In an America that might have been, two war orphans from a divided nation, one in the north and one in the south, meet across a vast battlefield, striking out to forge a future together in the west. It's 1892, the fourth and bloodiest year of the Ci...
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Grace woke up that afternoon in a strange bed, adrift in a sea of pain. She tried to move which hurt so bad she cried out, but that hurt too, just taking that breath. A dark--haired boy rushed into her room, cooing to her and asking her sit still.
"Sit still, sit still," he said. "Or you'll pull your stitches. You're safe. You're safe. Please sit still."
She tried, but the pain just kept bouncing all over her. She did her best, but it hurt so.
"Water will help." He picked up a cup with a metal straw, which he put to her mouth, but her lips felt thick and were stuck to her teeth. She couldn't get a grip on the straw, so the boy dribbled water in with a rag until she could get it all working. Once the muck was out of her mouth, the water tasted like ambrosia. She never knew water to be so good. He brought her another cup and then a cup of chicken broth that was just warm. It was wonderful.
"We fished you out of a field. You're at the doctor's house, but we're going to move you someplace safe tonight, late."
A field? Then it came back to her, and she started to panic.
"Stop, stop!" he held her down. "I'm the only one here. You'll make yourself bleed again." There was already blood on the sheet.
She saw he was panicking too, and that helped her to calm down, for his sake. "Please stay still. I've got to check what you did." He lifted the sheet and looked at her leg. "That's nothing. It will need washing again though. I'm sorry, but you're going to have a scar there." She could see that he was genuinely sorry, like he had let her down. "There are some things we can't help. Can you try to talk? It would help if we knew your name."
"greef." It came out all wrong. Her face wouldn't work right. "Grass. Gr-ace."
"Grace?" He smiled. "Don't worry. They hit you a lot. That bruising will go away. You're kind of swollen up a bit. Hey, and you still have your teeth. You have no idea how many people lose them in a fight. People wouldn't do it if they stopped to think about that."
Grace liked this kid. She wondered where they were going to take her.
He got up and came back with a basin, and some rags, and pulled back the sheet and started washing her. It hurt, it hurt, but not as much as before, and she stayed still. He rewrapped some bandages and then brought a new sheet that didn't have blood on it.
Where'd he learn to do all that? she thought. Doctor's son I guess.
She drifted off, and when she opened her eyes it was evening and she could hear voices in the next room. The kid walked by, glanced in and saw she was awake. He called in to the house, "She's awake!"
There was the thump thump of shoes walking, and then there was a man's face above. She started to cower away from him, but he just shushed her like he was talking to a skittish horse. "It's OK, it's OK. Just sit. You're safe, you're safe." He looked at her eyes and then started looking her over. "I'm Dr. Balderson. You are amazing," he said shaking his head. "They tried so hard to kill you, and you know what?" He looked at her eyebrows raised. "I think you're going to pull through fine. While you're awake, let's get more water and broth into you."
