Love and War: The Coltrane Saga, Book 1 (28 page)

Kitty sighed with relief, then set about to help with the suturing. When all had been done that could be, she supervised the moving of Andy to a spot outside the tent where she could check on him when there was time. As she tucked a dirty blanket under his chin, his eyes opened, blinked, and he tried to smile up at her.

“It
is
you. I thought I had died and gone to heaven…but it is you…”

“I’m going to be nearby, Andy. You rest. You’ll need your strength, but you’re going to be fine.”

He moved his lips to speak again, but the effort was too great, and he slipped away once more.

Straightening, she looked about her for the first time. As far as she could see in either direction, soldiers lay on the ground. Some in piles. These were the dead, to be buried as quickly as possible, because already the air was thick with the stench and the swarming of flies. Overhead, the vultures circled, waiting.

Some of them were hollow-eyed and sunken-cheeked, shot in every conceivable part of the body; some shrieking, calling upon their mothers; some laughing the hard, cackling laugh of one who suffers without hope. There were curses tossed to the winds, men writhing and groaning as other victims tossed against them in their agony. Nearby, one lay with his head blown open, and she felt sick as she saw
his
brain thumping in the cavity.

Dr. Davis called to her. “Kitty, I need you.”

She turned and hurried toward the tent. It did not matter any longer that it was Yankee blood on her hands. Perhaps it never had, not when a human life was at stake. For somewhere, perhaps Poppa, or Nathan, were suffering and needing help, and she prayed that it would not matter to some doctor or nurse whether they were Yankee or Rebel.

Through the night they worked, and as often as possible, Kitty stepped outside to check on Andy. Once, she found him awake, and she brought hot coffee and hardtack and coaxed him to eat. By sunrise, her bones and muscles screaming with weariness, Dr. Davis told her to take a break or she would surely pass out. She went to a nearby campfire where some bacon stew was simmering, and, filling a cup, took it to Andy and woke him up to spoon down as much as he could swallow.

And then she slept, curled up beside him…a link with the life she had left behind.

“Miss Kitty…”

Her eyes flashed open. Above, sunlight filtered down through a fig tree, and she blinked and fought to remember where she was. And why did she feel as though there had been no sleep, no rest? Dear God, never had there been such a feeling of weariness.

“Miss Kitty…”

Turning her stiffened neck, it all came flooding back as Andy grinned, face bright with freckles. “Miss Kitty, are you all right? I feel so much better this morning, thanks to you.”

Sitting up, she reached out to touch his forehead. It was warm, but there did not appear to be a fever. Checking his bandage, she was satisfied that the bleeding had stopped once the wound was sutured. Dr. Davis had been right. With the aid of turpentine to fight gangrene and fever, Andy had a good chance of surviving his wound. And he seemed so strong this morning. She checked herself as she looked upward. Already the sun was starting to sink in the west. Had she slept the whole day away?

“I’m going to get you something to eat.” She started to get up but he said someone had been by with sorghum and hardtack, and he had eaten a bit.

“I can’t get over seeing you way up here. How did you ever get to Tennessee, Kitty?” He looked so young lying there, but the sharp wisdom of the atrocities of war had given his youthful voice a tone of maturity, she realized.

“It isn’t a pretty story, Andy. When Doc Musgrave and I left Goldsboro last August, it was a trap set by Luke Tate. Doc was killed.”

He winced painfully. “I’m sorry…” His voice broke, and he closed his eyes for a moment, Doc had brought him into the world.

“I was held a prisoner by Luke Tate until the Yankees came and killed everyone but Luke. He got away. They kept me with them because I know something about doctoring. I was running away myself when I found you, but I’m so glad I did.

“But tell me…” she said quickly, unable to contain herself any longer. “How is Momma? And did Poppa ever come back?”

He turned his eyes away, as though he hated to have to tell her he had no good news, “Your momma, well, she drinks a lot. I heard Ma talking about it with Preacher Brown one afternoon. Jacob’s still there. He says he promised your pa he’d look after her, so he stays on and does what he can. Your pa, he never came back. Nobody’s heard from him. ‘Course I haven’t been home since Christmas. I just couldn’t take it anymore—all the news coming back about the fighting and all. I felt like I had to do my part, so Nathan, he came home for Christmas, and he said I could come back with him, and I did. Ma cried a lot, but she knew I had to do my part…”

Kitty was no longer listening to what the boy was saying. Her heart was beating rapidly, and she felt herself swaying. Nathan. Oh, dear God, how she longed for the comfort and warmth of his arms. “Andy, was Nathan in the battle yesterday?”

Again there was that look in the boy’s eyes, as though he did not want to answer her questions. “Nathan is a Major now. The Wayne Volunteers were assigned to the North Carolina State troops, you see, under Colonel George Anderson. They say he’s a West Point graduate. Well…” He paused to take a breath, and Kitty knew she should not let him use his strength to talk so much, but she had to know if Nathan was all right. She had to have news of him.

“Colonel Anderson put the men through a lot of drill work and training, and he promoted Nathan to Major.”

She nodded. “That’s wonderful, but Andy, tell me, was he in the fighting yesterday? I’ll have to go back and look…” She didn’t finish the sentence. She did not want to put in words that she would have to go back and search the dead for Nathan’s body. “No ma’am,” he said finally. “Major Collins don’t ride with his men anymore. He stays behind the line with his maps and charts and plans the artillery fire. Somebody has to do it, you know,” he added defensively.

But Kitty did not notice. She was too relieved to hear that Nathan would have to be all right. But the fighting had spread for so many miles—and so many had been killed. Would she ever be able to find him?

“What’s going to happen now? I mean, when I get well, will they send me to a prison? And what about you, Kitty? Are they going to keep you here and make you look after the Yankees? Nobody thought the war would last this long. I sure didn’t. I thought I’d be home in time for spring planting.”

Suddenly, she did not want to talk anymore, at least not about the future. They could not be sure that any of them had a future. Not now. Getting to her feet, she smoothed her torn, blood-stained dress. “Andy, I’ve got to go back and help Dr. Davis, but I’ll keep a watch on you. The man who brought me here, Captain Coltrane…if he’s still alive, he’ll be back, and I’ll talk to him and find out what’s to become of you. If they send you to a prison, at least you’ll be safe until the war is over.”

“I’d rather fight,” he said fiercely. “I’d rather fight and die on the battlefield than rot in some damned Yankee prison…”

“Hush. Your ma wouldn’t like for you to curse so. I know you’re brave, Andy, and I’m proud of you, but war is no place for a boy as young as you…”

“I’ve killed Yankees. Shot three yesterday, I did. I ain’t afraid to fight, and I ain’t afraid to die.”

“I know. Now you rest.”

She went back inside the tent. Dr. Davis was still at work, and she wondered how he could carry on. The line of wounded seemed endless. For every soldier that looked as though he might live, one would already be dead when brought in, or die on the table.

Dr. Davis told Kitty that she would have to continue to make decisions as to whether or not to amputate limbs. Arms sore and weakened, she could no longer use a saw to grind through bone, but there were strong-gutted assistants to do it for her. “Gangrene is what we’re fighting here,” he said. “These wounds from the minie balls are terrible. They shear and chop their way through muscle and tissue, and some of them hit with enough speed to split and shatter right into a bone. If you don’t cut that bone off, gangrene will set in, and the patient will die. The balls leave jagged, ugly wounds, and in most cases, there is no alternative but to amputate.” He gestured toward the steadily growing pile of arms and legs lying to one side.

“I don’t feel qualified to make such a judgment,” she said. “I’m not a doctor. It isn’t right.”

“We’re short-handed. We have to do the best we can, and I’ve watched you, girl. You’ve got the gift. You’ll do just fine.”

Kitty went to work, hating every moment of it. Finally, the parade of death slowed, and just when she reached the point when she felt she could begin to minister to Andy and the others recuperating from their injuries, Captain Travis Coltrane returned.

He had been standing back, silently watching. Out of the flickering beam of the lantern overhead, Kitty had not seen him observing. How long had he been there? She did not know. A soldier had just died as she probed into the flesh of his chest for the bullet, and she lowered her face into blood-slick hands and wept.

Someone was fastening a strong hand around her wrist, pulling her toward him. Opening her eyes, she saw Travis standing there, tight-lipped and grim, steel-blue gaze burning into her face. Silently, he led her from the tent, away from the campfires and into the shadows.

“I hear you’ve done a remarkable job back there,” he said finally, sitting down beneath a tree and pulling her down beside him. He pulled out a cigar and lit it with a burning twig he’d picked up as they passed a small fire.

She didn’t speak.

“I also hear that you brought in a Rebel soldier and insisted on treating him.”

“What should I have done?” She jerked around to glare at him in the darkness, hoping he could see her anger. “Leave him there to die, or shoot him the way you did one of your own?”

He ignored her anger. “You had a special reason for bringing him back. What was it?”

“I wish you’d been killed in the fighting,” she ground out the words. There was something about this man that made her tremble and feel warm—and she didn’t like the strange feeling, as though he had some secret power over her.

Even in the darkness she could tell that he was grinning at her in that cocky way with the side of his mouth tilted crookedly, mockingly. “Well, I wasn’t. I killed a few of your people, though.”

“They’re your people, too. You’re a traitor to your countrymen.”

“Perhaps. Depends on how you look at it. If I don’t think the way they do, why should I die for their convictions? But that’s another story, princess, and that’s not why I brought you out here. We’ll have plenty of time later to talk about the war and why we’re both in the middle of it, because we’re going t spend a lot of time together.”

She tensed. “If I have to be a prisoner, I want to stay with Dr. Davis.”

“Sorry, but I’ve just finished a conference with General Grant, and I have another assignment, and I’ve asked for permission to take you with me, and the General granted it. He knows that I’ll need some medical assistants with me, and the way I’ll be traveling, a woman won’t be so conspicuous.”

“Conspicuous? What are you talking about, Coltrane?”

“General Grant wants me and my men to do what your friend, Tate, was doing, except for a different reason. I’m not after gold and plundering. I’ll be after information, trying to find out what the enemy is going to be doing next. We don’t want the Rebs to surprise us again if we can help it. So we’re going to go out on our own, in civilian clothes, and we’ll sit on both sides of the fence…whatever it takes to get the information we want.”

“Spies. You’re going to be spies!” she said accusingly.

He laughed. “You can call it that. Makes it sound more exciting, doesn’t it? Actually, we’ll be scouting and sending back messages about the Confederates’ movements. Naturally, from time to time, we’re bound to get in a skirmish, and we’ll need medical aid. That’s where you come in.”

She started to get to her feet, but he grabbed her arm, yanking her back down roughly. “I’m not through talking to you yet, princess. There are a few things we need to have understood.”

“I’m through talking to you, and you’re wasting your breath, anyway. Helping save the lives of the soldiers wounded here was one thing, but riding with you and helping your men is another. I swear before God almighty that I’ll never lift a finger to help any of you. So you might as well leave me behind with Dr. Davis to do what I can here…”

“Oh, I think you
will
lift one of those pretty fingers, princess,” he said with maddening taunt to his voice. “I think you will do just about anything you’re told.”

“You’re mad!” Again she moved to get to her feet, and again he yanked her back down, rougher this time. He leaned forward, so close his breath was warm on her face.

“No, I’m not mad. You see, that Rebel soldier you saved is going to come along with us. And the first time you let one of my men suffer…the first time you refuse to help…that boy will die.”

She knew he meant what he said. Once, she had planned to make him fall at her feet with desire. She had been willing to use every feminine trick available to make him want her so desperately that he would be caught off guard, and she could escape. Now it was clear that here was a man completely in control of himself at all times. Did he even have a weakness? She could not be sure.

And then she decided that he had to have a weakness. All men did, and perhaps, like most, Travis Coltrane’s would be that of ego. She had to take a chance and try anything at this point.

Above, a silvery wisp of clouds parted to let the shimmer of the full moon gleam down and filter through the leaves. His face was clear now. She could make out every detail. He was handsome, ruggedly so. A quality of danger and intrigue that could turn the heads of most women. But Kitty considered herself different from most of her sex. Even though he did make her feel all warm and funny inside, she was not about to lose control of her senses.