One Wore Blue (45 page)

T.J.’s gaze met Kiernan’s. They both knew that it was too soon for the little girl’s hopes to be so raised.

“It’s good to see you doing so well,” she said, and coming to the bed, she soaked a cool cloth in water and set it upon
his forehead. He was scarcely warm. That, too, was a good sign, she knew.

T.J. grasped her hand warmly. “You saved my leg.”

“T.J., you can’t be certain. You mustn’t—”

“Look at it!” He was too excited to realize that he shouldn’t be exposing his masculine limbs to a lady and a little girl, even though that lady had been present for far worse. He lifted away the sheet so that she could see his leg, and she was amazed. The stitches were very neat. There was no sign of swelling, and barely any discoloration. She remembered Jesse working on it the day before, and she felt a strange shaking take hold of her. He was very, very good.

“Still,” she warned, “you know that infection may set in during the days to come.”

He nodded. His fingers were shaking, and he wound them together in his lap to still them. “I wanted to die,” he told her. “When I realized that I’d been picked up by the Yanks, I was so damned afraid of what a Yankee sawbones might do to me that I wanted to die. But he’s good. Hell, he’s brilliant.”

“Yes, he’s very good.”

“Too bad he’s a Yank.”

“That’s what my brother says about Jesse,” Patricia said airily, studying the pen. “’Course, he really shouldn’t be one at all.”

T.J. looked surprised, and he glanced from Kiernan to Patricia. “Sounds like you’ve known him awhile.”

“We have. We’ve been out to his place a number of times, and before the war, Jesse was welcome here. He didn’t have to take the place over then. I love Jesse,” she said enthusiastically, then reddened. “Oh. I love him as much as you’re allowed to love a Yank.”

T.J. grinned. “Don’t worry, Patricia. You can’t love a word—you can love a person, a man. It’s all right.”

She looked worriedly from T.J. to Kiernan, hoping that it really was all right. “They would have burned my father’s house down if it hadn’t been for him. Jacob didn’t care at first, but even my brother likes him now. We don’t know him half as well as Kiernan does.”

T.J.’s eyes shot to Kiernan’s. In seconds, she was certain T.J. understood everything there was to understand about her relationship with Jesse.

He wasn’t going to say anything, though.

Patricia leaped off her seat when one of the other men turned over and let out a soft croak for water.

Kiernan leaned close to T.J. “War is funny, isn’t it?” she said softly. “I’d been trying to reach you with information about Union troops making a foray into the valley.”

T.J. closed his eyes and spoke wearily. “There’s always someone near the oak,” he said. “The war is over for me now. I imagine I’ll be spending it in a camp.”

“Maybe not.”

The masculine words spoken behind Kiernan sent shivers racing along her spine.

She had absolutely no idea just how long Jesse had been standing there. Was it long enough for him to hear what she had told T.J.?

She spun around. His eyes were fire when they touched hers, but he had come to see T.J. He pulled back the sheets and looked at the leg, then inspected the wound in T.J.’s gut. He seemed pleased. He pulled the sheet back up over his patient.

“I’d have liked more time,” he murmured, “a lot more time. But I’ve been called back to Washington.”

Stunned, Kiernan stared at him. Just that morning she had been praying for a way …

But this wasn’t it. The Yankee patients would be all right. They’d receive careful passage back to Washington. But what would happen to T.J., and these other two?

A prison camp would kill T.J.

And where would Jesse be?

“Jesu, Doc,” T.J. said. “I won’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell!”

Jesse was silent, contemplative. “We’ll see, soldier,” he said at last.

He nodded to Kiernan, then left the room.

During the day she tried to see Jesse alone. She was more than willing to plead for a miracle to save T.J.

But she couldn’t even get close to Jesse. He was a whirlwind of activity. Wagons had come for his patients, and he had to make sure that every one of them was as comfortably prepared for travel as possible, bandaged and bedded down for a journey across the river.

Corporal O’Malley advised her about the sudden hurry.

The area didn’t really belong to anyone at the moment, either the Rebs or the Yanks. Sharpshooters and skirmishes were the rule of the day here. But a rumor had reached Washington through spies working for a man named Pinkerton—who was organizing something called the Secret Service—that Stonewall Jackson was coming in somewhere nearby with a major troop movement.

Jesse was very important to the Union because he had a way of making men live. He was going to be promoted with his new orders to full colonel.

There was no stopping him. Whenever she came near Jesse, he immediately put her to work preparing patients for the trip. She didn’t mind the labor. She had helped him stitch up most of the patients the day before, and she couldn’t help but care about them.

After working late into the night, she still had not managed to speak to Jesse. Not until midnight had the last of the injured Yanks been bedded down in wagons to move back to Washington.

And now, the house seemed empty.

Patricia and Jacob had fallen asleep on the steps of the front porch, and Tyne and Jeremiah had long since carried them up to bed. With the last soldier bedded down, Jeremiah had gone to his quarters to find his own rest. Tyne and Corporal O’Malley were still with the Rebs, and Janey was in the kitchen.

Alone in the great hall, Kiernan stared about at the emptiness and felt the sound of silence.

She heard a slight noise and turned. Jesse, in his full blue uniform, leaned against the doorway to what had been his surgery, watching her.

“You must be very happy.”

She shrugged. She wasn’t happy at all.

“I don’t suppose I can get you to leave the area?”

She shook her head. “The Rebs won’t hurt me,” she murmured.

“Personally, I don’t think the Rebs are coming right now. They’ve got other things to do,” he said flatly. “It’s deserters and stragglers I’m thinking about.”

She smiled. “We’ve had them before, and we handled them. Well”—she paused—“T.J. handled them for me, actually. But I’m prepared now. I’m a good shot, and Jacob is a great shot.”

“I’ve left word with General Banks that I might need the house again. He’ll see that none of his troops threaten it again.”

“Thank you,” she murmured awkwardly.

“I’ve only one thing left to attend to,” he murmured. He started across the empty hallway, his booted heels clicking harshly on the floor.

He headed upstairs to the Rebels. There was a wagon waiting outside to take them away.

Kiernan tore after him and caught him halfway up the stairs, her skirts sweeping wildly around as she tried to stop him.

“Jesse, you can’t let T.J. be taken to a camp! You just can’t! He’ll die there, and you know it.”

He paused, a curious smile curving his lip. “Kiernan, you are so damned beautiful, and you plead so elegantly with me. But it’s always over some other man!”

“Jesse, please!”

“Kiernan, get out of my way. Please.”

“Jesse, I won’t—”

“Kiernan, you fool! You’re the one who gave that boy information he could use against the Union troops!”

“But I didn’t!”

“You might have jeopardized everything.”

“Jesse—”

“Kiernan, move!” He picked her up by the waist, and for a moment he held her above him. The air crackled between
them, and when she met his eyes, the sweetest memories of the night came flooding back to her.

She felt the tension and the passion in his touch.

He set her down, very gently.

“Excuse me.”

He walked past her, reached the room where T.J. was lying, and entered it. He leaned over T.J., checking the texture and temperature of his skin, looking into his eyes.

“How’re you feeling, Reb?”

“Good as can be expected, Yank.”

“Jesse!” Kiernan started into the room.

“Corporal O’Malley, stop her! That’s an order!” Jesse said.

O’Malley caught her just before she could fling herself at Jesse.

“If she can’t shut up, remove her from the room!”

“Yes, sir!” O’Malley said unhappily.

Held back by O’Malley, Kiernan bit hard on her lower lip and held still.

“Soldier, you know that this war is over for you now, right?” Jesse demanded.

“Yes, sir, I reckon it is.”

“You’re a Virginian, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A man of your word?”

“Always, Doc.”

Jesse nodded. “That’s what I thought. I’ve drawn up papers for you and these boys.”

“I can’t be a Yank, sir.”

“You don’t have to be a Yank, soldier. The document just promises that you won’t take up arms against the Union again. Can you live with that?”

T.J. smiled slowly and exhaled a long breath. “Yes, sir, I can live with that. So can the boys.”

“One more thing. Anything Mrs. Miller told you dies in this room. Is that understood?”

He turned and looked at Kiernan, then spoke to T.J. again. “Have I your word?”

“Yes, sir, you have my word.”

“Kiernan?”

His blue eyes blazed into her like blades of fire, demanding, always demanding.

She was trembling. Jesse meant to leave T.J. and the two other Rebs here with her, free to go home as soon as they could.

“You—you have my word,” she breathed.

“Good. Damn, it was nice not to have to argue with you for once! O’Malley, I guess it’s safe to let this Reb go. Get signatures from these other soldiers, and I guess we’ll be out of here. Gentlemen, good luck to you,” he said, doffing his hat to T.J. and the two other men. Then he strode out of the room.

Kiernan was still for a minute, then she turned and went after him. He was gone from the stairway, and for a moment, she thought that he had left without even saying good-bye to her.

She heard sounds coming from the office that had been his surgery, and she realized that he was gathering the last of his personal instruments. She crossed the great hall quickly and opened the door to the office.

His greatcoat was already over his shoulders. His back was to her, but she knew that he realized she had entered the room. He had cleaned his instruments, and he was repacking them in a large black leather bag. It was a fine surgeon’s bag, with his initials embossed into it with large bold script.

He picked up the instruments she had come to know yesterday: Bullet forceps, bone forceps, dissection forceps. Gnawing forceps. Bone scraper. Capital saw, chain saw, metacarpal saw, bone file. Different scissors and scalpels and tourniquets.

All went back into the bag.

Kiernan walked to the rear and collected his suture materials, the black silk thread, his curved and straight needles. She brought them to him and watched him pack them into his bag. His hands brushed hers, and he glanced at her.

She stayed before him, silent. He turned away and reached for the last of his anesthetics, the chloroform and ether, then his pain killers, the opium and morphine.

He hesitated, then turned back to his bag and produced the small syringe he had used for injecting morphine. “I’m leaving you this for T.J. I’ll write a prescription for you. Be very careful with the dosage. I’ll leave you this too: powdered sassafras, to lower his body temperature if it starts to rise. Keep his bandages clean, and treat the wounds with simple cerates. Can you manage?”

She nodded. “I’ll manage.”

He closed his case. “Well, then. That’s the last of it.” His hands moved over the leather. “It’s handsome, isn’t it? Daniel bought it for me as a Christmas gift a few years ago. I never imagined that I’d be using the amputation instruments so frequently. And I never imagined that I’d be looking at it and wondering where Daniel might be.”

“Jesse—”

He turned and faced her. “I have to go. I swore when I received permission to come that I would pull out promptly when I was ordered to do so.”

“Jesse, thank you,” she said quickly. How was it that they had been so very close last night, yet now she could barely muster words and sounds? He was leaving again, riding away. And once again, there seemed to be nothing at all that she could do about it. “Thank you for T.J.,” she said quickly, “and for Jacob. For the house.”

“But not for you?” he said softly.

She wanted so very much to run to him. He stood so tall and straight, striking and dark, with his sharp blue eyes, his slouch hat low over his forehead, his greatcoat emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. He was leaving.

She didn’t know when she would see him again, if ever.

“Come here, Kiernan. Please. I’m leaving—what danger can I be to you?”

She walked across the room to him, and he raised her chin with his thumb and forefinger. His lips touched hers gently, tenderly, poignantly. Then his mouth rose, and he
whispered softly above hers, “Take care, Kiernan. Take care.”

She stared at him, willing the tears in her eyes not to fall. He smiled with a bittersweet curve to his lip. “Still can’t wish a Yankee well, eh, Kiernan? Well, that’s all right. I understand.”

He released her, lifted his bag, and started for the door. He did not turn back.

She closed her eyes. She heard the door shut softly, heard his booted footsteps ringing as they crossed the empty hallway.

She came to life. She ran across the room, threw open the door, and raced out to the porch.

Jesse was just mounting Pegasus. The few men who waited to ride escort with him were down by the end of the sloping lawn, standing sentinel in the moonlight.

“Jesse!”

Mounted on Pegasus, he waited. Kiernan ran breathlessly across the lawn.

“Jesse—” She paused before Pegasus. Jesse waited patiently, his eyes still filled with tenderness, with weariness, with sorrow.

“Jesse, take care,” she whispered. “Please, take care of yourself.”

He smiled, his lip curling into the slow grin that she loved so very much.