Francois rubbed his forehead, trying to wipe away the sweat that threatened to stream into his eyes. It was a hot and muggy day, or so he thought, knowing all too well that in comparison to home in the Deep South, it wasn’t as harsh but still miserable. His ankle throbbed dully and he bent to adjust the stick he’d shoved into his boot as a way to offer support for the injury that refused to heal. Doc Ada had never told him it would be perfect, or when it might be doable, and for that, he commended her, because to lie to him would’ve served no purpose. All he could do was groan and bare it.
“Too bad you ain’t done that prior to here,” Wiggins had whispered late one night. “That might’ve sent you home, if it’d been last spring.” He chuckled.
Francois had laughed with him, both knowing full well that unless he lost the foot, going home was never an option for him. Somehow, his time here had helped eased the heartache over Emma, only to be replaced by Ada. A woman who was enamored with another man, but even without that, she despised him because of who he was. It had made him truly wonder if the peculiar institution was worth all this, knowing damn good and well, his father and many other Southerners would argue the war was about more than slaves, yet for what he saw transpire in the North, the Southern argument seemed more hollow.
A bugle interrupted his thoughts and he adjusted in the saddle.
“Ya look just like a proper overseer,” Wiggins snorted, spitting to the ground.
Francois looked at him, irritated by his comment.
“How many of that type do you know?” He frowned. “Thought you tried that on at one point.”
Wiggins snarled. “Yessir, I did, when my pappy threw me out. Young and stupid I was. Quickly found wrangling darkies was not for me.”
“Would not be for me, either.”
The conversation ended as the command came down the line to move forward into the thicket via the Orange Turnpike, guns ready to face the Union ahead. Rubbing the handle to his revolver, Francois nudged his mare into step, ordering the company to advance. They couldn’t see a thing yet, but the rush to his senses and the pounding of his heart told him they were going to hell…
It started slow. One wounded, then three, before a lull and with the time passing, Ada paced between the beds. The minor wounds from going through a thorny thicket had bled profusely, covering the small gashes in the skin, some that she could almost not sew shut. Even now, at the edge, in theory, of the battle, she could hear the staccato of the musket fire with a periodic boom of an artillery piece hastily thrown together to fire, though it was like the sound of a lone wolf in a sea of bullets.
“Miss Ada, that might be all we see,” murmured Maybelle.
Ada turned, all intent to glare at the girl for not addressing her correctly, not even as a nurse, but when she saw the fear on her face, she tempered her anger down. The young nurse had only returned to the hospital a month ago, when they were still in camp. Having the prior winter off had taken her courage down a few degrees, something that didn’t surprise Ada.
“Nurse Maybelle, please take a moment and perhaps get a cup of coffee. You will need your strength. From the sounds from outside, I fear we are in for a long night,” she replied, hoping she sounded more reassuring than she believed she was. She recalled how the return to the ghastly wounds had her gulping, after her trip up north for the holidays, but the groans of the men reminded her all too well her skills were needed. She hoped the nurse before her would rebound as well, or she’d have another patient and be minus a nurse…
“Ada.”
She spun. Will stood before her, tense but on fire all at the same time. In his hand he held a medical bag. She frowned. He looked ready to leave.
“Dr. Leonard, where are you heading to?” She’d worried about him from the moment he got this promotion. He was a surgeon, adequate and better than many, but a paper-pusher he wasn’t.
“I’m heading out to the battle. Men are falling at a rapid rate. We can’t get ambulances through that thicket to get them back. Best to go assess them on the field, do what we can.” He stepped forward. “I wanted to let you know that’s where I’ll be. Dr. Waxler will be back over you directly. I’m sorry.”
Her stomach dropped. Licking her lips nervously, she nodded. “You be safe out there.”
He gave her a grin and a wink. “Be ready. They are coming. Perhaps Grant’s nickname of butcher is right.”
As he slipped out the tent flap, she saw out of the other opening the incoming patients. Some carried, some walking but all bleeding and a horrible sight. Inhaling deeply, she yelled to the nurses, “Incoming wounded!”
Next day ~
Smoke filled the air, clogging it and making breathing harder. It clouded vision for many of the soldiers on both sides. Though relentless, they followed orders and loaded to fire again at the enemy whose forms were shadows. Spitting grime out of his mouth, Francois glanced over the area and toward the enemy. While the Confederates hadn’t spared much, even Francois could see
