Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [122]
“Thank God,” I said aloud. I sank to my knees beside him.
Jonathan opened his eyes. He smiled when he recognized me. “Hello, beautiful. Are you here to dance with me?”
“Not today.” I took his uninjured hand in mine. I could hardly speak. I’d seen so many wounded men who hovered near death that I was grateful beyond words to see that Jonathan was very much alive. “How are you? Can I get you anything?” I finally asked.
He shook his head. “They already told me they’re low on morphine. I’m okay. . . .”
“Thank God,” I repeated.
“Yes, thank God it’s only my left arm,” he said, exhaling. “Thank God it was only a bullet and not a Minie ball. Hurts like the devil, though.”
I’d seen what the dreaded Minie ball could do, shattering bones and mutilating limbs so badly that the wounds almost always required amputation. Even so, I could tell by Jonathan’s sweaty brow and white lips that he was in a great deal of pain.
“Doctor says the bone is broken but not shattered,” he told me. “The bullet severed some sort of artery, though, and I guess I lost a lot of blood. Good thing Josiah got me to a field hospital in time.”
“I’ve seen a lot of wounds, Jonathan. You’re very fortunate that it didn’t do more damage than it did.”
“That’s because the bullet had slowed down considerably by the time it hit me.”
“I don’t understand. . . . How do you know that?”
“Because it went through the neck of the man kneeling beside me first. Killed him.” He paused, biting his lip, then said, “My arm should heal if it doesn’t get gangrene or erysipelas.”
“That’s why we’re going to take you out of here and nurse you at home.” I turned to the door, remembering Sally. I motioned for her to come into the room. “In fact,” I told Jonathan, “I brought you your very own private nurse.”
Sally began to weep as she knelt on the floor beside him. “Oh, Jonathan . . .” Jonathan wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her close.
I stood then and went out to find Josiah so he could carry Jonathan to the carriage. I heard men moaning, weeping, and knew it could have been so much worse. He might have lost an arm or a leg as so many of these men had. And I silently thanked God that it wasn’t Charles lying dead beside Antietam Creek instead of Will.
It took a few more days for my cousin Will’s body to arrive in Richmond. The battle at Sharpsburg had accumulated more casualties than any single battle to date, but they wisely chose to send the living home first. Jonathan quickly improved thanks to Esther’s cooking and Sally’s constant nursing. He was still weak on the day Eli and I came back from the train station with the coffin, but he insisted on going to Hilltop with us for his brother’s funeral.
I hadn’t let Jonathan read that morning’s newspaper. I didn’t want him to know about the stunning announcement President Lincoln had made after declaring Sharpsburg a Union victory. When Tessie had read the headline—Lincoln Vows to Free Slaves in Rebel States—she’d wept tears of joy.
“Read the story out loud to me, honey,” she begged. “I can’t see the words for all these silly tears.”
“Let’s go out and share it with the others.” We took the newspaper outside to the kitchen, and I read it aloud to all the servants. According to Lincoln’s proclamation, the slaves in all of the rebelling states would be emancipated as of the first of January, 1863.
“Tell me in plain English what that means,” Esther said.
“Means that if the North wins this war,” Eli told her, “we all be set free. There be no more slavery down here.”
“Grady gonna be free, too?” Tessie asked, still wiping