CHAPTER 9 The Heart of a Butcher— The Heart of the Man
The hospital tent at McKinnon House was busy this evening from a skirmish the Dragoons had been involved in while out hunting for 'the Ghost'. Karen was helping out within. While doing so, she watched Colonel Tavington and Major Bordon, who weren't seriously injured but sore nonetheless, moving about the tent from cot to bed to surgery table checking on their men.
The unit had come back intact. But, a surgeon informed Bordon of some unfortunate news.
Major Bordon looked around the tent, spotted his commander, then made his way over to where he was. "Colonel, the surgeon just told me we're losing two men."
Tavington had been in one of his bad moods just before the skirmish. The hospital tent had an unusually calming and humbling effect on him. But, his irritation reared its head again after Bordon's news.
"Who?" he asked in a fatigued voice.
"Bernard and Scott," answered Bordon.
"Damn it," William swore under his breath, then heaved a sigh.
This news deeply disappointed both men. Private Bernard was a young, fresh cavalryman and had been with the unit less than a year. At nineteen, he was the youngest Dragoon. The enthusiastic private was a wonderful horseman and marksman. He followed orders well, was very brave, and never afraid to try anything.
The youthful dragoon had taken a bullet to the back of his neck, shattering a vertebra and severing his spinal cord, while he was turned and reloading his gun. It left him unable to move anything from the neck down, and the surgeon said it was only a matter of hours before his lungs shut down.
Lieutenant Scott was twenty-six, married to a pretty young wife and had a small son. He showed promise as a possible leader of a cavalry unit. In fact, Tavington had recently written a recommendation for him to be assigned to a unit when a second or third in command position opened up. The Colonel had also requested a commendation for him to be promoted to the rank of Captain. In fact, William had received news early that morning before setting out that Scott was indeed to be promoted, but he hadn't had a chance to speak with him about it yet. Both Bordon and Tavington thought Scott a natural leader of men, fair, and objective. He possessed a good balance of Bordon's noble qualities and gentlemanly fairness, and a bit of Tavington's tenacity and initiative.
Scott was courageous and always concerned about his comrades and saving them. In fact, he was pulling the paralyzed Private Bernard to safety when a bullet struck him in the chest.
The two commanders split up after learning the bad news, each going to one of the dying men to sit with them awhile for comfort. William sat down at Private Bernard's bedside first.
"Well, well," he greeted, "my youngest Dragoon." He smiled at the young private.
The young man forced a smile and winced. "Pardon me, Sir, but I don't ever think I've seen you smile," said Bernard.
"Well, I used to smile more when I was your age," William remarked, "Not much to smile about with this war."
"Aye, sir," the private agreed.
Tavington leaned in closer to the young man, as if imparting a secret to him. "I'm very proud you, Private."
"You are?" Bernard was incredulous. The commander? Proud of him? A 'wet-behind-the-ears' private?
"Yes, Bernard," Tavington confirmed. "You fought very well today. I saw you, even with my own hands full. And Riggins said you killed three rebels and a horse!"
"I tried, sir," he replied, weakly.
"You are exceptional as a Private, always brave and willing to take risks! That is what makes you an extraordinary young soldier!"
"Truly," asked the young private. His heart lifted momentarily at the praise from his commander.
"Honest, son," assured Colonel Tavington. Even though he was just thirty and still young himself, he felt as though he was a kind of father figure—or at least an older brother— to these young cavalrymen, being their leader.
"But, I don't fare so well, commander. I'm sorry I got shot."
"Nonsense," exclaimed the Colonel. "We all run the same risk and you met it with great courage. I am pleased to count you among my men and proud to be your commander."
These were words that both lifted and comforted the dying young soldier. They were honest words, as well, spoken by Tavington.
Karen had brought water around to the Private as Colonel Tavington was visiting with him. She heard part of the conversation and his sincere words of praise to the young man warmed her heart. She was always touched when she saw William visiting with his wounded or dying men. He was very devoted to them. And, as she watched Will's genuine display of devotion and caring for his men, it made her love him all the more.
As she watched William interact with the young man, she remembered that dreadful morning when she overheard the officers' ladies having tea. She thought of how cruel their words were, and how wrong they were. Those cackling old hens, she thought. If only they could see William now! They would understand and know how he truly is!
At the same time, Major Bordon was at the bedside of Lieutenant Scott.
"Major," began the Lieutenant, "I know I only have a little while left on this Earth. I'm not afraid to die and am proud to have served my King. What I am afraid of, is what will become of my wife and child."
Bordon understood the man's fears and sought to alleviate them as best as he could.
"Your family will see to them," Bordon assured. "And, your son will grow up and take care of his mum. He will just know that he must be the head of the household in your stead. I'm sure the lad possesses the same natural leadership abilities that we have all seen in you."
"Yes," agreed the dying Lieutenant. "Before I left them last a few weeks ago, I had a talk with him and told him to be brave and watch over his mum."
"Well, ease yourself, now Lieutenant," said Bordon, "and rest assured that they will be taken care of in good manner!"
Tavington soon joined the two. He motioned Bordon to stay.
"Lieutenant Scott," began Tavington, "I had recommended you to be promoted to the rank of Captain, and also for you as an acceptable candidate for a second or third in command spot of a cavalry unit. This morning, word came back to me that you have been promoted, indeed, to Captain."
"Thank you, sir," Lieutenant Scott said with a weak smile. "I'm very honored."
"Indeed, I am the one who is honored, Captain Scott, " Tavington remarked, emphasizing the young man's new rank.
"Sir?"
"I am honored and pleased! I am honored to serve with such a fine young officer as yourself, and I am very pleased to see you get something you really deserve!"
"Thanks again, Colonel," said Scott, "that's very kind. May I ask that you make my wife and son aware of this?"
"I most certainly will! I am sure they will be extremely proud of you!"
The lieutenant was thoughtful for a moment. He broke the silence.
"How is Private Bernard," he asked his commander.
"Well, he is here in the tent, and the surgeons have worked on him," Tavington began. Then, he shifted the thought slightly. "You saved his life, you know. Courageous of you, as usual, Captain!"
"Oh, nothing of the sort," Scott dismissed. "I was only doing my duty. Someone would have done it for me! Was he badly hurt? I didn't think he could move his legs."
"Well, the surgeons are still unsure of his ability to walk again," Tavington fibbed, "but you saved him and he is going to live."
"Oh, thank God!" Scott sighed. "I'm very relieved. I guess I thought he was worse than he was."
"No, Scott," Tavington replied. "He'll be fine."
Tavington had lied to the Lieutenant about the Private he had rescued. He had done so for what he thought was a good reason: he would not have the Lieutenant's last hours on Earth filled with even one iota of anguish over the dying man he had just saved. William knew he'd done it with great hope that the young man had a good chance to live, not knowing there was slim to none.
Bordon excused himself and made his way to the bedside of Private Bernard.
"The Colonel was very kind to me," remarked Private Bernard to Major Bordon in a quiet voice. "He's always so harsh and firm."
"Well, he has a good heart under that tough exterior of his," stated Bordon. "He has a softness for his men."
"And his lady friend," Bernard added.
"Yes! Very much so," agreed Bordon with a sly smile. "Like all us men have for the ladies. It is a weakness, it is!"
After a moment, the private spoke to Bordon in a very hushed and secretive voice.
"I'm afraid," he imparted to the second in command.
"Try to be brave, soldier," said Bordon in a compassionate tone.
"Am I a coward?" asked the young private.
"Of course not, Private," the Major replied. "You're human. And, it's alright, son. You were brave today on the battlefield. It is only natural to be afraid now."
"Well, please don't tell Commander Tavington," the dying private requested. "I don't want to let him down!"
"Not to worry," assured Major Bordon. "I won't tell a soul."
Within an hour, Lieutenant Scott and Private Bernard both died.
~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~
Shortly after Colonel Tavington received news of their deaths, he left the command and planning tent and retired to his room. He sat down to write a letter to each of the dead dragoons' families.
Karen brought him a glass of wine, leaving the bottle knowing he'd probably want a second glass. She slipped her arms about his neck as he wrote at his desk and kissed his cheek.
"I'll be back in a little while to fix your wounds," she whispered.
"Thank you, darling," he murmured as he continued writing.
Shortly, Major Bordon rapped on the doorframe. By this time, Tavington had been at a loss for words in his consolation letters. He was now leaning back in his chair with his feet up on his desk, fatigue showing on his face.
"Bordon, if you've come to admonish me for this, then turn around and march your arse back out the door—I don't need it!" Tavington was referring to his own speculation that his second in command was most likely thinking William had unwisely involved the dragoons in this particular skirmish.
"On the contrary, Sir," countered Bordon as he entered the room. "I thought you did the best you could do given the circumstances and limits imposed on you as a commander."
"May I?" asked Bordon, pointing to the wine bottle on the Colonel's desk. Miles walked over to the sideboard against the wall near the fireplace and retrieved a wineglass. He poured himself a glass and topped off William's glass.
Tavington sighed and shook his head. "Who knows how long it will be before we get replacements."
"If we get them!" Miles retorted. "Who would want this assignment! We seem to be the favorite target of the Militia at present."
Bordon paused, then continued. "Do you want me to write those letters?"
"No. I'll do it. Just sign them."
There was quiet for a moment as Tavington was insightful. Then, he moved his legs down from his desk and shifted his tall frame in his seat. He winced in the soreness from his injuries received earlier in the day.
"It is hard," he began, taking a drink from his wine glass, "but I can accept the death of my men. I understand, as we all do, that there is death in war and we face that every day. It is part of our duty."
The colonel took another sip of wine, then sighed. "What I can't understand is the grieving. Why do we, as humans, grieve for someone who died honorably just doing their job? Why can't we just accept it, bypass the grief, and get on with things? Instead, it impedes us and we end up dwelling on it and losing sleep—all over worthy and noble men who did nothing wrong. Grief is such a mystery."
Bordon smiled. "Well, you just answered your own question. We are human."
"Miles, the Generals force me to fight and act as a gentleman, and, yes, it is cowardly to fight as rebels do. But, it sometimes gives them an advantage over us. There has got to be a way to fight them on their own terms, yet to stay within the boundary of 'gentlemanly' conduct, as Cornwallis imposes upon us. There must be a happy medium between the two." Tavington then eased himself out of his chair and walked stiffly to the window. He didn't turn back to face Bordon as he posed a question. "What do you think?"
"You don't want to know what I think, Colonel."
William was silent for a moment, then turned back to face the Major. He sighed. "Yes, Miles, I do want to know what you think."
Bordon chuckled. "I wish the whole bloody thing was over with and that we could go home, because I'm fucking tired of it all! Four years here now! Jesus Christ!"
William laughed aloud.
Bordon continued with his grumblings. The aide-de-camp rattled off a list of complaints, visually counting them out on his fingers as he listed them.
"I'm tired of the fighting. I'm sick to death of all the riding. I'm tired of the lack of supplies and soldiers. I'm tired of waiting for supplies and soldiers. I'm sick of starving when we're on our long campaigns. I'm tired of sleeping on the ground. I'm tired of freezing in the winter. I'm tired of the lack of privacy. I'm tired of the soreness after the long rides. I'm tired of the residual pain of injuries that never seem to heal all the way."
The major stopped short, heaved a frustrated sigh, then finished his rant. " I'm just tired of it all. I'm worn out—done in!"
Anyone else would have been surprised to hear gripes coming from Bordon as he was always so fair and professional. But not Tavington. He'd been friends too long with Miles to know that, no matter how highly regarded his friend was, he was still human. "Well, it is very noble of you to tell the truth, but the truth is making you rather ignoble. Careful-you don't want to ruin your reputation!"
"I'm too damned tired to care about it!" Bordon shot back..
The two officers shared a laugh.
"Ah, if only His Majesty King George could hear us now," Tavington began as he sat back down, "his 'Glorious and Heroic' officers bitching, moaning and groaning about being soldiers."
"Right!" spat Major Bordon. "He probably complains louder about his job than we do about our own!"
"W ell, while we're complaining," Tavington stated, "let me take the opportunity to lament the fact that we probably won't get half the lauds and honors we deserve for our part in this war."
"Well, maybe there's a Knighthood for complaining," Bordon said, acting serious.
Both the soldiers laughed at the remark and toasted their glasses.
"Thank God we don't do this in front of the men," Bordon remarked. As commanders, they exercised discretion in complaining in front of the men. They did not want to diminish morale—the war did enough of that without their help!
"Ah, our men. How can we sit here laughing and complaining after two of our bravest have just fought and fallen?" William mused.
"Complaining is part of life, as is death," said Bordon. "And, we must have laughter and keep our wits about us. It is either that—or go completely insane!"
"Every once in awhile, I think this whole damned thing is insane," exclaimed William as he took a drink.
"I think I would like you to help me with these letters," William said. He pushed a paper and quill across the desk to Bordon.
Miles dipped his pen in the ink and set to writing right away. William said nothing as he leaned back again in his chair, lost in thought.
He broke his own silence. "You should have been made the leader of this unit, not I."
Major Bordon stopped writing and looked up at him. Despite Tavington's tough exterior, he could surprise his closest confidants every now and again by revealing some of his innermost feelings and emotions. Tonight was one of those nights.
"Nah," Bordon disagreed. "You had the drive and ambition. I just wanted to serve."
"But your qualities are better than mine," Tavington pointed out.
"Um…..not necessarily better," replied Bordon slowly, as if looking for the right word, "just different."
"I have always admired how noble and fair you are. Your intellect, wit, common sense, diplomacy," said William. "And, mostly how you stay calm and think things through, always thoughtful of the implications of words and actions."
"Funny that you say this, Tav, because I've wanted to be a little more like you," Miles indicated.
"Me? How?…Why?"
"Because you don't fear anything," Bordon answered. "You never hesitate and rush headlong into things. Diving in headfirst is not always wrong. You say that you wish you were disciplined enough to stop and think things through first before doing, but, sometimes that extra minute to think the situation through—that instant of hesitation for judgment—may have wasted a precious moment in time or cost an opportunity. Sometimes, one must take the chance and just jump right in. Throw caution to the wind."
Both men became quiet again as each thought of what had just been revealed. Neither man had even thought that the other one wished for different leadership qualities.
"Miles," William began slowly, "I do some of the things I do for the good of the Crown…..and for victory." Tavington's words were slow and calculating.
Miles Bordon knew that the Colonel was referring to some of his brutal and ruthless military tactics; his often harsh and firm ways of dealing with people, things, and situations. To Bordon, William's words sounded slightly apologetic, yet revealed no remorse for or admitted any wrong for the way he chose to handle things. The Major understood that this was within William's being, and that he himself would always be the one left to clean up any 'messes', smooth over the rough edges, repair the damage, and deal with the carnage all left behind in Tavington's wake. He accepted it with grace and not much protest.
"I know," Miles simply replied.
Within a few moments, Karen appeared with a wash basin, alcohol, and an abundance of dressings and bandages.
Together, she and William bandaged Bordon's cracked ribs sustained when a musket was swung by the muzzle into him, the butt of it causing all the damage. They passed the roll bandage back and forth to each other, around Bordon's damaged and bruised torso. They pulled the material tight to properly bind his ribs, with him wincing at every circle they made about his body. He soon carted his damaged hide out of William's room so that Karen could clean William's wounds. He removed his shirt and sat upon his bed in only his black breeches as she tended the slashes about his shoulders, back, and chest.
After she was done, she took a moment to unwrap his queue and unbraid his hair. It was still long, and fell about his shoulders and neck in long, dark waves. Karen caught her breath, then busied herself putting things in the bureau. She caught a sight of William in the mirror. Miss Stirhaley still thought he was incredibly handsome, even after the years they'd been together. She noticed that Bordon had closed the door on the way out, and was glad he did.
Karen turned to watch William for a moment, who was still seated on the edge of the bed, stretching his sore body and shaking the cobwebs out of his head. She padded quietly over to him. Standing in front of him, she hiked her skirt up slightly and straddled his lap—a very bold move for her.
William looked surprised as she did this, but didn't stop her or push her away. She cupped his chin with her hand and raised his face to hers. Then she kissed him softly on the mouth, pushing her tongue into his receptive mouth.
Karen's soft lips outlined his jaw with kisses, then moved to his ears. William drew in a sharp breath as he felt her soft, moist lips on his ear. Then she moved to his neck, trailing wet kisses down to his shoulders and collar bone. He closed his eyes and moaned softly as she did. His hands traced the outline of her shoulders and back. She took his hands and moved them to the bodice of her dress, wanting him to unlace it.
William was shocked by her boldness—usually he was the one initiating the daring moves. He pulled back to look at her.
"Now?" he asked her, eyes widening.
She looked deep into his blue eyes and answered "Yes, William. Now."
He smiled softly at her and kissed her deeply. The officer began to quickly unlace her bodice, kissing her neck as he did. She cooed when he did this, not wanting him to stop. When he was done unlacing her dress, they kissed fiercely and hard. Then, he pulled her back onto the bed with him, leaving her on top.
They continued their kisses as William rolled over to pin her down. He let out a yelp as he did and grabbed his back. The colonel grimaced as his other hand rubbed his shoulder.
Karen laid on her back on his bed looking up at him with concern. "What is it, William?" she asked.
"Damned injuries!" he answered.
"Here, let me rub your back and shoulders," she offered. She knew he was sore from the skirmish earlier.
He sat up slowly and stiffly and let her touch him. As she began to rub softly and gently, he whimpered. "God, even that hurts!"
Tavington scowled as he stretched again, shifting his body. "I'm sorry, darling. I think the only thing I'm capable of doing tonight is getting myself into a bathtub."
"Where doesn't it hurt?" she asked him.
"That's just it!," he complained. "I'm sore all over. Some rebel cracked me across the back with his musket. That's how Bordon got his ribs cracked. This bunch liked swinging their muskets more than shooting them!"
William shook his head, silently disappointed that he was missing the opportunity and the boldness of his fiancée offering herself to him.
He turned to look at her, still lying on his bed. "I'm sorry darling."
Karen stood up and laced her bodice closed, saying nothing, but disappointed. She had wanted to know what it was like to go to bed with William, and she had thought this a good opportunity. Her desire for him was controlling her moves.
He continued. "Remember? I'm saving you for the big wedding night. You'll thank me for that later!"
She rolled her eyes and sighed.
He caught her hand and pulled her to him between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"You still love me, don't you?" he joked.
"Of course," she answered. She gave him a small kiss. "I'll order some hot water for you on my way out."
She turned to leave, but he didn't let go of her hand. He pulled her back to him.
"I love you, Karen," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. He put his lips on hers and kissed her passionately.
"I love you, too," she said to him. She then touched her forehead to his and looked at him. "Get some sleep," she said.
As she walked to the door, William called after her. "Thank you," he began, simply and honestly, "for always being here for me. And for taking care of me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Miss Stirhaley smiled at him and left the room.
Later, after a tub was dragged into his room and filled with warm water, Colonel Tavington painfully slipped out of his boots and breeches. Now, completely naked, he stood in front of his mirror and cataloged his scars, many of them. He thought about how differently he felt about them when he was young, receiving his first injury at nineteen. William, at that age, loved the fact that his body had achieved some scars. It was like wearing a permanent medal of courage and bravery upon his body. And, it made him feel like a complete rogue. But now, all they did was serve as reminders that this was a long war, that he was getting on in age, and that his body didn't heal has fast as it used to. William slowly eased his aching body down into the relief of the warm water and relaxed.
The next morning, William met up with his fiancée on the stairway on their way to breakfast. As he was escorting her, they both heard pained yells coming from Bordon's quarters.
It took both of them to ease an extremely sore and stiff Bordon up and out of bed. He was in a fair amount of pain and his ribs had caused his body to stiffen up on him overnight, rendering him unable to get up from bed under his own power.
It was true: their bodies didn't heal as fast or as well as they used to!
