“What word of Philip?” Sarah asked quickly. “You just said he’d been taken.”
Butler almost trembled as he grabbed the grease-slathered bread from her hand. Closing his eyes, he savored it as he chewed. “What kind of bread is this?”
“Made of acorns and cattail roots,” Maw called, apparently satisfied with her stove. “Thank your little brother. If he wasn’t half wild Indian, we’d starve.”
Butler wolfed the rest of the bread and washed it down with water; then he noticed Sarah’s still raised eyebrow, and said, “All I know is that Philip stayed with his wounded when Bragg’s corps withdrew. As a regimental surgeon, he’ll no doubt be paroled and exchanged sometime soon. He may already be free. Since he was taken, surgeons have been declared noncombatants.”
Maw ladled a bowl of stew from the pot on the stove, found a spoon, and set it before Butler, who finally seated himself. “Is he still sore as a nose-twitched bear? Mad at your paw?”
Butler nodded as he spooned soup into his mouth, heedless of the drops that stuck to his mustache. “That hurt of his, it turns out, runs deep. Some wounds…” He paused, eyes lowered. “Well, enough said.”
“What was it?” Sarah demanded. “Did you ever find out? Everything was fine one day, and the next, Philip stormed out and was gone.”
Butler nodded, started to speak. Then he glanced furtively at Maw, jaws clamped tight.
“Oh, tell her,” Maw said, turning tiredly away. “I knew all about it when it happened, so you’re not sparing me any grief. Given what Sarah’s been through, she’s a grown woman now.” Maw pointed her ladle at Sarah. “But don’t you breathe a word to your little brother! Your word on that!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sarah turned back to Butler. “Why’d he leave?”
“He left because of a woman.” Butler bit off the words.
A woman? But Paw wouldn’t have cared who Philip wanted to court. It wasn’t like they would have been after the same … She stiffened, uncertain gaze going to Maw, who’d turned her back, her attention on the stove.
Oh, Paw, how could you? But it figured. It was always the ones who loved him that he hurt the most.
“On the brighter side,” Butler said with false cheer, “Philip is engaged to a socially prominent Memphis belle named Ann Marie Morton. A surgeon’s daughter of good reputation. They are to be married next spring. Assuming Philip can escape the Yankees, and doesn’t mind the turmoil of Memphis being a Union town.”
“Is she a nice girl?” Maw asked.
“I can’t tell you. The one time I was in Memphis, Tom Hindman had me running from dawn till half past midnight. Otherwise I would have called and paid my compliments. Philip, however, is besotted with love. Which, given his normally dour persuasion, is really something of a miracle in and of itself.”
“Will he be all right?” Sarah asked. “I mean, what do Yankees do to prisoners? All we heard after Pea Ridge was that the Confederate prisoners were marched off to Saint Louis before finally being exchanged. They won’t hurt him, will they?”
“Oh, I don’t imagine it will be any fun for Philip, but they won’t go out of their way to hurt him. Like I said, he may already be free. The commission in charge worked out some complicated scheme of what rank can be traded for how many of a lesser rank, and so on and so forth. Problem is, that on a one-for-one trade, there’s ten Reb prisoners for every Yank.”
Sarah heard the strain in her mother’s voice. “Before the battle, you did see your paw, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Butler spooned more of his soup. “He was … in his element. A raconteur in fine form, and his men loved him.”
“What’s your guess, son? Was he killed, or did he just cut and run?” Maw asked too casually.
Sarah felt her heart skip.
Butler considered, toying with his soup spoon. “Mother, I honestly don’t know.” His voice almost broke. “The things I saw…” He swallowed hard, the right hand shaking again. “Whole men just vanished … Blown into atoms of red mist. And the ground was so cut with ravines and woods and creeks.”
“Paw wouldn’t run,” Sarah insisted hotly. “He killed men in duels who so much as suggested he was a coward.”
Butler turned oddly glittering eyes on hers, his expression pinched and brittle. “Sister, I saw braver men than me run from that hell. I wish I’d … never…” His gaze went empty, the hand shaking again, a twitching at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, that’s over with,” Maw insisted as she pulled out a chair and dropped into it beside Butler. “We’re so proud of you. My son, an officer. And on a general’s staff.”
Butler’s vision seemed to clear. “And not a very popular general’s staff at that. What do they say about us in Benton County? Despot? Tyrant Hindman?”
“Secesh is behind you to the Green River, as your paw would say. Union men would as soon hang Tom Hindman naked from a chinquapin tree and leave him to rot.” Maw knotted her hands on the table before her. “That Order Seventeen? The one that lets any ten men declare themselves as a company of rangers? Don’t you all know down in Little Rock that that sword cuts both ways?”
Butler nodded soberly. “It was that, or surrender the whole state to the Yankees. General Hindman bet that when push came to shove, most of the state would side with secession.”
“Most,” Maw agreed. “You’d be surprised at the number of men in Benton and Washington Counties who’ve slipped away in the night with their rifles to join the Union army. And then with General Curtis leaving? Tempers are starting to burn hot, son. For the moment, the county is in Rebel control, and those that suffered, like the mill owners, and the ones with sons and fathers killed by Yankees in the fighting? They’ve got a call for revenge on
