“I wasn’t sure I should tell you. Wouldn’t have. But seeing you now…?”
“I know Paw as well as you do, better probably. It’s good you told me. Means I won’t put the two of you in the same room by mistake.” He pulled his hat off, hanging it on a wooden chair back and plucking up the black leather case. “But enough of that! I brought you something. Spoils purloined from behind Federal lines just prior to our precipitous retreat from Kentucky.”
Setting the square case on Doc’s surgical table, he began unbuckling the long straps that allowed it to be attached to a saddle or wagon. Opening the leather exterior, he produced a wooden mahogany box, its corners fitted with brass caps and lockset. The top had been emblazoned with an escutcheon marked “U.S.A. Hosp. Dept.”
“You know what this is?”
Doc gasped, running his fingers down the waxed wood. “My God, it’s a surgeon’s operating case. And a cussed expensive one at that.”
Doc flipped the latches open and exposed the fine instruments, each held in place by dark blue velvet dividers. Tourniquets, scalpels, amputating knives, catlins, the various saws, scissors, probes, and sounders, it was all there.
“I thought it would do a heap more good in your possession than it would among the Federals. Those bastards are rich enough they can buy more.”
“Butler, I don’t know what to say. My dear Lord, it’s a Hernstein & Son set. Among the best in the world.” He lifted out the straight forceps, marveling at the serrated surface inside of the curved beaks.
“Just keep our boys alive. That’s all the thanks I need.” Butler looked around and stepped over to the cupboard, peering at the bottles in their lines. “Some surgical hospital. Where’s the medicine?”
“Which medicine precisely are you interested in?”
“I think the medicinal term is ‘pop-skull,’ or ‘Who-hit-John.’ On some occasions it hangs on to the moniker ‘oh, be joyful.’”
Doc grinned, used his foot to lift the lid on a trunk, and tossed his brother a bottle of whiskey. “That came from a distiller outside of Memphis. I’d tell you it’s most likely the finest sour mash you’d ever tasted, but I reckon that hanging out with the kind of generals you do, you’ll only find it passable.”
Butler pulled the cork, took a drink, and worked it with his tongue before swallowing. “I’d say it’s every bit as good as what we sampled from Lynchburg.” He found two of Doc’s tin cups, pouring liberally. After handing one to Doc, he parked himself backward in the chair, arms braced on the back to steady the cup.
Doc seated himself on the trunk, clicking rims with his brother in toast. He studied Butler for a moment, wondering again at the intense young man across from him. “You’ve heard about the fight at Elkhorn Tavern?”
“That’s one of the reasons I came to see you. I’ve read the report Van Dorn sent to General Johnston. After Curtis finished kicking the stuffings out of the Army of the West, Van Dorn extracted what was left of his army down the Huntsville Road. Maw, Sarah, and Billy would have been right in the middle of the retreat. Abusing my position, I’ve shamelessly sent five separate letters, but who knows what condition the post is in. All I can tell you is that the battle itself was up on the ridge around Elkhorn Tavern and over around Foster’s farm. The family should be all right.”
Doc nodded. “What about you? What’s it like serving with Tom Hindman of all people? Most folks say he’s a pompous prig.”
Butler raised an expressive eyebrow. “When it comes to a firebrand, the man’s hotter than a burning corncob. He and I don’t see eye to eye on every subject—especially slavery—but he’s smart. Really smart. If this war could be won on passion, he’d be the one to win it. No one I’ve met has ever impressed me like he has.”
“How on earth did you come to his attention?”
“Paw. Of course. I finally got the story out of Hindman. The man draws trouble like a lightning rod. After a rather fiery speech in the legislature, Hindman stepped out into the street. Five of Johnson’s thugs jumped him. One grabbed Hindman from behind and pinned his arms so he couldn’t draw his pistol while the others prepared to beat him to death with clubs. Paw appeared out of the darkness and laid about him with that sap he always carried.
“According to Hindman, Paw helped him to the nearest tavern where Hindman medicated Paw with brandy until all hours. Hindman drank soda water. They both decided that politics aside, they were, and I quote, ‘the most convivial of kindred spirits.’ At least when it came to a street brawl.”
“You’ve come a long way. You talk like a gentleman instead of a Benton County Arkansan. But then I always expected you to be a professor of history or philosophy. A lecturer on the classics. How life has taken us by surprise.”
Butler stared into his whiskey. “Surprised indeed. Fact is, I rather like being an officer. To my wondrous discovery, war is not only fun, but exhilarating. I organized our withdrawal from Bowling Green. I’m at the heart of the army, watching history being spun off the looms of great men.”
Butler paused, his sensitive face thinning. “But some of the things I’ve seen? I get the night chills, brother. I see the faces of the suffering. They call out in my dreams. It is like … Dante’s Hell, newly broken loose in America. And we may see worse to come.”
“John Gritts used to say you heard the spirit voices.”
“Enough of me. What of you? The last I heard you were in Boston, and pop, you’re a regimental surgeon? Ain’t that a twist to chaw on?”
“I’m betrothed.”
“Do tell?”
“Her name is Ann Marie Morton, a physician’s daughter in Memphis.” Doc smiled. “Seems that I fell for the most wondrous laughter, beauty, and poise. I think, though, looking back, it
