I Shall Be Near to You(64)

‘I can take care of myself! I don’t need no one keeping watch over me and I never asked for it neither!’ I bellow, and clench both my fists, ready. ‘If you’ve got a problem with me, then we settle this right now ’cause I ain’t going anywhere! You want to blame someone for Jimmy dying, you blame those Rebels! There ain’t one of us here who could have done a thing different to save Jimmy and there ain’t one of us who wants to leave him here in this ground!’

My breath comes fast and blood pours from Henry’s nose, down his face. Jeremiah gives Henry a shove and Will grabs me, his hand tightening on my arm and my knuckles aching, but I just keep talking so I don’t get to crying and I don’t care who might hear what I’ve got to say.

‘You know why I came here, and I ain’t asked for one thing different or special, and I ain’t going back, so if you’ve got something to say, you say it right now and be done with this thing.’

Not one of them says a single word. Will’s hands loosen on my arms and he steps to the side of me. His mouth works but he don’t make a sound.

‘You got anything else needs saying?’ Jeremiah yells at Henry.

Henry sinks down on the dirt. ‘I just want—I can’t—’

And as soon as that fight started, it is over and I don’t know what is different, but we all settle back to the ground like leaves falling. Jeremiah looks at me like I am a ghost or some frightening thing he doesn’t understand, like he is seeing me from some other place. I look away from him, scared this war has changed everything.




THERE’S ONLY ONE thing for the aching after Jimmy’s buried and that’s to keep busy, even if the orders are to wait.

‘Let me have your canteen,’ I say to Jeremiah.

He holds his out to me. ‘There ain’t much water left,’ he says.

‘Give me that hand of yours, too. I won’t take no for an answer.’

He sighs then, saying, ‘It’s barely more than a scratch,’ but he sits down next to me.

I dig for the flannel cloths in my knapsack. At this rate I won’t have enough if I ever need them for myself.

And then it hits me. All my sick feeling days. The tiredness sinking into my bones. I count back to when I last had my woman’s time. It ain’t come as regular since we up and joined, but it ain’t come even once since being at Fort Corcoran, since before marching to Bull Run. I can’t be certain, but it can’t be, not like this, not when it ain’t what I planned, when we ain’t settled on our farm yet.

‘Ross?’ Jeremiah says.

‘I’ve just got to get this wet,’ I say, keeping my head down while I make my face go blank. There’s no reason to go telling Jeremiah something that’ll make him think different on me being here, especially when it mightn’t be true, especially when I just took Henry on. There’s no way to tell him, not now, when it’s not a welcome thing.

Then I take up his hand, laying it across my lap, and put my mind to the gash across the back, almost as wide as my fattest finger. The edges are black and maybe it is gunpowder or burnt but it don’t come away when I dab it gentle, Jeremiah hissing at the first touch.

It gets to bleeding, and I look up at Jeremiah. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, remembering his smile all those weeks ago when I told him we weren’t having a baby. If this thing is true, I am sorry for so much more than his hand. All I can think is the worry a baby will bring and the fight I will have to keep Jeremiah from sending me home and I don’t want none of it.

‘It don’t hurt much,’ he says, but I can already see the bruise darkening his palm.

I get that hand as clean as I can and wrap a fresh cloth around it, thinking it needs some of Mama’s comfrey salve. When I’m finished, Jeremiah takes my hand, looks at the blush across my knuckles.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t see that coming,’ he says.

‘Ain’t no way to see a thing like that,’ I shrug. ‘Maybe it’s a good thing you got a fighting wife.’


I AM TYING the knot on Jeremiah’s wrap when a man with light hair and eyes, maybe the age of Jeremiah’s oldest brother, comes to me.

‘You think you could help me with this?’ he says, and shows me where his trousers are torn almost from knee to ankle.

I ain’t ever spoke to him before, but I squat down and fold back the flaps of wool. There is a deep tear running down the back of his calf.

‘I’ve got to touch it a bit,’ I say, looking up at him.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, squaring his shoulders. ‘I can stand it. Name’s Milo Keller, by the by.’

The way the skin pulls apart makes me think on Doc Cuck’s curved needle.

‘It needs stitches,’ I tell Milo, and when he grits his teeth I keep going. ‘I ain’t got the skill or the tools for it, but I can wrap it. You got any clean rags?’

He shakes his head and then I am digging through my pack again.

‘Jeremiah,’ I say. ‘You go get Ambrose’s flask, unless you got any pop skull, Milo?’

Henry says, ‘Goddamn it!’ and moves off away and I don’t know what I’ve done ’til Jeremiah growls, ‘Watch what you call things, Ross,’ and goes after Henry, leaving me with Milo and the picture of Jimmy’s busted head coming up in my mind.