CHAPTER TWO

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
December 1859

Josie finished reading Adam's letter and sighed as she added it to his other letters in the drawer of her writing desk. She'd kept every letter he'd ever sent her—about eight per year since she'd left the Ponderosa in 1850—and had brought them all along to medical school in case she felt lonely. But he could be such a know-it-all! She hated when he called her "Josephine." It was always the precursor to him telling her what she ought to do. But if their situations were reversed, she knew she'd beg him to get away from Washington, too.

She, too, was worried about the potential for war. There had been talk of a possible uprising at John Brown's execution in Virginia a few days earlier, but Virginia's governor had ordered 1,500 troops to keep order around the gallows, and very few civilians had been permitted access. The hanging went off without incident, but Josie was among thousands of Americans chilled by Brown's last words, published in newspapers across the nation.

When they appeared in the Philadelphia Inquirer on December 3, she read them aloud to her classmates.

"I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land can never be purged away but with Blood. I had as I now think, vainly flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done."

When she finished, all the young ladies sat quietly, not knowing what to say.

"Do you really think there will be a war?" Michaela asked no one in particular.

"I don't know," Josie replied grimly, "but if there is, we are all going to have a lot of work ahead of us."

The rest of December passed quietly. Josie and Michaela helped each other prepare for their exams, and both young ladies passed with honors. They parted in good spirits at the holiday break.

Josie spent a comfortable Christmas with her parents in Washington, DC, and assisted her father in his clinic, but there was a pall over the city. The political tension had bled into the general populace, and everyone was on edge. When Josie expressed this observation to her father one night after supper, Dr. Cartwright confirmed her analysis.

"The city's not been the same since the John Brown scare," he said. "The immediate danger passed, but everyone is uneasy about the presidential election next year. Several Southern states are already threatening secession if a Republican wins."

She waved a hand dismissively. "They have been threatening secession for most of my life. It's just bluster."

Josie had a point. For most of the nation's history, various factions had threatened secession whenever they weren't getting their way. More recently, John C. Calhoun of South Carolina had threatened secession during the debates that brought California into the nation as a free state in 1850. There had even been talk of it during the presidential election of 1856. But surely if any states were truly going to secede, they would have done so by now.

Jacob wasn't convinced. "Maybe, but then again, maybe not. The political situation has grown increasing volatile over the past decade—take John Brown, for example. Such an act would have been unthinkable when I was young. No, Josephine, I am afraid war may come. And soon."

Her hazel eyes went wide. "What will you do if it does?"

He laid a reassuring hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I'm a doctor, sweetheart. I will render assistance as I am able and bound to do."

"So will I. Goodnight, Papa." She bid her mother goodnight as well and mounted the steps to her bedroom.

A wave a sorrow washed over Jacob as he watched his only child's retreating figure. Josie believed she would graduate medical school at just the right time, but the timing couldn't be worse. He'd heard horror stories from colleagues who had served as Army doctors during the Mexican War of 1846-1848 and had seen firsthand the debilitated condition of many of the soldiers who returned to Washington. His heart ached at the thought of his daughter being exposed to what certainly would be a worse conflict, much closer to home.

"Jacob." Hannah spoke softly.

"Hmm?" Jacob was lost in thought and did not turn around. He continued to stare up the now empty staircase.

"What are your intentions?"

He sighed and turned toward his wife. "I was lucky during the Mexican War. It was far away and brief, as wars go, and I was able to serve from home, rehabilitating returning soldiers. This war will be different. Brother against brother is the most vicious kind of fighting. It will be brutal, it will bloody, and it will be right here."

A thrill of fear shot down Hannah's spine. She was grateful that the glow from the sitting-room fire cast warm hues on her face, which she was certain had gone white. "In Washington?" Her voice betrayed her with a tremble.

"Consider it, my dear." Jacob crossed the room to sit on the settee next to Hannah. "The goal in any war is to capture the enemy's capital, and Washington is entirely surrounded by slave-holding states. If the slave states do secede, we will be an island in a sea of rebels."

Hannah paused to process this. Deep down, she had known this was a possibility, but hearing her husband voice it aloud brought a disquieting sense of reality to it. "But, Jacob, you are forty-five years old. Surely you would not be expected to go to war."

"Not as a common soldier, no. But I'm a doctor with a good deal of surgical experience. If I didn't offer my services to my country, I would never be able to hold up my head again. I would never again be able to look you or Josie in the eye. But don't fret, darling." He took both of his wife's hands in his. "They don't place the doctors on the front lines. I will be back, well away from the fighting." He knew these words were not entirely true. Army surgeons during the Mexican War had often operated right on the battlefield as the fighting raged, dodging bullets just like the soldiers.

"What about Josie?"

"What about Josie? She's a woman. The Army certainly would not put her in combat, regardless of her sharpshooting skills." Josie had kept up with the shooting Adam had taught her on the Ponderosa and was now a formidable markswoman with a variety of firearms.

Hannah smiled. "She will want to be a battlefield surgeon right alongside you."

"I know." Jacob ran a hand through his graying hair. "But the Army would never allow it. They would probably permit her to be a nurse here in Washington, but Josie would never abide that, and nor should she—not once she has completed medical school. No, when this war begins—and it will, maybe not for another year or two, but it will—I want you and Josephine out of the city."

"We will go to Boston. I am sure Rachel would be glad to have us, and perhaps Josie can find a position at one of the hospitals or with Michaela's father."

Jacob agreed this plan was sound. "A female doctor is much more likely to find acceptance in Boston than Washington anyway."

Though she disliked the idea of her husband as a battlefield surgeon, Hannah was comforted knowing her family at least had a plan in the event of war. She kissed Jacob goodnight and climbed the stairs.

Jacob remained on the settee for another hour, staring into the dying fire, his mind churning. Hannah had taken the inevitability of his going to war remarkably well, and he was relieved by her willingness to vacate the city. He wouldn't have to worry about his wife. His daughter was another matter. Josephine was as beautiful, kind, and charming as most of the Stoddard women, but she had a stubborn, hard-headed, independent streak that was all Cartwright.

"She won't like being sent to Boston," he muttered into the guttering flames.

Josie returned to Philadelphia in early January 1860 and was met by a flushed and breathless Michaela, who shared the happy news that her beau David had proposed to her over the holidays. She extended her left hand and flashed a beautiful diamond engagement ring. They planned to wed next year as soon as the young ladies graduated. Josie squealed and hugged her friend tightly as the girls jumped up and down. Many of their classmates were plainly envious of Michaela, but Josie was genuinely thrilled. Unlike most of the young ladies, Josie had no current interest in marriage. Her priority was establishing herself as a physician. She could worry about a husband later, if she decided she even wanted one. That month on the Ponderosa when she was nine years old showed her how very much work men could be.

Josie's second term at medical school was even more engaging than her first. The curriculum was less prescribed in the spring, and the students had some freedom of choice with their classes. She selected courses in surgery and obstetrics and attended fascinating seminars on effective quarantines and the importance of the smallpox inoculation, which, she proudly informed her classmates, her father had been providing to his patients for nearly twenty-five years.

The semester passed quickly, and before it seemed possible, she and her friends were bidding one another farewell for the summer. She'd already planned to spend part of her holiday with Aunt Rachel in Boston—Mama's idea, not hers—and she and Michaela looked forward to spending time together in the city. She cheerfully departed Philadelphia in late May.

Stoddard House
Boston, Massachusetts
July 4, 1860

Dear Adam,

Happy Independence Day! Thank you for your letter of June 16. It is amazing how quickly the Pony Express can deliver the mail.

How exciting that Virginia City will have (or "had" by the time you get this letter) fireworks! I do hope you kept a close eye on Hoss and Little Joe. It would be just like the pair of them to spirit some away to set off on their own. Do you remember our first Fourth of July together in Washington? That was the year they laid the cornerstone of the Washington Monument. I could not see over the crowd, so you lifted me onto your shoulders. Then we ate so much ice cream I woke up in the middle of the night with a horrible bellyache. That was so very fun.

I spent June at home with Mama and Papa and assisted Papa in his clinic, where we were quite busy. I do not know why, but summer in Washington brings a flood of little boys with bumps, cuts, sprains, and fractures. I must have sewn two hundred stitches in the first week. But, as Little Joe can attest, I am quite skilled with stitches.

Much to Aunt Rachel's dismay, I have spent nearly every day here in Boston assisting Michaela and her father in his practice. As you may imagine, Aunt Rachel has voiced no small number of aspersions regarding the decency of my chosen profession for, as she calls me, "a young lady of breeding." I have half a mind to ask her when, exactly, hailing from a long line of sailors began making one a member of the aristocracy, but you should be very proud of me as I have managed, somehow, to hold my tongue, despite my weariness of being compared to a saloon girl. I believe she is simply put out that I have been spending my time in the clinic rather than accompanying her to her abolitionist meetings where she can show me off.

The Boston Female Anti-Slavery Society supports Mr. Lincoln in the presidential election this year. Though as none of its members is permitted to vote, I fail to see what difference their support makes. Do not mistake me, I am myself an ardent abolitionist, but I feel stymied by the limitations placed upon my sex.

I have read in the newspaper that many southern states are intent on seceding should Mr. Lincoln win the election, but I do not believe this threat will come to fruition. The South cannot survive alone. It has very little railroad track, very few schools (and none as good as Harvard!), and nearly no large cities or industry. The world is changing too rapidly for man to live by cotton alone, and I feel confident that cooler heads will prevail.

Do let me know as soon as you determine whether you are able to attend my graduation next spring. Try to bring Hoss if you can. Even Aunt Rachel would be pleased to see him again. And you must send me a telegram as soon as your office in Virginia City is operational! How wonderful it will be to send one another messages in mere moments instead of weeks!

Please give my best to Uncle Ben, Hoss, and my partner in crime, Little Joe.

All my love,

Josephine