Lost Cause (12 page)

She said hello and he said hello and took her
hand and led her away from the rail office. They walked side by
side along the sidewalk to a street that led toward the middle of
town where the shops and vendor stands were about to open for
another business day.

“Your train,” she said softly. “You’ll miss
your train.”

“They have whistles.”

“I don’t want you to go, Jack.”

“I know.”

“I did a bad thing last night.”

“You can’t do anything bad, Marie. You’re
perfect.”

“I destroyed our child.”

“What!”

“I drank something. Nurse Lisette. . .she
gave me a powder. . .”

“You killed the baby?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” She began to
sob and Jack led her to a shop overhang and pressed her hard
against a brick wall.

“Why did you do that, Marie?” he seethed. “I
was going to marry you. We were going to be a family.”

“I couldn’t be sure of that. You might be
killed. You might not want me anymore if I was fat and bloated and
ugly.”

“Oh, Marie I would never think of you that
way. I love you, I want us to be together.”

“Even now? Now that I’ve murdered your
child!”

Jack felt cold and small and strange, as if
he was seeing Marie through someone else’s eyes. He released his
grip on her shoulders and stepped out into the street where a man
with a long wooden pole was turning on the kerosene street lamps.
He glared at Marie trying to see her eyes in the semi-darkness. “I
don’t know you anymore,” he said slowly. Then he turned and walked
quickly back to the train platform.

Beyond the train tracks across a small brook
was a white church with its spire enshrouded in mist. There was fog
above the water in the brook and all along the grassy bed of the
railroad tracks as far as the eye could see. Jack looked at the
church and his heart ached with a pain he’d never felt before. It
was an empty wrenching flood of emotion that took away his breath
and made him want to scream out in desperation. He walked across
the tracks and stopped by the bank of the stream looking up at the
cathedral with eyes full of tears. He stood that way for some time
his mind racing with convoluted thoughts that made no sense.

Then a train whistle sounded in the
distance.

He returned to the platform and waited for
the train to arrive. He checked the platform and the street several
times for any sign of Marie, but all he saw were people waiting on
the train and shop owners opening their shops for business.
Crestfallen, he boarded the train and found a seat in one of the
passenger cars.

There were several other men already on the
train, some coming back from furlough, others, like Jack, returning
to duty in the south of Texas. One civilian sat in a seat next to
one of the soldiers cradling a thick brown valise on his lap. He
was a short, dumpy, sad-faced man with red hair and an even redder
face. He had the look of a lawyer about him, Jack thought. Or
perhaps a banker or some business man who no doubt made his living
off the Confederate government selling cheap boots and shoes to the
local provost marshals. Confederate boots were notorious for
falling apart at the least drizzle of rain.

As the train pulled out of the rail yard Jack
looked out the window hoping to see Marie standing there waving but
she was nowhere in sight. She’s gone, he said to himself. I’ve lost
her. I’ve lost her and our baby. I’ve lost everything.

It seemed a very long ride through the town
to the country side rising steadily upward from the gulf. It was
still raining and Jack could smell the wet coats and damp hair of
the men crowded around him. A soldier had taken a seat next to him
and was leaning toward the window watching the rain spattering on
the steamy glass. “It sure is foggy outside,” he said in a friendly
manner. Jack looked out the window and thought of nothing except
Marie Hayes and their ill-fated child.

An hour into the trip the train stopped at
Elizabethtown to take on more passengers. Men filled the empty
seats and then stood in the aisle with their haversacks and
luggage. There were not enough seats in the forward passenger car
so the men had to be herded rearward toward the stable compartment
and the mail car. A few of the men complained about the lack of
seating but someone in the rear of the car told them to shut up and
keep moving. Jack looked around and saw a tall thin sergeant with a
long pale scar across his forehead. He was taller than Jack and his
face was very ruddy under the shadow of his hat.

“You need to get up, Corporal, and let me
have your seat,” the sergeant said rather snootily.

“I found this seat first,” Jack said. “Maybe
there’s room in the mail car.” The sergeant’s ruddy face tightened
around small hazel eyes and he said,

“You have no right to that seat. I’m a
sergeant, you’re not. Now please surrender that seat.” Jack was
still feeling the effects of his earlier food poisoning and was in
no mood for a row. He stood to his feet and tugged his haversack
out into the aisle.

“Please, dear sergeant, take the seat. You
are of a higher rank after all.”

The sergeant sat down and looked at Jack with
an unwarranted amount of hostility. “You have the seat,” Jack said.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, there is. You can get your smart mouth
and ugly face far away from me.”

Shrugging, Jack shuffled down the crowded
aisle dragging his belongings behind him. The train was packed and
he knew there was no chance of a seat in the passenger car so he
pressed on toward the mail car. He was standing in the aisle behind
three other men when the train started and he watched the lights of
the Elizabethtown station fade in the distance. It was still
raining and soon the windows were fogged over by men’s breath and
he could see nothing but a rectangle of streaked silver where the
window used to be.

Trapped in the rear of the car, Jack wriggled
and jostled until he was able to find a spot on the floor to sit on
his luggage. Later, he fell asleep and slept until the train began
to slow and he heard someone say they were pulling into the Laredo
station.

It took twenty minutes for the passenger car
to empty sufficiently for Jack to disembark and another thirty
minutes to hire a wagon to take him on to Brownsville.

It rained the entire trip and by the time
they were above the bluffs overlooking Brownsville, Jack’s mood was
as sodden as his hat and coat.

Chapter 21

It was still raining when Jack arrived back
in Brownsville. Contrasted to Corpus Christi, the trees were all
bare and splintered and the roads muddy and pocked with the boots
of men and the hooves of horses and the wheels of wagons carrying
supplies and ammunition and the bodies of the wounded and the dead
and others stuck somewhere in between. Jack rode into San Ruisas
passing the Juniper trees along the road and the bare fields once
green but now brown and barren and the damp gray leaves piled up on
the side of the road like miniature graves. Workers from the
engineering corps were busy working on the road, tamping flat
stones in the larger ruts and pouring piles of crushed rock into
the furrows along the side of the road between the trees. There was
a cool mist over the town that cut off the view of the bluffs above
the river. It had been raining in the south of Texas for many days
now and the Big River was running high and the lanes between the
houses and villas on the southwest side of the town lay under a
foot of water.

Jack got down from the wagon in front of the
barracks and the driver handed down his haversack and Jack walked
into the barracks feeling as if he was walking into a prison. The
windows were all shut up to keep out the rain and Jack saw his
captain sitting by the door looking at maps and drinking
brandy.

“Hello, Corporal,” he said. “How are you
feeling?”

“I’m good, sir. How is everything here?”

“It’s quiet right now because of the rain.
Put down your gear and have a seat.”

Jack took a chair from the opposite wall and
sat down facing the captain’s table.

“It’s been a terrible month,” the captain
said. “Has your wound healed well?”

“Yes. What do you want me to do, sir?”

“Sit tight for now. We’ll decide something
after these rains stop.”

“Where are the others from the regiment?”

“There are two of our companies up in the
hills and all of Colonel Rip Ford’s regiments are west of here at
Boca Chica. You can join up with his boys when he stops by to
re-supply. If the Yankees insist on keeping the fight going we have
no choice but to fight back.”

“Where is Colonel, Ford?”

“Like I said, he’s somewhere around Boca
Chica. He’s had a tough summer and early fall.”

“I can believe that.”

“It’s been bad for all of us,” the captain
said. “Sometimes I think you were fortunate to be shot when you
were.”

“It sounds like I was,” Jack said. “Do you
think the enemy will attack Brownsville a third time?”

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t be wise. You must
have seen the river when you rode in?”

“Yes. It’s very high.”

“I don’t believe they will attack as long as
this rain keeps up.”

“I kind of hope they do,” Jack said. “I owe
someone for this bullet wound and many hours of pain and
suffering.” The captain nodded and said,

“You stay here in the barracks tonight and if
Rip Ford’s men come in for supplies tomorrow, you can ride out with
them. Like I said the yanks are shelling us quite a bit so just be
careful around the river. I’m glad you’re back with us,
Corporal.”

Jack smiled curtly. “You’re good to say so,
sir.”

“It was brave of you to come back. If I was
in your place, I don’t believe I would have come back.”

“It is my duty, captain.” The captain smiled
and nodded.

“Very well. Now go get settled and we’ll talk
more tomorrow.”

Jack sat down on his bed and unpacked his
haversack and took off his boots. Then he lay back on the bed and
stared at the fly-specked ceiling wishing he was back in Corpus
Christi holding Marie Hayes in his arms. He was tired and his
shoulder hurt; not a fiery throbbing pain like before, but a deep
rhythmic pulsing deep in the muscle beneath his shoulder blade.

The room was damp even with the window
shuttered. Outside the sky was dark like gray slate and a long
continuous line of rain clouds stretched from horizon to horizon.
Jack lay on the bed and thought about Marie Hayes and the child he
would never see. He didn’t want to think about them but the room
was quiet and the day was wet and dreary and there was nothing to
do but lie there and think about those he loved and cared
about.

Chapter 22

The next morning Jack opened his eyes and saw
Corporal Campbell sitting in a chair looking at him. Campbell
looked like a wet dog with drops of water glistening in his dark
hair. “You gonna sleep all day?” he said with a ragged smile. Jack
sat up on an elbow frowning.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, my friendly friend, I just couldn’t
stand being apart from my ole’ buddy. So I talked the doc into
signing the papers, jumped on the next train and here I am.”

“Well, damn, it’s good to see you, Carl.”
Jack said. “I was going stir crazy here by myself.”

“Where are the other men?”

“Off on patrol. It’s just you and me right
now.”

Campbell’s facial wounds had completely
healed but the scars stood out like blobs of paint on his cheeks;
dark brown and wrinkled, like old leather. His speech was greatly
improved, however. Jack could detect only a faint trace of a lisp
when he spoke.

“Face is looking good,” Jack noted.

“It’s a lot better than it was. How’s your
shoulder?”

“It’s stiff. Probably the rain.”

Campbell found a comfortable spot on his bed
and asked, “Are you missing Nurse Hayes?”

“Don’t ask silly questions, Carl.”

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Jack said. “We
were friendly, and now I’m here and she’s there.”

“You acted like ya’ll were married back in
Corpus Christi,” Campbell said. “Must have been hard leaving her
behind.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“If you say so. So, you’re feeling good
huh?”

“I feel like hell.”

“Me too. Let’s get drunk and see if we can
cheer each other up. Maybe take a little trip over to Lupe’s
cantina?”

“I might have to deploy with Colonel’s Ford’s
boys,” Jack said. “Unfortunately I can’t get drunk right now.”

“We’ll have one drink, then. We don’t have to
get drunk but we can at least have one drink. Look what we went
through, after all.”

Campbell went into his haversack and brought
out a bottle of whiskey. “Bought this in Elisabethtown during a
layover,” he said uncorking the bottle. He handed it to Jack who
took a moderate sip and handed back the bottle.

“It’s pretty good whiskey for moonshine,”
Campbell said. “Helps keep the chill off.”

“How are folks treating you?” asked Jack.
“With the scars and all?” Campbell shrugged and took a sip of
whiskey.

“The woman who sold me this whiskey looked
like she was serving a ghost or something. Some people stare, some
don’t. Most just give me plenty of room. Didn’t have no trouble
getting a seat on the train, that’s for sure. Had the whole seat to
my self.”

They drank more whiskey and Jack went over
and opened the window to let in some fresh air. The rain had
stopped but there was a mist clinging to the tops of the trees and
the sun was barely visible in the dreary sky and steam rose off the
garden walls like smoke.

“So, you’re not gonna marry that nurse?”
Campbell asked.