The Face of Heaven (20 page)

At first their wagon moved quickly, Sally and Kate seeming to enjoy the open road and fresh clover Hiram let them stop to graze on every couple of hours. Then they caught up to the wagon train that followed the Army of the Potomac—food, ammunition, powder, saddles and tack, medical supplies—and their pace slowed considerably.

Lyndel pointed. “Why are the ambulances so far in the back? They should be right behind the troops.”

Hiram pulled back on the traces. “Muskets and cartridges and extra bayonets are at the front.”

“It’s nonsense.”

Hiram grunted. “That’s the way the army thinks. Plan on changing their minds too?”

Morganne was sitting between Hiram and Lyndel. Lyndel leaned forward to get a better look at the young reporter. “Did I change somebody else’s mind lately?”

“Only the mind of the president of the United States.”

“Oh, that. I just had to help him realize what he already knew.” She sat back. “It troubled me to see him look so careworn. I did not wish to add to his burdens.”

Hiram smiled. “I’m sure you made his day. Blue eyes and red hair and a smile like sunshine.”

“Hiram, not everyone sees me the way you do.”

“You mean the world has gone blind?” The wagon began to move more quickly as traffic surged forward. Hiram’s grin had come and gone and now he looked like stone. “He has plenty to be careworn about. We can’t afford to keep losing battles and expect to preserve the Union.”

Morganne turned to him. “Didn’t we win at South Mountain?”

“Sure, Nathaniel’s brigade gave Lee a caning. There’s no doubt in my mind the Rebels were headed for Pennsylvania and Lancaster County and had to change their plans after Sunday’s fight. Now they’re waiting for McClellan at Sharpsburg instead.”

Lyndel leaned forward again. “Lancaster’s my home. There’s nothing for General Lee there.”

“Yes, there is, Miss Keim. It’s a fast route to Harrisburg. And Harrisburg is a major military center and rail link. Lee would love to get his hands on it and paralyze our movements.”

Lyndel sat back and shook her head. “They would bring warfare right to the door of the most peaceful people in America.”

“It hasn’t happened yet. But if McClellan runs like Pope ran, who knows what might happen next? Lee could put a choke hold on the Union.” He glanced at his two passengers. “Talk among the correspondents who cover the war for the big papers in Boston and New York has Britain and France granting recognition to the South by Christmas or New Year’s.”

Morganne turned pale blue eyes on him. “What exactly does that mean?”

“They would call the Confederate States of America a legitimate nation. Send her ambassadors. Supplies. Maybe even help her win her independence from the United States.”

“No.” Morganne’s eyes turned a much darker hue.

Hiram shrugged. “It’s looking that way. A few more victories for the South might be all it would take.”

“What about slavery?”

“Well, Miss David, Britain and France wouldn’t mind a weaker United States, so they are looking the other way on Southern slaveholding right now. But the truth is, much of the support for Richmond
comes from the aristocracy of Europe—they sympathize with the Southern gentry and the plantation owners.”

“What about regular people like you or me?”

“The working man? The regular citizens of France and Britain? That’s another story. Some of them feel like white slaves themselves so they have something in their hearts for the Africans. And the British and French know what it is to be laborers. The North doesn’t have a slave economy, it has a lot of laborers, so European folk feel a strong connection there too—yes, Miss David, they have a real sympathy for the Union cause.”

Morganne’s pale blue eyes remained on him. “If that is so, why is there a danger of the British or French supporting the South’s bid for independence?”

Hiram clicked his tongue at the horses. “If you put the vote to the common man in France and England and Ireland they’d say hurrah for the Union. But it’s the aristocracy who run the governments in London and Paris. And they are leaning South.”

Morganne continued to stare at Hiram. “That’s a mouthful, Mr. Wright. But everyone says one big victory by the North will settle it.”

Hiram made a face as if he had swallowed something bitter. “Sorry, Miss David. A Union win over Lee will hold the lion at bay for a while. But there would have to be quite a few more solid victories before you could say the South was backing down. I will tell you that whatever happens this week will make a difference. We lose and the politicians in Europe will meet with representatives from Jeff Davis’s Confederate government. We win and we buy ourselves some time.”

“Perhaps,” Lyndel spoke up, “Mr. Lincoln has a plan.”

Hiram nodded. “No doubt he has. It may even be a very good one. But it’s out of his hands.” He glanced over at her. “It’s in the hands of men like Nathaniel.”

Morganne gave a short laugh. “You are no patch of moonlight on the waters, are you, Mr. Wright?”

“I’m sorry you find me a disappointment, Miss David.”

“On the contrary. Now I see you have more behind your freckles
and sweet-potato red hair than a dab of charm. You’re more interesting to me now than you were an hour ago.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Are you?” Morganne faced forward again, settling her hands in her lap. “Let us see what the long journey brings our way.”

They traveled through the night, moving slowly, the horses plodding along half-asleep. Morganne rested her head on Hiram’s shoulder and closed her eyes while Lyndel lay down in the back. By noon on Tuesday the 16th they were drawing close enough to the front for officers to ask not only for Hiram’s correspondent pass but repeatedly for the pass Lyndel carried. Often enough her sheet of paper brought a grunt of surprise.

“Well,” said one captain handing it back to Lyndel, “it’s a strange thing to have you ladies so close to the cannon fire and musketry but I reckon Father Abraham knows what he’s doing.”

At sunset Hiram finally pulled off the turnpike and into a field where other wagons had stopped for the night.

“Is that it?” complained Lyndel.

“Yes, ma’am, that’s it,” replied Hiram. “The horses are beat and I’m beat, and there are so many Federal troops everywhere I would guess we’re pretty close to Lee’s army. I’d rather not drive past our pickets and wind up at Stonewall’s campfire by mistake.”

Lyndel called out to an officer who was riding past with several aides. “Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where we are?”

The officer reined in and smiled. “Ladies so close to the front? To what do we owe this honor?”

“I am Lyndel Keim. This is my companion Morganne David. We are nurses. Our driver Mr. Hiram Wright is a war correspondent.”

The officer tipped his Stetson to Morganne and Lyndel. “I am Lieutenant Colonel Alois Bachman, ma’am.”

“Miss, if you don’t mind.”

“Miss it is then. May I see your pass?”

Lyndel produced the folded sheet of paper. Bachman strained to
read it in the dark and drizzle. “President Lincoln? Nurses for the 19th Indiana and its brigade?” He looked at her in surprise. “But I am the commander of the 19th Indiana.”

Lyndel was equally startled. “Where is Colonel Meredith?”

“Battle injuries prevent him from retaining command for this battle.” Bachman folded the sheet and handed it back to her. “Don’t let the ink run. No one will permit you and your friend to remain here without it.”

“Where is the 19th, sir?”

Bachman pointed. “Bivouacked by the turnpike a mile or so ahead. But you are probably as far as you need to go tonight, nurse or no nurse.” He nodded at the women and said, “I thank you for caring about our men. Please form up with our ambulance corps in the morning and inform the surgeons of your presence. The wounded will be grateful for your skills once the battle is joined.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Lyndel replied. “I wish you and your men well. And a speedy recovery to Colonel Meredith.”

“Yes, we all are hoping for the best for the Colonel. I pray whatever sacrifices are made tomorrow will not be made in vain.” He tugged on the brim of his hat. “May God protect you and Miss David. I will see you in the field. Two young ladies will be a marvel at a time of bloodshed.”

He rode off with his cluster of lieutenants and second lieutenants.

Hiram began to unharness the horses. “There. Now you know you are close to Nathaniel.”

“If he’s with them.”

“Why wouldn’t he be with them?”

“You couldn’t find him at Upton’s Hill.”

“Miss Keim, I only had one afternoon there and the whole 19th regiment hadn’t even arrived. Courage. Has his name ever shown up on any of the casualty lists in the papers? I feel in my bones Nathaniel is alive. What do you feel in your bones?”

“Aches and pains from being jolted up and down all the way through Maryland.” Morganne was grinning. “May I spread my bedroll under the wagon?”

“Best place. At least you’ll have a roof.” Hiram began to lead the horses into the darkness. “I’m going to water the horses. The Potomac is just over to the right. There’s a creek called Antietam around here as well if I can find it.”

“Don’t be long,” called Morganne.

“Ten minutes, Miss David, no more.”

Lyndel had her hands on her hips. “Fancy him?”

One side of Morganne’s mouth curled upward in a smile. “I have since we left Washington. Didn’t care for him much before that.”

“What’s changed?”

Morganne stretched. “Oh, the scenery.”

Lyndel flicked a hand in her direction. “Suit yourself. He’s a good friend. I think I’ll sleep in the wagon.”

“Is there room?”

“More room than there was in Miss Barton’s boxcar.”

Lyndel made her bed close to a stack of bandages. She lay on her back and listened to the movement of horses and wagons on the road. Someone was calling for a Sergeant Hanson. Then she heard Hiram return and a laugh spring like silver from Morganne’s throat. Lyndel smiled in the dark. Well, why not? They were both persons she cared about. Maybe it would work out for them in the long run.

Thinking of Morganne and Hiram as a couple turned her thoughts toward Nathaniel. Hiram had faith that he was alive. Why didn’t she? Despite the wagon wheels and horse hooves and voices around her she was able to pick out a cricket as it talked to the night. What if Nathaniel was lying in his bedroll a mile up the turnpike? Was he listening to the wheels creaking past too? Could he hear the crickets? While he lay there, did he still think of her? Was he writing letters and trying to mail them even though he knew her father would never let her have them?

Or is he in the stone-cold ground?

She turned on her side. Morganne tapped on the bottom of the wagon and she tapped back. She drifted in and out of sleep. Suddenly there was the
pop-pop
of muskets far ahead. Then a silence deeper than the silence of a quiet night on the farm in Elizabethtown. A feeling
crept over her arms and legs like the feeling she used to get when she was a little girl and frightened of ghosts. A feeling that something large and cold and wicked was approaching the door to her room. That it would wait a few minutes for the right moment. Then it would strain against the wood and hinges until not only the door would bend but the whole house collapse upon her head with a roar.

12

N
athaniel pulled out his pocket watch. It was 3:30. Just like the morning of the battle at Brawner’s Farm. He heard another pop. Picket fire had awakened him.

He tugged a small Bible from a pocket in his coat. Stared at the pages until his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he could make out letters and words. He read Psalm 91 twice. Then lay on his back and thought he could see a few very small stars.

They had feasted on some foraged chickens until it felt to Nathaniel like the end of the war. And he wanted it to be the end of the war. No more battles. No more wounds. No one being left for dead in the grass. He wanted to head home.

And on the way pick up Lyndel. A nurse in Washington—how was it possible? Why had her parents let her leave the Amish community and spend her days among the suffering and the dying? Did she have any idea that her brother was in the army now and not the ambulance corps? Levi had never told her. What would happen to Lyndel if they took her brother back to Washington on a stretcher with his arms blown off?