The Better Angels: Hearts Touched by Fire, Book 4

facin’ your brother on the field of battle.”
“Yes, sir. I hope so too.” But as he walked away, the devil inside him smirked. Ah, but yes, if Jack fell……
The cool air whisked through the slits in the tied tent flaps, its chilled temperatures whizzing around the few patients. It woke Ada up, and she startled when a flash of ice snaked down her spine. A crash hit the ground, the thud buffered by the dirt floor. She blinked hard, struggling to recall what she was doing and where she was. But when the stench of urine, vomit and other bodily emissions, seeped up her nostrils, reality struck hard and she jumped. The camp hospital. How could she forget?
Reorienting herself, she glanced down at the dirt floor around her and found the book she’d been working with, along with the writing instrument, sat askew near her dark wool dress hem and she sighed, bending to retrieve it. But as she scooped it up, the tent flap blew open and Will rushed in.
“Brrr! It’s gettin’ downright chilly out there!”
Ada snorted as she searched for the page she’d been at before she’d dropped it. “It is November, after all.”
“Yes, well, that is true. But we are in the South. They’re not to get as brisk as we’re used to up North, and, well,” he shrugged. “I’d gotten used to it being warmer now.”
“Oh, so now you consider yourself a Southerner?” She couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, but she buried her nose in the supply book to hide the smile that threatened.
“Hardly. I’m a Union man, through and through!”
The laugh escaped despite herself. “I see, well, good. I doubt your parents would wish to lose you to the dying cause, as it were.”
Will stood quiet, and that let her know she’d won the argument. He was never good at admitting defeat.
“What task have you set for yourself?” He peered down at the pages.
“My job, that’s what I’m doing,” she complained, more angry with herself for allowing her time to be spent this way over tending patients. “Have you finished going over your patients?”
“Did that before the noontime sun. But you’ve resorted to supplies?”
“At the request of Surgeon Letterman,” she stated, bringing her seat straighter, shoulders back.
“Yes, well perhaps as well,” Will started. “Word has it that General Meade has another attack in order.”
“Another? The wounded here have not yet recovered.” The thought of another march and more wounded made her head spin. “The longer the line he creates, the harder it’ll be to care for them.”
“We’ll have to pray for the best, then.” He went to the surgeon kits and eyed the four sitting on the chest. Selecting one, he pulled and opened it.
“What do you think you are doing?” Ada asked, crossing her arms. She’d just inventoried those kits and wasn’t about to let him rummage through them, no matter how close a friend he was.
“I’m heading along with the corps, as medical stop one.” He yanked another satchel, one used by the hospital stewards, which held medicine and supplies.
“You?” She had to bite back the jealousy that threatened. “Since when did you get such preference?”
“Tsk, tsk, love,” he corrected. “I’d say that green monster in you is pushing at the gates.”
“You’ll be there, at the front lines! Its—” She hated it, because he knew her that well. “Its dangerous out there. And you’ll be pressured to do too much, or too little. You know the results of that.” Curbing in her envy was harder than she imagined. As a way to control it, she flattened her palms against her skirt and waited.
“Yes, Ada, you are correct. But perhaps, with my knowledge of that, I’ll put a stop to that mismanaging.”
The nerve in her jawline, just left of her lips, twitched, like it did when she held herself back. The words to put him in place, to remind him she was better at medicine than him, came rushing to her and as she stepped closer, wound up to spin, he gave her a shake of his head.
“Ada, don’t—”
“Miss Lorrance, Dr. Waxler…oh, my, pardon me!”
Ada’s heart stopped for a second. Maybelle James, another nurse, had rounded the corner of the tent, turning past the crates to find her and Will inches apart. Too close for professionals, but not for soldiers who knew each other well. The flash of surprise in Maybelle eyes told Ada the woman obviously considered them in a tryst and it took all the energy she had not to snap. Her heart was already taken, and not by Will.
“It’s all fine, Miss James. You were saying Dr. Waxler has?” She unclenched her hands that had fisted.
Maybelle’s gaze was still fixated on Will and it took her a moment to break it. “Dr. Waxler has asked that we prepare for possible arrivals and move our sick back to the barn.”
Ada’s brows furrowed. “Those boys would not fair well in that old barn. The cold will whip through there like no tomorrow!” The two dozen ill lads did have a couple of malingerers among them, those who refused or were afraid to fight, so they came down ‘ill’ and while their claim of sickness might be made up, she was sure they were not that far being under the weather. The fear in their eyes of possible gunfire and being on the front lines wasn’t produced. Though there were three of them who were simply shirkers and those she put to the work of cleaning slop buckets and changing sheets.
“General Meade is poised to have his attack on Lee,” Will added. “According to the aide I heard, he’s got his plan to move across the river.” He ran his hand through his hair, a habit Ada noticed he did when his worry built. “We’ll have our hands full.”
Maybelle pardoned herself and moved past them to talk to the two shirkers that had just brought back clean buckets. Ada bit back a smile because she could hear the nurse tell