April 10, 1865
“Mama?” Chandler stood alongside Rosemarie’s bed as she eased her eyes open, squinting at the sunlight streaming across the bed, bathing her face in warmth.
She’d spent the hours after Daniel’s departure tossing and turning, her thoughts so jumbled, sleep remained elusive. She rose on one elbow, blinking away the grit from her aching eyes, confused at the amount of daylight. It must be way past the time they all generally awoke.
Rosemarie smiled at her son. “What time is it, Chandler?”
“I don’t know, but Amelia and Jace are sick.”
Rosemarie threw the quilt off, and stood. “Sick?”
He nodded his head. “Jace is crying that his throat hurts, and Amelia just threw up. I gave her the chamber pot.”
They hurried to the children’s room. Rosemarie pushed open the door and her stomach clenched. Her two younger children tossed in their beds, their faces flush with fever.
“Amelia?” She knelt beside her and smoothed back the hair from her brow.
Amelia stared back at her with glazed eyes. “Mama, I don’t feel good.”
The sound of Jace, crying softly caught her attention, and she moved to his bed. The baby thrashed, his legs moving restlessly as he licked his dried lips. “Mama.” He held his hand out, which Rosemarie took, alarmed at the heat radiating from it.
“Itchy,” Amelia whimpered.
Rosemarie scooted back and lifted the child’s nightgown. A rash covered her neck and chest. She checked Jace. The skin on his small body felt dry and scratchy, and he also had a similar rash.
“How do you feel, Chan?”
“My throat hurts a little, but I feel okay.”
“I’ll be right back.” Rosemarie left the room, her heart thumping. Childhood illnesses could kill.
Dust motes danced in the air as she hurried down the hallway to the parlor. She raced to the bookshelf Hans had built for her as a wedding present. Shaky fingers retrieved the worn copy of Gunn’s Domestic Medicine, the well-used book her mother, Marie, had given her when Rosemarie was carrying Chandler. Rosemarie had memories of Mama leafing through the pages while a sick child, or two, writhed on their beds. Although her mother had managed to raise ten children, she’d given birth to fifteen. Two died at childbirth and the other three succumbed to childhood illnesses.
Brows furrowed, Rosemarie hastened to the bedroom, flipping the pages as she walked. She skimmed over symptoms of numerous diseases that struck children every year. Her eyes moved back and forth as she read the description under Childhood Diseases.
Symptoms of chicken pox include a rash on the patient’s chest, then face. He will also complain of nausea, fever, headache, sore throat, and pain in both ears. As in all illnesses of childhood, chicken pox may be dangerous, and easily spreads from one person to another. The patient should be kept quiet, and indoors. If possible, a doctor should be consulted for instructions.
“Mama,” Jace wailed right before he vomited onto the floor.
“Chandler, fetch me a pan of water and some cloths to cool your brother and sister down.” She searched his face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Chandler eyed the mess on the floor and swallowed a few times. “I think so.”
She placed her hand on his forehead. No fever so far.
“I want you to cool down Jace and Amelia while I clean the floor.” From sheer habit, she headed to her bedroom to dress and fetch Daniel from the barn. She would need help. Then her thoughts stopped her as if she’d run into a wall. Daniel was gone. She was all alone with two, possibly three, children who could die. Tears welled in her eyes. Dear God, what could she do?
Rosemarie walked in circles, wringing her hands. Despite the clear US brand on the stolen horse’s left shoulder, she needed to hitch it to the wagon and bring the three children into town to see the doctor. She would find a way to cover the marking.
“Mama, should I fetch Mr. McCoy, from the barn? He’ll know what to do. ” Chandler stood in the doorway to her bedroom.
“He’s…” What? Gone forever. On his way back to the war. No longer able to help us. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Mr. McCoy left last night to join his regiment.”
Chandler’s face paled. Amazing that the Reb had been here less than a month, and already her son had lost faith in her ability to handle things alone. She was their mother, she’d nursed them before.
But never all three at the same time, and with a serious illness.
“What will we do?” His voice quivered.
Rosemarie stared at him for a minute. “Go to the barn and hitch the horse to the wagon. We’ll take Jace and Amelia into town to see the doctor.”
Chandler raced away, and Rosemarie quickly removed her nightgown and pulled on a dress. Once the floor in the children’s bedroom had been cleaned, she hurried outside with the feather mattress from the boys’ bed and stuffed it into the back of the wagon.
The horse’s US brand glared at her in disapproval. At the sound of retching, she turned to see Chandler emptying his stomach alongside the wagon. A sense of urgency swept through her. “Go wash out your mouth, and then climb into the wagon and lie down.”
“What about Jace and Amelia?” Chandler wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”
Both children tossed on their beds, whimpering. She wrapped Jace in his blanket, and carried him outside. Back from his trek to the sink, Chandler reached for Jace and tucked him into the wagon bed. Once he was settled, Rosemarie rushed to the house and carried Amelia out.
“Mama, I’m so hot,” her daughter whined.
“I know, honey. But you must keep the blanket wrapped around you.”
“Where we going?”
“I’m bringing you and your brothers to Dr. Kennedy in town. He’ll know what to do to make you feel better.”
“I like Dr. Kennedy,” she whispered.
With everyone settled, Rosemarie threw another blanket over the horse to hide the brand, tied her bonnet strings with jerky movements, then drove the wagon out of the yard.
A little over an hour later, Rosemarie urged the horse down the main street of Bartlett Creek, a small town standing not quite halfway between the Wilson farm and Indianapolis. With the three children sick, it had been a quiet drive. They’d stopped a few times to allow one child or another to lean over the side of the wagon and throw up.
The sun shone high overhead, but the air remained cool. Shops did a brisk business, with customers going in and out, carrying bags of goods. After a few minutes, Rosemarie noticed a sense of gaiety in the air. People greeted passers-by with smiles, men shook hands, and women hugged each other. Shrugging, she continued down the street, and turned the corner next to the saloon. The tinny jangle of a piano blared from the doorway, and from the sound of it, more than a couple of men had decided to drink their noon meal.
She pulled up in front of a white clapboard house. If she’d been able to ride into town when Hans had been shot, perhaps Dr. Kennedy may have saved his life. But left with no horses, she’d taken care of her husband herself. Guilt gripped her when she realized she would never have known Daniel, made love with him, if Hans had survived. Nine years of marriage to Hans had never moved her the way only a few weeks with Daniel had. Now he was gone, off to fight in the war, and she would probably never see him again.
The door to the snug white and blue house opened before Rosemarie even knocked.
“What brings you all the way out here, Mrs. Wilson?” The doctor’s wife, a round-cheeked woman of middle years, wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at Rosemarie.
“My children are sick. Is the doctor in?”
“Not at the moment, but he should be back very soon.” Mrs. Kennedy stepped onto the porch, and patted Rosemarie’s arm. “Let’s get the little ones into the house.”
The two of them hurried down the porch steps. Chandler was able to walk, and Mrs. Kennedy and Rosemarie carried the younger ones.
“We’ll need to cool them down while we wait for the doctor.” Rosemarie laid Amelia on a small cot in the doctor’s infirmary. “Can you get me some cool water and a cloth?”
“Certainly, dear. I’ll be right back.”
Rosemarie tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet and laid it on the table next to Jace. A quick check of foreheads revealed all three children burned with fever.
“Here we are.” Mrs. Kennedy swept through the doorway with a pan of water and several cloths.
Rosemarie wet one of the rags, and ran it over Jace’s legs, arms, and face. Mrs. Kennedy did the same with Amelia.
“I think they may have chicken pox.” Rosemarie wrung out the cloth and moved to Chandler’s bed.
“Now, dear, don’t you fret. I had two of my boys come down with chicken pox and it turned out fine.”
“Really?” Rosemarie took a deep breath, somewhat assured.
“Yes. When Dr. Kennedy returns, he’ll take a look at them and see what needs to be done.”
As Rosemarie tended to her children, her thoughts wandered to Daniel, on his way to Virginia. The beauty of their love making the night before brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t help thinking the experience was unique. She’d never felt anything near that with Hans. When Daniel had entered her, slowly, afraid to hurt her even though she’d born three children, her heart filled. His tenderness, so different from her past experience with men, made her want to grab onto him, never let him go. Then within hours, he’d left her.
About fifteen minutes later, the front door of the house opened, and soon the doctor filled the doorway to the infirmary. “What have we here?”
“All three of my children are sick. I think it may be chicken pox.”
Dr. Kennedy set his hat on the counter next to Chandler’s cot and rested his medicine bag alongside it. After shrugging out of his coat, he knelt next to Chandler and pulled up his shirt. He ran his hand over the small bumps running from his chest to his neck. Then the doctor scooted over to Amelia, and then Jace, repeating the process with each one.
“Looks like you’re right, Mrs. Wilson. All three have chicken pox.”
“Is it dangerous?”
The doctor rubbed his chin. “It can be. But most times it’s not. What we need to do is get them into bath water with oats in it.”
“Oats?”
He chuckled. “Yes. I’ve learned that helps to ease the itching, which they’ll be doing plenty of soon.” He rolled up his sleeves and continued. “If we make it a cool bath, it will also help bring down the fever.”
Rosemarie took a deep breath for the first time since she had awoken that morning.
“How is Hans?” the doctor questioned over his shoulder, as he washed his hands at the sink.
“Hans died from a bullet wound a few months ago.”
Dr. Kennedy studied her as he dried his hands. “Tell me about it.”
Rosemarie stood and shook out her skirts. “Confederate soldiers came to our farm back in November. They took everything that wasn’t nailed down, and when Hans tried to stop them from taking our last horse, one of the soldiers shot him.”
The doctor shook his head. “Damn the war.”
“Yes.” She hugged her middle. “He didn’t die right away. I nursed him for a couple of days, but the infection took him.”
Mrs. Kennedy reached out and squeezed Rosemarie’s arm. “I’m so sorry, dear. How have you been managing by yourself?”
“It’s okay. We’re getting along.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you should think about marrying again. I know it hasn’t been long, but you can’t take care of three children and a farm by yourself.”
The only man I would consider marrying is off to fight a war. On the other side.
“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about soldiers raiding your homestead anymore.”
“Yes. There isn’t anything left for them to take.”
The doctor stared at her for a moment. “I’m talking about the war being over.”
Rosemarie’s stomach dropped to her feet. “What do you mean?”
“Why, General Lee surrendered to General Grant just yesterday.”
All the breath left her body, as she reached behind her and sat on the edge of Chandler’s cot. “The war is over?”
“Yes, indeed. Jed at the newspaper office got a telegram late last night. The news is all over town. Now we can get back to normal living again, and stop killing all our young men.”
Daniel. He’s on his way back to Virginia. And the war is over.
She had to find him. Being on the road, he wouldn’t know about the surrender. Her heart leapt. They could be together! In the short time since he’d left, it would only take her a few hours racing with the horse to find him. Her head spun with the possibilities.
“Mrs. Kennedy.” She turned to the woman, who viewed her with furrowed brows.
“Do you think it’s possible for me to leave my children with you? Just for maybe a few hours, or possibly a day?”
“I guess that would be all right. What’s the matter, dear? You turned so pale all of a sudden.”
Rosemarie stood and licked her dry lips. “I have to find someone. A man.” She hurried on when the woman’s eyes widened. “He was helping me at the farm for the last few weeks. He’s, well, he’s from the south, and he was headed back there.”
“Oh, my.” Mrs. Kennedy breathed out.
“You said my children’s illness isn’t serious?” Her heart pounded so hard, the other two people in the room must have heard it.
“Chicken pox can be serious, but I don’t see any evidence that your three won’t do just fine, as long as things progress as I expect them to. We can do the baths, cool them down, and for the most part, just watch over them and feed them plenty of liquids.”
Rosemarie twisted her hands, and turned again to Mrs. Kennedy. “Would it be a burden to you?”
Apparently having recovered from Rosemarie’s announcement, the doctor’s wife smiled with a twinkle in her eye. “You go on ahead and chase down your man, Mrs. Wilson.” She chuckled. “I guess my advice to you on remarrying came a bit late.”
“I’m not so sure of that, but I need to try.”
Mrs. Kennedy made a shooing movement. “Go on. Do what you need to do. We’ll take care of these young ‘uns.”
Rosemarie snatched her bonnet from the counter and hugged the woman. “Thank you so much. If all goes well, I should be back by tomorrow at the latest.”
“Mama?” Amelia called to her from the bed.
“Yes, honey.”
“Are you going to get Mr. a’Coy?”
“I hope to find him. Will you be all right here with Dr. and Mrs. Kennedy?”
“Yes. Please tell Mr. a’Coy we want him to come back to take us fishing.”
Rosemarie bent and kissed Amelia on the forehead. She spent a few minutes saying goodbye to the two boys, and then left.
The main part of town was still in a celebratory state. Now she understood the townspeople’s actions earlier. The best plan would be to leave the wagon at the livery and go after Daniel on the horse. She pulled up to the stable and jumped down.
“Can you take care of my wagon for a day or so?” She spoke to Jedediah, the livery owner, as she unharnessed the horse. “I’ll also need to borrow a saddle from you.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Wilson.” He walked closer and ran his thumbs up and down his suspenders. “Did ya hear about the surrender?”
“Yes I did. I’m grateful it’s all over.”
She smiled in his direction, then waited while he fastened the straps on the saddle.
“Thank you so much.” She swung up onto the horse and headed toward the main street.
Things had gotten quite a bit livelier since she’d entered town earlier. A red, white and blue banner with the words “The War Is Ended!” hung from two buildings, stretched across the street. Small flags and signs appeared in store windows. The noise and music in the saloon had grown louder, and it appeared school had been let out because a dozen or more children ran up and down the street with barking dogs following along.
Rosemarie grinned, and headed south, where she would take the road Daniel had planned to use.
Please God, don’t make him have changed his mind.
As she reached the end of town, a group of Union soldiers headed toward her. She recognized the man in front as Captain Nelson. Four soldiers rode behind him, with the last solider riding double. As she grew closer, the sight of the second man, his head hanging down, hands tied behind his back, caught her eye, making her breath catch. The shirt and pants he wore had hung on the hook by her back door for months.
Her heart thumped as she recognized Daniel. She kicked the horse and rode up to the group. “Daniel!”
Daniel’s head snapped up and his eyes met hers.
“Captain, why is Lt. McCoy tied up?”
The captain smirked. “How is it you know my prisoner, ma’am? And by name? And rank?”
Realizing her mistake, she stiffened. Then remembered the war was over. He couldn’t do anything to her now. “You need to release him. The war is over.”
Captain Nelson stretched his lips in the imitation of a smile. “Well ma’am, it seems I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“First of all, since my men and I have been on the road for a couple of weeks, I haven’t gotten official word that the war is over. So after Lt. McCoy here spends a night in the town jail, I’ll be taking him back to Camp Morton in the morning.”
Rosemarie furrowed her brows. “But then you’ll release him?”
“Afraid not, ma’am.”
She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Daniel looked her square in the eye as Captain Nelson spoke.
“Well, see ma’am, Lt. McCoy will be hung for stealing Federal property. In fact”−he leaned forward−“for the horse you’re riding right now.”