He unquestionably treated his men well, this Colonel. It was a sharp contrast from the other officers that had gone through the area recently. He genuinely seemed to care about his men. Rebecca watched as he stopped by the tent that had been set up as a field hospital for the sick and wounded. He stopped and talked to each and everyone of the men resting outside the tent, waiting for it to be completed. Then he turned to talk to a man the blonde figured must be a doctor. It was then she realized that he must truly be an important man in the Union Army. Having a real doctor in the ranks was a privilege. Most officers did not and many men died because of it.
The Colonel glanced to the house, raising his hand in a gesture of agreement to the doctor. She watched him turn and begin walking toward the house. The blonde tried to busy herself with dusting the parlor so the colonel would not notice that she had been watching from the window. It was not long before there was a knock at the back door. Taking a deep breath, she moved to the screen door. Once again, she found herself captured by blue eyes and an enigmatic smile.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"Ma’am," He nodded slightly. "I have a wounded man here who really needs to be taken out of the weather. Would you have any room in your home for him?"
Again, she wanted to rebel and laugh in his face, but she could not. "Colonel, I am a single woman trying to survive. I would be crazy to tell you no. You will just take what you want anyhow."
"No Ma’am, I will not. If you say no……" He looked back to the doctor, giving a slight shake of his head. "I am sorry to have disturbed you."
He turned to walk away, but before he could take his first step, Rebecca heard the words leave her mouth.
"Will the cellar do?"
"Ma’am?"
"Are you deaf, Colonel? I asked if the cellar would do for your man."
"Why, yes, Ma’am, it would. It would be perfect. Thank you for your kindness."
"The cellar is empty. You may use it. The door is on the side of the house."
"Thank you again, Ma’am."
Rebecca bit her lip as she considered her next question. "Colonel?"
"Yes, Ma’am."
"Would you by any chance have any bread you could spare? I am out of just about--"
"Of course, I will bring it up myself after we get my injured man settled. Is that all right?"
"Yes, Colonel, thank you."
As the tall man turned and left the porch, she found herself watching him. He returned to the doctor and before long, she heard them making a spot in the cellar for the wounded man. She blew out a fretful breath, knowing that if anyone found out about this, she would be accused of giving aid and comfort to the enemy. If they found her guilty of that crime, she could be hung. For the first time in a long time, Rebecca was glad she was alone.
Going back to work cleaning the house, she took a moment to check the larder. She rearranged what few dry goods she did have left, finding herself hoping that the Yankee Colonel would be good to his word and that his men would leave her with what she had when they arrived.
A short time later, she heard yet another knock on the door. Dropping what she was doing, she went to the door to find the Colonel with a cloth sack in his hands. "The bread you asked for, Ma’am." He offered as he lifted the bag slightly.
Unlatching the door, Rebecca pushed it open. The man hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside, placing the bundle on a small table right inside the door.
"Thank you, Colonel."
"You are welcome, Ma’am. It is the least I could do. There is some fruit and cheese there as well."
Rebecca could not help but smile at the Colonel. He seemed so caring and gentle. He was the kind of man she wished her parents had arranged her marriage to. As it was, she had been all but sold to her husband like a common field hand. Her husband had been some fifteen years older than his captive bride. He only wanted a woman who would take care of his needs both domestic and marital. He also believed it was his God given right and her wifely duty to give him a child every other year. Much to Rebecca’s secret relief that part of the plan had not come to fruition. She was not burdened with children while trying to survive this nightmare of a war. Her stomach fluttered when her mind whispered that she certainly would not have minded so much if this gentleman had been the father of those longed for children. She brought her hand to her face in a shy fashion when she felt the blush rise to her cheeks at the terribly naughty vision that flashed through her mind.
"Well, if you will excuse me, Ma’am, I have to attend to my duties." "Of course, Colonel." She ran her hand over the sack, her mouth very nearly watering at the thought of fresh food. "Thank you again."
"If there is anything else you need, please let me know." The officer turned to leave; when his back was to Rebecca, she noticed a dark stain on the shoulder.
"Colonel?"
"Ma’am?"
"Are you hurt?"
"Ma’am?"
"I do believe you are deaf. I asked you a very simple question. Are you hurt?"
The Colonel glanced back over his shoulder, as if he were trying to see the wound. "It is nothing, Ma’am."
"Colonel, if it were nothing, you would not be bleeding through your coat. You should have your doctor look at it."
"My ‘‘doctor’ is little more than a boy, who should not be here to begin with and he has men out there with real wounds. This really is no more than a scratch. It would be unfair of me to take time away from a soldier who really needs him for something as minor as this. My batman will tend to it later."
"Come here and let me look at it."
"Ma’am?"
"I swear, you must have been stuffing good southern cotton in your ears." She took him by the arm and pulled him inside. He dragged his feet a little, pulling back and reminding Rebecca of a nanny goat. "Colonel, I do not bite. Come here and sit down."
She led the reluctant officer to a chair next to the table. "Take off your coat." Rebecca turned away long enough to get a bowl for water and a pitcher. When she returned, the man was still sitting with his gaze directed at his boots and he had not removed his jacket.
"Colonel. Please take off your uniform coat."
"Ma’am, I am fine, really I am." He started to get to his feet, but Rebecca was there with a gentle, but firm hand on his good shoulder.
"Sit, Colonel. You know as well as I do, that men die because of small, untreated wounds that go bad. Now would you want your men left to that Major of yours if something were to happen?"
"Un……I……well……"
"Take off your coat."
After a long, tense moment he began unbuttoning his tunic. Pulling it off, he folded it over his arms and then crossed them over his chest before taking a seat in the chair.
Rebecca watched his head droop even further as she walked around behind him. She grimaced, biting her lip as she got her first look at the wound he had called ‘‘minor’ and a ‘‘scratch’. It was old and infected. It had broken open and was oozing an ugly combination of puss and old blood. "Colonel, I am afraid this will hurt. I am sorry I have no whiskey to offer you."
"That is all right. I am not much of a whiskey drinker."
"I thought all Army officers were hard drinkers." She tried to make small talk as she pulled the dirty material away from the gash, hoping that it would distract this gentle man from the pain she knew she would cause.
"Not all of us, Ma’am. I prefer a tall brandy myself."
She smiled, thinking of the last time she herself had indulged in a fine after dinner brandy. Everything that she knew as her world was gone. Her parents, her brother, and her husband, all that Rebecca Gaines defined herself by had been cruelly stripped away. If she did survive the rest of the war, she would have to work hard to redefine herself and what she would want from her life in the future.
The soft hiss from her patient brought her back to her task. "I am sorry, Colonel. It must feel like I have the finesse of a field hand."