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Chapter 11: Slim's Sleepless Nights
The 23rd Volunteers developed quite the reputation as the bravest bunch of cavalry in the whole union army. Each and every man in the unit slept like a baby in its mother's arms the night before a battle. Everyone, that is, except a certain sleepless lieutenant. Most of the unit was convinced that the night Slim Sherman finally slept before facing the Rebs, they'd all be destined for a horrible, painful death on the battlefield. Slim himself was not impressed with the rumors, but of course, Whit found them hilarious.
"You better yawn, Sherman, and make it a big one. Them boys are gettin' mighty nervous," Whit said, walking his mount up beside Slim's. Slim resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but just barely. He was an officer, after all, and had an image to maintain.
Instead, he glanced at Whit before letting out the most obnoxious, jaw cracking yawn he could manage, being sure to stretch his arms at the same time. Whit laughed his big belly laugh and Slim smiled. It would have been more of a joke if Slim hadn't felt a few of their men relax at the sight of the yawn. He knew that confidence could make all the difference in battle, and he would sacrifice a little of his dignity on behalf of his men anytime. Truth be told, he was pretty tired. The more he practiced projecting, the less tired he was in the morning, but the effort and lack of sleep still took a toll.
He turned back to Whit. "Shouldn't you be in position? Those bugles are going to sound any minute now," Slim asked. Whit just grinned, clearly unconcerned.
"Now, have you gone and forgotten which one of us gives orders to the other?" came the response, and this time Slim did roll his eyes. Whit pulled his reins to back his horse out of line, turning back the way he had come. He gave Slim a sloppy salute. "Sir, yes sir, Sherman, sir! Headed to my post, sir! Now, just do your best to stay awake and in that saddle! Don't make me come looking for that skinny hide of yours!"
"Yes sir, First Lieutenant, sir! I'll do my best!" Slim called to Whit's retreating back. He shook his head at the antics. A few of the soldiers beside him were trying very hard to hide their own grins. By now, the whole unit was used to exchanges like this between the two lieutenants. Even Captain Tucker accepted their actions with good grace, calling it a morale boosting tactic. Slim, on the other hand, was pretty sure that humor was just Whit's response to nerves. He took the comments at face value and did his best to keep up with the quips.
Only a few minutes later the bugles sounded and the company advanced.
-Laramie-
"Has anyone seen Jackson?" Slim called, walking through chaos of the medical area. No one answered. All around him, nurses and doctors were scrambling while wounded and dying men lay all around, too many to fit in the cots they had set up. Slim's long strides carried him through it all as he kept looking for his missing man. With so much suffering and tightly managed panic around him, he was putting a lot of effort into keeping his mind closed.
They had all known their luck couldn't hold for the whole war. The 23rd Volunteers had managed to skate by with only minor casualties for so long now, though, that the reality of their luck running out was shocking. They had been moving through the mountains of eastern Tennessee for a week before this battle, intending to trap the Confederates in Chattanooga, but by the time they reached the city the southern army had dropped back to regroup with reinforcements. What they eventually faced at Chickamauga Creek was a far different reality than what they had expected. Slim, Whit, and Captain Tucker had rounded up the regiment at Missionary Ridge once the guns had quieted, along with what was left of several other regiments. The 23rd Volunteers tallied twelve wounded, eight dead, and one missing.
Slim continued to look for their last unaccounted-for soldier, a corporal named Tim Jackson, but he was running out of places to search. He knew it was a real possibility that the man had either been killed or captured during their retreat. Slim pulled off his gloves and rubbed his eyes, trying to get some of the dust out of them, and stumbled over someone's forgotten boots in the process. He knew his control was starting to wane as he felt a little anguish that wasn't his slip into his mind. Before he could gather himself to close his mind again, however, he noticed a little bright spot in his mind's eye. The little glow was getting stronger and commanded his attention in a way he'd never felt before. He straightened up and looked around, curious as to the source, as he tucked his gloves in his pocket.
"Nurse, I need you to focus. I need your help," Slim heard one of the doctors say sharply to the young woman next to him. They were both bending over a wounded soldier. "Nancy, can you hear me? I said hold him still!"
The man was struggling in their grip as the doctor tried to hold his tools steady, intent on removing a round from the man's side. The nurse, who must be Nancy, was staring blankly into space and not responding to the doctor's calls. Slim strode over to help, the little glow forgotten for now.
Slim placed his hands on the woman's upper arms and guided her to sit on a crate nearby before turning back to the doctor. Slim took Nancy's place kneeling next to the man, mindful of his spurs, and held him down as the doctor continued to work. He spoke slow, kind words and did his best to project whatever good feelings he had left into the wounded man's mind. As the man finally quieted, Slim lost track of time.
"Thank you, Lieutenant, he should be alright now," the doctor said, finishing the job. Slim let go but didn't stand. He turned his head to look back at Nancy, who still had not moved from where he'd placed her. The doctor was in front of her, calling her name and shaking her gently with no success.
"What happened to her?" Slim asked, finally getting to his feet. His body felt heavy and slow, and he knew he was in desperate need of some sleep.
"I'm not sure," the doctor said. "One minute she was fine, and the next she was near catatonic. This is no place for a woman. They just can't handle the carnage of war the way that men can," he grumbled as he tipped Nancy's chin up to look in her eyes.
Slim raised his eyebrows at that. Growing up the way he did, he'd seen plenty of women fight off Indian raids side by side with their husbands and sons, and he'd watched a few of them face down running a ranch alone as widows. He didn't believe weak female constitution was the problem. He pulled another crate alongside Nancy's and sat next to her, putting one hand on her elbow and the other around her hand. As soon as his skin touched hers, the forgotten bright spot in Slim's mind flared to life. Slim sucked in a breath through his nose and clenched his jaw shut, trying desperately to hide his shock. Nancy finally blinked.
She's a sentinel, Slim realized, as he examined the glow, and she's in trouble. I have to get her away from all this mess.
"You're right, Doc," he said, "this is no place for a woman. I'll get her someplace safe and out of your way. The last thing you need is another patient." He continued to hold Nancy's hand as he slipped his other arm around her waist. Slim gently pulled her to her feet as he stood.
The doctor looked relieved. "See that you do, Lieutenant. She'll most likely come out of it on her own, but you might try to get a little whisky in her if she doesn't," he said, already turning away to treat the next solder.
Nancy walked meekly beside Slim as he led her away from the overwhelming smell of blood and the agonized voices of dying men. Her eyes were still unseeing and she didn't make a peep. Slim finally found a secluded spot in a small clearing about two hundred yards from the edge of camp. There, he guided Nancy to sit on a little boulder while he went down to one knee in front of her. He still hadn't let go of her hand. Instinct had carried him this far, but now that he had her in a quiet spot, he wasn't exactly sure how to help.
"Uh, well ma'am, I'm Slim Sherman," he said. There was no response. He frowned, trying to think of something else to try. What could she need?
He took a minute to study the woman in front of him. While the mid-September air was unseasonably cold, the setting sun gave everything a deceptively warm glow. Nancy's eyes, fixed on an imaginary point beyond Slim's shoulder, were almond shaped and light brown with streaks of hazel. Her face was narrow with high, sharp cheekbones and a slender nose. Slim figured she couldn't be more than eighteen years old. A few locks of straight auburn hair had escaped her bun and fallen down to frame her face. Altogether, it gave her a delicate appearance and Slim couldn't help the protective feelings that welled up in his chest. He took a deep breath and took both of her small hands in his own. It seemed odd to Slim that thanks to his gloves, his hands were actually cleaner than hers. There was blood and dirt and Lord knew what else under her nails and in the creases of her palms. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and wet the fabric with water from the canteen slung around his body. He gently started cleaning away the traces of war from Nancy's skin.
"Back home in Wyoming, ma would have chased me out of the house for having hands this dirty," Slim told her, "but I reckon she would have forgiven you for it. Helping people in need the way you do would carry a lot of weight with her." Finished with one hand, he moved on to the other, still speaking as he worked. "Our foreman, Jonesy, he's the best at doctorin' around our place. You should smell the liniment he's been working on." Both hands now clean, Slim rinsed the handkerchief and shifted up to her face. He wiped at a smear of dried blood on her cheek. "He swears he's close to a breakthrough but boy, you'd never know it by the smell," he said, smiling as he remembered. Slim felt the muscles under his cloth twitch and realized Nancy was smiling in return. He pulled back, again taking both of her hands in his again as he took in her face. Finally, those light brown eyes were focused on his own.
"Ma'am, can you hear me now?" he asked, holding his breath.
"I hear you," she said, her voice small. "You were telling me about someone called Jonesy."
Slim let out his breath in relief. "Yes ma'am, I was. Do you know where you are?"
Nancy looked around a bit. "The last thing I remember was assisting with a surgery, in some forest in Tennessee. I'm really hoping that this is the same forest," she replied. Slim could sense her nerves rising. He realized that this was the first time he'd interacted with a sentinel who wasn't bonded to a guide. Her energy and emotions felt wild and uncontrolled, like a high-strung horse just waiting to be spooked.
"Yes, ma'am, we're still in Tennessee. You seemed to lose track of yourself while helping a doc care for one of the men," Slim said. "I just happened to be nearby and thought I could help."
"Oh yes," Nancy said, looking down at where Slim was holding her hands. "I remember that now. The doctor nicked a blood vessel while trying to remove the bullet. All that blood… It's all I could smell; it was like I was drowning in it." She shuddered as her eyes welled up with tears. Slim released just one hand as he moved up to sit next to her, his free hand moving around her small frame and pulling her snugly against his side.
"Now, easy there, ma'am, there's no blood to worry about now," he said, as Nancy turned her face into his chest. His cheek rested against her hair. "We'll just sit here a spell while you get your bearings. There's nothing that can hurt you now."
After several minutes, Nancy's breathing evened out and she let out a small, less-than-lady-like snort. "This war does put us in odd positions, doesn't it," she said, her voice still a bit watery. "Here I am, alone with a strange man, crying into your coat like a child. Sir, I'm realizing I don't even know your name."
Slim gave her shoulder a squeeze and smiled. "Second Lieutenant Slim Sherman, ma'am, no relation to the more famous Sherman. At your service," he added for dramatic flair.
He was rewarded with a soft giggle. "Miss Nancy Meyers," she responded. "Even being a stranger, I feel more settled here with you than I have in weeks. I don't know what's gotten into me, I don't usually get overwhelmed like this." She trailed off, lost in thought. Slim could plainly feel her confusion, followed up suddenly by understanding. "I guess today just happened to be the day," she said, with an exasperated sigh. Before he could ask what she meant, Slim realized something else had caught her attention. She pulled away a little, turning her head to face toward camp. It was a few moments longer before Slim heard someone crashing through the brush.
"Nancy? Nancy, are you there? Answer me, please!" a voice called. Slim could feel how frantic the newcomer was, although the voice sounded steadier than the emotions he felt. Nancy straightened up at the sound of the voice and Slim let his arm drop from her shoulders.
"I'm over here, Jim," she called back. Before long, a young man holding a lantern broke into their clearing. Judging by his uniform he was an infantry man.
As the newcomer took in the sight of Slim and Nancy sitting so close together, still hand in hand, his expression darkened. Although it wasn't what it looked like, Slim still felt like he'd been caught out. He was very glad in that moment that Nancy wasn't still curled into his chest. Before either man could say a word, though, Nancy cut in.
"Now, James Bailey, you stop that right now. He was just doing his best to help me. There's no need to get your hackles up, he's been a perfect gentleman." She turned to Slim, putting a little space between them as she did. "Lieutenant Sherman, may I introduce Lieutenant James Bailey, my fiancé."
That explains the reaction, Slim thought. "Nice to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant Bailey," he said, holding out his hand. The other man stepped forward, set down his light, and shook Slim's hand absentmindedly as he turned his full attention to Nancy.
"Darling, I went to find you but all anyone knew was that a stranger had led you out into the trees. I thought the worst…" He trailed off. "Something has happened, hasn't it," he said under his breath. Suddenly, Slim was aware of another bright spot flickering to life. Another guide!
James Bailey nudged Slim out of his place on the rock as we wrapped his own arms around Nancy, and Slim stood without complaint. He was still a little shocked at his most recent revelation. Slim wondered how many other guides he might have come across without noticing, since apparently he couldn't sense them unless they revealed themselves. He also wondered how many guides might have noticed him and his projecting. There was really no way to know. Now, as he watched the couple, he was reminded a bit of his own parents. Slim did his best to hold back the wave of homesickness that brought on.
As Nancy relaxed in her fiancé's embrace, the man turned to face Slim. "Sherman, I want to thank you for stepping in," he said. "We always knew Nancy's senses might wake up with all the stress of the war, but I never considered that I might not be around to settle her. Most especially, I never counted on another guide being here to help her. After all of this, I'd appreciate it if you called me Jim."
Slim didn't think things could get any more surprising at this point. "Of course, Jim, I was happy to help. My friends call me Slim," he said, and the two men shook hands for real this time. "I'll admit I don't have much experience with these things, and I hope what I did was alright. The only other… Well… Folks like us that I've ever known were my own family."
Nancy nodded. "You did just fine, don't worry yourself about that. It was the same for me, that is, until I met Jim. He's been active as a guide since he was a child," she said, smiling fondly. Slim felt a slight charge to the moment; a feeling of intimacy that he knew he wasn't needed for. It was high time he made his exit. He closed his mind once again, and the two bright spots faded from his perception.
"Well then, if you two will be alright, I uh… Well, I guess I'll be going," he said lamely, his cheeks starting to heat up despite the air getting colder. Jim had the courtesy to look a bit embarrassed himself, but Nancy just laughed.
"We'll be alright now, Slim, thanks again for everything," Nancy said.
Without a moment to lose, Slim turned and walked back toward camp, thinking about his newfound friends. He hadn't thought of meeting his own sentinel since before he left Wyoming, but after seeing those two together, Slim once again wondered if he'd find his match somewhere in this mess of a war. He came to the edge of the trees, still lost in thought, slipping his gloves back on to guard against the night chill.
It was a testament to just how worn out he was that he didn't notice another man coming up beside him. Slim startled badly as a hand fell onto his shoulder in the darkness. The slimy feeling he got in his gut from just hearing the subsequent chuckle was enough for Slim. He didn't want to be anywhere near this man, and he didn't even know who it was.
"Now, settle down there, Slim, you don't gotta be scared a me," said the man, as he pulled Slim around to face him. "I just want chance to get ta know ya a little better." He spit tobacco juice onto the ground, narrowly missing Slim's boot.
Slim grit his teeth and brushed the unwelcome hand off of his shoulder. "Mister, I don't know who you are or how you think you know me," he said, trying to be calm, "but I've had a long day. I need to return to my men." He turned to leave.
The stranger smiled at that, revealing a few missing teeth. There wasn't a lot of light there in the shadow of the tree line, but the gaps stood out like ominous black holes as he moved to block Slim's escape. "Now, Slim, is that any way to talk to a superior officer? You should show me a bit of respect, boy." Slim groaned internally as he took notice of the man's captain's bars. "My name's Travis. I think we should get to know each other better, and the way I got it figured, you don't have much choice in the matter. Ya really oughtta relax about all this, your heart's beatin' faster'n a jack rabbit's." As he spoke, he tried again to put his hand on Slim's shoulder. "You cozied up to that other lady alright, what's so wrong about me?"
Slim's uneasy feeling was growing. This time, when he knocked the captain's hand away, a bit of bare skin on Slim's wrist connected with Travis's. Even with his mind closed, the bare skin contact was enough to break through his defenses. The onslaught of lust and desperation hit Slim square in the chest, almost knocking the breath from him. Even as he reeled, though, everything else fell into place.
Another sentinel, desperate for a guide. He would have heard the whole exchange with Nancy and Jim from here. He knows what I am, and he isn't keen on letting me go. Slim froze, no idea what to do next.
Seeing the shock on Slim's face, Travis grinned even wider. "I knew you'd figure it out alright. Like you told those other two, you might not know what you're doin' yet, but we're gonna get along real well. You'll see. Now quit palyin' hard to get an' c'mon," he said, grabbing Slim's elbow and trying to pull him along.
That does it, Slim thought, Now or never. He stood his ground, violently shook off the man's hold, and pulled himself up to his full height. He towered over the sentinel.
"I wouldn't go anywhere with you if my life depended on it," Slim said, spitting each word straight into the other man's face as he said it.
Travis's eyes narrowed and his heavy brows pulled together. "Look here, Sherman, don't get all high and mighty with me. I need a guide and you fit the bill. I'll make it worth your while, but you're gonna be mine and there ain't nothin' you can do about it." With that, he made his last mistake. He lunged.
Slim was waiting for it. As the captain's face came closer, Slim grabbed his collar with one hand and slugged him with the other as hard as he could. Travis crumpled to the ground without another peep and didn't rise. Still breathing hard from the encounter, Slim stepped over the body and headed for where he knew his friends would be waiting for him. He just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. This time, he didn't stop for anyone.
As he approached the group, Whit raised a hand and called out to him.
"Sherman, is that you? We thought we'd lost ya!" he said, as Slim came into the flickering light of their campfire. Captain Tucker was there too, looking over Slim with a critical eye. Slim didn't say a word as Whit continued. "Guess who wandered into camp not twenty minutes after you left? None other than little 'ole Corporal Timmy Jackson. Apparently his horse threw him in all the ruckus and it just took some time for him to catch up."
Slim put his back against a log and his boots toward the fire. He crossed his arms over his chest and one ankle over the other. "That's great, Malone," he said. His little encounter with Travis had left him more rattled than he'd like to admit. Slim finally let himself relax, taking comfort in the familiar faces and banter. His chin dropped to his chest.
"Really, after all that, that's the best response you can come up with?" Whit asked, a bit incredulous, but he didn't get an answer. He glanced at Captain Tucker and then back at Slim's still form. "Well, I'll be damned, Cap," he said, much more softly this time. "I ain't never seen someone fall asleep quite that fast, without even a bedroll under him. Least of all Sherman here." He shook his head in disbelief.
William Tucker watched Slim's chest rise and fall, steady and slow. He pursed his lips.
He sighed. "If he's that beat, we best let him alone. He's earned his rest," he said. He rose to his feet and made his way over to Slim's gear. He grabbed Slim's blankets and laid them over his sleeping second lieutenant as Whit went back to his game of solitaire. Slim slept on, oblivious to his captain's curious gaze.
Late the next morning, as Slim was saddling his mount and packing up, Captain Tucker walked up and casually laid one arm on the saddle as he leaned against Slim's horse. At first, he didn't say anything. He just watched Slim fiddle with the leather. Under his glove, Slim's right hand seemed to be a bit swollen and stiff.
"Need somethin', Cap?" Slim asked, giving his cinch another tug.
The captain took a breath. "Seems that one of the other captains, by the name of Travis Wheeler, was found last night by some of his men. Said he'd been attacked."
Slim's fingers stilled. "Is he alive?"
William Tucker nodded slowly, his face impassive. "Yes, he's alive, but word is he doesn't remember who it was that hit him. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you Slim?"
Slim looked down at the ground, his stomach rolling. Captain Tucker looked on in silence.
"No, Captain, I wouldn't know anything worth repeating," Slim said softly, his blue eyes flicking up to this commanding officer's face before looking down again. He still didn't dare move.
Tucker straightened up. "Good. Keep it that way, Sherman, and steer clear of him. I never liked him anyhow," he said. With that, he turned and walked away without a backward glance.
Slim, meanwhile, did his best to remember how to breathe.