The soldier screamed, cried, and begged formercy. The medic removed the iron, and two more men lifted the boyby his shoulders and hips and plunked him in front of Tillie, whocouldn’t see through her tears to bandage the stump.
“Hurry up, lass.” The medic scowled. “Wehan’t got all day. There’re more poor divils waitin’. More than wecan shake a stick at, that’s fer sher.”
Once she tied the wrappings on, the same twomen took the soldier away.
At first, she was too aware of the horriblesight and stench of cut off limbs, blood, and burnt flesh. Herhands shook so badly she struggled to wrap the wounds and receivedseveral scoldings for being too slow.
When she stopped seeing the wounds, and eventhe men, she worked with the same swift efficiency as the medicsand doctors. The work reminded her of the rhythm of the butchershop after a fall butchering, when she, Mother, and Maggie wrappedendless pieces of meat.
Tillie tied the bandage to the stump of anarm and stood back. The medics took the man away. She glanced upwhen they didn’t replace him with another. In the parlor across thehall, the grandfather clock struck two o’clock. When did it getdark? Who brought in the lamps?
“I think we’re done here.” Doctor Billingsswiped his forearm across his face, mopping the sweat away. “Ididn’t think that possible.”
Tillie gave him a dull stare, too tired tomuster a response.
He inclined his head in her direction.“What’s your name, girl?”
She opened her mouth and croaked,“Tillie.”
He tapped his chest with a beefy finger. “DocBillings.”
She yawned. She learned his name the daybefore. This was the first time he asked hers.
He waved a hand at her. “Go to bed. I’ll seeyou in the morning.”
“Yes, sir. Good night.”
As she walked through the silent house, theblue glow of the moon lit her path. She stopped at the front windowto gaze at the white orb. How could the moon and sun go on risingand setting, oblivious to the machinations beneath them? A movementcaught her eye, and she focused on the barn. The yellow glow oflamps within illuminated the white fence in the front yard,bordering the road. Piled against the fence and almost over toppingit, rose a mound of discarded limbs. A man flung an arm on the heapand went back inside without waiting to see where it landed. Thearm landed on the pile and rolled down the side. Tillie shuddered,but at least, its former owner stood a chance at survival.
PART 3
THE AFTERMATH
Chapter 21
Rain hammered the roof and slashed at thewindowpanes while thunder rolled overhead. Tillie stretched andsmiled, recalling those days before the battle when she pretendedthe peals sounded like cannon fire. What a ninny. A blinding flashof lightning, followed seconds later by a crack and boom rattledthe windows. “They sound nothing like each other.”
“Hmm.” Beckie rolled over and grabbed for theblanket.
Tillie threw the covers aside and slipped outof bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and stretched again, diggingher toes into the braided rug. She’d gone to bed only a few hoursago, but awoke refreshed and wide-awake. Besides, she didn’t wantto miss breakfast again.
Beckie shifted. Tillie watched her sleep andscowled, seeing she donned a clean nightgown the night before.
Dirty and uncomfortable, she reached up andused her fingers to try to detangle the knots in her hair. Shewinced when her fingers found a thick knot. She must look a frightwith that rat’s nest, but she couldn’t help it. As she lowered herarm, she caught a whiff of her body odor. She jerked her face awayand grimaced.
She feared picking up the lice crawling onthe men. Thinking of the jumping vermin, she shuddered andscratched her head.
Thunder rumbled again. Would there be morefighting? Despite the thunderstorm, something was different today.She couldn’t shake the feeling yesterday’s ferocity brought aclimax.
Tillie approached the washbasin and sluicedher face. She grabbed her shoes and tiptoed out of the bedroom.
Mr. and Mrs. Weikert, Dan, and Mrs. Schriversat at the table, sipping coffee. Tillie stepped over and aroundconvalescing men. She lifted her skirts to avoid hitting any ofthem in the face and picked her way across the room. Beyond thebasement window, Confederates lay in the barnyard under thedrenching rain, trying in vain to shield themselves from thedownpour. Her heart went out to them.
The greeting Tillie meant to give died on herlips. A pensive air permeated the room, as if everyone sensed achange and didn’t trust it. Pouring herself some coffee, she founda seat. As she lifted her cup, her gaze met Mrs. Schriver’s sadeyes.
Her neighbor stared hard at her. Tillie’ssmile disappeared. Now what? She squirmed under the scrutiny. “Issomething wrong, Mrs. Schriver?” A clear challenge rang in hervoice.
Her neighbor gave her a sad glance. “I wasthinking you should be home, safe, but instead, I dragged you here.When your parents find out what you’ve been through, I’m certainthey’re going to be quite angry with me.”
Tillie flopped back in her chair as shereleased her breath. “No, they won’t.” She shook her head with arueful chuckle as she waved her cup around. “How could you knowthis was going to happen?” She sipped her coffee. “I’m safe andalive, and Mother would say ‘all’s well that ends well.’”
Mrs. Schriver burst into tears. Mrs. Weikertleaned close and slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders.Mrs. Schriver covered her face and crumpled in her mother’sarms.
Tillie turned away, wrinkling her nose andmaking a face. “What is that smell?” She glanced around as iftrying to spot the source. “It stinks like dead skunk in the rain,only a hundred times worse.”
“I’m not surprised.” A soldier lying nearbylifted his hand and waved it in front of his face. “What you smellis rotting flesh—animal and human.”
Tillie’s mouth dropped open, and she gaped athim. “How come I didn’t notice it before?”
“Because the odor of gunpowder covered it,but it’s been present since day one. Most of those men have beenoutside in the hot sun all this time. Wet weather alwaysintensifies the stink. I found that in other battles.”
Tillie didn’t know
