Caleb, you keep them company.” Sarah said. She spoke with kindness, but firmly. This was not going to be something they would want to see.
Sarah seldom permitted loved ones in the room if someone was hurt very seriously. Some protested, but most simply did as they were told. She opened the door and smiled as they stepped outside.
“Busy hands will ease a worried mind.” She added as she closed the door behind them.
The two women worked quickly, washing wounds and assessing the boy’s injuries.Again, Hixson saw Sarah look intently at the boy, look to the ceiling and extend her arms, palms up. Her friend stood back, waiting respectfully and making no noise.
This time, he clearly saw a soft glowing light gather on the palms of her hands as she held them out. Sarah stood there for only a short time, and soon she was laying her hands on the boy’s hair. She hardly trembled this time either, and Hixson wondered what it meant.
“You’re thinking you’ll need to save a little something extra for later, eh, darlin’?” Sarah’s friend did not have the buttery voice, but she spoke softly all the same.
“That I am, Emma darlin’” Sarah replied, imitating the brogue her friend had used. “This is a bad break. He’ll need all the help he can get.”
The two friends looked at each other for a moment, took their position and each nodded when she was ready.
Emma held tight to the boy’s leg just above the break and braced herself strongly. Sarah grasped the lower leg with one hand and felt deep into the break as she began to pull. Holding her breath, she pulled the lower leg just past its natural length and smoothly slid it back together.
The boy made no sound, didn’t thrash and didn’t open his eyes. He seemed to be completely unconscious. The cut on the boy’s arm was quite deep but fairly small, requiring just a few stitches. Sarah used suture of her own hair, plucked quickly from beneath the kerchief she wore.
The blood on his cheek was nothing, just a smear from the bloody arm. He had a deep bruise on one hip, and two of his fingers looked to have been jammed. The broken leg was the worst of it and it was a clean break, with no broken skin. Emma and Sarah splinted the leg and wrapped it carefully.
Emma called the mother and grandfather back inside. She explained the injuries to them, and asked what had happened.
The little fellow had fallen out of a tree house he was building.
“I can think of no better way to be hurt in times like these. It’s almost a treat to see a boy just being a boy in war time.” Sarah said. “Now let’s see if we can help him to get well quickly and with as little pain as possible.”
Sarah stood at the boy’s side, raised her hands as before and stood very long, calling the light into her hands. As the light gathered, the kerchief slipped from her head as if of its own accord, and glossy gold waves tumbled out.
Her hair crackled with static and even the kerchief made a snapping sound as it slipped to the floor. Emma held a finger to her lips to encourage silence, led the mother to a chair and had her sit. Then she took the grandfather’s arm and had him stand behind Sarah and off to one side. Emma took her post behind Sarah on the other side.
When the light had gathered, Sarah laid her hands on the boy’s broken leg. A soft glow seemed to shine from every strand of her hair which was floating slightly, as if in water. The boy’s hair began to glow as well.
A whispering sound filled the room. It reached a crescendo, and slowly faded away just as the light was fading from their hair and her hands. Emma tapped the grandfather and gestured.
Sarah wrenched her hands away from the boy and crumpled to the floor. Emma alone caught her because the man did not understand Emma’s gesture.
The boy’s grandfather realized at last what Emma was trying to tell him. Hixson had not noticed Caleb quietly arranging two pallets on the floor in front of the fireplace. Emma and the grandfather carried Sarah to one of the pallets and laid her down. Then they carefully lifted the little boy to the other pallet. Emma supported the broken leg as they moved him. She offered them coffee, and Caleb joined them at the table as they talked.
“Is he....is he....cured?” asked the mother, hope shining brightly in her eyes.
“No, not cured.” answered Emma, “Miss Sarah’s gift is not like that. She can make him sleep better than any doctor’s drug, and she can take away his pain. Most important, that light of hers keeps him from getting an infection and there won’t be any swelling. But he is not cured.
“His leg is still broken and he will still need time to heal. “Your boy may sleep for days, now, so much effort did she put into the gathering of light. Let me warn you, though, you may want her to take his pain away again when he wakes. I don’t think you should do that. Without the pain, and him just a lad, he won’t know when to quit and might break it again. Let the pain be a guide to him so he can heal.
“Sarah will know that, of course, but if you ask her to free him from pain again, she can no’ always refuse.” Emma had given this lecture before. She continued. “Do not ask her how much you owe. She’ll not have an answer.
“She does not know how to charge for something that she doesn’t think of as hers to sell. Pay her something or some way if you feel you must. If not, then put it out of your minds; the folks around here visit her often enough that she makes a living.”
The room was completely silent. Mother and Grandfather sat at the table, holding their coffee cups, dumbfounded and a little frightened.
At last, the man spoke: “When we brought him to town, looking for the doctor, the lady in the general store told us he was off to war. She sent us to Miss Sarah, saying she was better than any doctor. I just thought this Miss Sarah was a country healer, like in the old days. But this.....” And his thoughts trailed away with his words.
Emma rose, began to prepare supper and discussed places for everyone to sleep that night. The mother and grandfather opted to sleep out in the wagon, under the stars.
Hixson lay on the bed, Sarah’s bed he assumed, watching silently but with questions building in his mind. After everyone had eaten and the mother and grandfather retired to their wagon, Emma turned to Hixson.
“How do you do, lad. I’m Emma McKendall. Yonder is my son Caleb. I’m pleased to see you with your eyes open.” Emma’s smile was very kind.
“Lieutenant Hixson Morris, Ma’am. Caleb. I’m much obliged to you both. I believe young Mr. McKendall over there saved my life.” Hixson smiled at them.
“I doubt he sees it that way, Lieutenant. But I will agree that he opened the door to let the miracle in.” Emma glanced at Caleb as she spoke, but he was too embarrassed to look up. “I can see your mind working, Lieutenant. What’s going through your head just now?” Emma sat down to listen, to give Hixson a chance to voice those many questions she could see in his eyes. His first one surprised her.
“Is that how she got the bruise on her face? Did she....help me that way before you got here to catch her?”
This was the first time Emma had ever heard someone seem to be more interested in Sarah than in the gift she held.
“When Caleb found you I was away at me mother’s. He came to get me after they brought you here. It’s a far piece and by the time I made it here, Sarah had already taken care of you. She had sewn you up, insides and out, and wrapped your wounds. I found her lying on the floor with a knot on her head where she’d hit the table as she fell.”
“Why didn’t she wait until you could be here?” Hixson asked.
“If she had, you wouldn’t be here to ask that question.” Came the smiling reply.
“What if she had really hurt herself when she fell?”
“She never thinks of that.”
Hixson had many more questions. He didn’t know where to begin to ask all the questions he had. He wanted to bring them to order in his mind before he talked more. Besides, he could see that Emma was tired. Caleb was already settling down to sleep, though the sun was hardly down. It had been a full day for all of them.
&nb
sp; He patted Emma’s hand, nodded and smiled and asked no more.
May 15th, 1864--Spotsylvania County, Virginia
It was nearly noon before Sarah was on her feet again. She was pale but smiling. The first thing she did upon arising was to look carefully at her young patient. Pleased with what she saw, she retied the kerchief around her head.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat by Hixson to look him over as well. Sarah quickly decided that Hixson was doing well, too.
“I like the bright clarity in your eyes, Lieutenant Morris. You’re going to be on your feet very soon.”
“Could you just call me Hixson?” He asked, with a twinkle in those bright, clear eyes. “And if you’ll do that, can I also talk you into letting me have some of that coffee?”
“If you’ll take it watered down some, Hixson, a little coffee might be just the thing.” There was an undertone of mischief in that buttery voice.
“Where are you from, Miss Sarah?” Hixson asked when she brought him the weak coffee.
“I was born right here in this cabin. Not a very interesting life of travel, such as yours.” Her tone was friendly, and yet did not invite further questions. She turned the subject: “So, is there someone I can write to for you, to let them know you’re here and alive?”
Hixson said there was and Sarah fetched paper and pen, taking down what he said. He was not yet quite ready to sit up to write.
Dear Mother and Father, Eliza and