Brother Against Brother; or, The Tompkins Mystery. Read online

  CHAPTER XXV.

  AT HOME AGAIN.

  When their leader fell, the Confederate cavalry wheeled about andgalloped away toward the mountain. Uncle Dan ordered his men to ceasefiring, as Irene was directly between them and the flying enemy, and herlife would be endangered by every shot.

  Stunned, confounded, and nonplussed by Irene's sudden and unexpectedaction, the old man, without loading his rifle, hurried after her. Shewas kneeling by the side of the insensible soldier, holding his bleedinghead on her knee. The horse was struggling in the last throes of death,the blood streaming from two wounds in his breast. Oleah had fallenclear of his horse and had struck his head in falling on a large stone.

  "Speak to me, oh! speak to me, Oleah!" cried Irene, bending over him."Oh, my love, it is I who have killed you! Save him, Uncle Dan. He mustnot die!"

  "I fear he'll never speak again," said Uncle Dan. He said no more, forwith one wild, long shriek the poor girl swooned on the breast of himwhom not even the avowal of her love could thrill.

  "Come here, some o' you fellars what's a loafin' about there?"commanded the old scout, as half a dozen soldiers approached the place.

  The men were soon at his side.

  "Now, some o' you pick up that gal, and the rest o' ye that fellar andtake 'em to the house. Lift 'em gently as though they were babies. Thishas been a sorry job."

  The soldiers obeyed, and Uncle Dan followed the group with both sorrowand amazement plainly visible on his features. They carefully laid Ireneon the bed and called Mrs. Jackson to attend her, while Uncle Dan andanother member of the company examined the injuries of Oleah. They founda gun-shot wound in his right side under his right arm. A rifle-ball hadpassed through the muscles of his right arm, between the elbow and theshoulder, but no bones were shattered and the wound was not a dangerousone. The cut on the head, caused by being thrown against the stone as hefell, seemed more serious, but an examination soon convinced them thatit might not be fatal. They dressed the wounded arm and washed the bloodfrom his head, and he began to show signs of returning consciousnessjust as Irene, recovered from her swoon, started up, crying:

  "Where is he, where is he?"

  "Here he is on the floor beside you," replied Mrs. Jackson. "Lie stilluntil you are better."

  "No, no," she replied, putting aside Mrs. Jackson's restraining hand."Let me go to my husband! Lay him on the bed," she said to the men.

  "What kind of a deuced change has come over that gal," thought UncleDan. "She hated him like pizen afore he got hurt, but now she loves himto distraction."

  "Please, Uncle Dan," pleaded Irene, "have him put on the bed, he mustnot lie on that hard floor when he is wounded!"

  "Boys, lift him up on the bed. She shall have her way."

  Oleah, still unconscious, though breathing more freely, was placed onthe bed. His head had been bandaged, and a soldier stood by his sidedropping cold water on the wound from a cup.

  "Give me the water," said Irene. "I am his wife."

  As Irene took her station by his side, the wounded soldier opened hiseyes, and vacantly stared upon the group in the room. Irene bent overhim, with her soul in her eyes; his eyes rested on her with no gleam ofrecognition for a moment, and then feebly closed again.

  Uncle Dan had ordered a litter made and four men now entered with it,and reported that everything was ready for departure. Oleah was placedupon the litter, and Irene rode beside it, half the men preceding it andhalf following. Mrs. Jackson, at her earnest request, had been left atthe cabin, and the guarded litter was not two miles on its way beforeher red-headed husband came from the woods, suave and smiling, and thetwo hurried away toward the gap between the Twin Mountains. When nextheard of the Jackson family was at Colonel Scrabble's camp.

  The movements of Uncle Dan were necessarily slow, and it was late atnight when they arrived at the plantation. Irene with Uncle Dan rodeforward to prepare the planter and his wife for Oleah's coming, theothers following slowly. We will not attempt to describe the scene thatfollowed--their joy at Irene's return, their astonishment at her story,their anxious alarm when she told them of Oleah's condition. She hadhardly ceased speaking, when they heard in the hall the slow, heavytread of men who carried a helpless burden. A fever had set in, andOleah was in a critical condition. A messenger was despatched toSnagtown for the family physician, and Uncle Dan left his prisoner andreturned to his command at the Junction.

  For ten weary days and nights Oleah was unconscious or raving in thedelirium of fever, and during all that time Irene was at his side, hisconstant attendant. When the fever had subsided and the man, once soimperious in his youthful strength, lay weak and helpless as an infant,but conscious at last, she was still at this post.

  It was on a cold, still Winter evening. The snow lay white over thelandscape, but candlelight and firelight made all bright and warmwithin. As Irene returned from drawing the heavy curtains, he opened hiseyes and fixed them on her, as he had done many times during his longillness but this was not a wild vacant stare, it was a look ofrecognition. His lips moved, but her ear failed to catch the feeble,fluttering sound. She eagerly bent her head. Again his lips moved.

  "Irene!" was the faint whisper.

  "Do you know me, Oleah, do you know me?" she asked, tears of joy shiningin her eyes.

  Only his eyes answered her. Stooping she pressed a kiss on his palelips. With a smile of perfect content he raised his weak arm and put itabout her neck.

  But there were other anxious hearts to be relieved, and Irene left himfor a moment, went swiftly through the hall, and her glad voice brokethe silence of the room where sat father and mother and physician:

  "He will live! He will live! He knows me now."

  They hastened to the sick-room. The favorable change was plainlyvisible, though the patient could not speak above a whisper and only afew words at a time. The doctor issued peremptory orders to keep himquiet and to let him have as much sleep as he could get.

  The recovery was slow and for several days yet not certain. The Winterwas well nigh spent before Oleah was sufficiently recovered to beconveyed to the Junction. His young wife accompanied him.

  Oleah was detained a few days before his parole could be signed and thenhe was allowed to return. During the time he was in the Union camp, thebrothers were frequently thrown together, but not a word escaped theirlips of welcome or recognition. Abner passed silently and coldly by andOleah maintained the indifferent bearing of a stranger. Irene saw thiscomplete estrangement and it embittered all her joy.

  On the day Oleah was paroled and was about to return home, Abner'scompany was on drill. The sleigh passed the drill-ground and so near thecaptain that his brother might have touched him with his hand. Abner,seeing who was passing, drew his cloak about his shoulders and turnedcoldly away. Winter passed and Spring came with its blooming flowers andsinging birds. And not only the flowers awoke, and bird songs thrilledthe air, armies, that had lain dormant all Winter, were in motion andthe noise of battle was renewed.

  The farmers tilled the soil. Negroes, boys, and old men, and even womentoiled at the plows, while fathers and brothers, and husbands and sonswere engaged in grimmer work.

  Oleah had been exchanged at last and had joined his company, leaving hisyoung wife to use all gentle endeavor to comfort and cheer the fatherand mother, who watched with sorrowful anxiety the movements of botharmies.