Walk By Faith. Rosanne Bittner

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СКАЧАТЬ let you help me if you promise to tell that little girl what happened was not her fault,” he told her. “I can’t tolerate a child being blamed for an accident.”

      Clarissa thought what a strange request that was. “All right.” She knelt down to Sophie and wiped tears from her pudgy cheeks. “It’s all right, darling. You just scared Mommy, that’s all. Sometimes when we’re scared we yell and say the wrong things.” She kissed her cheek. “Just tell this man you’re sorry you ran into the street without looking.”

      Sniffing, Sophie craned her neck to look up at the tall stranger. “I’m sowwy, Mistoo,” she told him, still having trouble with her r’s.

      He managed a smile. “It’s okay, honey. What’s your name?”

      “Sophie. What’s yours?”

      The man looked from her to Clarissa. “Dawson Clements—Lieutenant Dawson Clements—of the Second Illinois Light Artillery Battery, now retired from the army. I, uh, I really don’t want to put you out—”

      “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do.”

      “Well, ma’am, I’m afraid I’ll take you up on the offer. The leg is hurting pretty good.”

      “Wait right here then.” Clarissa looked at Sophie. “And you stay right here by Mr. Clements.” She stepped off the curb and waved down a one-horse cab coming toward them from farther up the street, hoping Carolyn and Michael wouldn’t mind her bringing home a stranger.

      Chapter Four

      Carolyn and Michael appeared almost comical as they scurried around the house following Clarissa’s orders after she arrived with a limping Dawson Clements. Because the fair-haired, brown-eyed Carolyn was actually taller and more robust than Michael, a short, slender, quiet man with black hair and deep brown eyes, they seemed mismatched physically, but Clarissa could think of no other couple more devoted to each other than these friends who’d been so good to her, especially since her divorce. If only her own marriage could have been so happy and perfect.

      Little Lena, one year older than Sophie, had her father’s dark hair and eyes, quite the contrast to Sophie’s orange-red hair and pale blue eyes. The current excitement in the house kept the girls glued nearby, staring at the tall stranger who’d come unexpectedly into their midst.

      Carolyn gave Michael orders for towels and whiskey and hot water while Dawson sat down in a kitchen chair. He winced with pain as he obeyed Clarissa’s order and let her help put his wounded right leg up on an opposite chair. She pushed up his pant leg to see the entire calf of his leg was wrapped in bandages showing stains from both old and fresh blood.

      “Oh, my!” She looked at Dawson with a frown. “How long has it been since this was changed?”

      He shrugged. “Five, six days, something like that.”

      “Didn’t they tell you how important it was to keep the wound clean? If it gets infected, you could lose your leg.”

      He sighed. “I am well aware of that. I’ve seen piles of legs and arms lying outside of hospital tents at a friendly battleground called Shiloh.”

      They all gasped. “We’ve heard about Shiloh,” Carolyn said with an air of sad respect.

      “Nevertheless, why haven’t you kept treating this wound?” Clarissa asked.

      “Look, Mrs.—Graham, did you say?”

      “Yes.”

      “You’re the one who insisted I come here. Don’t be scolding me for not changing this thing. I don’t have a friend or relative to my name, so there’s no one to care whether I lose a leg or not. I was told at the hospital that they’d done all they could do and that it should be all right, so what more could I do? I’ve been traveling through the camps outside of town talking to families who’ve lost their homes because of this senseless war and I haven’t had time to tend to the leg. I haven’t even had a bath or a shave for days. Just clean it up if you must and I’ll be on my way.”

      His abruptness made Clarissa bristle. “I don’t know of one person, man or woman, who wouldn’t do everything they possibly could to keep from losing a limb, so don’t try to tell me you don’t care. Whatever you’re angry about, you needn’t take it out on me.” She began cutting off the bandages with scissors Michael handed her.

      “Here’s some hot water,” Carolyn said, bringing over a pan of water. “Michael, did you get those towels?”

      “Right now, dear.” Michael hurried into a back room and emerged seconds later with several towels and washrags.

      “I’ll get some clean bandages,” Carolyn told Clarissa.

      Clarissa glanced at Sophie and Lena. “You girls had better go and play.”

      Sophie’s eyes were teared. “Did I make it bleed?” she asked.

      Clarissa glanced at Dawson, remembering his deal—she was not to blame Sophie for any of this. He gave her a warning look, and Clarissa turned to Sophie. “No, Sophie. His leg was already wounded from the war. This is not your fault. Now run and play.”

      “Can I give him a hug?”

      Clarissa had to smile, then. “After I fix his leg, okay?”

      “Okay.” Sophie grabbed Lena’s hand and the two girls ran up the narrow, enclosed stairway to Lena’s room upstairs, closing the stairwell door behind them.

      For the next few moments no one spoke as Clarissa peeled off the bandages. She could see Dawson’s calf muscle tighten and knew the leg was hurting him, but he made no sound. “Set a bucket under his leg, Michael, will you? I have to wash this off and water and blood will drip.”

      “Sure thing,” Michael answered, hurrying to the kitchen.

      Clarissa looked up at Dawson. “Bullet wound?” she asked.

      “Shrapnel.”

      Michael returned with a bucket, and Clarissa began washing the blood off Dawson’s leg. “You said you’re retired from the army?”

      “My time was up just a few days after I was wounded, during Grant’s campaign to free up the Mississippi to Union control. After sixteen years of fighting Indians and then seeing the horrific things I’ve seen in this war, I decided not to re-up. I’m doubting that decision, since the army is all I’ve ever known since I was thirteen years old.”

      “Thirteen!” Michael had drawn up a chair beside Clarissa to see if there was anything he could do to help. Carolyn sat down across the table from them. “You’ve been in the army since you were thirteen years old?”

      Dawson grinned, then suddenly winced and grunted when Clarissa got close to the still-festered wound. “They thought I was sixteen.”

      Michael chuckled. “Well, considering your size, I can understand that.”

      “I’m going to have to douse this with whiskey, Mr. Clements,” Clarissa told him.

      “So СКАЧАТЬ