Lost Cause (22 page)

The train from Corpus Christi arrived two
hours after the scheduled time. At first Jack thought Marie Hayes
was not onboard, but she finally stepped off the mail car
accompanied by a young black boy carrying her cases. She looked
very tired, Jack thought, and thinner than he remembered her to be.
She was on her way to the rail office when Jack walked up to her
and removed his hat. “Hello, Marie,” he said haltingly. She seemed
surprised to see him.

“Jack? You’re here.”

“I am. How are you?”

“Fine. Tired. I didn’t expect to ever see you
again.”

“Nor I you.” They fell silent and she looked
at the chevrons on his sleeve for a long time.

“You’re promoted,” she finally said. “That’s
good. That’s a good thing for you, Jack.”

“Unexpected. So, where will you be
staying?”

“With Nurse Mason, I suppose. She wrote me
and offered me a room in her quarters. She never mentioned you were
here in Laredo.”

“Ah, well, we’re not exactly on the best of
terms. She seems to think I’ve treated you badly somehow.” The
young boy shifted the cases in his hands and Marie said,

“I must be going. Maybe I will see you around
the camp sometime?”

“We’re moving out tomorrow. Back to
Brownsville.”

“Oh. Well. . .”

“I love you, Marie.” She looked at him,
hesitant, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“But, what about the baby?”

“I forgive you. I love you and I want to be
with you and I don’t care about the past.”

Although there were a few people about
watching them, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him hard
on the mouth. A couple of soldiers cheered and two women standing
nearby applauded politely.

“Come with me,” he said taking her case from
the boy.

“Where are we going?”

“Some place where we can be alone.”

He took her to a little cantina just off
Taylor Street where the locals and the occasional soldier stopped
to drink tequila and spend a little time and money on the
senoritas. They called it El Casa Gato in Spanish and the Kitty Cat
House in English. The place was dark and smoky inside and
practically empty. Only a tired looking fat woman behind the bar
and two Mexican women dressed scantily for business populated the
small room. Jack escorted Marie to a table then went to the bar to
order wine. “No wine,” the fat woman said. “Tequila and rum. No
wine.”

“Coffee maybe?”

“Si.”

She poured two cups and Jack took them to the
table. The two prostitutes were looking at Marie as if she was
crazy for being in such a place. She was thinking the same thing
about Jack as he sat next to her sipping his coffee. “Jack, what
are we doing here?” she asked a moment later.

“Enjoying each other’s company I hope.”

“But, Jack, it’s a—”

“I know, I know. But it was the only place I
could think of where we could have a little privacy.”

“You call this privacy?” Jack looked up and
saw the fat woman and the two prostitutes staring at them. He took
some money out of his pocket and waved one of the women over to the
table. She hesitated a moment and then sauntered over wriggling her
generous hips.

“You want sunthin’?”

“Yes, a room.” The woman glanced at
Marie.”

“For both of you? I never do no woman
before.” Jack shook his head and smiled.

“No, you misunderstand. I wish to rent your
room, not you. I will pay your going rate for an hour.”

“You want my room, but not me?”

“That’s right.” She shrugged and put out her
hand.

“Five dollars. But only for half an
hour.”

Jack handed her a five and then dropped
another five on the table.

“That’s to keep things quiet. Comprende?”

“I never saw a ting.”

She escorted them to the back of the cantina
to a sort hallway and opened the door to her room. It was a very
small space with a bed, a mirrored dresser, and a small table
containing a wash basin and two towels. “Do not soil the sheet,”
she said curtly before leaving the room and closing the door behind
her.

Jack immediately took Marie in his arms and
she immediately pushed him away. “Can’t we sit here for a minute?”
she asked. “I’m very tired from the train ride.” They sat close
together on the bed saying nothing for a full minute. Then Jack
took her hand and said,

“We don’t have much time.”

“But I feel like a whore,” she said looking
around the tiny room. “We’re in a whorehouse, Jack. We’re sitting
on a whore’s bed.”

“It’s just a bed,” he said. “We can make it
our bed for a while. Don’t you want me anymore, Marie?”

“Of course I want you. But. . .”

“Then let me make love to you. Let me show
you how much I love you.” He took her by the shoulders and gently
laid her on the bed.

“Please don’t hurt me, Jack,” she whispered.
“I can not bear to be hurt again.”

His hands went to back of her dress fumbling
for the buttons. “Never in a million years,” he said. “Never in a
million years.”

Chapter 35

Jack left Marie Hayes in Nurse Mason’s care
promising to write often. The procession moved out early the next
morning with Colonel Ford leading three regiments and Colonel Evans
from Corsicana augmenting the force with his two regiments. The
procession consisted of twelve cannons, a remuda of seventy-five
horses, two dozen mules, several wagons bearing ammunition and dry
goods, and three ambulance wagons to transport any future wounded.
The infantry stretched out like a gray band amidst the brown and
green landscape for at least half a mile. Jack by virtue of his new
rank rode a horse in line directly behind Captain Caldwell and the
other command officers.

The road leading south was in rather bad
shape because of the recent rain and full of ruts from many wagon
wheels and the hooves of many horses. All along both sides of the
road were meadows of wheat gone to seed, and barns and small cabins
built back into the trees on the bank of Zacate Creek. As the
procession rounded a bend in the road, a long valley came into
view. The valley was bowl-shaped and when the wind blew across its
steep slopes Jack could hear the rustling of cottonwood leaves that
had not yet fallen to the ground. Most of the berry bushes and
thickets were now all dead for the season and the fields lay barren
and littered with several layers of fallen leaves from the nearby
trees. Though it was apparent by the wilted and blighted landscape
that autumn was in full advent the temperature was pleasantly warm
now that the rain had moved on out of the area.

The road climbed steadily through the plain
and up and around the hills where Jack saw meadows and barns and
cabins at the edge of the woods facing out across the valley. Here
the valley was deeper and when the wind blew the men could hear a
plaintive wail, much like the lament of a grieving woman. The
mournful sound caused Jack to think of Marie Hayes. She’d cried
during their lovemaking and later expressed regret for having acted
in such a shameful manner. He told her many times that he loved her
and would marry her just as soon as he returned from deployment.
His word of promise was all she had to hang on to. He’d once again
left her on her own with nothing but the hope that she would
someday see him again.

As the day wore on Jack’s horse continued to
navigate the uneven ground with precision, seemingly impervious to
the perils of questionable footing. Long shadows crept down the
slope of the hills in the distance and the bunch grass and mesquite
began to give way to silver blue stem and Juniper. It pleased Jack
to see cottonwood and post oak flourishing in the shadow of the low
hills and switch grass growing in waves of amber on the northern
slope of the valley to the right of the road. Under a canopy of
loblolly pines Jack felt comfortable enough to shed his over
blouse, having for the moment lost the sense of sadness that had
troubled him since starting the journey southward.

An hour after stopping for a quick midday
meal, they started out again and rode through the afternoon until
they came to the bottom of a long smooth slope where switch grass
and autumn bluestem sprouted in the shadow of the trees. The pines
seemed farther apart there and Jack could see the stark contrast of
a green valley beyond the shadow of the trees. Switch grass, gone
brown with the season, grew along the southern slopes of the hills
rolling like ocean waves across the vista upward toward the
dwindling tree line. Jack saw several small deer moving through the
shadows of the trees and a few wild cattle chewing their cuds in
silent indifference on a slope a few yards up ahead.

They pressed onward, crossing several tiny
brooks, and at length came to a place where the road merged with a
thoroughfare that showed evidence of considerable travel. Judging
by the amount of fresh manure littering the road, several horses
had passed along there recently. The road turned eastward sloping
gradually away from the tree-lined hills where loblolly pine and
juniper wove a tight barrier along the berm of the trail
interspersed in spots by winter bluebonnet and black bramble. The
moist clay earth had a smell of richness about it triggering
memories that had lay dormant in Jack’s memories for many years. He
was day dreaming about the sunny fields of home when someone near
the front of the procession yelled, “Yankees!” Shots rang out and
Colonel Ford was shouting out orders to dismount and the Yankees
flooded down the road like an avalanche and Jack was suddenly
fighting for his life. The first wave of Union soldiers were
Calvary troops who charged the front of the Confederate procession
with sabers held high. Colonel Ford’s men met the charge with
carbine fire and sabers of their own. A Yankee soldier with a black
mustache charged toward Jack and Jack shot him off his horse before
he could draw his saber. Then another Yankee surged in his
direction and another and Jack soon found himself surrounded by
sweating men in dusty blue uniforms intent on taking his life. He
fired his carbine then all six shots in his pistol then pulled out
his saber and cut the last remaining threat across the face
knocking him from his horse. There was frenzied fighting all around
him and many men were falling to the ground and horses were
screaming and a huge clamor of dust and smoke rose up above the
road like a black whirlwind.

When the smoke cleared the Union forces had
withdrawn down the road. Men from both armies lay on the ground
like cord wood, some dead, some dying, some, wishing they were
dead. Jack climbed down off his horse and staggered to a large rock
beside the road and sat down. This will never end, he thought
numbly. This butchery will never end. As long as there’s one Yankee
soldier left alive in the state of Texas, this bloody business will
never come to an end.

Chapter 36

By the middle of February, Jack had been back
in Brownsville for three months. He had a beard and a belly full of
fighting and guard duty and drilling and all things military. He
begged his captain for a furlough so he could go see Marie Hayes
for a few days and finally the captain relented and granted Jack
and Corporal Campbell a one week pass. Campbell had joined the
brigade two days after Christmas when the surgeons said his leg had
healed sufficiently for him to resume active duty.

There was quite a bit of boredom and
disillusionment among the men, but every week or so an excursion
into the hills around Harlingen or San Benito would result in a
short skirmish wherein neither side did any significant damage to
the other. The sporadic fighting broke the boredom, though, and no
one really cared all that much when the order was given to form up
for another deployment into the hills.

Winter had settled nicely over south Texas,
in so much as winter could be seen as warm days in the seventies
and relatively cool nights in the low fifties. The rains had ended
by early November and it remained dry throughout the preceding
months. Jack and the men could actually walk on the roads again
without sinking up to there ankles in yellow mud. The drill field
was packed hard and smooth like iron and the main thoroughfare
proceeding through town was overlain with planed logs hauled down
from the hills above the south end of town in an effort to provide
smoother travel for the wagons and ambulances. All in all it was
tolerable duty, but Jack longed to see his sweetheart and the child
she was carrying. She’d written him in January announcing the
pregnancy, explaining that she wanted to be sure the baby was well
formed before announcing the news. It seemed their little liaison
in the prostitute’s bed back in Laredo had resulted in more than
vows of love and whispered words of passion. He’d written her
begging her not to abort the child. She responded by saying he had
to marry her as soon as he had the chance. Only then would she
agree to carry and bear his child.

So on February tenth, Jack and Campbell set
out for Laredo. They rode horses loaned by the remuda master and
carried furlough papers signed by their captain. They made good
time, pushing on well past dark before camping for the night. After
a meal of beef jerky and hoe cakes, they sat around the camp fire
talking.

“Look at that fox yonder,” Campbell said
pointing to a gray fox slinking through the trees just off the
road. “When they sleep they wrap their tails around their bodies to
keep warm.”

“That so?” Jack said absently.

“I always wanted to have a tail like that,”
Campbell said. “Keep myself warm on cold nights. Pretend I have a
sweet little thing all snuggled up against me.”

“Uh huh.”

“I sure miss the touch of a woman. Don’t you,
Jack?”

“That’s Sergeant Jack to you. And yes, I do
miss Marie.”