The Bride Price (14 page)

“I closed the skin around his lost hand, but
time will tell how quickly he will heal. My focus at the moment is
to keep it from infection. The rest of his injuries were easier to
repair, so I’m hopeful that if he wakes up soon, he should make a
complete recovery.”

“I’d like to sit with him, if that’s all
right,” Sophie said.

“Of course.” Stephen’s gaze lingered on
Christine. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Sophie saw Christine blush as she nodded and
her eyes followed him as he walked down the aisle. Sophie grabbed
her hand. “What the heck was that all about?”

Christine shrugged. “I’m certain I have no
idea.”

“You like him,” Sophie insisted in a
whisper.

Christine snorted. “Don’t be silly.”

Before Sophie could continue her barrage of
questions, the soldier began to thrash. Christine moved quickly to
hold him down, surprising Sophie with her force. “Hold him, Sophie
but watch his arm.”

Sophie placed her hands on his shoulders and
pressed as hard as she could. The boy was strong and obviously
experiencing fight or flight mode.

“Shhh,” Sophie whispered. “You’re okay. We’re
here to help. No one will harm you.”

Christine rushed to find the doctor, leaving
Sophie to figure out how to calm him alone. All she could think to
do was sing, so she began to hum “Amazing Grace” as quietly as she
could. It took a few minutes but he began to settle. Stephen
arrived back at the cot, Christine and Lila close behind, and
Sophie moved out of his way so that he could examine him.

“Son? Can you hear me?”

A groan sounded from the soldier and his
tongue darted between chapped lips.

“He looks thirsty,” Sophie said.

“I’ll get some water,” Christine offered.

“Son? Can you open your eyes for me?” Stephen
spoke softly as he took the soldier’s pulse and tried to rouse him.
“You need to try and wake up if you can.” Stephen lowered his wrist
then slipped an arm behind his shoulders. “I’m going to sit you
up.”

Christine returned with a tin cup and handed
it to Stephen, who tipped the rim between the soldiers lips.
Sputtering, the soldier’s eyes flew open and he tried to push
Stephen’s arm away. “Get away!”

“You’re safe,” Stephen assured. “Drink.”

Sophie was surprised the soldier acquiesced
so quickly. Stephen was able to get him to drink the entire cup of
water and stay calm enough for Stephen to check several of his
wounds. Sophie insisted on sitting by his cot for another hour,
although the man never spoke. She knew he was awake but couldn’t
coax his name or any other information out of him.

Although the rest of the day was a series of
motions, Sophie faked her way through it and fell into bed, hoping
the next few days, weeks, months, might bring answers.

* * *

The next morning, Sophie stepped off the
bottom stair and almost ran into the doctor.

“Just the lady I needed to see.”

Sophie smiled. “Good morning, Michael.”

“May I have a word?”

“Of course.” Following him down the hall
toward his office, Sophie’s heart began to beat a little faster.
She felt as though she was being called to the principal’s
office.

“Please, have a seat.”

Michael waited for Sophie to sit down and
then sat in the chair behind his large, walnut desk. He sat back
and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sophie squirmed in her seat,
growing more and more uncomfortable.

“Christine explained to me that you were
insistent on a young soldier’s care.”

Sophie nodded. “I was. I’m sorry, Michael if
I overstepped my bounds.”

He held his hand up. “You didn’t.” He took a
deep breath. “What I am unclear on, is if you know who he is?”

“No. None of us do. He hasn’t spoken.”

“He’s my nephew.”

Sophie’s head whipped up. “What?”

Michael nodded stiltedly as he dragged his
hands down his face. “My youngest brother’s boy. He’s sixteen years
old.”

“Sixteen
?” Sophie stood. “How the heck
did he get into the army?”

Chuckling sardonically, Michael slapped his
hand on his knee. “He lied about his age, I would imagine.”

Sophie started to pace. “Wouldn’t he need
paperwork for that?”

“I imagine it wouldn’t be difficult to
forge.”

“Oh, Michael. I’m so sorry. What did his
parents say?”

“My brother, Robert, has been at war for over
a year now. He probably doesn’t know. My sister-in-law, however,
sent me a missive several months ago. Topper disappeared with his
older brother, Tracker, and she asked me to use my influence to
find them. I have been unsuccessful.” Michael leaned forward.
“Until now, of course.”

“Topper?”

Michael chuckled. “When Christopher was born,
Travis was two and could not say Christopher. He was forever Topper
after that.”

Sophie smiled. “Where do they live?”

“New York. I made some enquiries, and a
Christopher Wade is listed as Private, 2nd Regiment, NY Vet Cavalry
Company A. He is listed as eighteen years old.”

“What about Tracker?” Sophie chewed her
thumbnail.

Michael took a deep breath. “A Travis Wade,
also Private, is listed as deceased.”

“Michael,” she whispered. “I am so
sorry.”

He turned wide eyes to her. “How did you
know, Sophie?”

Shaking her head, she rubbed her temples. “I
can’t answer that, Michael. There was just something that drew me
to him. Maybe because Richard thought he was Jamie. I just felt he
should be tended to.”

“Well, young lady, if it weren’t for you,
he’d have been lost.”

“How did you know who he was? He was so beat
up. Did he have dog—I mean, information disks?”

“No. I knew him as soon as I saw him. Nona
and I visited with the family not so long ago, and he and I were
able to get to know one another. He is the spitting image of his
father, and he also has a mark on his shoulder that helped to
identify him.”

“So, what now?”

“Well, he’s going to come home. Here, rather.
I have sent a wire to Sarah, and I would imagine she’ll arrive in
the next few weeks, but I’m going to suggest he stay with us.”

“Will she be all right with that?”

Michael chuckled. “We’ll find out, won’t
we?”

Sophie sat down again.

“I’m going to visit with him today. I was
hoping you might join me.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Me? Why?”

“I understand you have a lovely singing
voice.”

Sophie blushed crimson. “Christine likes to
exaggerate.”

“It wasn’t Christine who told me. The
hospital is abuzz with stories of the lady who calmed him with a
song.”

Sophie waved her hand dismissively. “Oh,
please.”

“Will you join me?”

“Well, of course. I’m not sure how much help
I’ll be, but I’m happy to try.”

Michael smiled. “Excellent. I’d like to leave
just after lunch.”

Sophie stood and left his office. Wandering
the halls of the house, she pondered the young man, and what kind
of event would have made him leave his home at such a young age.
Without answers readily available, she decided to visit Samson. He
might not be able to talk to her, but he certainly made her feel
welcome.

Approaching the stables, she waved to a few
of the soldiers she’d gotten to know over the past few months and
then made her way into the darkness of the barn. She let out a
whistle and smiled when Samson’s trumpet of welcome came and then
the familiar sight of him poking his head out of his stall. Sophie
grabbed a brush and let herself into his stall. “Hello, boy. You
are a sight for sore eyes this morning.”

Michael found her in Samson’s stall over an
hour later and let her know lunch was ready. With a final pat, she
bolted Samson in and followed Michael back to the house. They
grabbed a quick bite and then took off for the hospital.

They pulled up to the front of the hospital,
and Michael lifted Sophie down from his buggy. He followed her
inside and they were met by Stephen. “Michael. He is awake and
agitated.”

“Is he lucid?”

Stephen nodded. “Yes, as you requested, we’ve
given him nothing for the pain.”

“Thank you.” Michael turned to face Sophie.
“Follow me, please.”

They walked down the wide aisle toward the
cot that held Michael’s nephew. He wasn’t hard to find, as he was
the one yelling obscenities at “the bastards who took my hand.”
Sophie couldn’t quite comprehend Michael’s calm. She didn’t know
the young man, and her heart broke for him, tears already forcing
to spill from her eyes.

One of the nurses tried her best to hold him
still, but he fought her, and managed to clock her in the face with
his stump. He screamed in agony, and Michael and Stephen rushed to
assist. Sophie followed close behind.

“Topper.” Michael grasped the boy’s
shoulders. “Calm down.”

Sophie checked on the nurse, relieved to see
she was fine, and then made her way to Topper’s cot. He continued
to resist Michael so Stephen lent a hand—and brute strength.

“We could give him laudanum.”

“No!” Topper bellowed.

“Topper, listen to me. Listen to my voice.
You are safe here.” Michael sat next to him.

Sophie watched him calm, and then his eyes
opened, sudden recognition flashing across his face. “Uncle?”

“Yes, Topper, it’s me. You are safe
here.”

Topper broke down, and Sophie watched Michael
pull him into his embrace. The soldier, now reduced to a frightened
little boy, took comfort in the arms of the large man.

“All is well, Topper. You’ll stay with us,
and Nona will take good care of you.”

“Not safe, uncle.”

“What’s not safe?”

Pushing away from Michael, Topper wiped his
face with his hand and took a deep breath. “This…” he held up his
stump, “did not happen on the battlefield.”

Sophie gasped and drew the attention of the
young man. Michael turned and motioned her forward. “Topper, this
is Mrs. Ford. She found you.”

“Well, I didn’t find you so much as I was
brought to you.” Sophie smiled.

“Sophie understates her involvement. She is
the reason your care has been so thorough.”

Topper nodded, his face still racked with
fear. Michael stood and checked his pocket watch. “I’ll discuss
your current status with Dr. Paxton and then we’ll take you
home.”

“No! Uncle, you can’t.”

“Topper, whatever it is that you think is so
dangerous is no longer a threat. You’ll be safe at our home.”

Michael walked away, leaving Sophie standing
by the cot. She watched as Topper dragged a shaky hand through his
hair. She pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat facing him.
“Michael’s right, Topper. You’re safe now.”

“You don’t know anything,” he snapped.

Sophie clasped her hands together in her lap.
“Probably true.” She smiled. “But it seems as though your uncle is
determined, and I don’t think you have much of a choice.”

He let out an expletive.

“Son, if you use that language in front of a
lady again, I’ll take you to task.”

Sophie turned to see Michael had returned, a
look of irritation on his face.

“Sorry, Uncle.” Topper then turned to Sophie.
“Ma’am.”

“We’re ready to go.” Michael’s expression
softened, but his warning still hung in the air. “The nurses are
gathering the items you came in with, and we’ll continue your care
at home.”

Topper scowled but didn’t comment as he
pushed himself off the cot. Unsteady, he reached for the wall,
forgetting about his injury but Sophie grabbed his bicep before he
could hurt himself. She saw embarrassment register in his
expression, so she quickly said, “Oh, Topper, I’m sorry. I lost my
balance there for a second. I appreciate your assistance.”

His eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded
and didn’t pull away as she slipped her hand in the crook of his
arm. “Can you walk?” she whispered.

“Of course I can walk. I’m not an
invalid.”

“Right. Of course not.”

Sophie led Topper down the aisle, all the
while assisting without looking as though she were assisting. They
met Michael at the entrance and then they made their way out to the
buggy. Michael waited for Topper to pull himself inside before
taking Sophie’s hand. She climbed in beside him and tried to give
him an encouraging smile. It didn’t seem to work.

* * *

February and March passed without much
progress. Sophie spent as much time as she could with Topper but
without answers as to who the threat was. He never said the name of
the man who had caused him so much fear, he woke up screaming in
the middle of the night. He refused to speak about his injuries and
how he got them, and Sophie did her best not to push.

* * *

“Eyes open, men,” James yelled. He glanced to
his right at Sergeant Mitch West. Mitch had rapidly become a
confidant and ally. “You, too.”

Mitch chuckled and gave him a mock salute.
“Yes, sir.”

Brigadier General William W. Averell, mounted
to his left, moved forward and James followed. It was the third
attempt to cross the Rappahannock, but trees and a unit of
Confederate sharpshooters stood in their way.

“I’ll take twenty.” Major Samuel E.
Chamberlain moved out in front him and broke away with the closest
group of men.

James and Mitch pulled their horses back and
sat with Averell while Chamberlain advanced toward the river. James
pushed his hat back for a better view. “He’ll never make it.”

How do I know that?

Averell crossed his arms over the pommel of
his saddle and leaned forward slightly. “You never know.”

As James watched the major lead the group, he
reflected on the last two months and his unusual journey to his
current location in Kelly’s Ford, Virginia. He’d spent another week
with the Powell’s and then out of nowhere, a group of cavalry
officers had passed through and allowed him to ride with them until
he could meet up with his own.