouble?” he finished nodding toward the bandage on Mary’s head.

  “It’s fine,” Mary said touching the small patch of gauze, “only a scratch.”

  “It seems Miss Robertson pulled a downed pilot from a burning plane today.” Dr. Niven continued.

  “How is he?” Marry asked.

  Again the man’s dark eyes raked her and she felt an odd shiver.

  “He is doing very well, perhaps you will accompany me on my rounds later and you can check on him yourself. You did a very good job splinting that leg you know.”

  Mary grinned, turning to Eric who dropped back onto the bench and winked patting the bulge in his breast pocket. Mary was sure it was the thick journal their uncle had given him.

  Dr. Niven looked between the two Americans and sneered. He was intrigued by the young woman who drove the tractor picking up wounded along the way, but was not impressed with the local yokel attitude. Furthermore, if the big man in the thick wool uniform stayed around, he might make things less than comfortable for the doctor.

  “Perhaps when you are done Miss Robertson, you’ll accompany me on my rounds. I have a few questions for you.” Nodding curtly he turned on his heel and walked away.

  “What was that all about?” Eric asked watching the lean doctor stalk away.

  “He didn’t like me parking the tractor in front of the hospital tent,” Mary answered. “I was only trying to help. There was a pilot with a broken leg, and I used the tractor to bring him here. We gathered a few other injured soldiers along the way.”

  “So that’s why I found you in the tractor earlier.”

  Mary nodded finishing her meal. She was so relieved to see Eric whole and hearty that she could have wept, but she kept a cheery smile on her face. “What’s next for you?” she asked.

  “We repositioned the guns and are preparing for another barrage. The zephyrs have been scouting, and now with the planes on the defensive, we’ll shift to a new offensive.”

  “Do you have any letters or anything I can post for you?” Mary asked, suddenly wondering when the last time Eric had written home. She knew that she often took days to w
rite one simple post because she was so busy with other tasks.

  Eric reached inside his wool coat pulling out a packet of letters, handing them to Mary.

  Taking them and noting the familiar names of the Broken J, Mary smiled sadly. “They’ll be glad to hear from you.” Carefully Mary tucked the packet into her own singed blue frock. “I’ll see that they get mailed first thing in the morning.”

  A lieutenant down the line rose and Eric sighed pushing himself to his feet. “I have to go,” he said laying a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

  “Be safe Eric,” Mary said laying her hand over his and lifting a silent prayer for his protection.

  Chapter 8

  “Glad you could join me,” Dr. Niven said a half hour later when Mary caught up with him walking between the crowded beds of the tent. The man’s attitude and arrogant demeanor was getting on her nerves, but she tried to ignore it. Perhaps it was just the man’s way, and he didn’t mean anything by it. Mary’s task was to help and if a doctor needed her assistance she would do her best.

  As they walked, Dr. Niven stopped periodically checking on patients or speaking to attendants. He seemed more than competent at his job, but also cool and uncaring at the same time.

  As they came around one curtained divider Mary spotted the pilot she’d pulled from the downed plane earlier that day and a bright smile spread across her face.

  “Miss Robertson,” the man called Barrister said. “I see you are still holding up.”

  “I’m doing well,” Mary admitted. “How’s your leg?”

  “Barely a twinge,” Barrister confessed. His blue eyes sought hers and it seemed that something unspoken passed between them but the moment was shattered by the tall doctor standing next to Mary.

  “Well, I believe that concludes my rounds,” the man’s clipped words fell like an icy shower on something warm and soft. “I’m sure you are tired Miss Robertson. Perhaps you should join your friend as she heads to the women’s quarters,” he said nodding toward the other end of the tent.

  Mary looked in the direction that Dr. Niven indicated seeing Celeste gathering her things.

  “Yes, of course,” she replied recognizing the dismissal. “I’m very glad you are doing well Mr. Abrams,” she said kindly. “God grant you a quick recovery.”

  “Good night,” both men said as Mary hurried to catch up with her friend then turned back to give each other a hard look.

  As Mary headed toward her companion she couldn’t resist a glance back over her shoulder to see Mr. Abrams. There was something about him that drew her, and she hoped she would see him again.

  Dedicated to the cause Mary wouldn’t forget her duty or her need to remain distant from the soldiers she cared for, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t have wanted to get to know Mr. Abrams better under different circumstances.

  Behind her Dr. Niven raised a dark brow looking down at the man whose leg was elevated on an extra blanket.

  Taking the flyboys chart, he made a few notes, bid good night and walked away.

  ***

  “Mary, I don’t know how you do it,” Celeste said a few minutes later as they sought their beds. The Salvationists had all been gathered together in one wing of a large tent. “How you have enough energy to bother warming the water to wash is beyond me. You would think after the day you had you’d be sound asleep by now.”

  Mary smiled peeking at the small tin of water she had sat on the stove. It was rare that they had enough privacy to wash properly, but tonight, by stringing up a few blankets, she could have a better scrub.

  “I know it’s silly,” Mary Bridgette confessed. “Tomorrow we’ll be heading back to the same grime, the same mud. I just feel so much more civilized if I have even a small amount of warm water to wash.”

  Celeste smiled standing from where she’d just taken a seat on her bunk. “You’re right,” she said hugging Mary. “After all cleanliness is supposed to be next to godliness,” Celeste tittered.

  Together the two girls laughed as they dug out soap and hand towels for their ablutions.

  “I heard that the enemy moved back a bit this time,” Celeste said. “I don’t know what comes next though. It seems like one side moves forward then the next day forced them back. It’s like a giant badminton match but no one is winning.”

  “It’s hard to believe that the actions of a few people could throw the entire world into war,” Mary agreed. “What a terrible price to pay for ambition.”

  “It is all so confusing that Ferdinand fellow got himself killed and now our boys are over here fighting a war that can’t even touch us.” Celeste said dipping her finger into her own can of water to see if it was warm.

  “I’m afraid they had already touched us,” Mary corrected gently. “Think of the lives lost in those attacks on our merchant ships.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is true. Do you think those submarines could actually reach American shores?”

  “I think they could.” Mary said “and I know I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect those I love.”

  Celeste pulled her little tin of water off the stove soaking her cloth in it then rubbing her tiny piece of soap into the drab cloth. “To hearth and home,” she saluted lifting her tin in a mock toast.

  “To hearth and home,” Mary echoed lifting her own meager cup.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning the hustle and bustle of organizing to return to their hut kept Mary and Celeste busy. This time they had more sufficient supplies and a better understanding how to make the most of them.

  By mid morning most items were packed and the truck that was transporting them was almost ready to depart.

  “I’m just going in to check on Mr. Abrams,” Mary said as she settled her helmet over her head. “I want to wish him the best.”

  Celeste took the heavy box from Mary’s hands. “You’d better hurry then,” she said. “I’ll make them wait for you as long as I can.”

  Mary hurried toward the large hospital tent making her way directly to Mr. Abrams’ bunk but stopped short when she found it empty.

  “Ah, Miss Robertson,” Dr. Niven said offering a slight smile. “I’m afraid your particular friend has already been sent to a rehabilitation hospital.”

  “I see,” Mary said. “It’s not that he was a particular friend,” she continued, “but I did feel somehow responsible for him. Perhaps that is not uncommon when one saves a body from a down airplane.”

  “Yes, of course.” The doctor let his eyes rake the young woman’s form. “I’m glad to see you have a sense of such things. I often feel the same about each of my patients.”

  Mary smiled, it was good to know that everyone was doing their best to help and support the troops. “Thank you for everything Dr. Niven,” she said. “I’d better go; the truck taking us back to the hutment is almost ready to go.”

  The tall doctor stepped up to Mary smiling down at her. “I’ll walk you out,” he insisted offering his arm.

  Hesitantly Mary took the man’s arm. She was sure Mrs. Baker would have something to say about it, but she didn’t want to be rude.

  As they approached the truck where the driver was closing the tail gate, Mary released the good doctor’s arm. “Thank you for your escort,” she said, “and good luck.”

  “Perhaps I’ll see you again,” Dr. Niven spoke, his voice warm. “You seem to be an interesting young lady.”

  Mary blinked at the man. She wasn’t any more interesting than any of the other girls who had come out to serve. Perhaps she was a few years older than some, but at twenty-five, she wasn’t old. Still she didn’t know why she should be interesting.

  “Good day,” Mary said, unable to think of anything fitting as a response.

  ***

  Dr. Niven watched the young woman walk away. She was an exceptionally pretty thing and seemed to think outside of convention. Perhaps, if he played things right, he could entice her to be more than friends.

  Mis
s Robertson was obviously a bit older than some of the other Salvationists; surely she had some idea of the workings of the world. Besides, in his family, it was almost expected to have a woman on the side, and a pretty American girl would be quite the conquest.

  Pushing his hands into the pockets of his over coat the doctor turned on his heel heading back into the hospital. He had much to do but the distraction of the pretty girl in the dark blue skirt somehow lifted his spirits.

  The fact that he had shipped Mr. Abrams out on the first available transport only seemed to lift his spirits more. Less competition was always a good thing.

  ***

  “Mary, I hope you’ll be careful around that doctor,” Celeste said as they carried crates into the hut. One of the canvas sides had been damaged in the barrage and they had a great deal of work to do to get the place functional again.

  “I’ll clear the stove and get it fired,” Mary said hurrying in that direction. “That way we can start cooking right away.”

  “Mary,” Celeste said placing a hand on her hip and looking at her companion.

  “I heard you,” Mary said looking up and smiling at Celeste. “I’m sure he was just being polite.”

  “Honestly,” Celeste grumbled. “For someone of your age you are terribly naive sometimes. I saw the way he looked at you, and I didn’t like it.”

  “You worry too much,” Mary said, “but if it makes you feel better, I’ll avoid Dr. Niven. Besides, I’m too busy here to worry about such things.”

  Celeste studied Mary carefully and hoped that the doctor wouldn’t do anything that would bring any hint of scandal to the Salvationists serving here in France. Mary was such a kind and giving woman that she worried about her. Having grown up in the city Celeste often saw things differently than Mary. Perhaps it was just that her companion had been sheltered way out on the prairie.

  “Let’s get this place put to rights,” Mary said adding a stick to the fire and watching it catch. “We’ll make some donuts as soon as we’re squared away.”