“No,” she replied, brushing her long black hair back off her face and smiling faintly. “Thank you for your help.”
“It was no trouble.” He watched as more men arrived to drag off the ones they had left in the aisles. “Looks like they willnae be able to trouble ye again.”
“Where you from? You talk funny,” said the little girl, who was ignoring her mother’s whispered scold.
Geordie looked at the child and smiled faintly, suspecting it was a scold she heard often. She was a small copy of her mother, although her black hair was very curly, and her big eyes were a deeper blue. “I came here from Scotland with my family. We all talk this way.”
“Is that far away?”
“Pretty far, aye. Ye have to sail over the ocean. What is your name?”
“Morgan. I was named after my daddy, but he got sick from something he got in the war.” She held up her doll. “He made this for me.”
“Verra nice and a good weapon.” He shared a grin with the child and then watched as the woman blinked back tears before he looked back at the child. “Did your da decide to stay home, or do ye live just up the track a ways?”
“No. My daddy went to live with God. We miss him a lot but it is a good place. He will be with a lot of his family and friends. We are going to stay with my grandmother in Boston.”
“I am truly sorry about your da, Morgan.” He looked at the woman. “And my condolences to ye as weel, ma’am.”
“Thank you kindly. And you, too, sir,” she added with a smile and a nod to Robbie, who was struggling to settle back in his seat. “And my name is Jane Benson Haggert.”
He nodded. “I am Geordie MacEnroy.” He pointed at Robbie. “My brother, Robbie.” He then pointed at James, who sat beside him and grinned. “And this disreputable fellow is James Deacon.” He winced dramatically when James jabbed an elbow into his side.
“Very nice to meet you. And fortunate.” She frowned. “Are you only now headed home after the war?”
“Nay. I suddenly wanted to see the ocean. Robbie decided he wouldnae mind visiting it, too.”
“I am headed home after visiting my commanding officer, once he settled down somewhere and got married,” said James.
“Why east? Most men seem to be rushing west and there is an ocean there.”
“Weel, I suspect they are flocking there because they think they will find gold and get rich,” said Geordie. “Nice dream, but it doesnae leave a place to have a quiet sit to watch the ocean. The East doesnae have that scourge, and once ye leave the cities there are a lot of quiet places, if I remember right.” He glanced at Robbie, who nodded. “The time to go hunting gold in that place was when it was first found, nay years later. Now ye just get the ruffians who will shoot ye for a nugget or two. Ye only have the desperate and the deceitful, now.” A look passed over her face, which made him sigh. “Your husband went there.”
“He did. Took us with him. He knew he was sick, suspected it was something that could kill him. He wanted to leave a legacy for us. Whatever had burrowed into him did not want to wait for him to accomplish that. It robbed him of his strength, so the doctor said we could bring him home. He got fretful near the end. Kept telling me to watch for it in Morgan.”
“He thought it was something one could catch?” asked James.
“No, but he said his father had died of something similar, so there might be a weakness.”
Geordie just nodded. “Just keep recalling those words, that he said theremightbe a weakness.”
“Oh, I will,” she said and smiled, holding Morgan closer when the child leaned against her. “To tell the truth, I do not really think it was what he feared it was. In the war he was shot several times, then was caught close to explosions so fierce he and some other men were tossed into the air. Something inside may have been weakened, maybe even bled, because he did start getting some horrible bruises, and it took a while to break him down completely. Some organs may have been badly damaged, so they could no longer sustain him. But he spent his last days with us, so I can thank God the doctor who tended him sent him home with us. Seeing as he could stand and shoot, since he was still in the army, he should have been returned to the battle as that was what they usually did.”
“And he made me my doll, Lily. I gave her a girl’s name.”
Geordie almost laughed, for she sounded terribly condescending. He had to smile when the child frowned at her mother, obviously blaming the woman for her own name, which did not sound sufficiently girlish. “Morgan is a very nice name.”
“I named you that in honor of your father. You should be proud, young lady.”
Morgan sighed heavily. “I know and I am. Just wish his name had been Julia or something,” she added in a soft mutter.
Geordie had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. “That might have been difficult for him.”
“Maybe,” she muttered, then suddenly smiled. “But it would have been great for me.”
Geordie saw Jane grin then quickly don a serious face and close her eyes. Geordie noticed those eyes looked bruised, but without a closer look he could not be sure if it was because of actual bruising from a blow to the face or because she was tired to the bone and probably still grieving a bit. From all she had said, he imagined watching her husband slowly die had been no blessing and probably still robbed her of sleep.
He had seen too many deaths like her husband’s. It was a true curse, but he seemed to be around whenever a man got that sort of injury, the kind that damaged the insides in ways many doctors could not fix, sometimes did not even see, at least not the ones who came to small towns or were in a medic’s tent on a battlefield. He knew what the bruises she mentioned had been. Kicked by a mule or caught in even the edge of an explosion could leave a man with injuries one did not see, at least not until one recognized what those growing bruises meant. They meant a slow death and quite possibly a painful one.
