Kary, Elizabeth (11 page)

Both
father and daughter had turned to the woman at the opposite end of the table
with their mouths agape. It was quite extraordinary for Althea to interfere in
decisions of this magnitude. But then, these were extraordinary times.

Ignoring
their stunned expressions, the older woman continued. "Your father always
said Leigh had a way with sick people that even he envied, and, Horace, you
know as well as I do that Simon was seldom wrong. He trained Leigh and taught
her everything he could about caring for the ill. If she has the skills to ease
some of the suffering caused by this detestable war, wouldn't it be wrong to
deprive those poor men of her care? I only wish I could be of as much
use."

Leigh
had never expected her mother's support in what she planned to do, but with
Althea's inexplicable defection, Horace's objections had begun to dwindle. It
was clear that he was angry about the older woman's interference, but he had
never been able to deny the two of them when they banded together against him.
Eventually, reluctantly, he had given his consent. Looking back, Leigh could
not imagine what had made her mother side with her against her father in this,
nor would the older woman discuss her reasons. But whatever it was that had
brought Althea to her point of view, Leigh was grateful.

The
steamboat whistle brayed twice as the bow nestled closer to the Cairo dock, and
the young woman turned back to her stateroom to gather her belongings. She did
not know what to expect of the city lying in wait for her behind the steep,
earthen embankment or of the military encampment beyond it, but as Leigh hefted
her carpetbag and moved toward the gangplank, she felt more than ready to meet
whatever challenges she found in Cairo.

***

Leigh
hired the services of a driver and carriage at the landing, and they pulled up
at the main gate to Fort Defiance a short time later. She paid the driver from
the small cache of coins in her reticule and, after hearing the price for the scant
mile ride, was glad for bills tucked safely inside her corset. With that money
and the double eagle her father had pressed on her as he bid her good-bye at
the St. Louis levee, she would have no immediate need of funds, but at these
inflated prices she would surely need more if she meant to stay for long.

As
she walked toward the sentry at the gate, she could see the military camp
sprawled out beyond him. It was a confused jumble of canvas tents and
rough-hewn buildings that seemed to have defied any attempts at organization,
populated by hundreds of men in ramshackle uniforms. And with the sight came a
smell of swampy ground, horses, and excrement fermenting in the hot sun that
threatened the stability of her breakfast. Stifling the urge to put a handkerchief
to her nose to muffle the stench, Leigh approached the young corporal at the
entrance.

"I
wish to see Colonel Oglesby," she told him as she sank ankle-deep in the
quagmire that passed for a road.

"I'm
sorry, miss," he told her as his gaze swept appreciatively from the crown
of her feathered bonnet to the newly muddied hem of her fashionable silk gown,
"but no one can enter the camp without a pass."

With
a flourish she removed Aaron Crawford's letter from her reticule and extended
it to the sentry. "I've come to nurse with Mrs. Bickerdyke," she told
him coolly. "This letter from Major Crawford in St. Louis explains that to
your commanding officer."

The
man made no move to examine the carefully folded document, but a smile tweaked
the corners of his mouth. "Has Mother Bickerdyke seen you yet?" he
asked.

"No,
she hasn't. I thought it would be better to talk to the colonel first, then to
Mrs. Bickerdyke," she began, ignoring the use of the woman's familiar
nickname.

"Well,
now, miss, that's not the way of it at all. When it comes to nurses, it's
Mother Bickerdyke that calls the tune. And she don't set much store by
do-gooders in their hoop skirts and feathers, either." He gave her attire
another, more derisive look and added, " 'Course there is Miss Safford,
but she's a pure angel. Even Mother could see that from the first."

"Well,
then," Leigh continued undeterred. "Where will I find this Mrs.
Bickerdyke?"

"I
reckon you'll find her at her place back in town. She does most of the cooking
for the sick 'uns right there."

Since
she had dismissed her hired carriage, Leigh turned with carpetbag in hand and
began the trek back to Cairo. She tried to ignore the mud sucking at her shoes
and the ferocious sun beating down on her as she walked, but she had not gone too
far when a soft female voice halted her.

"Excuse
me, please, but Corporal McGuire said you had come to volunteer as a
nurse."

Leigh
looked up at a fragile blonde addressing her from the seat of an open carriage.
"I'm headed back to Mother Bickerdyke's kitchen with the empty pots from
breakfast," she went on. "If you'd like a ride back into town, you're
welcome to it."

The
girl's smile was wide and welcoming, and Leigh met it with her own. "Thank
you, I'd like that," she replied, tossing her bag into the back and
climbing into the buggy unassisted. "My name's Leigh Pennington. I've come
from St. Louis to nurse at Fort Defiance if Mrs. Bickerdyke will let me."

Up
close Leigh could see the blonde was half child, half woman, not a day over
eighteen and slight for her age. In the bright sun her pale hair glinted like a
thousand moonbeams, and in spite of her squint against the glare, her
cornflower-blue eyes seemed to dominate her heart-shaped face. She hardly
seemed to fit Dorothea Dix's requirements for a nurse either, and Leigh's
flagging spirits immediately rose.

"I'm
Delia Dobbins from up near Springfield," she volunteered, turning to cluck
at the horses. "So, you came all the way to Cairo because you think you
want to be a nurse."

"I
know I want to be a nurse," Leigh corrected her determinedly.

"Well,
you've hardly picked a very likely place to start," Delia warned.

"Why?
Doesn't Mrs. Bickerdyke need any more nurses on her staff?"

"Staff?"
Delia laughed as she turned to glance at the other woman. "We're hardly a
staff. We're just a few women trying to see to the sick: keep them clean, see
that they get proper food, change their dressings if need be. With conditions
as they are, we can't do much more than that."

"I
thought that things had improved dramatically since Mrs. Bickerdyke's been
here."

"Oh,
they have," Delia assured Leigh, "but for the most part it's been
like trying to drain the sea with a sieve. There's no question that Mother B.
has made a huge difference in the time she's been here. The medical tents are
far more comfortable, and the sick have clean clothes and linens. The
sanitation and cleanliness are very much improved."

Leigh
eyed the blond girl speculatively at the last statement, unable to comprehend
what things must have been like before the Bickerdyke woman's arrival. Even
from the front gate the stench of the camp had been overpowering.

"She
sees that the sick get special food, bought from a fund set up by General
Prentice at her insistence," Delia continued, enumerating the woman's
Herculean accomplishments.

"Is
it true that she commandeers the packages the men are sent from home?"
Leigh broke in.

Delia
giggled and nodded, turning suddenly quite chatty. "At first she had to
badger the men into it, but when they saw all the good she was able to do with
what they got, they gave in peaceably. And in return she's teaching the camp
cooks how to make salt pork and hardtack palatable."

Leigh
shook her head in amazement. "She sounds like a positive whirlwind!"

Delia
gave another delighted laugh that sparkled like crystal in the wind and set her
soft curls dancing. "A 'cyclone in calico' one of the doctors called her
after their first run-in. Nor was he the last doctor she's taken to task."

"But
how did you get involved in all this, Miss Dobbins?" Leigh wanted to know.

"Oh,
call me Delia, please. My brothers both signed up in the first call for
volunteers, and since there were only the three of us on the farm and no family
for me to stay with, I came along with them. The Third Illinois made me the daughter
of the regiment, a mascot sort of, and when Mother B. came to Cairo in June,
she just took me under her wing."

Delia
slowed her horse to let an ammunition wagon lumber past, and Leigh took the
opportunity to study the town spreading out before her. From the lip of the
levee Cairo had seemed an inauspicious knot of buildings collected like residue
in the bottom of a teacup, but now as they drew closer, she could see a
bustling main street with a grid of side streets laid out to the east and west.
There was building going on everywhere, and the fresh-sawed beams stood out
like stark skeletons against the weathered sides of older buildings. They
turned off to the left at the edge of town and passed trim houses huddled under
the shady spans of old trees, finally turning into a yard hung with
fresh-washed laundry. At the rumble of the carriage wheels a woman appeared
from the cabin at the rear of the property.

"I
was beginning to wonder if you'd gone for good," she greeted them in a
gruff voice. "It's nearly time to take lunch back to the boys."

Delia
jumped down from the carriage seat, and Leigh followed suit, realizing only
when they stood side by side how small and slight the other girl really was.
Then she turned her attention to the tall, imposing figure that was advancing
toward them. So this was Mary Ann Bickerdyke, Leigh thought, quite able to
believe all the stories she'd heard about the "cyclone in calico."
The woman had a hard but kind face with a careworn expression and clear blue
eyes that missed nothing. Judging from the gray-brown hair that straggled from
the knot at the back of her neck, she was well into middle age but with the
strength and vigor in her movements of a much younger woman. As she approached,
Leigh straightened to face her squarely.

"Mother
B.," Delia said in a rush, "this is Leigh Pennington. She's come from
St. Louis to help us."

Without
a word the Bickerdyke woman looked the newcomer up and down, taking in the
feathered hat, the expensive lace gloves, and the gray silk gown with its
fashionably full skirts. At last her eyes came to rest on Leigh's face, with
its creamy skin and lovely aristocratic features. "And just what is it you
think you can do to help us?" she asked quietly.

Leigh
detected a certain unfriendliness in the older woman's tone, and color
blossomed in her cheeks as she answered. "I was trained as a nurse,"
she stated flatly, "and I understand there are men here at Cairo in need
of my skill."

"This
ain't no charity ball you'd be volunteering to help with," Mother Bickerdyke
snorted.

"I'm
quite aware of that, madame, I assure you," Leigh countered, her tone as
icy as the Bickerdyke woman's had been.

"I
don't need help nursing my boys from society ladies who would faint at the
sight of blood."

"I
won't faint," Leigh answered.

"Have
you seen gangrene or watched a man die of yellow fever?" she snapped.

"No,"
Leigh conceded, "but I've nursed my share of measles and pneumonia. And
from what I understand, men die of those things in these camps as often as they
do from other causes."

The
older woman gave an almost imperceptible nod, whether in recognition of her
skill or agreement Leigh could not tell. "Have you any experience with
gunshot wounds," she continued, "or with broken bones?"

It
was Leigh's turn to nod. "When I worked with my grandfather in his medical
practice, we had some bullet wounds, but more often we saw farming or
industrial accidents. And I've set a break by myself a time or two."

"Have
you ever done washing or cooking for sick men?" There was no change of expression
on Mary Ann Bickerdyke's stern face.

"No,"
Leigh replied truthfully, "but I'd be willing to learn how."

"They're
as important here as all the rest."

"Yes,
ma'am, I realize that."

Mother
Bickerdyke paused to let her eyes sweep over the young woman once more.
"Why did you come here?" she wanted to know.

The
skepticism in the question was not new to Leigh. "I came because I have
skills to offer, and I was too young and pretty to get a position in any of the
St. Louis hospitals." She voiced the indictment with a slight raise of her
head, as if daring the older woman to challenge it.

For
the briefest instant the suggestion of a smile tugged at the Bickerdyke woman's
lips as she turned away. "In an hour or so we're due back at the camp with
the soup I've been brewing. You're welcome to come if you want to, and we'll
try you out," she called over her shoulder. "And Delia, you show Miss
Pennington where to take off that party dress and those foolish hoops."

Leigh
stood for a moment after she was gone, drained by the unexpected confrontation.
Then the petite blond girl was beside her, laying a comforting hand on her arm.

"Why
didn't you warn me what a tigress she is?" Leigh demanded in a whisper.