Lost Cause (21 page)

“He cares for all souls, Jack.”

“I don’t know anything about souls,
Padre.”

“But God does.”

“What makes you believe with such certainty?”
The priest smiled and turned his coffee mug with his fingers.

“I always thought I would become more devout
as I grew a little older, but I haven’t,” he said. “I often wonder
about things. I often question.”

“So why do you keep doing it?”

“Because of the people. They need. . .this.”
He touched the rosary hanging around his neck.

“So you’re saying they’re willing to stake
their after life on a string of beads?”

“No. These accouterments are simply objects
of one’s faith. Wouldn’t you like to live on after death,
Jack?”

“I guess it would depend on what that would
be like. This life hasn’t been all that pleasant so far. But when I
do die, I’d prefer to be very old.”

“And wiser?”

Jack smiled and shook his head. “No, in my
experience it’s a great myth this theory of the inherent wisdom of
old men. I don’t think they grow any wiser, I think they just grow
more careful.”

“Aw, profound insight from such a young
man.”

“How old are you, Padre? You look very
young.”

“That’s just good breeding. I’ll be
thirty-two in three months.”

“Plenty old enough to be wise,” Jack
said.

“Or demoralized, maybe. Tell me, Jack, what
do you value the most?”

“I don’t know. Love maybe.”

“Do you value life?”

“Of course.”

“So do I. Because it is all I have to give to
God. His Son gave His life for me, so I in turn give mine to
Him.”

“I admire that in you, Padre, I really do,”
Jack said.

“It’s not an admirable thing.”

“Sure it is. Most men would never voluntarily
give up the chance to be with a woman for the rest of their
lives.”

“Oh, Jack, my fine friend, there is so much
more to what I do than abstaining from women. And just when I was
speaking well of your youthful wisdom.” He laughed softly and stood
to his feet. “See you at Mass this evening?”

“Not a good idea,” Jack said shaking his
head. “Don’t want to soil the air inside the church.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Jack, you have not
yet cornered the market on sin.”

After he’d gone Jack sat for awhile with his
cold coffee and contemplated the conversation he’d just had with
the priest. The man’s dedication to his calling was something Jack
had a hard time understanding. He understood how a man could be
devoted to his Country or his home town or even his family, but
giving up one’s very existence in service to a God that no man can
see was a concept that Jack could not understand. He left the mess
tent deciding that he would not spend much time trying to figure it
all out.

That night there was a storm and Jack woke in
his new NCO quarters to hear the rain drumming against the window
glass. At first he was disoriented and for a moment he had no idea
where he was. Three other men slept in beds spaced around the
simple plank structure. A pot-bellied stove stood in the middle of
the dark room flanked on both sides by stacks of kindling wood. It
was all new to Jack and he found himself wishing for the familiar
surroundings of his quarters back in Brownsville.

It was someone knocking on the door and not
the rain that had woke him. One of the other men answered the
knock. It was a private from Colonel Ford’s command. The young man
looked very tense and focused. Rain water dripped from his kepie
onto the stoop outside the door. “Captain Caldwell wants to see all
of you in his quarters,” he said curtly.

“What’s wrong?” the sergeant who had answered
the door asked.

“I don’t know, sir, but he said it was
urgent.”

The four sergeants got dressed and followed
the private through the dark wet night to the officer’s quarters
located on the other side of the drill field. Captain Caldwell met
them at the door to his quarters and invited them inside. The room
was crowded with officers and NCO’s, including Colonel Ford.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “We need to muster the troops. I’ve just
received word that a sizable Union force is heading up this way
from Brownsville. We think their intentions are to destroy the
tobacco and cotton stores located by the plaza. Our job is simple;
we’re to stop those sons-of-bitches at all cost.” Jack felt a
familiar dread take root in his gut and then he looked down at his
brand new sergeant’s stripes and thought, bring the blue bastards
on.

Chapter 34

Subsequent scouting missions did indeed
confirm that a force of nearly two hundred Union Calvary was on the
move heading northward toward Laredo. Colonel Ford canceled all
leaves, furloughs, and day passes and split his forces into two
squads. The main force took up a position near San Augustin Plaza
where the bulk of the cotton destined for sale to the Mexicans was
stored. The other squad spread out along Zacate creek prepared to
defend the road if the Union forces decided to come that way
instead of approaching via the main thoroughfare.

The rain had stopped but the wind came
occasionally in brief gusts that drove the dry leaves across the
camp like scraps of confetti paper. It was very dark, and the north
wind was chill and the moon was only a pale suggestion behind thick
billowing clouds. Jack, along with men from Captain Caldwell’s
forces, positioned themselves in the trees by the creek. He could
see the swift water reflecting the lantern lights and camp fires of
the town in the distance. Beyond the town more than a mile away the
Rio Grande flowed southward, an undulating ribbon of silver barely
visible beneath the dark brooding sky.

The anticipated advance came quickly and
almost silently; only the creaking of saddle leather, the
clomp-clomp of shod hooves and the jingle of horse bridles
announced the approach of the Yankees. Someone in front of Jack
fired a shot. And then another man fired his weapon and almost
immediately the air was filled with lead and flashes of light and
puffs of black smoke and the screams of dying horses and the curses
of wounded and dying men. Jack moved from tree to tree firing his
carbine into the breast of a blue-coated soldier before quickly
reloading and firing again. He could hear shouting somewhere behind
him. It was Colonel Ford’s regiment riding down from the Plaza
attempting to flank the Union position. The Union Calvary was
trapped on the road unable to advance through the withering fire
from Caldwell’s troops positioned in front of them and Ford’s
advancing Calvary to their right. Jack and his men kept up a steady
barrage of fire as Colonel Ford’s men engaged the Yankees from the
east flank and began mowing down the Union soldiers like sheaves of
grain. Within minutes retreat was sounded and the Union Calvary
turned their horses and beat a hasty retreat down the road heading
back toward Brownsville.

Jack’s first thought was to check on the men
recently assigned to his watch. He found them all alive, but
Private Doyle had suffered a nasty wound to his right elbow. All in
all three men from Captain Caldwell’s command had been killed and
six wounded; two severely. The Yankee casualties were at least
three times that amount.

As soon as the smoke settled Colonel Ford
sent a contingent of men to pursue the fleeing Yankees before they
retreated too far from town. His intent was to take as many
prisoners as possible in hopes of thinning their ranks in case they
had designs on launching another attack.

After first conversing with Captain Caldwell,
Jack went over to the hospital to check on Private Doyle and to see
how Carl Campbell was doing. Doyle would lose the injured arm, and
no doubt his self respect. His time in the Army, though brief, was
now over, as well as the means to make a decent living for himself.
He’d survived the perils of combat, but he now faced a battle of
another nature; how to do something productive with his life minus
his strong right arm.

Campbell’s leg wound was on the mend but he
still spent most of his time in bed where he read the local
newspaper and flirted with the nursing staff telling them
repeatedly that they should go on a train ride with him when he was
back on his feet. Jack found him propped up on a pillow watching
the surgeons working on the recently wounded. “How you doing,
Carl?”

“Better. How’d it go this morning?”

“We chased their asses back toward
Brownsville.”

“You alright?”

“Yep.” Campbell’s eyes dropped to Jack’s
sleeve.

“Should I get up and salute you?” he asked
with a grin.

“Not yet. When I make lieutenant maybe.”

“Seriously, I’m happy for you, Jack. I mean,
Sergeant Saylor.”

Nurse Mason came into the ward and Campbell
waved her over to his bed side. “Jack’s been promoted,” he said
proudly.

“I see that. Congratulations, Sergeant
Saylor.”

“Thank you, Nurse Mason.”

“I have more news, if you’re interested.”

“Only if it’s good news. I’ve had enough of
the bad lately.”

“Marie Hayes is on her way here to Laredo.
She should arrive on the morning train, if it makes it through all
this fighting that is.” Her words hit Jack like a closed fist.
Marie, coming to Laredo?

“But, why?” he asked.

“The same reason all of us move around. They
send us to where we are most needed at the time.”

“But why Laredo?” She tipped her head toward
the front of the hospital.

“I believe a battle has just concluded down
the thoroughfare yonder. There will be others, I’m guessing.”

“Yes, ma’am I’m sure there will be. Al least
until we blow those damn blue bastards right out of the state of
Texas. Pardon my coarse language.”

“Like I said, Cor, uh, Sergeant Saylor, we go
where we are needed. Right now we’re needed in Laredo. Now please
excuse me, I have sick men to see to.”

She went to assist the surgeon and Jack said
goodbye to Corporal Campbell and left the hospital to report to his
captain. There was considerable concern among the command structure
that the Union forces would continue to launch attacks from their
base of operation outside Brownsville. Colonel Ford was keeping in
close contact with General McGruder, the officer in charge of all
military operations in the southwest quadrant. “He thinks we should
redeploy back to Brownsville,” the colonel was saying to his
assembled staff. “When we pulled out of there, the thinking was the
Yankees would abandon their siege and move their forces northeast
to Galveston. But, as we now know, that didn’t happen. So the
general is sending down a division from Corsicana to join up with
us and we’re moving south to reclaim Brownsville and points in and
around the Rio Grande south of here. I just received word through a
courier that Colonel Evans and his Calvary will be here tomorrow
morning. We’ll be deploying the next day, so get your men ready and
prepare for a prolonged campaign. It’s time we liberated this part
of Texas from those invading bastards once and for all.”

The meeting concluded and Jack headed over to
the mess tent for a late breakfast. A fine rain was falling and a
cool wind was still blowing out of the north making it quite
uncomfortable to be outdoors. There were many houses beyond the
camp where the citizens of Laredo lived their lives separate from
the war. Most made their living in the cotton trade handling the
large shipments that came by wagon or train from Austin and San
Antonio and Dallas. Merchants in Laredo stored the bundles of raw
cotton and sugar cane and then later helped Mexican buyers get the
merchandise across the Rio Grande into Mexico. The substantial
profits from the sale of cotton and sugar cane helped fund the war
effort in Texas, Louisiana, and western New Mexico; thus the
determination to keep the town out of Union hands.

A little church sat on a hill above the town
its tall white spire mostly shrouded in mist. Jack figured the
priest would be taking up residence there, if the local clergy were
of a mind to share. If not, Jack knew he’d be comfortable bunking
among the men where he could keep a close eye on their souls.

Laredo was little more than a border village
of stone houses surrounded by rolling brown hills speckled with
mesquite and black bramble and scattered clumps of Indian grass.
Most of the residents were of transplanted Carolina stock with
Spanish and indigenous native influence among some of the younger
people. But no matter their bloodline, they were all proud Texans
and fiercely loyal to the Confederate Cause. Numbering only a few
hundred, they were a very important part of the support network the
Confederates depended on to keep commerce flowing throughout south
Texas.

The mess tent was mostly empty except for a
corporal from the provost office and a fat yellow cat with a round
bushy tail that seemed more interested in getting out of the rain
than hunting a small rodent for its breakfast. Jack ordered coffee
and a couple of biscuits and took a seat near the tent door where
he could see the railroad office in the distance. “You think the
train from Corpus Christi will be on time?” he asked the
corporal.

“Last I heard,” the corporal said. He went
back to his breakfast and Jack sipped his coffee and thought about
Marie Hayes and what he would say when he saw her, if he chose to
see her at all. He knew he still loved her, but he couldn’t say
why. Love was something altogether mysterious to Jack. He knew
virtually nothing about it, and yet he sensed it was something
uniquely important; something to be cherished and preserved no
matter the cost. But knowing that gave him little insight as to how
to proceed with Miss Marie Hayes when they again met face to
face.

Jack finished his biscuits and took a walk
through the town intending to go back to his quarters, but instead
headed over to the rail station. It had stopped raining and the sky
was a vibrant blue and the sun shone on the wet railroad tracks
with an intensity Jack hadn’t seen in weeks. It seemed the
lingering autumn rains had finally moved on to pester the folks in
the southeastern part of the state for awhile.