was on his feet and out of the tent. The chief surgeon and Dan were ahead of him, standing by the opening to the marching hospital, staring as he was staring.
“Where are they?” he asked finally, his voice hoarse from sleep. “
Where
is the Eleventh?”
Sheffield said nothing for a long moment. His face appeared to drain of all color as he stared at the empty road, and the vacant clearing across it. “Dan, get me the roster,” he said. His voice sounded unfamiliar to Jess.
In another moment he held the retreat order in his hands. He read it again as Jess stood beside him, hardly breathing, then balled up the paper and lobbed it into the middle of the road, where it quickly absorbed water from last night’s rain, and sank in a wagon wheel rut.
“Damned foolish of me,” he said finally, sounding more tired than if he had spent the day and night in surgery. “I must be getting old. I forgot that Major Bones was in charge of the order of march,” he said. “Jess, I fear we have been abandoned.”
Chapter Six
N o one seemed to know what to say; maybe what had happened was too big for words. I must be awfully naive, Jess thought when his mind began to work again. It’s beyond me to think that a brother officer and an Englishman would do something so wicked.
Nell stood beside him, leaning against his shoulder and probably not even aware of it. Her face paled as she took in the emptiness around the marching hospital. “It was Bones, wasn’t it?” she said at last, and her voice sounded unfamiliar in its shock. He nodded, unable to trust his own voice.
“I am so sorry,” she said, then turned away from him and Sheffield. The shame in her voice lashed at his heart. As he watched, miserable, she moved closer to the road and stood there, apart from them, as the sky lightened.
When the sun had cleared the low mountains, he could see, strewn across the soggy road, remnants of clothing, some shards of crockery, and a few bare sticks that might have been furniture, all driven into the mud by gun carriages, wagons, marching men, and horses’ hooves. He only had to wonder for a minute what it was, because Elinore started to sob. She raised her skirt as though she was going to plunge into the quagmire after the pitiful fragments. He started for her, but she stopped.
He stood there, stymied by his own indecisiveness. He did not know whether he should go to Elinore, or leave her alone at the road’s edge. A great lot of good I have been doing her since our wedding, he thought as the Chief walked to the road and clasped an arm around his wife’s shoulder.
“Clever of him, and so simple really,” Sheffield said, histone both bracing and conversational, perhaps to put Elinore at rest. “It couldn’t have been hard, especially in the dark, to let each regiment think it was being followed by another that would escort us. Clever.” The Chief kissed Elinore’s forehead. “My dear, you knew his measure far better than the rest of us, didn’t you? Well, good riddance to him is what I say.”
Elinore sighed. To Jess’s dismay, he could see nothing of the cheerful lady who served so faithfully in the marching hospital. He came closer to hear what she said against the chief surgeon’s chest. “Do you think we Masons are going to be bad luck forever, Chief?”
He thought then that Dan O’Leary must have given him a push forward, but he couldn’t be sure. He cursed his own shyness, but found his voice. “You’re a Randall now, Elinore,” he said when he got over his surprise at suddenly standing so close to his wife. “A Randall,” he repeated. The Chief stepped back and pointed Elinore in his direction. With so much encouragement, he had no qualms about taking her hand. “We Randalls have nothing but bonny luck. It’s written on our crest, Elinore: ‘Luck follows love.’”
“There you are then, dearie,” Sheffield said. He smiled at them both and then nodded to Daniel. “Come, lad! We’d better
“Where are they?” he asked finally, his voice hoarse from sleep. “
Where
is the Eleventh?”
Sheffield said nothing for a long moment. His face appeared to drain of all color as he stared at the empty road, and the vacant clearing across it. “Dan, get me the roster,” he said. His voice sounded unfamiliar to Jess.
In another moment he held the retreat order in his hands. He read it again as Jess stood beside him, hardly breathing, then balled up the paper and lobbed it into the middle of the road, where it quickly absorbed water from last night’s rain, and sank in a wagon wheel rut.
“Damned foolish of me,” he said finally, sounding more tired than if he had spent the day and night in surgery. “I must be getting old. I forgot that Major Bones was in charge of the order of march,” he said. “Jess, I fear we have been abandoned.”
Chapter Six
N o one seemed to know what to say; maybe what had happened was too big for words. I must be awfully naive, Jess thought when his mind began to work again. It’s beyond me to think that a brother officer and an Englishman would do something so wicked.
Nell stood beside him, leaning against his shoulder and probably not even aware of it. Her face paled as she took in the emptiness around the marching hospital. “It was Bones, wasn’t it?” she said at last, and her voice sounded unfamiliar in its shock. He nodded, unable to trust his own voice.
“I am so sorry,” she said, then turned away from him and Sheffield. The shame in her voice lashed at his heart. As he watched, miserable, she moved closer to the road and stood there, apart from them, as the sky lightened.
When the sun had cleared the low mountains, he could see, strewn across the soggy road, remnants of clothing, some shards of crockery, and a few bare sticks that might have been furniture, all driven into the mud by gun carriages, wagons, marching men, and horses’ hooves. He only had to wonder for a minute what it was, because Elinore started to sob. She raised her skirt as though she was going to plunge into the quagmire after the pitiful fragments. He started for her, but she stopped.
He stood there, stymied by his own indecisiveness. He did not know whether he should go to Elinore, or leave her alone at the road’s edge. A great lot of good I have been doing her since our wedding, he thought as the Chief walked to the road and clasped an arm around his wife’s shoulder.
“Clever of him, and so simple really,” Sheffield said, histone both bracing and conversational, perhaps to put Elinore at rest. “It couldn’t have been hard, especially in the dark, to let each regiment think it was being followed by another that would escort us. Clever.” The Chief kissed Elinore’s forehead. “My dear, you knew his measure far better than the rest of us, didn’t you? Well, good riddance to him is what I say.”
Elinore sighed. To Jess’s dismay, he could see nothing of the cheerful lady who served so faithfully in the marching hospital. He came closer to hear what she said against the chief surgeon’s chest. “Do you think we Masons are going to be bad luck forever, Chief?”
He thought then that Dan O’Leary must have given him a push forward, but he couldn’t be sure. He cursed his own shyness, but found his voice. “You’re a Randall now, Elinore,” he said when he got over his surprise at suddenly standing so close to his wife. “A Randall,” he repeated. The Chief stepped back and pointed Elinore in his direction. With so much encouragement, he had no qualms about taking her hand. “We Randalls have nothing but bonny luck. It’s written on our crest, Elinore: ‘Luck follows love.’”
“There you are then, dearie,” Sheffield said. He smiled at them both and then nodded to Daniel. “Come, lad! We’d better
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