He awoke with a start to the sound of a real, honest-to-God mockingbird singing its fool head off just outside the window. It took a moment for him to remember where he was. Sunlight and fresh air streamed in through the bedroom's open window. He reveled in the gentle swish of the trees against the window, the soft breeze against his face, the warmth of the sun on the bed. Now if I only knew where I was. That would fit the bill quite nicely. He wondered if he would have any company today. He found himself hoping he would.
He tried to shift his position in the bed and accidentally struck his injured arm hard against the cast iron bedstead. "Aaaaggghhhhh…" the shock of pain literally took his breath away, making him instantly dizzy, nauseous. Good Lord in the morning! He dimly heard hurried footfalls approaching.
"Cap'n? What've you done?" He looked up through a haze of pain into the face of a bear of a man. Tall, auburn-haired, barrel-chested, downright big! He wore the butternut grey of the Confederate States of America, if he remembered his history aright.
"Wh - wh- who're…you?" he managed to stammer out.
The big man shook his head forlornly. "Cap'n how come you don't 'member me? I'm Gabe. Law, we grew up together no more'n two miles from here and done been in the same company ever since the war begun!"
The strong steady arms that lifted him out of the gutter. The strong steady arms that held him while he was sick. Coherent thought attempted to return. Pain said 'no way in hell'.
"Doc! Doc! Cap'n's hurt himself again!"
Thanks a lot.
"That boy'll be the death of me!" flew into the room.
The words seized him. He broke out in a cold sweat, and couldn't stop shaking.
"C'mon son. Snap out of it!"
He looked up into that face again and couldn't help but see his father. "Wha- what's your…name?" he asked in a tremulous voice.
The old man slowly dropped his head, shaking it sadly. "All right, son, since you don't seem to remember. My name is Horatio. Horatio McCoy."
He must've looked a sight, for both men reached out supportive hands to his shoulders.
"Cap'n?" "Son? Are you all right?"
"Wha-what's…my…name?"
A long sigh. "David Leonard McCoy."
An old Southern novelty tune from way before his childhood ran insanely through his head - "I'm My Own Grandfather." I'm my own how many times great grandfather? How? HOW! Maybe I am dead. He was determined not to pass out again, despite the pain. Time to face this thing. He winced as Horatio gently took his bandaged arm.
"Let's have a little look-see here."
He buried his face against Gabe's substantial chest. He couldn't help it, the pain was blinding.
"It's alright Cap'n," Gabe gripped his shoulder consolingly.
"No! No…it isn't."
"Too bad your ma didn't live to see you gone for a soldier, boy. She woulda been so proud." Horatio worked with his head down, but his eyes flickered up momentarily.
Now there's a distraction technique if ever I've heard one! It worked. He was immediately curious.
"What…happened to…her?"
"Well Gabe, I guess we just need to proceed on the premise that this here boy doesn't know anything, anyhow about who he is or where he's from."
"Yessir", Gabe agreed sadly.
That hurt (even though for this time period it was true). All Southerners know where they're from. He leaned over to Horatio and whispered conspiratorially, "I was…born on the…old home-place…in…Conyers, sir."
"Oh ho? You were? And from whence have you derived that conclusion?"
"I…was…there…", he managed a small smile, and was greeted with the same in return.
"Rest easy, son. I'm almost through." Then almost as an afterthought, "Your ma died givin' you to me, boy."
The stark, pathetic statement hung nakedly in the air. He didn't know what to say. He knew how he would've felt. "Oh. Do you have a…a…?" he searched for the right word.
Horatio looked up. "I have a few keepsakes. Would you like to see them?"
He nodded dumbly.
"We'll wait until a little later. You're gonna have to take it easy. You've nigh well undone my previous night's handiwork. Gabe, bring me a basin of hot water and some more linen." He shook his head slightly and unobtrusively dropped the bloody bandages on the floor. "Try to stop trembling son. It ain't makin' my job any easier", he smiled reassuringly.
He didn't feel reassured. He knew how much he was bleeding. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he closed his eyes momentarily to try to overcome it.
When he opened them, it was twilight. He was nauseated, dizzy and disoriented, his arm elevated on the small cushion, tightly rebandaged and resplinted. It was so hot! He licked his dry, cracked lips, and tried to throw off the quilt.
The oppressive heat was unbearable. "Dad…?" the word emerged before he realized it.
A slumbering mountain seated beside the bed stirred and leaned over him. "Hey Cap'n. Cap'n? Law, Cap'n, you're burnin' up! Better get Doc."
"No,…don't wake him…"
"Sorry Cap'n, gotta disobey your orders this time."
A doctor's work is never done!
A groggy voice sounded from the next room, "I figured so. Gabe, go and get…" the words faded out as Horatio moved from room to room, gathering his ministrations. "Hold on son, I'll be right there", he called.
Gettin' harder to breathe - so damn hot! "Dad…help me…please…"
"I'm here boy, rest easy." A hand gently lifted his aching, burning head, "Drink some of this son." A few drops of a noxious herb-tasting medicine fell on his tongue and then he greedily gulped down a cool, minty, tea-like concoction.
"Dad…?"
"Quiet boy. Keep quiet. We've got to break this damned fever. Where'n hell is Gabe?"
As if on cue, Gabe burst in the door. "Mr. Lionel warn't too happy w'you Doc, askin' him to open special'n all."
"Can't be helped Gabe!"
"I know suh. Here's the ice."
"Here boy. Chomp on this." Horatio unceremoniously stuck a chunk of ice in his mouth, and then began bathing his face, neck and chest with ice cold water.
He gasped. OH LORD! He thought his heart would stop. He tried to distract himself by concentrating on the melting ice as it soothed his parched throat. "M-more…p-p-please…?"
"Gabe, keep feedin' him ice."
"Yes suh."
He hazily listened to their conversation.
"Uh Doc..?"
"Yeah?"
"I got some news from Mr. Lionel…"
"Well spit it out Gabe! Can't you see I'm busy here?"
Gabe took a deep breath, "Moss Johnson's comin' home on leave."
Horatio stiffened, "You sure 'bout that, boy?"
"Ask 'im yourself Doc!"
"Naw, I believe you. Was jus' hopin' it wasn't true."
He floated in and out of consciousness as the icy treatments continued far into the night. Time lost all meaning. At one point he thought he remembered having difficulty breathing. He vaguely recalled Horatio's tersely shouted directions, a tearful Gabe lifting his head and shoulders onto a hastily constructed pile of pillows, and snippets of disjointed conversation.
"Oh God Doc, is the Cap'n dyin'?"
"Gabe, ain't any one of us gonna outrun that horse. Jus' pray it ain't his time right now."
"Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven...Cap'n, please don't die...please..."
"Keep him propped up, boy. Yes, just like that...c'mon son, breathe! Breathe son!"
He remembered someone firmly, yet urgently massaging his painfully constricted chest and strong arms gently holding him upright until his breathing gradually eased. He remembered nothing else for a long time after that.
When he came to, a damp towel covered his neck and chest. He shifted uncomfortably, his entire body wringing wet with sweat. This boy's gonna need a bath! Horatio sat to his left, dozing with his chin resting on his chest, both hands firmly clasped around his left hand.
He gave a gentle squeeze, and the older man started with a grunt. Horatio stared blankly for a moment and then rasped, "Son?" He smoothed the wet hair back off his sweaty forehead with trembling fingers, then searched for traces of the fever on his arms, chest and body.
"Thank God…thank God." Horatio's voice broke. Bending down, he gently kissed his forehead. "Thank God…," he whispered.
Something gave way, he couldn't take it anymore. Had he been granted some sort of reprieve? In every way but name (well almost), this gruff, tender, compassionate man was his father. Oh Dad! I miss you so much!
"I'm right here son."
Had he said it aloud? He hadn't meant to. That tore it. He couldn't stop the tears.
"Shhh,…it's alright boy." Horatio leaned down and gently touched his forehead to his for a brief moment. "Go ahead, son, go ahead. No shame here. You're gonna be all right." After a moment's hesitation, "I never told you much in words, son…, but I love you."
I love you too Dad! He couldn't speak, but nodded brokenly.
"Here son, take some more of this." He gratefully drank more of the cool mint tea. "Get some rest, and you'll be up and around before you know it." With a final rough caress of his cheek, he arose and strode out the door bellowing, "Gabe! Gabe! Where'n hell are you?"
The sobs gradually subsided. He lay still, spent by emotion and numb with fatigue.
"Gabe, get out from underfoot. Go stand watch over your Captain!"
"Yes suh!"
He smiled to himself as he drifted asleep.
Gabe peeked in the door and then sat down quietly, gazing thoughtfully at the peacefully sleeping figure in the bed.
"Doc…?"
"Yeah Gabe?"
"This is worse than when the Cap'n was wounded at Sharpsburg."
Horatio came near and put a hand on the burly shoulder. "Well, Gabe, I suppose because this time it's a wound of the heart. Y'understand?"
Gabe thought long and hard. Thought of Manassas. Seven Pines. Sharpsburg. Fredericksburg. Gettysburg. Jeff and Moss Johnson. Compassion. Death. Vengeance. "Yessir. Believe I do."
They both sat in silence for a moment, and then Horatio arose. "Gabe, I thank you for lookin' after my only son."
"Doc, Cap'n's the brother I never had." Horatio nodded, squeezed his shoulder gently, and left.
"Hang on Cap'n…" Gabe whispered, half to himself.