Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (22 page)

The private nodded and dashed away.

Trumball felt his heart race as precious
minutes escaped.

"Sir, you must trust me, please," Eleanor
said. "This is a delicate situation. He needs to be in
isolation."

"She's right, General," Trumball said.
"Keeping Edmonds exposed like this might worsen his condition.
Plus, there's also a chance whoever shot him might not be far
behind."

Dismayed, McClellan arched an eyebrow and
studied them both.

He was about to speak when they all heard,
"General! General!" coming from Grady, the one-eyed cook. "General,
you've got to come quick! Looks like they might be some Rebel
soldiers just over the northwest ridge of camp."

With that, McClellan and several others ran
for their weapons. Grady paused before joining the men
—
and winked at Eleanor and Trumball.

Trumball traded glances with Eleanor, but
they ignored their puzzlement and escaped to Eleanor's house, where
they began an emotional, painful battle for the life of Tom
Edmonds.

****

Eleanor's hands trembled, even though she'd
examined dozens of wounds. She found no traces of the bullets and
proceeded to sew the holes left behind. Rosemary and Lieutenant
Trumball assisted. Little was said. Eleanor cut off Tom's — the
girl's — remaining clothing and folded it in a pile. Thick
bloodstains told her the young woman had defied the odds by making
it back to the Union camp. Eleanor and Trumball had both seen men
die from lesser injuries.

Eleanor had to focus. She put her energies
into silent prayers instead of giving in to tears. Her heart ached
for Zechariah. She was sure he would know better than she how to
handle the situation. What stressed Eleanor most was the thought of
the young girl dying and never knowing her real name.

With news of Rebel troops near, the summons
for Dr. Hillman had fallen to the wayside. Eleanor was thankful she
didn't have to explain anything to Dr. Hillman
—
or come up with enough lies and excuses to
send him away.

She and Trumball stayed by the girl's side
all night, though her shallow breathing gave them little hope.

Eleanor had Rosemary serve coffee in the
morning to soldiers waiting outside for an update. McClellan had
left instructions that he was to be notified of any changes.
Rosemary only told the men they had done all they could to save
Tom, and that the rest was in the Lord's hands.

Eleanor brought coffee and biscuits to
Trumball, though only the coffee interested him. Sorrow consumed
Eleanor as she stared at the young girl. She relived the loss of
her daughters all over again. How could she bury another who had
become so dear to her? Though she felt grateful for Trumball's
company and support, she longed even more for Zechariah.

"If she dies, we can't let the others know
the truth." Eleanor squeezed the girl's hand. "I think that's what
she would want."

****

Trumball seemed not to hear Eleanor. He
studied the girl's features with subdued awe. Her gender seemed so
obvious. Delicate hands made rough from army life. Such beautiful
lips… How could he have missed it? When he recalled the way she had
regarded him that first time in the hospital tent, after Bull Run,
it confused him how he hadn't realized then that she was a woman.
She'd fainted. She'd often stared at him like a school girl, and
more than once he'd detected her nervousness, but he'd ignored his
suspicions. Shame seared him like a saber through flesh.

"I knew it," he said. "I knew all along
something was off with this one, but I just couldn't imagine
something like this. Who does this sort of thing? I kept an eye on…
her. I felt like I had to look out for her, even though she liked
proving how tough she could be." He thought back on the night they
had spent watch together after the Indian attack, and how Tom
Edmonds always struggled with nervousness around him.

"I knew it, too."

Trumball turned his gaze on Eleanor.

"Well, I suspected." Eleanor nodded toward
the pile of clothing. "Yesterday confirmed my suspicions."

"If she lives, I ain't got a notion on how to
sort this mess out."

"She must live! For her family. If, if she
dies," Eleanor lowered her head as tears invaded, "we may never
know how to find them."

Although James had entered the war simply to
serve his patriotic duty, he felt no particular attachment to the
cause of ending slavery, but Private Tom Edmonds was an entirely
different matter. Earnest prayers poured from his heart to the
Almighty, and though Eleanor didn't notice, more than one tear left
his eyes.

****

Emma Cartwright fought her way through a
groggy fog and into the realm of consciousness. She expected
Heaven, and, at first, couldn't decide if the sight of Eleanor and
James was a relief or a disappointment. Either way, she could have
done without the thundering sensation of pain.

"Where am I?" Her throat dry, her words
sounded cracked and shaky.

Eleanor and Trumball startled to
attention.

"You're safe, dear." Eleanor began stroking
Emma's hair. "We brought you to my house."

"We?"

Eleanor looked over at Trumball, who leaned
in so Emma could see him better.

"I carried you over." Trumball gave a
half-grin, though it did little to hide his discomfort and
uncertainty.

Under her cover, Emma moved her hand over her
wounds. She winced
—
and realized
her linen wrap was gone. Her eyes widened, and she tried to sit
up.

"No, no!" Eleanor eased Emma back down.
"Don't upset yourself, dear."

"But
—
"

"We know." Eleanor's voice was reassuring,
and the compassionate expression on her face let Emma absorb the
shock.

"You both know?" Emma darted her eyes between
the two. "What?"

"We know you're not exactly Tom Edmonds."
Trumball put a particular emphasis on
Tom
.

"Oh." Heat filled her cheeks. Questions
flooded her mind, and she was sure her commander and Eleanor felt
the same. She worried what they might be thinking of her and what
their intentions might be. Would Trumball turn her in?

"What's your name, dear?" Eleanor asked.

"Emma. Emma Cartwright." A rush of relief hit
her as she spoke her name aloud. Part of her had lost touch with
being female after hiding it for so long.

"Emma." James said her name as though it
would take getting used to.

Emma looked at him as if her name hung on his
lips. A degree of elation hit her, as did trepidation.

"How many people know?" she asked.

"Just us," Eleanor said.

"And me," Grady said from the bedroom's
doorway. He flashed his toothless smile when heads turned his way.
"Beg a pardon. Your girl let me in." He hooked his thumb in
Rosemary's direction.

"Grady?" Emma asked.

"Well, I, uh…Saw you one night." He cast his
eyes to the floorboards and rubbed the back of his neck. He
flushed. "Out by the pond, real late one night, 'bout a half mile
outside the camp. You was, uh…"

"We understand, Grady." Eleanor smiled
sweetly, attempting to save them all from further embarrassment.
"That's why you helped us the other night."

"Oh, yes'um. I knowed you had to get her
outta there, 'fore them officers had a chance to figure out what
was a-goin' on. So I made a division."

"A diversion?" Trumball asked.

Grady nodded.

"That was right smart." Trumball looked at
Emma. "You mighta saved her."

"Thank you, Grady." An equal mix of
embarrassment and relief surged in Emma.

Grady beamed and nodded. "You're right
welcome. Oh, I almost forgot! Colonel Reed and a bunch of others is
on their way over."

Rosemary appeared beside Grady. "Missus,
they's a group of men here fo' him." She nodded toward Emma, not
having overhead the discussion about Emma's true identity and
gender.

Eleanor glanced from Emma to Trumball. "What
for?" Concern was apparent in her tone.

Rosemary shrugged a shoulder. "Didn' say,
ma'am, but they's waitin' at the door."

"We best greet them." Trumball shot a firm
look at Eleanor.

She nodded, and Trumball and Grady followed
her to the door.

Emma's heart raced. Had someone else learned
her secret? Were the men there to arrest her? Her eyes dashed
around the room, looking for a place to hide or escape. She
considered crawling under the bed, but her wound made her cringe
with agony at the slightest move.

A tap sounded on the bedroom door.

"There's someone here to see you!" Eleanor
entered the room alone. Her eyes were wide and glassy but revealed
nothing. She fluffed Emma's pillows and helped her sit up straight.
"Come in, gentlemen."

Several unfamiliar faces filtered into the
tiny bedroom. Colonel Reed, Trumball, and Grady joined the
gathering, but when Emma noticed General McClellan and the man
behind him, every hair on her body stood as the two came to her
bedside.

"Mr. President, I would like to introduce to
you Private Tom Edmonds." McClellan held out a hand as if he were
presenting a showpiece.

With a warm grin and kind eyes, President
Lincoln shook Emma's trembling hand.

"It is a distinguishing pleasure to meet you,
young man." Lincoln removed his stovepipe hat. The other men
followed suit. Lincoln took a seat in a chair placed next to the
bed.

Emma felt terrified, convinced that every man
in the room could tell she was a woman. She had no idea how she
looked, but imagined that with rumpled hair, pale skin, and an
oversized bed shirt, she had to be a sight. With her body heat
rising, a warm sweat beaded her every pore.

Furthermore, Emma had yet to solidify her
opinion of the president.

"George here has shared a great deal with me
about your recent adventures," Lincoln said. "Here I made it a
priority to caucus with George and to," he glanced at McClellan,
"encourage him to press forward for a resolution, and what do I
hear? He informs me that a spy has just returned from the Yorktown
encampment with valuable insight
—
vital insight, actually
—
that
will be crucial to his troop movement and future victory." Lincoln
paused a moment while he fed McClellan an indifferent expression.
"Upon hearing such a report, I was eager to make your acquaintance,
Mr. Edmonds. I am indeed grateful that you managed such a
successful feat. Considering the peril you were in and the injuries
you sustained, I believe it's a testament to the Heavenly Father
that you are still alive."

"Thank you, sir." Brevity, Emma decided,
would be a safe measure.

"I hope to hear that your prognosis is quite
favorable?" asked the president.

Emma had avoided an examination by Dr.
Hillman, though she noticed him standing in the room. She bit the
inside of her lip as she looked his way.

"Edmonds is in the best of hands and
receiving the utmost in care," Dr. Hillman said.

"I can certainly see that is true." Lincoln
acknowledged the room. "This is a finer arrangement than I am sure
many of the infirm are accustomed to."

Trumball stepped forward. "This setting is
only temporary for Edmonds."

Lincoln slightly arched an eyebrow in Emma's
direction. "What a shame."

Laughter reverberated through the room.

Eleanor squeezed her way in carrying a tray
filled with glasses of tea. Rosemary followed with a similar tray
and tended to the men in the back. Eleanor served the president
first.

"Thank you, ma'am." Lincoln sat back in his
chair. "You have a very comfortable home here. Thank you for your
kindness and allowing us ruffians to invade."

"Oh, Mister President," Eleanor blushed, "You
are quite welcome here. And may I say, sir, how honored I am by
this visit. My husband and I pray for you daily." She sniffed back
tears. "I do wish he could be here to share this moment."

The president reached out and patted
Eleanor's arm. "I receive those prayers and the supplication of
others with much thanksgiving, ma'am, and I hear that your husband
is at present in service with our troops aboard the
Zouave
,
for which I am also grateful. Please give him my highest regards
when he returns." Eleanor nodded, and the president looked at Emma.
"As this soldier can attest, such times and such conditions require
faith." Lincoln lost his focus for a moment. Sadness seemed to come
over him, and Emma was certain he was pained with thoughts of his
departed son.

"Yes, Mr. President," Emma said when his
silence stretched for too long. "A man needs his faith."

Lincoln nodded and returned to them. "Well,
you may find a comfort in learning that the general is preparing to
move his troops toward Yorktown in the morning."

A cheer rose from the men, but McClellan
looked at the president with a restrained glower.

"Your discoveries have given him the
information and confidence he needs to finally exercise some of
that West Point academy training we have all heard so much about."
Lincoln glanced at McClellan and snickered.

Annoyed, McClellan made no attempt to hide
it. He took a deep breath and stood next to the president. Little
Mac, unfortunately, could compare in stature to Lincoln only when
the president was seated.

"The men are ready for combat." McClellan's
words elicited another cheer. "Of course, considering the
conditions and the limited resources I've been forced to work with,
I have adjusted my strategies accordingly and plan to lead a
successful campaign. All while you sit comfortably in your office,
Mr. President."

Lincoln enjoyed his refreshment. "Well, as
the leader of this fine nation, that is precisely where I belong,
General. Military success is a necessary but pithy aspiration next
to the task of reunification. Be grateful, sir, that you are sure
to find peace and rest easier than I." Lincoln stared decisively at
McClellan.