I nod. ‘There ain’t proper nursing here. If he could get to the Capital, maybe he could get better doctoring.’
‘You said there’s already a wagon going that way?’ Sergeant asks.
‘That’s right. You think there might be some way for Sully to be on that wagon?’
Sergeant don’t even have to think on it long. ‘I can’t see the harm in sending him back. If you think he can make the journey?’
‘Sir, I can’t see as how he will, if he don’t have a proper nurse.’
‘Well, then. What do you propose?’
‘I’m asking permission to go along, Sir.’
Sergeant don’t say a thing, looks from me to Will. That is when I see Will’s lips are moving. Maybe he ain’t as calm as he looks.
‘Just to see him settled in the hospital there,’ I say.
But Sergeant is shaking his head. ‘We’ll be moving soon,’ he says. ‘I can’t spare another soldier. Perhaps Private Cameron would be better staying put. Captain has sent for his wife and she’s due any time now. She’s as fair a nurse as any.’
That almost stops me cold. But Jennie being here don’t stop me from needing to leave this place.
‘Sir, I don’t doubt Mrs. Chalmers is a good nurse, but Sully needs good doctoring. I only aim to stay long enough to get him in a hospital bed. Surely there’s time enough before we move?’
He don’t answer, so I try something else.
‘Every other boy who joined up from Flat Creek is gone.’ My throat closing around the word. ‘Except Sully. He’s got to make it home.’
Sergeant stands up and says, ‘Excuse me a moment.’
That is when Will sees fit to talk.
‘Sergeant, it isn’t only Sully—Private Stone has something more pressing—’
But Sergeant just disappears into his tent like he don’t even hear.
I grab Will’s arm. ‘Don’t you dare.’
But Will shakes his head, facing straight ahead until Sergeant comes back.
When he does, he is holding a slip of paper.
‘I can’t send you to the Capital,’ Sergeant says, holding out a slip of paper. ‘This is a pass for Private Cameron. If you think he needs to be on that wagon, you see to it.’
‘But, Sir! I can be back in a week or two at the most,’ I lie.
‘Not now,’ Sergeant says as he turns to go back into his tent. ‘I can’t spare any more soldiers.’
CHAPTER
37
I can’t even move. Sergeant turns tail and disappears into his tent. I keep sitting there, waiting for him to come back and say he was wrong. Only he don’t.
Will leads me away. ‘Ross, you’ve got to go to Captain—’
I march myself off across the ridge, to where Jeremiah and I looked over the valley. To where I can watch Jeremiah’s tree fade as the sun sets. I ain’t got another plan.
‘I’ll tell him, if you don’t want to,’ Will says. ‘I bet he won’t make a big to-do about it—’
‘This ain’t for you to decide,’ I say. ‘You just leave me be—’
Only he don’t.
‘If you tell him, what’s to stop you going home?’ he asks. ‘They must care for you there. I’ve seen you get mail.’
‘I told you—I ain’t going any way but honorably. I’ve got to at least get my back pay. I won’t be no charity case.’
‘Even if you tell Captain, there’s still widow’s benefits—’
Just hearing that word, just the thought of going home as Jeremiah’s widow, makes me want to fold into myself. I don’t want those benefits. I don’t want anything except Jeremiah.
‘I don’t want to go home, not without Jeremiah,’ I tell Will. ‘What is there for me in that place? My Mama will make me dress in mourning, and Jeremiah’s Ma will try to make me a proper farm widow the whole rest of my life. Every friend I ever had in that place is gone, save Sully.’ And then there’s Eli. But he must’ve joined up himself by now, and even if he comes back alive, his gripes don’t carry importance for me no more, and maybe he can’t scare me now I know I can do just as much as any man.
‘It can’t be all bad,’ Will says, looking down at his hands and swallowing. ‘But maybe I’ve got a place, if you don’t want to go home.’
‘I told you, I don’t want to be nobody’s burden.’
‘That’s not it. I’m asking—I’m offering you something,’ Will says, watching the sun. ‘I’ve been praying and I want to do right, but—’
He don’t say anything more, looking at everything but me. I stare at him, watching his mouth working, waiting for more words to come tumbling out.
‘I can give you a place to go,’ he says, and his gaze flits away. ‘So you don’t have to be alone.’
He looks around, and then he speaks in a low voice, even though the tents are still far enough off. ‘You can be my wife. I’ve got family, a place you can go to. It’s not much’—his eyes meet mine—‘but it’s not a hospital or battlefield neither.’