Somewhere in the World

Chapter 25

"Higgins!" A panting man dropped to one knee next to him, gasping to catch his breath.

Higgins did not glance up. "Not now, O'Brien--I'm busy, or can't you see?"

"Please, sir," the man implored, "it's that parson feller, Hale."

Higgin jerked around to glare at him. "What about Mr. Hale?"

"He took a bullet to the chest, sir. He's dead."

Higgins sat back on his haunches, immobilized by shock. "He's dead? Dear God, he should have been safe on top of the ridge. How did he get shot up there?"

"He left the ridge, sir—when the men began falling, he thought he should be ministering to the wounded on the battlefield."

"Dear God," Higgins exclaimed again as pity flooded through him. Mr. Hale might have been an impractical man, but at the very end, he had not been a coward.

"Perhaps he felt God called him to the battlefield," O'Brien added unhelpfully.

"Well, then, God also saw fit to call him to his death," Higgins snapped. He had no time for maudlin sentiments, and little time to mourn Mr. Hale. It was to the living he turned his attention.

Throughout the long, grinding hours as the sun set and a cool gray haze fell over the hill side, Higgins managed to harangue a surgeon to stabilize Thornton's wounds. The doctor's prognosis was grim. "I've done what I can to stop the bleeding, but if infection sets in...." He left the thought unfinished, but Higgins understood his intent. Infection meant amputation. The surgeon reiterated that Higgins must get Thornton proper nursing to save his leg, and that time was of the essence.

After bribing a farmer to use his cart, Higgins sent word to the officers of the severity of Thornton's injuries and his intent to take him home to Lovell. He made arrangements to transport Mr. Hale's body to Lovell as well. Money passed through many palms that night, but it was money well spent. When he was done, he had succeeded in transporting Thornton and the parson's remains to the nearest train station, and acquired a ticket to accompany both on their sad sojourn to Massachusetts. Before leaving, he entrusted a private with a telegram to be sent to Mrs. Thornton, informing her only of Mr. Hale's death. He could not find the words to describe Thornton's injury in any manner except that which would alarm wife and mother. Best to let Mrs. Thornton convey the news to Margaret, he thought as he stumbled onto the train and found a seat in a crowded car. I must tell you that your father is dead, Margaret, but damned if I have the heart to tell you of your husband's injury as well—at least not in a telegram. Such news, he realized, must be delivered in person.

Higgins thought the train ride would never end. They had numerous stops as it wended it way north, and the trip continued night and day. He checked on Thornton several times, the last finding him fretful and in pain. Higgins had spent his last money on black market laudanum for Thornton. When he had asked the Union surgeon about opiates to help with the pain, the surgeon had shrugged and told him there was nothing to be had—supplies were sorely depleted. Upon Higgins mentioning that he had ready money, the surgeon had given him a long look before carefully replying, "There's a man in Gettysburg, off High Street, who might be able to help you." He told him the direction, and the man was able to help him, though it cost the last of Higgins' ready.

Higgins was relieved that Thornton had remained by and large unconscious during their bumpy travels to the train station and clumsy transfer from wagon to train compartment where he was wedged on the floor between seats. As the night waned into early morning, the patient thrashed and plucked at his blanket with fretful fingers, calling out one name over and over again in hopeless anguish: "Margaret! Margaret!" Higgins managed to force a good quantity of laudanum down Thornton's throat, hoping it would calm and keep him still so that he would not further damage his wounded leg. At last, Thornton slept, as did Higgins, propped against the seat back so that he might continue his nightmarish vigil.