“Doctor!”
He looked up. Letty Canby, a pretty young woman of about twenty, stood in the doorway. Letty had come here suffering from something as simple as crabs. She was round, cheerful, and big breasted. She was very popular with the men, even those who were already suffering from their affairs with the ladies of the night.
“Hello, Letty, what is it? It’s very late.”
“I know that, and I see you in here working, and so very sad!”
She walked into his hospital office and perched on the corner of his desk. She never bothered with a corset or petticoats, or any piece of feminine apparel that might detract from her natural assets. She had a tiny waist and flaring hips.
“Now, you’re almost smiling!” she told him happily.
“Letty, I have to admit, I was thinking that you’ve the perfect personality for your chosen profession.”
She pouted, looking at him. “What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “No insult intended, Letty. You’re a sweet girl, full of fun and life. I’m just sorry that your chosen vocation is eventually going to hurt you.”
Letty tossed her head. “Dr. McKenzie, I was making a fortune in this war. Working for the Union soldiers first.” She grinned. “They have this general, General Hooker. And he was so fond of procuring female entertainment for himself and his men that they began to call us ‘Hooker’s girls.’ He had good wine, champagne, silk stockings from Paris! I was doing well ...”
“And then?”
She frowned. “Well, I had this ridiculous rush of patriotism sweep through me! I had to come home.”
“Where was home?”
“Richmond. Before the war it was a decent place for a young woman to work. A good clientele, men into Virginia politics, you know. Rich fellows with big plantations, lots of slaves—and sometimes, fat, sassy wives who didn’t know how to lose their pantalettes! I do declare, the things they will teach women ... anyway, it makes for good business for an enterprising soul such as myself.”
Brent leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head, smiling. “So you decided to ply your trade patriotically.”
She nodded. “It was wonderful for a while. I have this special for Southern soldiers. I call it the Rebel Yell.”
“Clever.”
“Want to find out how clever?” she asked coyly.
“Thanks, Letty, but—”
“For free, of course, Dr. McKenzie. You’ve done so much for all of us here ... oh, and I admit, it’s not all that often we get a chance at a fellow like you these days ...”
“Thank you, Letty. That’s quite a compliment. But you’re my patient.”
“I can be much more.”
“Letty—”
She giggled. “You won’t catch anything. I’m clean now. And besides, you’ve taught us all about those little French hat things.” Letty made a face. “We can use a condom.”
“Letty, you’re my patient, I’m your doctor.”
“And you really want to go back to the war, right?” she asked sadly.
He nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do, Letty. So many men were wounded at Gettysburg.”
“Dr. McKenzie!”
As his name was called from the doorway, Brent looked up. Mary stood there. It amazed him that she could always appear so fresh, young, and both competent and innocent.
Since he had come, she had been his mainstay, more than the orderlies, more than any of the other religious and moralistic matrons who had come here to help these misbegotten creatures who were still God’s children. She was an excellent nurse, careful of her patients and herself. When he was working with patients, she followed him, anticipating his needs, keeping records for him, excellent records. “Oh, yes, some of us do read and write!” she had told him when she had first offered him her assistance. His temptation had been to turn her down. But she lived at the hospital because of Captain Henderson. She was there, she was convenient. And the more she worked with him, the more he came to depend on her. He was too harsh with her, he knew.
But he felt that she was throwing away her life, that she had already thrown away her life. And it was just such a terrible waste. She was so young, startlingly beautiful, intelligent, compassionate ... and of course, totally foolish.
“What is it, Mary?”
“If you could come with me ... I think it’s the end.”
He stood quickly. Her devotion to Captain Henderson had been perplexing, but he had grudgingly begun to understand it. Henderson had been a good man, a hero to his men. He had never asked a soldier to charge into battle before him; when danger threatened, he had been at the lead. He had known every man by name, written every widow personally, supplied every need he could from his personal fortune. Men had followed him out of respect, not out of fear. He had heard more and more about the fellow daily from others being treated here, but no one ever mentioned his relationship with Mary.
He rose. “Excuse me, Letty.”
“Sure. Mary, I’m so sorry,” Letty said. “Hey, Dr. McKenzie, you keep thinking about my offer.”
“All right, Letty.”
He felt Mary’s gray eyes touch on him briefly, and he thought he heard a little sniff of disdain. “Offer, sir?” she murmured as they walked along the hall.
He glanced at Mary, surprised at her interest. She had helped him, but she had kept a rigid distance from him. She had refused to become his patient, even when he had explained her chances of having contacted disease. “Letty can’t imagine that any red-blooded male could refuse her, no matter what the risks.”
“Ah, and yet ... you can refuse her?”
He glanced at her. “She’s my patient.”
“But I’m not. Could you refuse me?” she inquired.
Brent hesitated, staring at her, surprised at the way his body constricted, at the sudden thickness in his throat. “I intend to survive the war,” he told her.
She smiled. “Don’t worry. You won’t hurt my feelings. I wasn’t offering. I just wondered if you were really righteous enough to turn down all offers.”
He stopped dead in the hallway, spinning her around so that she was forced to face him. “I don’t understand you, Mary. You have everything. Beauty, youth, and intelligence. And you’ve thrown away your life. No, I wouldn’t accept your offer. Don’t you understand, unless you can change your way of life, there isn’t going to be a good offer out there. There won’t be marriage, there won’t be a family, a home—”
“I don’t think you understand,” Mary interrupted furiously. “There won’t be any of the usual things out there after this war! Haven’t you heard? The South is losing. Gettysburg was a disaster for us. Men are dead, and we can’t get them back. I’ve read the news accounts. There were fields of dead men. If some of those young fellows died after a taste of a whore like Letty, then by God, at least they got to live before they died! Who do you think you are? What right have you got to condemn others?”
He shook his head, startled, and somewhat shamed. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Captain Henderson,” he said softly, for they had come to the door. “Captain Henderson. Look at him, and tell me that I don’t have a right to hate this disease.”
The wind seemed ripped from her sails. Her eyes were brilliant as silver stars as tears threatened to spill from them. They entered the room.
Henderson couldn’t breathe, he was gasping for every breath. Along with that, a low keening sound was coming from him, as if he were being pierced by thousands of knifes. He wasn’t really conscious, but tears appeared in his half-closed eyes and ran down his cheeks. The sound of his anguish was terrible. Brent walked to the bed and sat beside the man.
“Can you do anything?”
“I can give him more morphine.”
“Can you spare it?” she asked worriedly.
He spun on her suddenly. “No, we can never spare it,” he said bitterly. “But we will. God help us all, we’ll have to get more from somewhere.”
&
nbsp; He rose to get the morphine. She touched his arm, looking up into his eyes. “For this I have to thank you ... I owe you.”
He gritted his teeth. “You owe me?”
She stepped back. “Yes, you self-righteous bastard, I do owe you.”
He didn’t know what demon seized him then, but he reached for her hand, drawing her close to him. “Fine, Miss Mary. You owe me. Maybe I am as red-blooded as every other damned male in this war. Ready to take a few chances with a French hat! You owe me, fine. I won’t expect anything right away. Because you know that we’re going to bury your captain after tonight. But after that, hell yes, lady, you can pay up. Is that a promise?”
Her eyes were wide with disbelief.
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes!” she hissed, amazed.
He strode out of the room to get the morphine.
At midnight that night, Captain Henderson died. Mary tenderly touched his ravaged face, then pulled the sheet over him.
Watching her, Brent couldn’t help but feel pain and empathy. “I’m sorry, truly sorry.”
She looked up at him, tears glazing her eyes, but a strange strength in them as well. “I’m grateful that his suffering is over.”
“There was nothing ...”
“I know.”
“I’ll leave you with him for a while.”
He exited the room, leaning back against the door as he closed it. Henderson had died an awful death. Life was fickle and could be cruel. Such a man had not deserved such a fate.
He listened to the woman inside as she sobbed, taut with empathy for the pain she was feeling. He wished that he could comfort her. He walked slowly down the hall, summoning an orderly and telling him that they would need a coffin for Captain Henderson.
He went back to his paperwork. The hospital was quiet. He finished a report, then rose again, returning to Henderson’s room. She still sat by his side, but her tears were over.
“I am sorry.”
“I’m glad that he’s passed on,” she said. She looked at him and managed a smile. “I’ve known it, he hasn’t been himself, he’s been dying ... it’s a relief. He suffered so horribly, and now the suffering is over. I will miss him. But I’m glad that he’s passed away, that it is over.”
He nodded, leaned against the door. She rose, coming toward the door. She arched a brow to him. “May I get by you, Dr. McKenzie?”
“Yes, of course. Mary, I’ve asked for a coffin. We’ll have him laid out so that mourners can pay their respects, but we’ll keep it a closed coffin. We’ll have a service for him tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“The men here admired him. I heard nothing but good things about him.”
“He was a good man. A wonderful man. Kind and giving. Loyal, generous, dependable. His sin was loneliness.”
“That’s not a sin, Mary.”
He moved, opening the door for her. She started out, then turned back to him. “By the way, Dr. McKenzie, I never slept with Captain Henderson.”
She smiled, and began to leave again, intending, he realized, to leave him doubtful and puzzled. But she was the one who had brought it up. He caught her arm, pulling her back. “What?”
“I never slept with him,” she said, and he was surprised by her sudden anger as she added sharply, “You ass! He was my father.”
He gritted his teeth and forced a smile. She had set out to make a fool of him. She had carefully kept that information from him for weeks. She had allowed him to spout off time and time again.
She had just lost a man she had loved, he reminded himself. Ah, but she had started this! He could feel entirely justified in responding. “All the better, my dear. I won’t feel half so tainted when you pay your debts.”
She went white, staring at him. Then she turned and started running down the hall.
“Mary!” he called after her.
But too late.
She was gone.
And he was left alone with the dead man she had rightly loved.
“It seems that we’re insistent on having someone here by the name of McKenzie.”
Julian stood by the window in his small room, and looked out on the late afternoon where the citizens of Washington moved along the sidewalks and streets as they went about their daily business. It was an interesting prison. From here, he knew, the Confederate spy Rose Greenhow had received messages and sent them along.
He turned, smiling at the sound of his cousin’s voice. Sydney moved across the room, coming into his arms for a long, tight hug. At last he released her. Sydney was still stunning, perhaps more so with the maturity gained through years of the war. Her Indian heritage gave her a slightly exotic appearance that was mysterious and compelling. Her eyes were her mother’s green; her hair was incredibly rich, thick, heavy, and dark, her father’s gift from his Seminole blood.
“I understand I have your room,” he told her.
“Yes, same room. They must reserve it for McKenzies. We’re privileged, you know. Not everyone is deserving of such private space.”
“Umm.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I understand that you managed your release by marrying a Yankee?”
She looked right back at him. “Well, at least I managed my release. It’s my understanding that you managed your capture by marrying a Yankee.”
“Touché, cousin,” he murmured.
But the smile she had given him quickly faded. “I heard that Jesse was injured again. That it was a serious injury. And that you operated on him.”
“He’s going to be all right, I believe.”
“So you did do the surgery?”
“Yes.” He hesitated a moment. “Sydney, you didn’t want him to die, did you?”
“God, no!” she gasped. Then her cheeks flooded with color and she shook her head. “He was a friend ... more than a friend. He was injured before. I was his nurse when he was brought to Richmond. He’s known Ian.”
“Yes, they’re both regular cavalry.”
“It was an important prisoner for the Rebs, so he was to be exchanged for Jerome when the Federals were holding him here. Only someone changed things at the last minute, and Jesse was exchanged for someone else. But Jerome had no intention of staying, as you know, and during the escape, Jesse caught hold of me and warned that if I tried to leave with Jerome, he’d call out an alarm. Because ... because he thought I’d be in danger running with Jerome. But I was furious, he went back to war. And then ... well, I had gotten familiar with the prison here, and they’d brought in some new people—much more decent than some of the wretches holding Jerome! So I started coming to see to the Reb prisoners. And naturally, I began to find out all kinds of information regarding the war ...”
“And passed it on?” Julian asked.
“It seemed the right thing to do with information,” Sydney said.
“After Jennifer was nearly hanged? After everything that went wrong with Alaina?”
She stared at him. “Well, men are shot daily, and still more and more of them go to war!”
“There’s not a lot of choice for a man,” he told her.
“Not true. There’s not a lot of choice for a woman.”
“Sydney—”
“Well, there’s the whole point. You, Ian, Jerome, Brent, my father, your father—well, you would all think it your sacred duty to protect me from the trouble I had gotten myself into. I told Rhiannon that when she was here. And I asked for her help.”
“So she went to Captain Jesse Halston.”
Sydney nodded. “Well, it seems that General Magee still believes that we’re all better off being in prison. But, though I hate to admit it, since Jesse is the one who escorted me here as a prisoner, he was decent about getting me out. He didn’t have much choice. He came here, we were married, he warned me not to become involved in espionage in any way, and then he rode off to join the army. And he did so in time to reach the fighting at Gettysburg.” Her voice, at the last, was bitter. “Julian, I heard that he w
as hit in the shoulder, that it was a serious wound.”
“He came through the surgery fine.”
Sydney bit her lower lip. “Was Rhiannon with you when you operated on him?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, maybe he does have a chance.”
Julian lowered his eyes, wondering whether or not to be resentful that his own flesh and blood could find faith in his ability only once she had learned that his wife had been with him.
“Well, I’m curious. How did you come to meet Rhiannon and discover her special talents?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Sydney asked.
“We really never had much time to talk.”
“Well, of course not, knowing the male McKenzie temper—”
“Excuse me. The male McKenzie temper?”
“I didn’t sock a photographer from Harpers.”
“You weren’t there. You would have torn his hair until he was bald if you had been,” Julian assured her.
Sydney smiled. “There’s a young private here who had a serious foot injury. I thought that he would have to have it amputated. But Sergeant Granger, the fellow on the desk, suggested that we see her ... and she was like magic. She has an ability, a talent ... her hands heal.”
“Umm, she has talents, all right,” Julian murmured.
“Risa had sent her up here. If my sister-in-law thought enough of her to send her to work with her father ... well, she worked magic on Private Lawton. I know your abilities. So I know that if Jesse had any chance at all ... well, he had that chance with the two of you. Now, as to getting you out of here—”
“Sydney, wait!” he said softly.
“What?” she asked, beautiful eyes wide.
“Sydney, you can’t be involved in getting me out of here.”
“But—”
“You swore to this man that you wouldn’t become involved in espionage.”
“Well, of course, but this is different.”
He took both her hands. “No, Sydney. It’s not.” He shook his head. “Sydney, they won’t keep me that long. I’ll be exchanged.”
Sydney looked at him, frowning, then shook her head. “Julian. They’ve lots of injured Rebel prisoners. They’re on a high! They believe that the battle so recently fought at Gettysburg was the turning point of the war, that they’ve found out how to beat us, that the Rebs haven’t the strength to be a real threat to the North. And Vicksburg has fallen. The Yanks can choke us freely now on the Mississippi. Julian-”