Sarah’s heart was pounding. “I am not a … a … One of them women!”
He ducked his head, looking appalled, and winced. “I’m most sorry, ma’am. So very, very sorry. I didn’t…” He swallowed hard. “Oh, damn. Please forget I said anything.”
But Sarah was already headed back to her tent, almost at a run, the hot soup slopping in her plate.
How dare he?
In her tent, she pulled the flaps tight and tied them, sitting in the darkness on her blanket. Ten dollars?
Thoughts roiled in her mind. What kind of madness had she fallen into? Memories of the dead as they bounced in her wagon, the sights, smells, and horrors. And then to be taken for a common whore? They were giving her a dollar a day to endure this? But was even that outrageous sum worth the horror and now the humiliation?
She shook her head. “So, this is what the real world is like?” Who would have believed that a soldier would give his entire month’s pay … for that?
More than anything, she just wanted it to be over so that Paw would come and get her, take her to Little Rock where she could begin the task of building the life she’d always dreamed of. A life far from battlefields and death, where she could marry a decent husband, bear his children, and forget the soldiers, the battlefield, and the kind of men who’d offer her ten dollars for the use of her body.
20
March 30, 1862
A gentle rain fell just beyond the flap of Doc’s surgery. On the pole, his yellow hospital flag hung limp and dripping, each drop reminiscent of urine as the dye leached out of the fabric.
Doc had just lanced a boil on an Obion County volunteer’s neck, and John Mays was collecting the rags he’d used to absorb the effluvium. These, his young surgical assistant now tossed into the small stove for disposal.
Doc turned to the wash pan and cleaned both his hands and the trocar before drying them neatly. Next he inserted the trocar into its pouch. He was bent over, replacing it in his surgical bag, when a smooth Mississippi drawl stopped him short.
“Aw do declare, that must indeed be the regimental surgeon, identifiable to all the world by his wide and prepossessing ass.”
Doc turned to find a nattily dressed first lieutenant standing beneath the protection of his awning. The man’s slouch hat hung low over a shadowed face and dripped water onto a slicker. A large black leather case hung from his right hand. The new arrival sported long sandy hair, a dark blond mustache and goatee. Devilish blue eyes were sparkling on either side of a familiar nose.
“Butler?” Doc cried, straightening.
Butler set his case down and wrapped Doc in a bear hug. The Mississippi accent was gone when he said, “Good to see you, brother! My God, it’s been what? Four years?”
Doc pushed him back. “Damn, boy! Let me look at you. Where’s the goggle-eyed lad I left behind? You’ve grown into a man … and a damned solid one at that.”
“I’d like to say you haven’t changed,” Butler told him with a smile. “But you’re still uglier than a mud fence.”
“God, but it’s good to see you. John Mays, may I present my brother, Butler Hancock. John, here, is one of my surgical assistants. The other, Augustus Clyde, will be along directly.”
“My pleasure, sir.” Butler shook his hand. “However, from here on out I would stay away from poker games.”
“Poker games?” Mays asked, taken by surprise.
“Why, Mr. Mays, the only explanation I can think of that would have brought you so low as to have to serve with my brother is that you were trying to bluff against four showing aces and lost your soul to the devil.”
Mays grinned, lifting the pan with its wash water. “If you two will excuse me, I think I’ll go see if I can find a game crooked enough to take my bottom deal, and see if I can’t win my soul back.”
“He’s a good man,” Doc said as he watched Mays leave. “When did you get in? I’d heard that General Johnston had arrived from Tennessee.”
“Last night. Hardee’s Corps is settling in outside of the town. I’ve been up to my eyebrows in meetings at headquarters. They just can’t get on without me. If they didn’t have someone to hand orders to, which means me and a couple of others, the whole generals’ staff would have no other occupation than the consumption of fine brandies, ports, and Madeira.”
Butler cocked his head, water still dripping from his hat. “Paw said you were here. Seen him?”
“Unfortunately.” Doc crossed his arms. “He inconvenienced himself enough to step out of a saloon and share his felicitations as I was walking down the street.”
“What happened between the two of you? It was never spoken of.”
Doc considered, the reality sinking in that his brother was no longer the dreamy-eyed, towheaded boy who once had lain before the fire, a book propped in the flickering light.
“A woman. You remember Sally Spears?”
“Up at Elkhorn Tavern. Tall, raven-black hair, daring dark eyes, and a rather large female endowment that challenged restraint by the sturdiest of garments. Half the men in northern Arkansas were in love with her. I do remember that you spent considerable time up there.”
“I thought I had the inside track.” Doc hesitated, reading Butler’s expression. “Until the night I found her entertaining another. In ways that I had hoped she would entertain me. After we were married.”
Butler sucked in a breath. “Paw?”
Doc nodded, tensing his crossed arms. “Now, don’t you go passing that around. Maw need never know.”
Butler smiled sadly. “Philip, never suppose that Maw isn’t among the canniest of the fair sex to have ever drawn breath. Reckon she’s fully aware of Paw’s weaknesses. It’s a wonder she
