Reverend Goforth? Andrew?” It couldn’t be.
“Wooster! Wooster! Wake up, boy!” Katie Frances slapped Wooster’s face. “It’s only the chaplain! Don’t die on us! Wake up, you sleepy strawfoot!” She pulled Wooster to the cot and made him sit.
“Are you all right, son?” Rev. Goforth leaned down, reached for Wooster’s hand, helped him stand.
“Yes, sir. I just thought you were Maj—somebody else. I thought you were somebody else.”
“Apparently.”
“You know the chaplain?” Katie Frances, flustered, demanded of me, but Rev. Goforth answered before I could.
“Robert and I are old friends. It’s been too long, Robert, and it’s good beyond words to see you—a blessing I never expected—here, of all places!” He reached for my hand and shook it and my arm heartily. He frowned. “Or is it a blessing?”
“You’re a chaplain? For the Confederacy?” It didn’t fit, but then what else would he be? Katie Frances tilted her head and raised her eyebrows again. Chap. Goforth smiled, a little sheepish, it seemed to me.
“And you’re wounded? A Confederate private?” He looked puzzled.
“Well…” I didn’t know how much to say. But I didn’t need to say anything. Col. Monroe walked in.
“I must say I never saw one patient gather so many visitors—especially in a quarantined tent.” He didn’t look pleased, maybe suspicious. But he studied and thumped me, then stood back. “All the attention seems to have done you some good, soldier. I’d say you’re out of the woods and ready to be released from quarantine.” He turned to Katie Frances. “Nurse O’Leary, I’d like you to accompany me on my rounds.”
“Yes, Col. Monroe. As soon as I get this patient his breakfast.”
“I believe this soldier has help enough. You’re needed elsewhere, nurse.” He spoke to Katie Frances but shot a challenge toward Chap. Goforth. The chaplain didn’t seem to notice.
Katie nodded but did not look pleased. She tucked my arm beneath the blanket. “I’ll check on you later, soldier.” To Wooster she said, “Mind your brother eats, then.” But she gave Chap. Go-forth a smile to shame the sun.
“Yes, ma’am.” Wooster acted the penitent.
At the tent flap Col. Monroe turned to Wooster. “Didn’t you say you and your brother are from the 26th North Carolina? And you were wounded—where?”
“Yes, sir. Gettysburg. Wounded at Gettysburg.”
He nodded. “A Maj. McCain rode in from North Carolina this morning. He’s been reassigned to our regiment. I believe he said he’d been with the 26th—escaped Fort Delaware’s prison early last summer. You must know him.”
“Maj. McCain?” Wooster stumbled over the name. Col. Monroe’s stare bored down on him, then through me.
“You did say you boys were with the 26th?”
“Yes, sir.” Wooster sounded miserable.
“Maj. McCain’s just gone out, leading a much-needed foraging party… should be back in three or four days. With any luck we’ll enjoy improved rations as a result.” He hesitated, frowned. “I’ll have him stop by to see you.” He waited.
“That would be good, sir. Thank you, sir.” Wooster didn’t convince anybody, least of all Col. Monroe.
“Nurse? Shall we?” Katie Frances followed, not looking back.
Chap. Goforth looked from me to Wooster, frowned, searched our faces. “Are you two in need of help?”
Wooster shook his head. “No, sir. I’m just glad my brother’s getting well.”
Chap. Goforth smiled and placed his hand on Wooster’s shoulder. “The last I knew Robert didn’t have a brother.” Wooster colored like a russet apple. “Now, don’t you boys think you could use a friend?”
Wooster looked like he was fixing to die. “It’s all right, Wooster. I’ve known Rev. Go—Chap. Goforth a long time. He’s a friend—mine and my family’s. We can trust him.” I hoped that last part was true. I never knew where I stood with Rev. Go-forth after I ran North with Jeremiah, but I’d long hoped he’d understood.
And then I told Chap. Goforth about Emily’s letter, about Cousin Albert, and Gettysburg, and the captured men of the 26th, about Fort Delaware and how I’d gone to see Cousin Albert, what I’d found. When I came to the part about the escape, Cousin Albert’s deceit, and all the rest of it, Wooster seemed to shrink into himself. I told about the Maynards and McCain and the cellar and stealing Mr. Heath’s horse. By then I was mad all over again. Wooster looked shamed into a pecan shell. Even in my heat I felt a mite sorry for him, but I didn’t cut him any slack.
Chap. Goforth took the reins. “And Wooster’s stood by you all this time you were sick? He’s fed and clothed and nursed you, bringing you South toward your mother and Emily?”
“I wouldn’t have needed that if they hadn’t—”
“Life is full of ‘ifs,’ Robert. What is important is what we do with what is. It looks as though Wooster has proven himself every ounce your brother. It looks as if he’s as good as laid his life down for yours.” And with every word Wooster looked up, a slim light growing in his eyes, a light I hadn’t seen since I’d met him. “Wooster,” Chap. Goforth said, “can you get Robert something to eat? He needs to build up his strength.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do it now.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll see you later.” Wooster fairly glowed from Chap. Goforth’s good nature. I didn’t. Chap. Go-forth was my friend, or I thought he was. When Wooster’d hobbled out the chaplain gave me his full attention. “It’s good you’re on your way to Ashland, Robert. I know Emily needs help with your mother.”
My ears pricked up. “Ma? She’s all right, isn’t she?”
He hesitated. “I thought you said Emily wrote you about her.”
“She did. But all she said is that the war had been hard on her.” Now I frowned. “What is it? What’s wrong with Ma?”
Chap. Goforth raked long fingers through his hair. Shades of silver ran through the brown, and I marveled at the change these few years had brought. “The war’s been hard on everyone. Some are better able to stand up to the hardships, to accept the deprivation.” He walked to the far side of the tent and back, taking his time, weighing his words. I held my breath, fearful to interrupt. “Caroline, your mother, is—not strong. The last I knew, Marcus—I’m sorry, your grandfather—was quite ill. I’ve tried to stay in touch with Emily, but we’ve had no mail these last months.”
“You and Emily write?” Why did I think that strange?
He colored a little. “We did. I’ve tried to help her with—with her family and the plantation, but our expectations have changed.”
I waited, but he didn’t keep on. “What does that mean—your expectations have changed?” I wanted to understand.
He colored deeper, more like Wooster had. “Emily is an extraordinary young woman. She’ll make someone a splendid wife.” He turned to face me, then stepped away. “It just won’t be me.”
“You courted Emily?”
“I asked for her hand.”
“She turned you down?”That was hard to believe, but I was glad beyond words, and relieved—a thing I’d never own out loud. Still, it made me wonder what chance I had, if she’d said no to Rev. Goforth.
“She chose a different path … That’s not important now.” He turned to face me. “What is important is that we keep McCain from meeting you. Or better yet, we get you and Wooster on your way to Ashland.”
“Are they alone? Are Ma and Emily both at Ashland?”
Chap. Goforth shook his head. “The last I knew Emily was dividing her time between Ashland and Mitchell House on weekends, trying to keep an eye on both. She’d been attending the Girls’ Academy in Salem—the only reason Col. Mitchell would hear of her staying in the South once he enlisted. You know he sent Alex to England?”
I nodded, and my bile rose at the mention of Alex’s name. “I’m sure he’s safe and sound.” My sarcasm wasn’t lost on Chap. Goforth. His raised brow told me that we thought alike.
“When your grandfather became ill and your mother-once your mother needed more help—Emily left school for longer and longer periods to stay with them. That is the last I heard.” He took my measure. “It’s good that you’ll be with them, Robert. They need someone.”
“Cousin Albert seemed to think Ma couldn’t come home.” I waited, but he didn’t answer. “What’s wrong with her?” He still didn’t answer. “Chap. Goforth, what’s wrong with Ma?” I demanded.
He looked miserable. “She’s—frail. She’s just frail.”
I shook my head, tried to take that in, tried to understand what he meant. “What about Nanny Sara? Is she still there?” Nanny Sara had cooked for Grandfather forever and nursed Ma as a baby.
“Yes. Nanny Sara, old as she is, might just outlive us all.”
“AndJedSlocum?”
Chap. Goforth frowned. “I’m afraid he is, as far as I know. He should have been conscripted, but your grandfather paid a substitute, saying he needed his overseer. And that worries me. Without your grandfather to keep Mr. Slocum in line, I—” He worried the seam down his trouser leg. “I’m concerned for the women.”
The tent flap lifted, and Wooster struggled in with a steaming tin cup. “It’s not coffee, but it’ll chase the early morning shakes away.” He grinned and pulled a broken tag of hard cracker from his pocket, pushing it into my hand. “It’s not much. There ain’t much to be had. But it’s eats.”
“Thanks.” I took the food but stared hard at Chap. Goforth. It wasn’t talk I wanted to carry on in front of Wooster. But we weren’t finished.