Page 63 of Under the Tulip Tree
“Two dozen in this room. Lots more in the hospital.” I knew he’d want to hear the whole story. “The Federals lost about four hundred men, but there’s nearly three thousand wounded. That don’t include enemy soldiers. They say the prison hospital over on Cherry Street is overflowing.”
He closed his eyes. A lone tear slipped from beneath his lashes. “Why do men do it, Frankie? Why are they so bent on killing each other just so’s they can claim to be the victor?”
“I don’t think even they know why they do it. Someonegets a hateful idea in their head; then they convince others on it. Like a disease spreading.”
We sat in the stillness of our thoughts for a long time before Sam said, “You need to go to them.”
I puzzled over what he meant. “Go to who?”
“The wounded over in the prison hospital.”
I nearly tumbled out of the chair, shocked at such a fool thing for him to say. “I ain’t going to help those men. What they ever done for me but keep me in slavery? I’m staying right here till you’re well. You ain’t getting rid of me that fast.”
I thought he’d laugh at my joke, but he didn’t. He didn’t even smile. “I mean it, Frankie. I don’t know why, but you gotta go to them. You gotta.” He tried to rise up, but his face contorted with pain.
“Sam, be still or you’ll open your wounds.” I gently pushed him down. Surely the pain must have him confused. I didn’t want to upset him further. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, you gotta get some rest.”
He settled back on the cot and closed his eyes, seemingly appeased by my words. I sat in the dark room, listening to his even breathing when he eventually drifted to sleep. While I was grateful he’d finally awakened, he had a long way to go to full recovery. Infection killed many and was still a real threat.
But along with worry over his well-being, I was baffled by his adamancy that I go to the prison hospital. Why would he insist I go there? I’d seen several hundred Confederateprisoners marched into Nashville, covered in mud, with their heads hung low. Some were transported in wagons, their uniforms bloody and their faces pale. No doubt the prison hospital was brimming with fallen Rebs, but I had no desire to attend those men. They deserved to die, and nothing Sam said would change my mind.
Illa arrived with the sun. Sam woke in time for her to feed him a breakfast of watery porridge while I fought to keep myself awake.
“Why doesn’t thee get some sleep, Frankie?” Her eyes held kindness as well as concern. “I’ll stay with Sam until the doctor sees him.”
I wanted to argue and declare myself fit to remain by his bedside, but I knew I wasn’t. I could barely keep myself upright. Finally I consented. “I’ll be back soon as I rest a bit.”
Sam’s weak smile assured me he understood.
I walked out of the hospital into a bitterly cold day. Puddles laced with a thin sheet of ice and frozen mud gave evidence of a heavy rain during the night, although I’d never heard it come or go. I pulled my coat tight, the threadbare garment inadequate against such frigid air, and trudged through the mess as fast as I could. I was numb by the time I reached my tent. There was no sign of Nell, and I hoped she’d taken over my duties as laundress for the officers like I’d asked. Even with most of the army marching south, there were still men in camp who needed clean clothes.
I crawled beneath the blanket and curled into a stiff ball. Although my tired muscles eventually relaxed in exhaustion,my mind wouldn’t settle. Sam’s words kept me awake longer than I liked, making me angry.
“I ain’t going to that prison hospital,” I hissed into the silent tent, the words puffs of white on the cold air. I flopped over and presented my back to the opening as though some unseen person stood outside, beckoning me to go tend wounded Confederates.
“Leave me be!” I shouted and squeezed my eyes closed. “Ain’t nothin’ you or Sam says is gonna change my mind.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Jael arrived home. She had news.
“There was an incident on the streetcar.” Her somber tone told us all was not well. “A gal got on at Cherry Street. The conductor wouldn’t take her ticket book. Said she had to pay the fare, but she didn’t have it. Her employer bought her the book so she could go home every Sunday to check on her girls and not worry about carrying fare.”
Alden shook his head, disgusted. “I’ve seen this happen before. That conductor should be fired.”
“Those of us on the streetcar got nervous when the gal and the conductor starting yelling at each other. Some of the white passengers got off.”
Frankie reached her hand out toward Jael, who came forward to take it. “I’m sorry you got caught in all that mess, baby girl.”
Jael sniffled, and I realized she was quite shaken by the confrontation.
“What happened to the woman?” Alden asked.
“A kindly old gentleman offered to pay her fare, but she refused. Said her book was good enough. When the conductor threatened to throw her off the car if she didn’t pay, she threatened to tell her employer about him.” Her eyes widened. “I thought that man was gonna hit her right there in front of us all. I guess some of the people who’d gotten off notified the police because an officer arrived about then. He dragged the woman off the car, kicking and screaming. The conductor laughed, then turned to those of us still seated and said he hoped we learned a lesson today.”
My blood boiled at the injustice, yet what could I say to Frankie and Jael? A white man had done this to a black woman, simply because he could.
I remembered the man who’d boarded the streetcar with me the day I learned about the job with the FWP. Laws forced him to sit in the back while I was free to sit wherever I pleased. I recognized now how unfair it was to treat people as though they were inferior simply based on the color of their skin, but it shamed me that it had taken so long.
