An Unlikely Union. Shannon Farrington

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      Even something as simple as the repeated washing of hands and instruments to help combat the spread of infection was scoffed at by many doctors. Evan cringed every time he saw a surgeon in the field hospital hack off a limb, wipe his saw on his coattails and then move on to the next man.

      No wonder so many of our men are dying. For every one the rebs kill, disease takes two.

      He continued on, probing, packing, stitching. Mercifully, his thread held until he finished the last of the soldiers marked in red. He walked back through the area, stretching his leg muscles and working the knot from his neck while he checked on his nurse’s progress.

      She was actually doing quite well, in spite of her ridiculous bonnet.

      The supply wagons were unloaded and Evan still continued. In the hospital the ward masters were emptying all beds possible to make space for the new arrivals. He gave orders to the stewards as to which red-tagged men should be moved inside. He also gave instructions for removal of the dead. In this suffocating heat, speed was of the utmost importance. Nearly all of the wounded Evan had left untagged had expired.

      Only one remained.

      The Pennsylvania sergeant missing most of his chest was still gasping for breath. She was with him, holding his hand. As he approached, he overheard their conversation.

      “I prayed, ever so hard. Beggin’ God to let me see you just once more.”

      “Hush now,” she encouraged. “Save your strength.”

      “All that’s left for me now, girl, is eternity. But, don’t you cry....”

      Evan watched as she smoothed back the sergeant’s hair. The look on his face told him it wouldn’t be long now. She must have known it, as well.

      “Have you made your peace with God?” she asked gently. “Do you know Christ as your Savior?”

      “Now, darlin’,” he said, “you know I do. Made that decision a long time ago, I did.”

      He sputtered. Her shoulders trembled.

      “I love you, Anna.”

      “I love you....”

      Regret shot through Evan, a feeling he knew all too well. No wonder she begged me to save him. But who could have known she would have a sweetheart serving in the United States army?

      He moved closer, knowing there was nothing that could be done, yet wishing there was. His collar grew so tight that he had trouble breathing. Memories washed over him. The little lass was doing what he wished he could have done, what he should have done.

      Mary...

      The rattle began and the man struggled to draw his final breaths. She held on, steady to the end, his hand in hers. When the sergeant died, it was with a smile on his face.

      Only then did her unbridled tears fall. Evan stepped forward and closed the soldier’s eyes. When she looked up at him, he was pierced by grief.

      Despite knowing some rebel shell had caused all this, despite Andrew’s death and her being a citizen of this dreadful city, something inside him wished to comfort her. He realized up until now he hadn’t even bothered to learn her name.

      “I’m sorry, Anna.” He stumbled on the words. “I had no idea who he was.”

      She blinked once, twice, wiped her eyes. “Emily.”

      “Say again?”

      “My name is Emily.”

      She slowly regained her composure. Evan looked at her, befuddled. “He called you Anna.”

      “He mistook me for his wife. I didn’t have the heart to correct him.”

      Tears drying, she stood, methodically covering the man with his own bedroll. Evan could feel his anger building. He wasn’t certain for whom he felt the emotion, for the poor soldier who’d been mislead or for himself.

      He had felt sorry for a rebel.

      “You deliberately misrepresented yourself,” he said.

      “I told him what he wished to hear.”

      “Aye. I’m certain that came quite easily. You Baltimore women are skilled in the art of treachery.”

      She flinched. He knew his words had stung.

      “He prayed he would see his beloved Anna once more,” she said. “Would you have me deny the final wish of a dying man?”

      “Are you in the place of God? Have you the power to grant requests as you see fit?”

      Her cheeks flushed red. She looked as though she would fire back once again, but he didn’t give her the opportunity.

      “Go report to Dr. Turner, and for goodness’ sake, do your best not to cause any more trouble!”

      Without further word, she turned. He went back to work.

      * * *

      I was not trying to cause trouble! Emily swallowed back the words, those and many more, as she stomped away. There is no point reasoning with a man like him. Arrogant...hardheaded...I don’t care how skilled a physician he is! I wish the army would send him on!

      She made her way to Dr. Turner’s section of the dock. There a horde of Federal soldiers was keeping guard over the Confederate men lining up for the three-mile march to Fort McHenry. Dr. Turner was treating the last of the superficial wounds.

      “Dr. Mackay said I should now report to you,” Emily told him.

      He tied a bandage around a young soldier’s arm. “Wonderful,” he said without looking up. “Go and help Miss Elizabeth. I am certain she must be quite tired by now.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      If Dr. Mackay had meant for her relocation to be a punishment, it was not. Emily would gladly work under Dr. Turner any day.

      She saw Elizabeth at a distance, armed with a drinking gourd and a bucket of water. She was going to each dust-covered man. When Emily caught her eye, she smiled, then motioned to another water bucket nearby. Emily quickly grabbed it.

      Thanks to the combination of the altercation with the ill-tempered Scotsman and the blazing sun, Emily’s head was now pounding. She wanted to rest but dared not do so. The Federal soldiers had given orders. Already the column of ragtag Confederates was beginning to march. Emily hurried to give a drink to as many of them as possible before they departed.

      She offered some to a Virginia man and a Tennessean. A shoeless old man from Alabama tipped his slouch hat but then gave the cup to his exhausted comrade beside him.

      “God bless ya, miss.”

      “God keep you, sir.”

      The afternoon heat was stifling. Emily’s СКАЧАТЬ