An Unlikely Union. Shannon Farrington
was so glad they had. As an only child, with parents heavily involved in professional and civic responsibilities, the house at times could be quite lonely. Abigail became the older sister Emily had never had. They laughed. They shared secrets. They encouraged one another in their faith.
“Hurry now,” Abigail urged. “Your mama will have breakfast on the table shortly.”
Emily readied herself, then stepped into a gray cotton day dress with tight-fitting coat sleeves. The simple style would serve her well in the hospital.
“That shorter hemline will work better for you, I believe,” Abigail said. “Your dress from the other day is still soakin’. That dark ring ’round the bottom hasn’t yet come clean.”
“No matter how many times they scrub, that hospital floor is still filthy,” Emily said. The West’s Buildings needed an army of scrub maids alone just to keep up with the task. She wondered if Dr. Mackay would permanently transfer her to that brigade after what she had said to him yesterday.
Emily fastened the hooks and eyes of her bodice, then adjusted her collar. Abigail smiled. “I declare, you are just as pretty in gray cotton as in pink silk. You’ll be cheerin’ those poor men right nicely.”
The thought of Dr. Mackay’s grief-stricken face suddenly passed through Emily’s mind. He had looked so lost when she inquired of his brother.
“You be thinkin’ of a particular soldier?” her friend asked.
“No. Well, I suppose so. A Yankee doctor.”
“Um-hmm,” Abigail said as she took the brush from Emily’s hand and began to arrange her hair. “He handsome?”
“Handsome?” He wasn’t particularly ugly, yet then again, how could Emily really say? She had only seen him once, for sixty seconds at the most, without a scowl on his face. “He’s a big tall tree of a man. A Scotsman.”
“Um-hmm. Like them ones in your poetry book?”
Emily let out a laugh, knowing where Abigail’s thoughts were headed. “Oh, far from it! All this man does is bark orders and frown. He makes more work for us than any other doctor. Do you know he insists on washing his hands after tending to each man?”
“Does he?”
“Yes, and not in the wash basin, mind you. Fresh water each time. Our ward goes through more buckets than the entire hospital combined. He is dreadful to work with and he treats us all as enemies.”
She stopped, realizing how foolish she sounded. Whatever she’d had to endure at the hand of Dr. Mackay was nothing compared to what Abigail and Joshua had faced.
“I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me to complain so.”
Abigail’s face, however, showed not the slightest offence. “He just sounds like a soldier in need of cheerin’ to me.”
Her kindness often amazed Emily. Of anyone, Abigail had the most reason to be bitter. Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation had taken effect earlier that year, but the document only proclaimed freedom to slaves in states of rebellion. Maryland had been kept in the Union by force. Since the state had not seceded, slavery was still legal, and the occupying army didn’t appear to be in any hurry to change that.
Furthermore, while many on the Confederate side did not support slavery, a great many did. Emily once asked Abigail what she thought of her tending to such men.
“Please be honest with me. Does it trouble you?”
“At times,” she admitted. “But then I think ’bout that verse in the Bible. ‘Love your enemies. Bless them that curse you.’ I don’t reckon this world will change much if we don’t start takin’ the Lord’s message to heart.”
Abigail finished setting the pins in Emily’s hair. “Your kindness to that Yankee doctor and to them other soldiers could go a long way,” she insisted. “You remember that.”
Emily nodded. She would try.
After breakfast the family went their separate ways. Emily’s mother was off to a bandage drive for the local hospitals, and her father had business at Fort McHenry.
Joshua drove her to the harbor, where a ghastly sight met her eyes. The Westminster trains had brought new wounded. Scores of bleeding, sick men lay once more along the docks. She could hear them begging for water and other simple necessities. Army personnel and many volunteers scurried about.
“Shall I stay with ya, Miss Emily?” Joshua offered. “Looks like ya could use the help.”
She wanted to say yes but feared in this chaotic environment Joshua would soon be commandeered as a slave, at least temporarily.
“Thank you, Joshua, but no. Perhaps you should return home.”
He nodded and tipped his slouch hat. “I’ll be by at sunset to collect you.”
“Thank you.”
It was only after he had rolled away that Emily realized that in her shock over the sight before her, she’d left her basket and bonnet in the carriage. She would need covering from the sun as the day wore on.
But a few freckles will do me no harm, she thought. I’ll make do. She turned for the docks.
Her heart broke. The cries of suffering rose around her and it was almost impossible to walk without stepping on a wounded man. Swallowing back her emotions, she found a water bucket and went to work. Emily doled out the precious liquid and gently wiped dust-caked faces. While doing so, she glanced down the dock. Trudy, Elizabeth and Rebekah had each arrived. They were doing the same.
Surgeons raced back and forth. Confederates and Federal soldiers alike were begging for their attention. The injured men were in desperate need of pain medication. Although they had been tended to in the field hospitals, many also needed suturing. In some cases the train to Baltimore had caused as much damage as the battlefield.
Help them, Lord.
Before she could even finish the thought, Dr. Mackay came storming toward her. His white collar was soaked with sweat, his shirtsleeves and blue vest already stained.
“Don’t just stand there, Nurse! Put down the bucket and follow me!”
She handed it to a nearby woman and hurried after him.
Deep amidst the wounded men an orderly stood holding three skeins of yarn. Dr. Mackay took them from the man and quickly dismissed him. He then handed the skeins to her, along with a pair of scissors.
“Now, do exactly as I say.”
Do what? she wondered. What good is yarn among thirsty and bleeding men? They need water! That is what we always do first!
“We will take this section here,” he said, waving his big hand over the general area where they stood. “Red for immediate care. Green for those to go to Fort McHenry. Blue for the transport steamers north. Understand?”
Of course she didn’t understand. She glanced about. No one else had yarn. They were armed with buckets and bandages. “Excuse me?”
Frustration filled his face. That vein at the top of his collar was bulging again. “Tie the appropriate color to the man’s left arm, according to what I tell you!”
In her confusion, she said the first thing that came to mind. “What if he has no left arm?”
“Then tie it to the right one! Come!”
He pulled at her sleeve. It was all Emily could do not to recoil from his touch. What is he about to do? Sort the men into lots? Give the Federal soldiers a red ribbon, permission for care, while tossing the wounded Confederates into carts and hauling them off to prison?
Emily shuddered. She wouldn’t put it past him.
Lord, what should I do?
If she continued to allow him to drag