The Lady and the Officer (6 page)

Major Henry pulled them from his grasp. “Wait for my orders on the porch,” he snapped. The boy flew from the room as quickly as he'd entered. “General Downing requested that you remain here where you will be safe.” The major spoke while scanning the newly delivered documents.

It took Madeline a moment to realize he was addressing her. “And where might General Downing be?”

“On the battlefield, madam, where we have engaged the enemy not a mile away.”

“I was confused, sir, because you are still here.” She met and held his scornful gaze.

“As the general's chief of staff, I assist maneuvers from headquarters based on dispatches from other commanders. But none of this concerns you, Mrs. Howard. Your breakfast is in the kitchen under a linen cloth. Your horses have been cared for, and the privy is out back. General Downing's orders were to protect you, but I have no time for further interruptions. I respectfully request that you stay in your room, out of my way.” He pointed at the bedroom door with a gloved finger.

Incensed, Madeline strode to the kitchen as a minor act of defiance. Slumping onto a chair, she pulled off the linen napkin on the plate and devoured two flapjacks, a piece of dried bacon, and a shriveled apple. Today she chose not to inspect the food too closely. On the stove she found a pot of coffee, strong and still warm. Savoring a cup, Madeline assessed the kitchen—one wobbly table, five chairs, and a poorly made pine corner hutch that held the previous owner's treasures—chipped and mismatched china. She felt a pang of sorrow for the unknown lady of the house. Such a pitiful collection of goods that undoubtedly represented years of hard work. But when she remembered that everything she owned was packed in a cloth satchel, her glumness deepened.

On her way back to her room, she noticed that Major Henry and his aides never lifted their focus from their maps and drawings. Once she was behind a closed door again, she found a book on the bedside table to occupy her time, one certainly not left behind by the farmer.

Trying not to think about her cherished possessions lost in the fire, Madeline settled in the rocking chair to read
Medical Procedures for Regimental Surgeons and Nurses from the Office of the Medical Director of the Army
. Despite the monstrous title, the volume contained interesting
recipes for soups and stews to build strength in convalescing patients. She pored over the application of tourniquets and field dressings until her back grew stiff. Outside, the rain had ceased, leaving behind a mist hanging dismally over the streets. Dropping her head into her hands, Madeline began to sob. At first she cried for herself and everything she lost. Then she mourned for the countless men who lay dead or dying on the battlefields in the distance…

Suddenly, she jarred awake with a crick in her neck and a sour taste in her mouth. She'd fallen asleep trying to distinguish the types of blood poisoning following limb amputations. The grisly descriptions had failed to hold her attention. Rising, she drew back the curtain on an eerily silent street. A white canvas medical wagon rattled down the thoroughfare, jostling its inhabitants mercilessly.

Madeline squeezed her eyes closed and pressed fingertips to her ears. She neither wished to see nor hear anything that would haunt the rest of her days. She returned to the chair, uncertain what to do. Should she wait for a man who had promised to protect her? What if General Downing had perished or been grievously wounded? If so, how would she explain her presence at federal headquarters to whomever arrived to take command? Despite the fact she'd known him only a few days, she couldn't bear the thought of him lying lifeless on the battlefield. Uttering a hasty prayer for his safety, Madeline hoped God wouldn't consider her plea shamelessly selfish.

Hours later, after the moon had risen over the horizon, she heard the sound of voices and the stomp of boot heels on the porch. Madeline held her breath until a sharp knock was heard at her door. She swiftly went to it and swung it open. “Goodness,” she gasped, wide eyed. “What has happened?”

General Downing entered her room dusty and haggard, not the same distinguished officer whose horse had trampled daisies in her garden. Stubble darkened his jawline, and his boots were caked with mud and blood. “Mrs. Howard, I am relieved to find you here.”

“I share your relief in that you're still alive, sir.” Then she spotted a dirty bandage tied over his uniform sleeve. “Have you been wounded?” She quickly closed the distance between them.

“It's nothing,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

Madeline plucked at the knot that held the rag in place. “Not according to the medical journal I just read. That wound needs to be cleaned thoroughly or poison could spread through your body.”

“Please don't concern yourself. The bullet has been removed, and the wound was dressed by a surgeon.” He walked to the window overlooking the yard. “How did you fare today? You weren't troubled unnecessarily by my aides?”

“What an odd question, considering what you endured.” Madeline shifted her weight, growing uneasy. “What of your soldiers? Did they prevail on the field?”

“Indeed, my men covered themselves in glory. But great losses have been suffered on both sides. The wounded have overwhelmed the town of Gettysburg. I must move my headquarters to a tent so this house can serve as a hospital.”

His grim expression galvanized Madeline to action. She began stuffing her soiled dress, hairbrush, and Bible inside her valise. “I won't take up more of your time. If you would have Bo saddled, I will return to Cashtown. Reverend Bennett probably wonders what happened to his gelding.” Finishing her task as she spoke, Madeline picked up the valise and turned to exit the room.

The general blocked her path in the doorway. “I didn't mean you had to leave this minute. Do you have any idea what the Chambersburg Pike will be like?”

She tried to step around him. “I believe so after reading that gruesome medical manual.”

“Then you know it's no place for a lady.”

“How can I stay here if this house will soon become a hospital? I must return to the Bennetts' at once.”

The lady and the officer stared at one another for several moments.

He was the first to give in. “Very well,” he said with a sigh, stepping aside. “I will accompany you to the preacher's.”

“That won't be necessary.” With her path clear, Madeline marched out the front door.

General Downing trailed on her heels. “Stragglers from both armies
are desperate to get away from the battlefield, Mrs. Howard. Someone will steal those horses within the first half mile. We should cut through the back country, and you simply must have an escort.”

She hesitated, finally hearing the wisdom of his words. Over her shoulder she said, “As you wish. Once again, I find myself in your debt, sir.”

As soon as the horses were saddled, she tied her valise to the saddle horn and mounted Bo. Two of General Downing's aides prepared to accompany them, one on each side. Madeline prayed none of their horses would stumble in gopher holes or become lost in the dark. Fortunately, they came across nothing to cause concern, and within the hour they rode up the lane to the Bennetts', creating a clatter that brought the minister and his wife to the porch.

“Thank goodness, Mrs. Howard,” called Reverend Bennett. “You have been spared by God's grace.”

Before she could respond, General Downing addressed the preacher. “My soldiers will secure the two horses in the barn, Reverend, and I will check on Mrs. Howard's welfare as soon as possible.” He touched his hat brim and then disappeared into the darkness without another word.

Madeline slid from her mare and handed the waiting soldier the reins without a chance to express her gratitude or even warn the general about the dangers of dirty bandages. She walked toward her lifelong friends feeling bereft… and strangely disappointed to be once again separated from him.

T
HREE

 

J
ames washed the dust from his face and hands and dressed in the cleanest uniform he owned. With his decimated corps to reorganize—forming regiments into new brigades, brigades into new divisions, and combining divisions to fortify his weakened Fourth Corps—his laundry and personal appearance hadn't been foremost on his mind. But now, with a pleasant errand before him, he tried to not look as disheveled as he felt. Even after thirteen hours in the saddle, he eagerly anticipated the hour ride to the preacher's house. He'd dismissed his staff for an evening of rest and recuperation. Frankly, he could do without Major Henry's sneers and thinly veiled questions about Mrs. Howard.

Attempting to court a widow in the aftermath of a battle might indeed be folly, but James had a right to be a fool at this point in his career. He'd been a soldier since leaving West Point as a young man. After serving in the Mexican War under Winfield Scott, he'd risen quickly through the ranks. When the army splintered after the secession of South Carolina from the Union, there had been no question of his allegiance. Born and raised in a small town east of Philadelphia, he'd been promoted to the rank of major general with the outbreak of war.

Now the conflict held duty, but no glory; responsibility, but little honor. After two long years, James had seen men commit acts repugnant to his Christian upbringing. Yet the interminable war dragged on, and he had no choice but to see it through. Tomorrow, or the next day, or the one after that, the new Commander of the Union Army would order him to follow General Lee through Maryland back into Virginia, perhaps finally bringing this juggernaut to a conclusion.

At thirty-eight, James was no longer young. But unlike twenty thousand other unlucky souls, he also wasn't dead. He intended to gaze on the lovely face of Madeline Howard for as long as possible, at least until she insisted he stop interfering in her life and go about his business. Tonight he rode alone to Cashtown, refusing offers to accompany him. If Mrs.
Howard dressed him down at the front door, he would have no staff guards for an audience.

However, it was Reverend Bennett who answered his knock fifty minutes later. “General Downing, I'm indebted to you, sir. Madeline said you provided shelter and saved my horse from certain procurement by the cavalry.”

“You're welcome, Reverend.” James stepped across the threshold. “I wondered if I might have a word with Mrs. Howard if she is still your guest.”

“Yes, of course. I'll see if she's—”

“Good evening, General Downing.” Mrs. Howard appeared on the stairs. “I'm pleased beyond measure you traveled to Cashtown again. I have much to say to you as well.”

Reverend Bennett clapped his hands. “Why don't you two make yourselves comfortable in the parlor? I'll see if Mrs. Bennett has a pot of tea handy and some of those shortbread cookies left from dinner.” He gestured toward the small formal room.

She spoke before James could collect his thoughts. “Thank you, Reverend, but I'm eager to stretch my legs after being confined indoors today. I thought the general and I could take a stroll if he doesn't mind. I would like to show him your heartbreak.”

“If he feels it's safe on the road, then by all means.” Bennett's gaze fixed on James.

He rested his hand on his holstered sidearm. “I can assure you of Mrs. Howard's safety, sir.”

“I'll just get my shawl.” She turned and moved gracefully up the stairs.

While waiting for her return, James pondered the foolishness of his statement after what he had witnessed the past three days. Groups of men cut down by artillery shells, while one man was left unscathed. Bullets instantly killing a line of seven soldiers, leaving the eighth to drop to his knees in shock. There was no rhyme or reason in war. He couldn't possibly guarantee he could protect Mrs. Howard from harm. Although, without a doubt, he would die trying.

When she joined him at the bottom of the steps, she didn't seem to notice his false bravado. She began chatting the moment they reached
the street. “Mrs. Bennett and I tore bed linens into bandages all day. Then we packed up canned goods to be delivered to Gettysburg. With so many wounded soldiers taken to town, they'll need extra food for weeks to come.”

“You have a kind heart, Mrs. Howard, in light of your own troubles.” They walked inches apart on the narrow sidewalk. The lemony scent of her toilet water filled his head like an elixir.

“I would imagine your hands are full after three days of battle.”

“We're still tending wounded in the field and reorganizing the troops,” he said, glad the evening shadows hid his expression. “But if it's the same to you, let's not talk about the war.”

“All right, but I must thank you for accompanying me last night. I hope I didn't seem ungrateful for your kindness.”

“Fatigue often circumvents our best intentions. I'm heartened to see you again. Have you given any thought to your plans? Will you live with the Bennetts until you are able to rebuild your home?”

She remained silent so long that he thought she wouldn't reply. Then she said, “I foolishly spoke in vain the other night. I have no money to replace my house. And the Bennetts have no reason to remain in Cashtown much longer.” She came to a halt on the sidewalk.