The Rough Rider (23 page)

“You’re right about that. I had it easy growing up . . . too easy, I suppose. It made me soft. It was hard for you, but you survived it.”

“Yes, I survived. I’m worried about—”

“About Jeb?” Aaron asked quickly. “I’ve thought about him a lot. If I ever have a son, I hope he’s just like Jeb.”

Gail, at once, put her hand on his arm. “What a nice thing
to say!” she smiled. “I wish he could hear you say it—he’d be so proud! He thinks the world of you, Aaron.”

Aaron was embarrassed. He was very conscious of her hand on his arm and said only, “Just because I knocked a couple of pug-uglies on their heels, that’s no reason to admire a man.”

“It’s more than that.” Gail was silent for a moment. The sounds of the hymn drifted across the water, clear and beautiful. Overhead, the moon made a large silver circle in the sky, and the stars winked brightly from their places in space. “He’s always needed a man to be his friend—and he’s never had one. I wish you could spend a lot of time with him. You could make a difference.”

“I’d like that. Maybe when this is over we can do something. I could take him fishing and show him how to hunt.”

Gail said quickly, “That’d be the best thing that could happen to him!”

“You can come, too!” Aaron said. “I’d like to show you some real mountains and some real cold spring water streams. You’d like it, Gail.”

“I’m sure I would. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

She moved her hand and turned her head. The light of the moon touched her honey-colored hair. She’d tied it around her head in a braid, and it looked like molten gold to him. He said suddenly, “You know, I’ve never felt this much at ease with any woman as I do with you.”

“That’s because they all wanted something from you.”

“What does that mean?” He was a bit taken aback at her bold statement.

“Oh, women are drawn to a man like you, you know,” she said, turning her dark blue eyes on him.

“No, I don’t know any such thing! But, in any case, why should you be different?”

“You feel relaxed with me because you know I’m not after you.”

“Well, that takes me down a peg,” Aaron said. “I thought all young women wanted to marry me!”

“Most of them would. You’re young, nice looking, have a good family, and that’s what a lot of women are looking for.”

“But not you?” said Aaron, surprised by her openness. “I don’t think about it. I’ve got to take care of Jeb and try to help my family.”

“Can’t you do that and get married?”

The question upset Gail and she said, “I don’t think so.” She seemed disturbed by the turn in the conversation, and said almost abruptly, “It’s getting late and I need to go to bed.”

“I think I’ll spend the night right here. It’s better than down in that hole. Good-night, Gail.”

She turned and left, and when she disappeared down the passageway, Aaron turned back and studied the shimmering lines of light that danced across the water. The movement of the ship stirred the waves so that it shattered the lines into millions of fragments that glittered and cast silver lights back to the heavens. He thought about what Gail Summers had said, then shook his head, some thought disturbing him. Then he listened as another song drifted across the water, “On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross. . . .”

As Aaron leaned against the rail on the fantail of the ship, listening to the old hymn, Teddy Roosevelt sat in his small cabin writing diligently in his journal:

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bound for Cuba

“Well, it’s quite a sight, isn’t it, Deborah?”

Deborah turned her eyes from the sapphire sea rippled by the ocean breeze as the convoy sailed along under an almost cloudless sky. The gentle wind tossed her auburn hair slightly and brought a glow to her cheeks. “Yes, I’ve never seen so many ships at one time,” she said. Actually, there were forty-eight craft in all, in three columns. The black hulls of the transports set off the gray hulls of the man-of-war ships that trailed behind the one she was on. They had sailed through the night, and from the deck they could hear the band from another vessel playing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and then “The Girl I Left Behind Me.”

“This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done,” Lewis said quietly. His face was turned forward, and he seemed to strain to see Cuba over the rounded horizon that lay ahead of the convoy. He turned to Deborah, admiring the gentle curve of her cheek and the fullness of her firm lips. “What about you?”

“It’s a big thing,” Deborah nodded. “I’m glad to be here!” The ship rose slightly over a large swell, and the two held on to the rail as it plunged back into the rolling waves. The deck was packed with men, the hubbub of their excited voices making a pleasant enough sound in the morning air. “I needed to do something that made my life count,” she said. “I hope this is it!”

Lewis was fascinated somehow by this young woman ever since he’d first met her at the mission. He’d never seen a girl
so reticent, yet it was that self-measured ability to keep things to herself that intrigued him. Curious to learn more about her, he now said abruptly, “What about yourself, Deborah? Did you come from a large family?”

Lewis’s question seemed to take her by surprise, for she turned and stared out across the azure water. It was as if she were in a different place, another time. Quietly, she said, “No, a small family.” She said it with a touch of sadness, and yet, there was a finality to her tone that seemed to close the door to more conversation. Turning to him now, she changed the subject, saying, “When do you suppose we’ll get to Cuba?”

“We should get there around the twentieth. I’ll be ready, won’t you?” Lewis said. “It is uncomfortable, but war always is, I suppose.” He was restless and said suddenly, “Let’s go see if we can talk the cook out of a cup of coffee. I’ve missed that about as much as I’ve missed anything.”

The two made their way across the crowded deck, then down the stairs that led to the galley.

“How about two cups of coffee, Cookie? I’ll make it worth your while.” Lewis reached into his pocket and pulled out two bills and waved them in the air. The cook, a large, red-faced man with juglike ears, grinned. “Got some left over. It’ll float a horseshoe now, but you can have it if you want.”

Lewis procured two cups, and when they were filled with a turgid-looking liquid, the two of them moved across the galley. The messroom was filled with men playing cards on the tables while others were reading. When meals were not being served, it was the only place on the ship where the men could gather for leisure recreation besides the deck. “Well, no privacy it seems,” Lewis grinned. They squeezed into a table over to one side close to a porthole and sat there watching the crowd around them.

Deborah looked around the room as she sipped her coffee. Suddenly, she said, “You know, it saddens me to think that on the trip back some of these young men won’t be with us.”

Lewis put his cup down and turned to face her. He saw
the honest concern in her eyes for all the young men about to go into battle. “That’s the way war is, Deborah. I try not to think about it.”

“Well, I have to think about it. I’m a nurse, and that’s why I came. That’s what nurses are for—to think about the wounded.”

For a while they sat there talking about what each of them thought it would be like when the convoy reached Cuba. Then Lewis saw Dr. Burns, Gail, and Aaron enter the crowded room. He waved at them to come join them. The trio squeezed their way through the crowd and, with some difficulty, managed to wedge themselves into seats beside Deborah and Lewis. As soon as they sat down, Isaiah Wilson, the black trooper that worked with the horses, appeared also. He had a paper sack in his hand and plopped himself down at the table. “Guess what I got in here?” he said with a conspiratorial smile.

“Is it something to eat?” Lewis demanded. “If so, let’s have it, Isaiah! Anything would be better than the rations we’ve been getting.”

Isaiah opened the sack, and when Lewis saw what was inside, he whispered, “Doughnuts!” He looked around quickly and said, “Don’t let a soul hear about it! Where did you get these, Isaiah?”

“I got me a friend who cooks at night. Dey ain’t exactly doughnuts, but dey as close to the real thing as we’re likely to come. Here!” He passed the bag around, and all four of his friends extracted a doughnut and began eating them with enjoyment.

“I wish I had some of my wife’s peach pie. Now you ain’t never et until you taste Lucy’s fried pie,” Isaiah proclaimed. “If’n we wuz there, I’d show ya’ll some cooking that
was
cooking!”

“I’m your friend for life for sharing your doughnuts with me,” Lewis said. Since they’d met in the camp, he’d developed a warm feeling for the soldier and asked, “Why’d you
come on this trip, Isaiah? A married man doesn’t need to be out soldiering.”

“Oh, I guess I had to see what it was like on de other side o’ de water. I done seen all of Georgia,” he said. “Now, I is ’specting to see a bit more of God’s good earth. I prayed about it, and it seemed the good Lawd didn’t say no, so I figured dat means yes!”

Gail laughed aloud in delight. “That sounds like good theology to me, Isaiah! What would you have done if God had said no?”

The black face beamed, flashing his big white teeth. “Why, I’d do what the Lawd say. Dat’s what it means to be a good Christian, ain’t it, Miss Gail?”

“I think so,” said Gail, smiling at the man’s faith.

Dr. Burns studied the cheerful expression on the soldier’s face. “What church do you belong to, Isaiah?”

“Why, I’m a totally immersed Baptist, Doctah. And for a while I was a feeler.”

“A feeler?” Burns wrinkled his brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that group.”

“Why, when you baptize folks in rivers, Doctah, it can get a leetle dangerous. I means, they’s some deep holes in Georgia rivers! So what a feeler does—he gits out and feels around to be sure they ain’t none of ’em.” Isaiah winked slyly at Lewis, adding, “I’m sho’ surprised an educated man like you don’t know ’bout feelers.”

Burns smiled good-naturedly, understanding that he was being ribbed. “I confess I’m not up on all the branches of theology, Isaiah.” He sipped the lukewarm coffee, made a face, then asked, “What’s your stand on the question of grace?”

Isaiah’s face glowed at the turn the conversation was taking. Soon all the group, except for Aaron, began to talk about church and the Scripture. Aaron kept his face stiff, but he felt as if he’d been walled out. He felt uncomfortable and would have left, except it would have been difficult and rather
obvious. Finally, Lewis asked, “What’s it like being black, Isaiah?”

Isaiah grinned broadly. “What’s it like being white, Mr. Lewis?”

Lewis laughed aloud. “I guess that was a dumb question. But we hear stories of how black people get treated badly, especially in the Deep South.”

“Well, you’re from Virginia. I guess you had a chance to see how black people was treated there.”

“Not well enough,” Lewis said, shaking his head. “Does it bother you?”

“Why, I guess it might if I let it. But I don’t intend to let it.” Isaiah said, “The apostle Paul done said one time, ‘I learn in whatever state I am, therewith to be content.’ I don’t know what state
he
was from, but I’m from the state of Georgia and I’m going to be content in dat state.” His eyes clouded slightly, and his good humor seemed strained as he added, “ ’Course it do hurt sometimes. But heaven’s coming and things are gonna be a whole lot better on de other side.”

His simple faith impressed Lewis and he said, “You ever think of being a preacher, Isaiah?”

“Me—a preacher! No, suh!”

“Well, you might make a pretty good one,” Dr. Burns offered. “You sure know the Bible pretty well.”

Isaiah nodded. “I ’spect I don’t know it as well as I’d like, but it’s good to read about the things of the Lawd, ain’t it now?”

Again the conversation went off into a discussion about Jesus Christ, and Aaron shifted in his seat and felt the twinge of discomfort nag him again.

Finally, Gail noticed that Aaron had not said anything. She could sense he felt left out, so she began to ask Isaiah more about what he did when he was home.

“I got me a farm and I hunts.”

“Do you have a dog?” Lewis asked.

“Do I have a dog! The best bird dog you ever seen!”

“I don’t know about that,” Aaron said, glad to be included once more. “I’ve got a dog at home I’d put up against him.”

“Why, Mr. Aaron, you don’t know nothin’ till you sees that dog of mine. Ol’ Red, why he’d beat anythin’ you ever seen!”

“Is he really good?” Lewis asked.

“Good? He is simply the best they is. Why, one time I went out huntin’ with that dog—an ain’t got nothin’ but my single shot .410. I was huntin’ quail, and well—you know how it is when ya got a single shot and a whole covey bust up under your feet and go flyin’ off? You only get one of ’em.”

“They nearly scare me to death when they do that!” Lewis nodded. “You’re right about a single shot—one bird’s it.”

“Well, it was downright peculiar that day,” Isaiah said. He shook his head and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I come up on a covey and Ol’ Red, he was out front and gone to point, so I knows there was a bunch of birds there. Den all of a sudden, one bird fly up and I got ’im! I loaded my shotgun up again and started forward, and you know what? Bless my heart if another bird—just one—he rised up and I got him too!”

“I never heard of that,” Lewis said. “Usually the whole covey flies up together.”

“Dat’s right! But this time, they didn’t. I starts again with my gun loaded, and a third time, one single, little ol’ quail comes up and I got ’im. Would you believe it! I got six quail what flies up one at a time! Never could have done it iffen dey hadn’t come up one at a time, no, suh!”

“I never heard of such a thing,” Aaron said doubtfully.

“Well, it ain’t common—it ain’t common a’tall,” Isaiah said. “But finally, I come over the rise and I seen Ol’ Red and you know what he was doin’?”