Wild, Beautiful, and Free(76)

“Ain’t no use going out there till morning, ma’am. Ain’t worth gettin’ shot at in the dark for a man who’ll be dead in a few hours anyway.”

“Perhaps, sir,” she said. “But they don’t deserve to die out there alone.”

She went over to her tent, and I saw her lighting lanterns. When she came out, she motioned for me and Carrie to come with her. Carrie refused, but I knew what Mother B. was going to do, and we had to do it. We were going to walk the battlefield and look for more wounded.

I don’t blame Carrie. If it weren’t dark, I’m not sure I could have done it. I could only see a little bit at a time, just what was within the circle of my lantern light. That was hideous enough. The thought of that sight multiplied a thousandfold was too much to bear. I saw torsos with limbs blown off. Young pale faces tilted up, their mouths gaping open, as though trying to catch rain for a drink. Men crumpled, like their souls had just slipped off the bodies and discarded them. At every moment I feared seeing Mr. Colchester on the ground.

My heart broke. It wasn’t right—all this life, all this blood spilled out. The river had to be running red. All this precious life gone. From the outline of Mother B.’s form, her shoulders slumped, I could see she was bereft too. It made us desperate to find a man alive, to hear a voice, to detect some movement. Miss Maude had taught me not to kill. She’d said it would harm my soul. With that reasoning, all our souls were broken, the living and the dead. Who would pay for this killing?

When we returned, Silas met us at the fire and poured cups of coffee for us. “Find anyone?”

Mother B. shook her head. She took her coffee into her tent. I sat down with Silas. He seemed agitated.

“There’s talk of an emancipation order coming,” he said. His fingers drummed on his thigh like he was trying to figure out a thought. “President could just free the slaves outright.”

I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “I guess we wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught or resold to slavers,” I said.

I tried to sound hopeful, but from what I’d seen, the world didn’t make sense. Seemed like humans were killing humans so that humans could have the right to be humans. I drank my coffee.

Silas stared into the fire. “I tell you what. I’d get as far away from this hell as I could go.”

“Where would you go?”

“West. Maybe California.”

How would any of us live after this? After so much death, there would be too many hard feelings on both sides. Was there enough forgiveness in the whole world?

“Didn’t think we’d still be fighting,” I said. “Can’t believe it’s been a year since Sumter.”

“Still a lot more to do. This ain’t over.” Silas got up, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked off into the dark.

I got to my feet. Exhaustion was starting to overcome me, and I turned toward my tent. But then I remembered Colonel Eshton. I had to find him. As much as I feared the answer, I had to ask about Mr. Colchester.

I went into the pavilion and walked up and down the rows between the beds. He wasn’t there. I prayed again. I’d seen his leg wound, and it didn’t seem like much. But if a ball struck a man in the leg in the right place, in his thigh, he could bleed to death fast. I saw Dr. Nelson coming down a row, and I stopped him.

“Sir, I thought I saw a man I know, Colonel Eshton, come in. He was the one on the horse that died. Where is he?”

“He’s in my tent reviewing some maps of the area. His wound wasn’t bad.”

“Would it be all right if I spoke to him?”

“Yes, go on in.”

Dr. Nelson’s tent was on the other side of the pavilion and closer to it than the nurses’ tents. I pulled at the entrance flap.

“Excuse me, Colonel Eshton?”

“Yes, who is it?”

I stepped in. The colonel’s coat lay across the bed, and he sat at a table with his sleeves rolled up, studying some maps by candlelight. His bandaged right leg was propped up on a chair.

“You may not remember me, sir. I’m Jeannette Bébinn. I used to be the schoolteacher at Mr. Colchester’s school in the Lower Knoll village.”

He looked surprised, but to my relief, he recognized me. “Why, yes, come in. Forgive me for not getting up. I am indisposed, as my mother would say. Here, sit here.” He motioned to a wooden chair near him.

“Sir, the fighting seemed really bad today. I was in the field just now searching for more wounded.”

He sighed. “Yes. Don’t know when we’ll have a proper count of our losses.”

I gripped the arm of my chair. “Sir, when I saw you come in today, I got scared. I hope you don’t mind my asking—do you know if Mr. Colchester is all right?”

“Colchester? I’m sorry to say he’s no longer with us.”

My heart froze. I thought it would stay that way, because I didn’t see a way it could beat in the next moment, a moment without him in it. But Colonel Eshton was going on, and I had to fight to process his words.

“He joined another regiment,” he said.

My right hand moved instinctively to my heart, and I exhaled deeply. “Another regiment?” I managed to say.

“Yes. Colchester marched with them into the Deep South. He’d heard an infantry was going to attack New Orleans, and he wanted to be a part of that action. He asked me for leave, and I gave it. He joined them straightaway. They managed to secure it from the rebels just a few days ago. They’ve been guarding the port for the Union ever since.”