Warren did as he said he must; he returned to the Officers’ barn where he could get more details on Lee’s plans to take Washington, if that was indeed the Rebels’ next move.
News delivery became a regular event at my house where the boys, Thom and Charlie, knew they could get a thick crust of bread or a piece of pie and hot cider if they were lucky and found me at home. They did quite well visiting both Beard’s store and my doorstep early in the morning and the younger of the two, Charlie, was becoming as plump as a contented squirrel preparing for winter. It was probably good planning on his part because the days were getting shorter and the air, less heavy. I don’t recall ever finding out where the boys slept at night. I knew they had a great aunt who took care of them, and I also knew that they preferred to be out and about town, not under her roof. Thom and Charlie had increased their paper sales in late summer not only by selling papers at the obvious places such as the train station, bar and grocery, but they sometimes ventured to the troop camps as more and more men moved closer to town.
I went about my regular chores and visited the hospital and prison at least six times each week directing the volunteers on what decoctions to make or assisting them in applying poultices.
Despite our best efforts, Katherine and I never found out the definite whereabouts of K.O.Quimby. From the carriage, we knew that he had been moved south by train, but the final destination was unclear. Probably to one of the prisons there. The exact reasons for his arrest and disappearance were unknown; we could only surmise that his allegiance to the Union was discovered somehow.
Returning to the house after visiting Kate, I packed bread, bandages, and medicinal herbs into a pair of large baskets. Lucy’s driver and carriage would be by to gather those donations for the hospital to treat the men’s wounds, respiratory problems and soldier’s stomach —the most difficult ailment to treat of them all. Our worst cases, and I had seen plenty of them arrive, were the young men who had been brought in on the back of wooden wagons over deeply rutted roads. By the time we saw them they had finally been moved to operating tables in the hospital surgery room, a sultry room which, despite efforts to screen the windows, had scores of flies buzzing about in the soggy heat. Many of those men, their eyes sunken in their sockets, having experienced enough pain for three or four lifetimes, looked up at the doctor, and asked with any voice that they could utter, “Doc, can you do me a favor? Just put me out of my misery.”
I’d overheard one man, probably eighteen, who added to that question, “You wouldn’t keep a horse alive if they looked like this, now would ya?”
In the time since the doctor’s request for my help with herbs, I’d been working in the prison for at least an hour each day, often more. After delivering maps of the general region, and a few I drew of the prison in relationship to the town, river, and rail lines, I listened to them make plans. They knew I was on their side and that they were safe to talk freely in my presence. But before any of that happened, I had to distract the guards with the cake I brought with me.
I’d say, “Look boys, you’ve been on your feet all day. Take some of those sweets I brought for the surgeons and have a coffee break. You certainly deserve it.” This worked more times than not.
I was planning to bring them a map of safe-houses and trails farther north, a map from Sarah but that would have to wait until an escape was imminent and she returned to the area. However, we had no time to waste, autumn was coming and the weather was sure to change.
Each time I visited that horrible prison, I knew that I had to help those men plan an escape. I’d never seen such a place – so thick with filth, waste and a stench that made my stomach roll when I entered. The men told me that at night they’d wake up to rats and other vermin crawling among them and sometimes over them as they lay on the floor. In the interest of healing and what seemed my own common sense I insisted on clean hay for the men, regular waste bucket removal, and while the herbs I brought with me simmered, I’d also boil extra pots of water to cool for drinking. I personally rejected much of the infested food that was brought in to them and sent it back with the private who brought it.
Few other nurses, male or female, dared to enter the prison. I convinced everyone that I was safe, under the protection of the guards. In fact the guards looked forward to my visits because my arrival meant refreshment of one sort or another and sometimes special herbal concoctions that made them a bit relaxed, slower to react.
“Thank you, boys,” I’d say to the guards. Handing the tall, thin one a metal cup of hot tea I’d add, “It’s damp in here and since you helped me with the hay, I thought that you could use a little break.”
One night when I got home, I was even too tired to make dinner. I washed my face and hands and was brushing my hair when Warren arrived, surprising me, letting himself in through the kitchen.
He held me to him and kissed me long on the mouth.
“Warren, what a surprise, I didn’t expect you.”
“I know you didn’t but I had to come by and see you.” He paused. “With everything that is happening, we may be pulling out anytime, but probably within the next week. That’s not really why I’m here though, you see, something’s come up that I need to speak with you about.”
“What is it?”
“Samuel came by. He’s never done that before… come by the Officer’s barn, visited, played cards, shared a few good stories.”
“That probably means he’s feeling better, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but listen to this, Annie. Over a game of chess, he looked up at me and broke my concentration. I could see he really hadn’t been in the game. He said, ‘Warren, word has it that there are a few spies in Marsh Station. Union spies.’”
“Well, Quimby was arrested, Warren. Undoubtedly he was probably referring to that situation.”
“He knew about Quimby. He meant others. ‘Could be anyone, could be a woman’ he said. ‘Just keep a look out for Union spies.’”
“Are you telling me to keep an eye out while you’re gone, Captain?”
“Keep an eye out, all right, Annie. But it got me thinking… Is there anything you need to tell me?”
“What do you mean? Why do you ask, Warren?”
“I know there’s your work at the prison, the uniforms in your trunk…”
“Uniforms?”
“Yeah, of course. I found a uniform the night of your attack. It didn’t mean a thing to me then. If anything, I just thought you’d be working for the Confederacy. Why else would you have a uniform in your trunk?”
I reddened, but didn’t look at him or respond.
“Okay,” I don’t have much time,” he went on beginning to get impatient. Then he whispered, taking both my hands and looking me squarely in the eyes. “You don’t have to answer me directly. Perhaps you really shouldn’t under these circumstances. I just wish you could have, would have, told me everything.” He paused for a moment. The house was stone still. “I suspect you may need a reason to leave here, and soon.”
“Leave? Leave you? Leave my life here? I don’t think so, Captain,” looking just beyond him.
“Annie, for your own safety. Annie, look at me.” He said firmly.” It would be for your own safety. Even just temporarily, but if you do go, if you leave Marsh Station, I must know that you are safe, no matter what. You must let me know where to find you.” Then he held me at arm’s length, holding my shoulders firmly but gently and looked directly at me. “Annie, can you tell me where’d you go if you did leave?”
I looked at him with tears in my eyes, but couldn’t answer. Then he pulled me to his chest in a long embrace. I could hear the drumbeat there, the rhythm of his heart.
After a moment, I responded to him, “Warren, I can’t leave you.” Then hesitantly I added, “However, I’ll show you one thing, but only because someone should know where my most precious belongings are hidden, not for any other reason,” I said, wishing I could tell him all my secrets and not lie.
He could have gotten
enraged for I truly think he knew. He added it up and didn’t hold me accountable for my lies. He could have been so different, unforgiving to me, but instead he showed his grave concern for me and just wanted to know where to find me if I had to leave quickly. He needed that connection that proved to me the extent of his love. Profound love. This was the man I wanted to spend my life with, find land, raise a family, grow old together.
For a moment, I did look him in the eyes, a momentary and vulnerable acknowledgement of what was good and true. Then, I looked down and reached for his hand and grabbed a candle stand from the table. Lighting the candle, I opened the small iron door in the brick wall of my beloved bread oven, commonly named for its shape inside, a beehive oven. Holding the candle inside I bent down so there was room for him to look up and inside the oven itself.
“Up to the left, behind, see it?
“A set of keys.”
“Yes.”
“The smallest one goes to a box in the cellar. No need to go there now, but back in the far corner, there’s a few loose bricks at floor level, just big enough to hide a locked box. No one should find it but you, Warren. Only you.”
“Annie, if it wasn’t for those young men out there in the fields, depending on me and my work for food, water and medicine…” then he paused and whispered, pulling me in towards his chest, and went on, “ I might just go where ever you’re headed.” I pulled away and sternly responded.
“I didn’t say I was headed anywhere, now did I Captain? I want to be wherever you are.”
After Warren left, I knew I’d have to make a decision. What could they have on me? I didn’t see any rush to leave right away. I’d plan it though. My leaving couldn’t arouse suspicion or I could endanger Kate, Mr. Beard, and Sarah whenever she returned. My leaving could even endanger Warren.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE