Lost Cause (3 page)

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I felt like you were
taking liberties.”

“You’re right, I was.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I hope I
didn’t hurt you. I did hurt you, didn’t I?”

Jack was angry but he kept his composure.
“You did what you felt was right,” he said. “I probably deserved
that.”

“Your face, it’s so. . .red.”

“It’s just you’re so beautiful and I thought
nurses liked—”

“Liked what?”

“Never mind.”

“You don’t need to insult me, Jack. I said I
was sorry.”

“We’re not getting along too well are
we?”

“We could, if you’d behave yourself.”

“It’s just that we don’t have a lot of time.
I may be shot down any day now.”

“Yes, you might. So I guess you should kiss
me after all.”

Jack put his arm around her and kissed her,
softly at first then harder pressing his lips firmly to hers. She
began to shiver and he held her close and felt her heart beating
and her eyes opened and she began to cry as huge tears slid down
her face wetting their lips.

“You won’t hurt me will you, Jack?” she
murmured. “You’ll be good to me, won’t you?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because we’re here in this place. You’re a
soldier. You’re loyalty is to your command. You may leave me
tomorrow. Or. . .die, like Charles.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“On my oath.”

After a while Jack walked with her to the
door of the tent and said goodbye and went back to the barracks.
Campbell was lying on his bed smoking. He looked at Jack and
said,

“So, how’d you make out with Miss Hayes?”

“Tolerable. And you and Miss Mason?”

“Not ready for a train ride just yet.”

“Imagine that.”

“She likes me, though.”

“How do you know?”

“She spent a lot of time wrapping my wrist.
Her fingers are very soft. I couldn’t help but wonder what they
would feel like under my coat.”

“You’re a randy ole’ clod, aren’t you?”

“Quite right my boy. That’s why I’m planning
to visit a whore house right after taps.”

“That costs.”

“I still have your fiver. Wanna go with
me?”

“No.”

“Miss Hayes satisfy you that much, huh?”

“I think we should suspend talking lest we
have cross words,” Jack said kicking off his boots. “I’m going to
bed. Don’t wake me when you come in later.”

Chapter 5

Jack was away for three days on routine
patrol in the hills above Brownsville. When his regiment finally
retuned to camp it was dark and much too late to call on Miss
Hayes. He made it a point to look her up the next morning, however.
She wasn’t in the infirmary yet and he had to wait by the tent
until she arrived.

While he waited Jack watched the ammunition
wagons and supply carts pulled by shaggy burros and horse mounted
Calvary troops in their plumed hats and rows of gray-clad Infantry
moving in unison down the long dusty thoroughfare outside of town.
He tried to make out if some of the troops were from his division
but the dust was so thick and the humidity so pervasive that he
could not tell with certainty if the banner fluttering above the
formation belonged to his unit or one of his sister regiments. He
and his comrades had been given a twenty-four hour furlough from
camp duties and Jack planned to spend as much of it as possible
with Miss Marie Hayes.

Campbell had chosen to remain in his bunk
snoring away his short respite from duty. He hadn’t been fairing
too well with Miss Charlotte Mason and his disposition was one of
quiet reticence, a rare development for one normally given to much
light-hearted banter and jocularity. Jack had his doubts there
would be a train ride in his future any time soon.

Jack bided his time and picked his teeth with
a sliver of oak and watched the road for any sign of Marie Hayes.
At last he saw her coming down the lane and he straightened his hat
and smoothed the front of his shirt and stepped forward to greet
her. She seemed taller than he remembered and even more beautiful
in the full light of the white hot sun.

“Good morning, Mr. Saylor,” she said.

“How are you Miss Hayes?”

“The surgeon was within earshot and Jack
suggested they move closer to the trees where there was more shade
and less of a chance for an eavesdropper to overhear their
conversation. When they were positioned under the limbs of a huge
elm she asked, “Where have you been?”

“Out on patrol.”

“You couldn’t have let know you were
leaving?”

“I didn’t know until they told us at morning
muster.”

“You could have gotten a message to me. I’m
not that hard to find.”

They were off the thoroughfare in the shadow
of the trees but Jack felt vulnerable, as if a thousand eyes were
watching them and a thousand ears listening to their every word. He
took her hand resisting an urge to steal a kiss and said,

“Isn’t there somewhere else we can go?”

“No,” she said. “We have to talk here. I have
a job to do, remember?”

“But I missed you.”

“You shouldn’t have been gone so long.”

“It was only three days.”

“That’s a life time, given the
situation.”

“No argument here.”

“What do want from me Jack? Do you think you
love me?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve know me for a week.”

“Time doesn’t mean anything anymore,” Jack
said. “War is ugly, and hateful. You have to grasp beauty when and
where you can. And you have to love when you get the chance. Death
isn’t going to sit around and wait on a prolonged romance, not in a
hellish time such as this.”

“You make a good point. But we may have to
redefine what we mean when we use the word love.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Well, I think what you are feeling is
something more akin to need versus what we traditionally recognize
as romantic love. You do need me, don’t you Jack?”

“I suppose so, yes, but I also love you.”

“But what do you need me for? Are you a
virgin? Have you been to the sporting house in town? Or maybe
you’ve been in the arms of some sweetheart back home. Is that the
kind of need you’re after Jack?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. That kind of talk
makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why” Don’t you want to make love to me?”

“Well, yeah, but. . .”

“Why should I give myself to you? Are you
prepared to marry me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hah! Marry me, make love to me and then
march off and get yourself killed. I’ve been down that road before
Jack Saylor.”

“I’d come back to you.”

“Who? Who would you come back to?”

“You.”

“My name is Marie. Can you say my name Jack?
It’s not a very complicated name.”

“But you are. Complicated I mean.”

“You don’t love me Jack. You’re young, no
more than a boy. You have lustful thoughts. Boys are made like
that.”

“I do love you, Marie. I adore you.”

“Well, you said my name. That’s a start I
suppose.”

“I need to see you alone. After you’re off
shift maybe.”

“I’m never off shift.”

“When can I see you then?”

“Come back after nine. Maybe I’ll be here,
maybe not.”

“May I have a kiss before we part?”

“No. I want you to think about what my lips
would feel like if we kissed willingly.”

“Then I’ll say goodbye for now.”

“Goodbye Jack Saylor.

“Goodbye Marie Hayes.”

As Jack walked away he thought of Marie’s
eyes and the way she looked at him and the curve of her lip when
she refused his kiss. He thought she must be a little crazy, but
war made people crazy and being crazy was no excuse to abandon
every emotion that makes a human being human. He questioned her
purity, her frank words pushed his thoughts in that direction, but
he found he didn’t care as much as he should. Pursuing her was
better than traipsing off to a whorehouse where Mexican girls, some
no more than children, climbed into men’s laps tugging at their
zippers while keeping an eye out for an officer who tended to pay
better than the enlisted grunts.

Jack saw his pursuit of Marie Hayes like a
game, a game of chance; Faro or five card poker or a wager on a
swift horse like the one owned by Campbell. She hadn’t mentioned
what the stakes might be but that was alright with Jack since he
had nothing but his heart and self respect with which to wager. He
was wrestling with an emotion he had no experience with and it
vexed him greatly. It was clear she had the upper hand in the
little game. Maybe he’d just forget the whole thing and stick to
train rides and Mexican senoritas with warm hands and cold, false
smiles.

But it was not to be. He was waiting behind
the infirmary in the darkness of the trees when Miss Hayes arrived
dressed in purple and rose.

“Do we have to meet here?” asked Jack. He
could barely see her eyes in the still shadows and the golden mass
of her hair lay hidden behind a scarf made of white lace.

“There isn’t any other place,” she said.

“What about the tent?”

“There are sick soldiers in there.”

“The river maybe.”

“Why don’t we just sit here in the grass for
awhile,” she said.

They sat on the hard smooth ground and Jack
held Marie’s hand. She wouldn’t let him put his arm around her
shoulder and her light grasp on his fingers suggested restraint on
his part.

“You looked tired?” she said.

“Not really.”

She looked down at the grass and sighed.
“This is an atrocious game we’re playing, isn’t it?”

“What game is that?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Jack.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

“You’re such a rogue,” she said. “You play
the game as well as you know how, but you’re way out of your
league.”

“Do you always read people so well?”

“Not always. But I read you like a book.”

“Oh yeah, what does my cover say?”

“It says you want to lay me down in the grass
and have your way with me.”

“Oh my, I must install a dust cover.”

“Wouldn’t help.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to pretend you love me just
to see if I’ll give myself to you.”

“But I do love you.”

“Please, let’s not re-cross that bridge.
Maybe another subject. Tell me about your family.”

“They’re mostly old.”

“Mother?” Father?”

“A grandmother. Very old.”

“I see.”

“So, where can we be alone?”

“Jack, you’re spoiling the evening. Can you
not woo me at all?”

“I am wooing you.”

“Where are the compliments then?” Where are
the flowers? Where is the interest in something about me except how
willing I am to give myself to you? Do you know how old I am?”

“I was taught not to ask a lady her age.”

“I’m twenty-six, Jack.”

“So?”

“How old are you? Twenty, twenty-one
maybe?”

“About that.”

“Look, Jack, you’re a very nice boy. You
don’t have to say you love me to get me to see you.” She stood up
and put out her hand. “I’ll say good-night then.”

“I want a kiss.”

“No,” she said. “Go away.”

“Kiss me, and I will.”

They kissed briefly and she broke free and
walked away into the night.

It was a quiet evening and there was
something going on in the hills above the camp. Jack watched the
flashes of musket fire beyond the heights and listened to the
splash of cannon balls hitting the river below. He stopped in front
of Lupe’s Cantina and listened to the Tejano music blaring inside.
The shutters were open and a woman was singing in Spanish and the
whores were jingling their money and the men laughed and drank and
cried in their tequila.

Dispirited, Jack went back to the barracks
sad and regretful. Campbell came in while he was undressing.

“Missed you at the cantina. Where have you
been?”

“Went for a walk.”

“Miss Hayes again huh?”

“Give it a rest, Carl.”

“Now that’s a fine idea. Gotta rest up for
Miss Mason.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, we’re going on a little trip to
Galvston together.”

“By ship?”

“Oh no, Jackie, by train.”

Chapter 6

Jack’s regiment went out on patrol the next
morning and they chased three Union soldiers through the mesquite
until they plunged into the Rio Grande and swam for their lives to
the other side. The regiment returned to camp in the late afternoon
and Jack stopped by the infirmary where the wounded from Rip Ford’s
unit were receiving medical attention. Miss Hayes was much too busy
dressing wounds to say hello and Jack took his bloody knees and
wounded pride back to the barracks to change his trousers and
sulk.

Corporal Campbell and four other soldiers
were on assignment escorting Nurse Mason and five civilian
merchants to Galveston to procure medical supplies.

After cleaning up and changing clothes Jack
went outside and sat in the shade of the covered well. It was
impossibly hot and the sky was bright and blue and the thoroughfare
was white with dust. Jack sat with his back against the well and
watched a regiment pass by heading for the main camp. The men were
hot and sweaty. Some wore their over blouses while others wore
shirts of butternut trimmed in yellow. Most carried muskets slung
over their shoulders and haversacks and cartridge packs and
gleaming bayonets shining in the sun like white fire. The enlisted
men wore kepies and the officers all wore broad brimmed hats with
the side bills folded over like tent flaps. Jack identified them by
their regimental banner as part of Colonel John Ford’s command. It
was clear by their bloodied, sweat-streaked faces they had recently
seen hard fighting.

They marched on by, and then crossed the
river at the arched bridge on the south side of town. Jack saw a
horse ambulance moving in the opposite direction toward the
infirmary. A soldier lay on the rear rail looking at Jack as the
wagon rolled by. His forehead was bleeding below the hair line and
his nose appeared to be broken and there was dust and black powder
on his face and in his hair. He smiled weakly and Jack gave him a
small wave and turned back toward his room.