FORT LEAVENWORTH was to the north, they said, but it could have been in heaven for all I knew right then. And I don’t know how long it took us to get there. The rocking, horse-drawn ambulance could have been a sweet chariot carrying me home, I was so near unconscious from the laudanum. Next to me on her stretcher, Martha slept and moaned. I reached over and took her hand. I minded that she must be in a very bad state. Would she die? What would Seth do if she did? I knew how smitten he was with her.
With my free hand I hugged Charity McCorkle Kerr’s rag doll. Somebody had said Charity was dead. I wondered how many girls had died, and I wondered how I had managed to live.
Sue Mundy, that’s how. I hated being beholden to her, but I was.
What with all the rocking and the low talk of the men on horseback outside and my occasional glimpse of the stars in the sky, I fell asleep. I didn’t want to do that. Somebody had to stay awake to give them what for if they took us to another prison.
I didn’t wake up through all the rest of it, through them carrying us into the hospital and up to the second floor, the floor allotted for “the girls belonging to Quantrill.” I slept through the doctor who examined us and fixed our wounds and the sentries who opened the gates in the first place. Sadly, there were only about four other girls besides us who made it.
When I did wake, I saw we were in total darkness, with the exception of one candle burning on a nightstand at the foot of my bed. Someone was talking in a low voice.
“The father will be here in a few minutes.”
“We have but a few minutes.” Was that Seth’s voice? “If the Yankees find us, I’ll be hanged. I mustn’t be caught. I’ve too many scores to settle.”
“Here comes the father now.”
It was Seth talking. I could see two, maybe three, and then four forms standing around Martha’s and my beds. “Seth,” I called out weakly.
He moved toward me. “Juliet, yes. I’m here.”
“Is it really you, Seth?”
“Yes, honey. They came and got us. Bill Anderson is here, too.”
“Is Martha dying?”
“No. Why do you say such?”
“Why do you need a priest?”
He was holding my hand. I was crying quietly. Tears were coming down my face. With his free hand he wiped them away.
“Seth,” I said, “I’m sorry.”
“Hush, don’t you dare. Sorry has no place here.”
“She saved me. Sue Mundy. Jumped out the window holding me.” I didn’t dare say Marcellus Jerome Clark. Leave it be. Let it die. Let it crumble under the building. “Do you still want me for a sister?”
“I’ve got you. I’m stuck with you. The Constitution of the United States says I can’t give you back.”
“I thought you gave all that up, the Constitution.”
He leaned over and kissed me. “I need you to do something for me now. Will you?” His voice was ragged, full of tears.
“What can I do, the way I am?”
“I’m going to marry Martha. Bill Anderson is going to be my best man. Martha and I would like you to be our maid of honor.”
“I can’t stand up.”
“You don’t have to. Just be there for us.”
The father was putting his priest’s long stole around his neck and holding a Bible, though he couldn’t see to read. Martha held Seth’s hand and the words were said. Low, like the stars outside. Bright like them, too. My own heart was bursting inside me. Those darned tears wouldn’t stop flowing down my face.
We weren’t Catholic, but the Andersons were, and Seth stood staunch and proud and I don’t think wedding vows ever meant so much, especially with him knowing the Yankees could get word that he and Bill were here any minute, and the result could be a hanging tree.
Bill Anderson produced a ring from somewhere. Said it was his mother’s, and Seth put it on Martha’s finger, then leaned down to kiss her, long and full of his love.
Bill was tugging at his arm. “We gotta go.”
“Yes.” He came to my bed and kissed me again. “Martha has instructions. Listen to her and behave.”
In the next instant it was as if they never were. The room was empty again, and silent, and dark except for the one candle glowing on the nightstand at the foot of my bed.