Still House Pond (25 page)

“I work in timber,” John said.

“We for sure need you, then. Did you happen to bring your ax?”

“No, sorry.”

“No matter; there's a supply wagon on up the line. You'll find it easy enough. Just tell them Sheriff Tate sent you.”

John squeezed Copper's hand, then started up the track. She understood his intent. They would not call attention to their plight in front of the lawman. They would be of no help to Lilly or anyone else by waiting in the family tent.

The sheriff turned to her. “If you'll follow me, I got a fellow that needs some quick attention. They just brought him up out of that fiery pit of hell.”

Copper matched his fast steps. With a hand under her elbow, he led her to the other side of the tracks and under a sugar maple tree where a man lay stretched out in the shade. “We've set up a field hospital in the depot yonder, but it's full and running over with folks in need of attention. I was just going to beg for help. You appearing so suddenlike is the answer to my prayers.”

Copper folded her skirts under her knees and sank to the young man's side. His blue eyes were open and clouded with fear and pain. A light beard stubbled his cheeks and chin. A sparse mustache promised the manhood soon to come.

He gripped her hand hard. “Are you an angel?”

“Now, Billy,” the sheriff said, “you ain't dead. This here's a sawbones, and she's going to make sure that don't happen.”

“How old are you, young man?”

“He's coming up on sixteen,” the sheriff responded. “He's my little brother. He's apprenticed to the brakeman on the Republic.” He leaned over Billy and tousled his hair. “Learning the trade real good, ain't you?”

“I'm a-trying,” Billy said. He attempted to lift his left arm. Between his elbow and wrist a bone protruded through muscle and skin. “This hurts like thunder.”

“I'm a nurse. Your brother and I are going to fix you right up.” Copper soothed both the young man and his brother. “Would you take off his shoes and socks and unfasten his belt?”

Copper checked the boy out with her stethoscope and her hands, but it appeared he had no internal injuries. His lungs were clear; his heart beat steady; he didn't gasp or complain of pain when she checked for broken ribs, felt for crepitus along his collarbone, had him move his toes and the fingers of his good arm, and palpated his abdomen.

“We'll just need to stitch that gash on his forehead,” she explained to the sheriff, “and splint his arm. He's going to be fine.”

“See, what'd I tell you? Didn't I say you'd be right as rain soon as we got you some help?”

“I hurt, though, Bubby.”

She spread a linen towel out on the grass and laid out scissors, forceps, tweezers, a round of gauze, and a small brown envelope containing a curved needle and silk sutures.

“What else do you need?”

“Water, soap, a basin, splints, and a bottle of whiskey,” she said.

The sheriff rubbed his palm over his chin. “I could go for that too.”

Copper gave him a look. “It's for the boy.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” he said. “I'll be right back. There are all kinds of stuff in the depot. We got two relief trains with medical supplies out of Lexington. Do you want me to see if there's a doctor to help?”

“If one's available, but I can do this. You can help me.”

Copper took the white apron and head scarf that made her look like Florence Nightingale from her linen bag and shook them out. All the while she prepared for the task ahead, her eyes and ears searched for Lilly Gray. But except for the workmen, the site was surprisingly void of people. The sheriff was doing a good job. She knew John would be searching too by asking questions while he worked. Her fervent hope was that he didn't find her down in the gorge, where the worst of the wreck remained.

“. . . lumbering noise, and my feet flying out from beneath me.”

Copper pulled her wandering attention back to Billy. “So you were caught off guard?”

“Completely. Oh, ma'am, you can't imagine. The screeching of the brakes, the scream of the whistles, the thunderous crash—it all sounded like Satan was throwing open the very gates of hell. Next thing I knew the car I was in went sailing off the tracks. The trees didn't stop us, seemed like we was flying for a few seconds; then we hit the ground and started sliding toward the creek. I didn't know if I was on the floor or the ceiling, but I was grabbing for something to hold on to. Before I had time to think, a section of the car peeled back smooth as the bark on a tree and I was flung out into the elements. I landed hard on my side. Then the train car rolled over me, and I was trapped. I reckon my arm's broke.” He raised his eyebrows in question.

Copper took his hand. “Your arm is broken at the radial bone, and you have a cut on your forehead. But there's nothing that can't be fixed. You're very fortunate.”

“My ma prays for me every morning and every night.”

“Well, your ma's prayers were answered.”

“Here're your supplies, ma'am.” The sheriff set the basin on the ground and poured water in.

Copper scrubbed to the elbows. “Did you bring the medicinal whiskey?”

The sheriff offered his brother a drink, and he slugged down a long draught.

“Take one more,” Copper said.

Mixing a small amount of the spirits with water, she poured it freely over the wound on the forehead and on the arm where the radial bone poked through the skin, then patted the sites dry with sterile gauze. She picked grass and gravel from the forehead gash with the tweezers before flooding it again.

Billy's muscles lost their tension. He seemed to relax.

“I believe we can begin,” Copper said. “Sheriff Tate, if you'll hold his head still for me, I'll have him stitched up in no time.” With a needle shaped like a fishhook without the barbs, Copper closed the wound except for a small opening on one end. “I'll leave this in case the cut gets infected. It will act as a drain. Looks like the wound's bled freely, but you know to watch closely for lockjaw.”

“Sad to say I do. I lost a boyhood friend that way.”

Copper wrapped the closed head wound in gauze. “You'll need to have these stitches removed in a few days.”

“Will do.”

“We'd best get this break set while he's still got his happy juice on board. Let me see the splints.”

The sheriff handed her two thin firm boards.

Copper measured them against Billy's arm from just below the elbow to the fingers. “This one is fine, but shorten this one. The inner one mustn't be so long that it presses at the bend of the elbow when the arm is flexed.”

Once the bone was set back in position, it was a simple matter to fix the side splints in place with strips of gauze. She fashioned a sling from Billy's shirt and tied it around his neck, keeping his elbow fixed at a right angle.

Billy closed his eyes and soon was softly snoring.

“You'll need to get him to a doctor as soon as possible,” Copper said while packing up her kit. “They'll want to put a cast on that arm.”

“I appreciate you being so gentle with him. He likes to think he's a man already.”

“Sheriff Tate, might I beg a favor?”

“You bet.”

“My eleven-year-old daughter was on that train. I'm desperate to find her.”

The sheriff sucked in his breath. “I'm really sorry to hear that.”

“Do you know if any children . . . ?” Her voice faded away. She couldn't bear to finish her question.

“Do you want to go to the depot and have a look-see? I'm not supposed to do this, you understand, but hang it all, I don't care.”

Copper took the arm he proffered and was thankful for it as he escorted her to the teeming depot. It seemed most every bench and chair was occupied by a dazed and moaning person. She hadn't realized she clutched his arm so tightly until he patted her hand.

“Some have already been taken to the hospital in Lexington,” he said as they walked up and down the aisles. “These are waiting to go next.”

“Is there some sort of roster? Is anyone keeping a record?”

“There is. The ticket seller has it in the cage. Do you want to look?”

Copper's heart trilled and her knees went weak. “Might you get me a cup of water?”

The sheriff led her to an unoccupied seat. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths.

Sheriff Tate brought a paper cone of tepid water. Just like the one Lilly had been looking forward to drinking from. She drank it down and stood. He led her to the ticket seller's booth.

“Hey, Ed,” he said. “We want to take a look at your roster.”

The agent slid it under the glass partition that separated him from purchasers. “Updated it not fifteen minutes ago.”

She scanned the list of twenty-five names or descriptions. Then went back to the top and read them again more carefully. The listed names were easy, but the descriptions took a minute. Male elderly; gray, handlebar mustache; deceased. Female young adult; brown hair; green dress; unconscious; dispatched to Lexington via relief train. And so on. With some relief she noted there were no children listed, male or female, none dead, none dispatched.

She slid the clipboard underneath the window. “Thank you,” she said, her voice aquiver. Lilly must still be in the wreckage. She had to get down there. “What's the easiest way to the site?”

“It'll just cause a ruckus if you try to do that,” the sheriff said. “It'll only distract the workers and slow things down. I know that's hard to hear, but it's hard on everybody. Best thing you can do is pitch in here. Nobody's going to stop you asking questions while you work, if you get my drift.”

He was right, of course. At least she was here where she could be of some use, not sequestered in the family tent. She'd have to bide her time and pray.

“I've got to get back to work,” the sheriff said. “Now just you remember Billy. He was down there through the night and most of today and he come out of it okay. Your little girl will do the same. It won't be long until they have everyone accounted for.”

“Nurse,” a woman called from a nearby bench, “can you help me?”

Copper smoothed her long white apron, tucked an errant strand of hair under her headdress, and went to work.

When night fell, lanterns were lit along the walls of the depot. Copper met other women in white and a doctor from the city. She flushed cinders from eyes, bandaged wounds, helped the doctor cast a leg broken at the fibula with woven lint and plaster of Paris, sent for Billy so they could do the same for his arm, and reassured a pregnant mother of three that her unborn baby was in no imminent danger. All the while she worked, she questioned to no avail.

“No,” everyone replied with pity in their eyes, “I can't recall seeing anyone who looks like that.”

Around midnight Sheriff Tate brought her a cup of just-brewed coffee. She wrapped her hands around the hot mug and walked with him back to the edge of the ravine. She could hear an occasional shout and see the wavering lights of torches and lanterns far below.

“We're pulling the men off until first light,” he said. “You can understand. Even with extra lanterns they can't see what they're doing. One slip and they could be under tons of steel. We can't chance them getting hurt or worse.”

Copper nodded. Hopeless tears spilled unchecked from her eyes.

“They'll bed down in the cars still standing down the track, catch a break, and eat something hot. You wouldn't believe the food. Seems like every church up and down the tracks has sent something.”

“People are good,” Copper said, remembering the scene she'd left in her own yard. Was that just hours ago? It felt like years. It felt like this place was the only place that had ever been. “If you see my husband, would you tell him I'm in the depot?”

“I will,” the sheriff said, “and I'll bring you a plate. If you don't eat, you'll be dead on your feet.”

I already am,
Copper thought.

26

Manda was weary of listening to her sister. Darcy hadn't stopped nattering at her since she showed up on her doorstep early this morning. She hadn't been sure what to expect—maybe a sisterly hug, maybe some care and concern? maybe fewer questions?

She had barely had time to take her bonnet off, to the tune of Darcy's sharp intake of breath, when the nanny/maid showed up. Darcy tucked her son into a stroller and sent them off to the park. Manda supposed she was embarrassed to have the boy's sitter seeing her battered face. As soon as the squeaky-wheeled stroller rolled out the door, the interrogation began and soon had Manda crying buckets.

“How could you be so stupid? Don't you know those fiddle-playing bums drift from town to town preying on pretty girls? And your running away? Don't you know that just raises suspicion?”

Well, no, Manda didn't have a clue. How could she? And what made Darcy so high-and-mighty? Her husband was in prison, after all. But Manda knew the difference. Darcy could take care of herself and even her little boy while Manda was at the mercy of anybody who would take her in. Her sobs changed to moans.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” Manda knotted and unknotted a clean hankie. “I didn't know what to do. I couldn't face anyone knowing what happened in that barn. All I could think of was getting to you.”

Darcy sat down beside Manda on the fancy horsehair love seat in her parlor. She put a strong arm around Manda's shaking shoulders. Taking the hankie, she patted Manda's cheeks, then handed it back. “Blow your nose.”

Manda settled her head on Darcy's shoulder. It felt so good to be in her sister's embrace. She couldn't help but think of all the times when they were kids and Darcy, being the older sister, would come to her defense. “Remember when I was sick that time and you fed me scrambled eggs? I didn't even know a person could scramble eggs. They were so good.”