Chapter Twenty-one

Philadelphia
September 1863

Julia stared out of the window as the train slowed. The familiar sights of Philadelphia were all sliding past, but she felt no joy in returning home. With her work in Gettysburg finished, the heavy sadness that had weighed on her when she first came home from Washington settled over her once again. Her growing relationship with Nathaniel had helped lift the shadow for a while, but now she was quite certain that she had lost him.

Nathaniel hadn’t answered any of the letters she’d sent from Gettysburg. She knew he’d been angry with her for going there in the first place and angry with her all over again for staying behind. He had surely changed his mind about marrying her after learning how outspoken and strong-willed she was. And he obviously hadn’t believed her when she’d promised to be a submissive wife. Convinced she had lost him, Julia had spent the long journey wondering what she would do with herself once she was home.

But when her train finally pulled into the station late that afternoon, Julia saw Nathaniel standing on the platform. Her heart squeezed at the sight of him. The gloomy train station was filled with people, but he stood out in the noisy, jostling mob as if lit by a beam of sunlight. She quickly looked around for her parents, thinking Nathaniel must be meeting someone else, but her parents weren’t there. As the conductor helped Julia off the train, Nathaniel spotted her and a broad smile lit up his handsome face. He pushed his way toward her and lightly kissed her cheek in greeting. She was afraid she might cry.

“Do you have any baggage?” he shouted above the clamor of hissing steam and excited voices.

“No, I came with only these two.” She showed him the two satchels she carried, one in each hand. He took the bags from her.

“Take my arm so we won’t get separated,” he said. She linked her arm through his as they plowed through the crowd to the street outside. She was surprised to see her family’s coachman waiting at the curb. Nathaniel had come in her father’s carriage.

“There is so much to tell you,” Nathaniel said after they’d settled inside. “I hardly know where to begin.”

“I’ve missed you,” she said. “Did you get my letters?”

“Yes, I got them.” But he offered no explanation for not answering them as his words poured out in a rush of excitement. “Julia, I’ve spoken to your father. He has given me his permission to marry you. We have his blessing.” He seemed nervous suddenly, the first time she’d ever seen him that way. He dug in one pocket, then the next, then finally looked relieved when he found what he was searching for in the inside pocket of his jacket. His fingers shook slightly as he opened the small box and removed a ring. He took her hand. “Will you marry me, Julia?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

She could scarcely contain her joy. She watched his face as he looked down to slide the ring onto her finger and saw that he was blushing. She wanted so badly to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him, but she waited. He finally looked up at her again. They were alone in the enclosed carriage. They were going to be man and wife. Nathaniel leaned toward Julia and briefly pressed his lips to hers. Then he settled back in his seat once more.

Was that all? Julia struggled to hide her disappointment. They had been apart for two months, he had just asked her to marry him, and all Nathaniel had to offer her was a quick, chaste kiss? She didn’t want to remember the passion of James’ kiss, didn’t want to think about him ever again, but Nathaniel was making it very difficult to forget.

“Your parents would like to announce our engagement at a formal party that will be held in your home,” he said. “I believe your mother has already begun making the arrangements. I’ve asked my father and mother to come from New York for the event so that everyone can get acquainted. We will also be announcing our engagement to my congregation with a small reception.” Nathaniel recited these plans as if organizing some mundane event, not their engagement. Julia could barely restrain her excitement.

“How soon will we be married?” she asked.

He frowned slightly. “Well, that’s something we need to discuss. I suppose you’ve heard about the Federal draft call that was issued this summer?”

“Yes, of course. When I was in Gettysburg, I read in the newspaper about the awful riots in New York.” All men between the ages of twenty and forty-five had been enrolled in the military draft, and when the first names had been selected in New York City, bloody rioting had broken out. Rosalie’s husband had paid a three hundred dollar commutation fee to be excused from military service, but the average man couldn’t afford such a high price. Julia felt a tremor of fear. “What does the draft have to do with us?”

“I’ve decided not to wait to be drafted. I’m going to enlist.”

“No!” she cried. “Nathaniel, you can’t!” All of the horrors that Julia had witnessed on the battlefield, all of the bloodied, suffering, dying men, came back to her in an instant. The mutilated bodies all had Nathaniel’s face. She couldn’t breathe. The carriage seemed to spin in circles until she was certain she was going to be sick.

“Wait, Julia …listen. I’m sorry; I should have explained it better. I’ll be an army chaplain, not a soldier. Listen…” He gripped her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Don’t faint on me. You’re quite pale. Are you all right?”

“You won’t be fighting?”

“I’ll be assigned to a regiment, and I’ll be marching and camping in the field with the men but not as a combatant.”

Julia had been to enough battlefields to know that enemy artillery shells could strike the men in the rear as easily as those on the front lines. “Please don’t do this,” she begged. “My father will pay for your substitute if you’re drafted. Please…”

“It’s too late. I’ve already arranged to enlist. I want to go, Julia.”

She closed her eyes, struggling for control. “How soon are you leaving?”

“Not for a few months. Are you all right?”

She nodded weakly. “We’ll be married before you go, won’t we?”

He hesitated for a long moment. “No. That wouldn’t be fair to you. How can I be a proper husband to you when I’m hundreds of miles away? And my army pay will be even worse than my minister’s salary.”

“I don’t care. Other married men have left their wives to go to war. Besides, I’m sure my father will provide for me—”

“No. I won’t marry you until I can provide for you myself.” The sharpness in his voice silenced her. She longed to plead with him not to make her wait. She didn’t care about money. She wanted their new life to begin now. But Nathaniel had already made it clear that he would make all their decisions. Arguing with him would only make him angry.

“So we’ll have to wait until your enlistment is up?” she asked.

“Yes, three years from now. Unless the war ends sooner.”

She drew a deep breath. “I’ll feel so useless waiting here all alone while you’re away. Would it be all right with you if I went back to Washington and worked in the hospital in the meantime?”

He shook his head. “I talked with your father about that when I asked for your hand. He and I agreed that you’ve done more than your share of work for the war effort. Neither of us wants you to return to nursing.”

A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. “I wouldn’t be nursing for ‘the war effort.’ On the night that my first patient died, I felt God’s blessing on my work. I felt Him say that what I did ‘for the least of these’ I was doing for Him.”

“And Jesus also said that even a cup of cold water given in His name is enough. He is just as pleased with the charity work you do here.”

“There’s an army hospital here in Philadelphia,” she said hopefully. “I could volunteer—”

“No. Our engagement will be announced soon. It’s out of the question for you to spend so much time in the company of so many men. Especially here in Philadelphia, where you would be seen by people we know.”

“But you said you admired me for being a nurse, for being caring and compassionate. If that’s what you loved about me, why are you forbidding me to be those very things?”

“Because my parishioners have clear expectations about their minister’s wife. You’ve attended this church your entire life, Julia. You move in the same social circles as these men and women. And you know very well that they don’t approve of your work as a nurse. I want to return here after the war, to this church, and it’s very important that my congregation accepts you. Besides, there are ways for you to be the compassionate, caring woman I admire and still remain within the boundaries of your role as my wife.”

“The people at church don’t understand what nurses do—”

“I know, and we’re not going to change their minds. There are other duties for women that have long been accepted by our society. They involve the home and the family, respectable charities, helping the poor, the work you’ve done for the Commission. You can serve God by doing those things.”

She gazed down at her hand, still in his, and at the new ring he’d just placed on her finger. When she didn’t reply, he lifted her chin to make her look at him.

“I’m sorry there are so many restrictions. A minister’s life is lived under constant scrutiny. I must be above reproach, without even a glimmer of impropriety in anything I do or say. You’re not only giving up a large measure of your wealth but also a large measure of your privacy if you marry me. And I’m asking you to wait three more years, besides. I won’t blame you if you change your mind about marrying me, Julia. I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll understand. Do you still want to accept my proposal?”

“I haven’t changed my mind. I still want to marry you.” But she also knew from what he’d just said about living under scrutiny and being above reproach that she would have to wait three more years before he held her or kissed her the way she longed for him to do. He was more virtuous and self-disciplined than she was, willing to “separate the sparks from the gunpowder.” That knowledge only made her feel guiltier for what she still felt for James.

Nathaniel smiled. She saw relief and love in his eyes. “I’m so blessed to have a wife who wants to serve God,” he said. “We’ll have the rest of our lives to minister together once this war is over. I promise.”

Philadelphia
January 1864

It was cold inside the church, colder still outside in the snowcovered city. The gray, drab day matched the raw, desolate feeling in Julia’s heart as she sat in the Hoffman family pew between her parents. The organ droned the processional, and the senior pastor entered with Nathaniel and the young ministerial candidate who would replace him. Nathaniel wore his new army uniform, decorated with the chaplain’s insignia, instead of his clerical robes. This morning he would preach his last sermon before entering the military. He was leaving early tomorrow morning.

Throughout the first part of the service, Julia’s mind felt as numb as her cold hands and feet. If she prayed night and day for the next three years, would it be enough to protect Nathaniel from the danger he was about to face? She thought of the thousands of soldiers she had tended, of the thousands of loved ones they’d left behind, and for the first time she understood the anxiety those families felt. She fingered her wadded handkerchief and tried to remember all the assurances Nathaniel had given her over the past few weeks. “The safest place to be,” he’d told her, “is in the will of God.”

When the time came for Nathaniel to step up to the pulpit she felt a thrill of excitement—the pride of ownership. She’d been drawn to this dynamic man ever since she’d first heard him preach more than five years ago. Now he was going to be her husband. Her parents had hosted an official engagement party with more than one hundred guests. Julia had met Nathaniel’s mother and his father, who was also a preacher. They’d seemed dour, humorless, and plain—and Julia wondered if it was the result of living their lives in the ministry under constant observation.

Nathaniel’s announcement to the church congregation of their marriage had also been well received. Julia’s mother had been all aflutter ever since, eager to begin planning the wedding, Julia’s trousseau, her bridal reception. Julia had little enthusiasm for an event three long years in the future. The past few months since she’d returned from Gettysburg had flown by too swiftly. Between Nathaniel’s church duties and his Commission work, he had barely had time to see Julia.

Now the congregation fell silent as he climbed into the pulpit for the last time. He was well-known for his blunt, impassioned preaching, and they expected nothing less on this final morning.

“For nearly three years now,” he began, “our nation has been embroiled in a savage war that seems unending. It’s hard for us to comprehend the vast destruction that has left cities and communities in flaming ruins, or the horror of so many thousands of young lives lost. The architect of all this hatred and devastation has left his unmistakable signature on his work. It has been Satan’s goal since the beginning of time to destroy God’s world, to bring about the death of His crowning creation, mankind—which was made in His image, instilled with the breath of His life. We see evil in our world and we ask, ‘Why doesn’t God do something? Where is the kingdom Christ promised?’

“This past summer the war was brought to our own soil. Young men from this congregation have been wounded, others have been imprisoned, still others have perished. It’s easy to have faith when the battles are fought far away, easy to go about our daily lives when the people we love are safe. But when the war affects us, when it hits home, it shows us what we are made of and reveals the truth about our faith. We can retreat to a place of fear and isolation, justifying our hatred toward our enemies. Or we can pray Christ’s great prayer, ‘Thy kingdom come,’ and then answer His call, knowing that the kingdom of God is within you.

“The believer should not despair in times of war, when hatred and death and destruction are unleashed. Nor should we ask, ‘Where is God in all of this?’ God is in us, His body. Satan is hard at work, and it’s time for Christ’s body to get to work, as well. Jesus asks us to take up our cross and follow Him, to display His kingdom to the world through individual acts of sacrifice and love. Ours is a God of history. He has placed us in this time and place for a reason. We should ask, ‘What would He have me do for Him now, in this hour?’ Then go forward in His strength and do it.

“This is not a war between two differing peoples but a war against evil and injustice. God desires to fight against those forces through us, through our daily acts of love and sacrifice. The sorrow and suffering we face is meant to change us so that our lives reflect His love. That’s how we tell the Gospel story over and over again. We show it afresh through the way we live and love. And it’s in these daily sacrifices, as we overcome hatred and injustice, that our lives will find meaning and purpose. We live or die not for ourselves but for His kingdom.

“How would God have us live in the times He has appointed for us? The Israelites followed the pillar of fire by night, when it was so dark they couldn’t see. Jesus said, ‘I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.’ Our nation has been plunged into the darkness of war and hatred. But if we follow Christ’s example of love and sacrifice, we’ll know we are walking in His light. And God’s kingdom will triumph— not Satan’s—if we, His body, follow where Christ leads.

“I leave you with these words from the book of Romans: ‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.’ Amen.”

A long moment of silence echoed through the church when Nathaniel finished. Julia sat in her pew in stunned silence, as well. She had all but forgotten that it was Nathaniel speaking. It seemed that God himself had spoken to her heart, calling her to serve in His name. It was true that she had become a nurse for selfish reasons, but God had transformed her through all that she’d experienced into an instrument He could use. Now her heart longed to answer His call.

As Nathaniel took his seat and the worship service continued, Julia became aware of him once again. And she wondered how he could preach those words with such passion and conviction, how he could call his congregation to sacrifice in Christ’s name, and then tell her to stay home where it was safe. Was this congregation’s opinion of her really more important than what God was calling her to do?

She stood for the closing hymn, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” feeling confused and disillusioned. The words she sang seemed to confirm what Nathaniel had preached from the pulpit, not what he said to her in private: “…For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe; his craft and power are great, and armed with cruel hate, on earth is not his equal.” Satan was the enemy, not her fellow countrymen. This war wasn’t against the Southern states but against the hatred and lies that had turned brother against brother.

“…Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing. … ” Julia thought of how Sister Irene had urged her to pray for strength to work in His name. And God had answered her prayer, enabling her to do what would have been impossible on her own. “…Let goods and kindred go …His kingdom is forever.” How could she refuse to answer God’s call?

When the service ended, Julia couldn’t even approach Nathaniel through the throng of well-wishers. But he came to her house later that afternoon to say good-bye.

“I don’t want to prolong this,” he said when they were finally alone in the parlor. “It’s too hard on both of us. I’ll write to you as soon as I know my address, and we can speak our hearts in our letters.”

“Wait …Before you go, Nathaniel, there’s something I must ask you.” She chose her words carefully, unwilling to make him angry or spoil their parting. “In your sermon this morning, I felt as if every word was meant for me. I want to answer God’s call. I want to work for His kingdom.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said, smiling.

“But I feel that my calling is to be a nurse.”

His smile faded. “We’ve discussed this before. I thought the matter was settled.”

“Listen, you know the truth about the work I do as a nurse. You know the enormous need. And you know my motives are pure. Yet you seem to care more about what your congregation thinks than what God is calling me to do. It’s all about appearances. God enabled me to become a nurse in spite of huge obstacles. He’s calling me to do that work now, using your own voice, your own sermon. And I’m willing to go. Why are you standing in my way?”

He looked at her for a long time without answering. Julia could scarcely breathe. “I’m not standing in your way,” he finally said. “The choice is yours, Julia. It always has been. If you choose to marry me, then you must accept your role as my helpmate. The work you are called to do in our marriage will be to help me with my ministry. And that means earning my congregation’s acceptance. But if you feel that God is calling you to be something else—to be a nurse—then perhaps He’s asking you to remain single, like Miss Dix.”

“I wouldn’t have to choose between the two if we were married. It’s perfectly acceptable for married women to work in hospitals. And I could afford to support myself on my army pay.”

“It is not acceptable to me. How can I vow before God to protect and support you one day, then walk away from you and leave you alone in a strange city with no support the next? I take my vows as a husband very seriously.” His eyes searched hers, and she saw the deep sorrow she was causing him. “Do you want to call it off, Julia?” he asked.

“No. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said for the first time. “I pray that you’ll have peace in your heart concerning what your role will be.” In the silence that fell between them, the clock in the front hallway suddenly struck the hour. It seemed prophetic to Julia, but she didn’t know how or why.

“I’m sorry to leave you this way,” Nathaniel said, “but it’s late. I need to go. I promise I’ll write.”

The tears she’d been holding back began to fall at his words.

“Please don’t cry,” he said. “It only makes it harder to say goodbye. I’ll be safe in God’s hands.”

Without thinking, Julia threw her arms around him, clinging tightly to him. He seemed startled at first and hesitated for a moment, then his arms encircled her and held her in return.

“Julia …Julia…” he whispered. She heard the emotion in his breaking voice. “As soon as I come home, we’ll be married. I promise.” Then he pulled back and lifted her chin to look into her eyes.

His were moist. He kissed her gently, tenderly, but it was over much too quickly. He wiped her tears. “God speed the day when we’re together again.”

Brandy Station, Virginia
May 1864

Phoebe scanned all the faces of the men who had gathered at the outdoor worship service, searching for Ted’s. More than a year and a half had passed since she’d last seen him. She’d learned that her old regiment had spent the winter down here, but thousands of tents and the ramshackle huts the troops had built were spread out over a wide area, and the odds of finding Ted seemed pretty slim. It was hard to believe that Ted’s three-year enlistment would be up this fall—if he made it through alive and uninjured, that is.

Phoebe had spent the winter working at the hospital in Washington City with Dr. McGrath, going with him sometimes to the shantytown to take care of the former slaves. Now the army had a new commander, General Ulysses S. Grant, and it was clear that he was preparing for battle as soon as the spring weather arrived. The train that had carried Phoebe and the other medical staff south from Washington to Brandy Station had also carried mountains of equipment and supplies for waging war. Thousands of troops and cannons and canvas-topped supply wagons were massing here, waiting to cross the Rapidan River and engage the Confederates who were camped on the other side. Finding Ted wouldn’t be easy, but this Sunday church service seemed like a good place to start.

As the chaplain stood to begin his sermon, Phoebe recognized the handsome preacher immediately. He was the same man who had given her the Bible in Washington City more than two years ago. Ted had coaxed her to go to church with him on that long-ago morning, but she hadn’t heard a word of the sermon. She was only half-listening now as she continued to search the crowd for him.

“As you go forward into battle,” the minister was saying, “you’ve been trained to listen for the sound of the trumpet. You respond to that call, obeying your officers’ commands. But the Bible says that one day the last trumpet will sound and Christ will return for His people. Will you recognize His call? Will you hear it and respond to our Lord’s command? He will return in judgment and with fire, and the apostle Paul writes in Corinthians that ‘the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is.”’

It was a stirring sermon, and the men seemed to receive it with enthusiasm. But when it ended and the crowd melted away again to return to their camps, Phoebe was keenly disappointed that she’d seen no sign of Ted. She was about to leave when the young preacher strode right up to her and tipped his hat.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Reverend Nathaniel Greene. Can I help you with something? You look a bit lost.”

“Phoebe Bigelow,” she said. “I’m a nurse over at the field hospital.” She remembered how kind this minister had seemed the last time that they’d met, how he’d given her the Bible and had shown her the story of the little man who’d wanted to see Jesus. She summoned her courage.

“There’s some places I’ve underlined in my Bible,” she said. “Do you think maybe you could explain them to me sometime when you get a—?”

Before she could finish, a soldier pushed his way between them, interrupting. “I need to speak to you, Reverend. It’s important.” He seemed very agitated.

“Can it wait a moment?” the minister asked. “Miss Bigelow was just—”

“Never mind,” Phoebe said quickly. “We can talk another time. I need to get on back to the hospital.”

“Are you a nurse?” the soldier asked, stopping her. “Then you’d better hear this, too.”

“What is this about?” Nathaniel asked. “Tell me your name.”

“It’s Noah Murdock. Make the lady stay, Reverend. She needs to hear this, too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to speak to me in private?” he asked.

“No, I want everyone to know. The man should be hanged!”

“All right, Murdock. Take a minute to calm down, and then you can tell me what’s troubling you. Would you mind staying, Miss Bigelow?”

“I guess not,” she said, shrugging. But she felt very uncomfortable, unable to imagine what Murdock was babbling about. What did her being a nurse have to do with hanging a man?

“I’ve been feeling poorly lately,” the soldier began, “so I went to see a doctor this morning. Turns out I know the man. His name is McGrath. And he’s a cold-blooded murderer.”

A chill went through Phoebe at his words.

“Hold on,” the minister said. “That’s a very serious accusation. You’d better explain yourself.”

The man exhaled angrily. “Before the war, I worked up in Connecticut as a coachman for a rich banker named Tyler. McGrath was Mr. Tyler’s doctor and long-time friend. He used to come to the house every week and sometimes I drove them places, so I know it’s him. It’s the same man!”

“All right, I believe you,” Nathaniel said calmly. “Go on.”

“One night when I was having dinner with the other servants in the kitchen, Mr. Tyler’s butler came running out saying there was a loud argument going on between the two men in the study. They’d been drinking heavily, and the butler wanted me to help throw the doctor out of the house since he was a good-sized man and poor Mr. Tyler was old and ill. I followed the butler into the main part of the house, and I could hear Mr. Tyler shouting as soon as we entered the hallway. He was saying, ‘Help me! Help me!’ But we were too late. All of a sudden we heard a gunshot. When we burst into the room, Mr. Tyler was dead, shot in the head, pointblank. The doctor still held the pistol in his hand, and he was covered all over in Mr. Tyler’s blood. He was saying, ‘I’m sorry, Eldon. I’m sorry,’ over and over.

“We wrestled the gun out of his hand and held him down until the police arrived. It’s the same man, Reverend. He’s a murderer, and I don’t want him taking care of my friends and me. He should hang for his crime!”

“Why didn’t he?” Reverend Greene asked. “Wasn’t there a trial? If there were witnesses and the man confessed…”

“I don’t know why he didn’t. He was in prison the last I knew. But I had to find another job after Mr. Tyler was murdered. A friend got me work in Pennsylvania.”

“How long ago was this? Is it possible the doctor already served his prison sentence?”

“No, sir. He murdered Mr. Tyler in the spring of 1860—barely four years ago. That’s not enough time for a murderer to stay behind bars.”

“Do you think he might be a fugitive?”

“I don’t know,” Murdock replied. “He’s using his own name— that’s how brazen the man is. If he got away with murder once, don’t you think he’ll do it again?”

“All right. I’ll look into the affair,” Nathaniel said. “If the doctor is wanted for murder in Connecticut, then he should be relieved of duty immediately.”

“I’ll take you to him,” Murdock said. “Between the two of us, we can grab him, Reverend.”

“Hold on. I think you’d better stay here and let me talk to him alone first.”

“What good will talking do? I should have gone to the provost marshal, not you.” Murdock turned away in disgust.

The minister planted a hand on Murdock’s shoulder and swung him around to stop him. “Listen, Dr. McGrath can’t go anywhere. There are one hundred thousand troops here in Brandy Station. I understand why you’re upset, but let’s not get carried away and turn this into a lynching.”

The thought of her friend being strung up by an angry mob sent another shiver of fear through Phoebe. She had an overwhelming urge to run ahead and warn Dr. McGrath to flee, but the minister was right—there was no place for him to go.

“The doctor deserves to have his say,” Nathaniel said. “Let me talk to him, and then we can decide what to do next. Do you know this doctor, Miss Bigelow?” he asked, turning to Phoebe. Her heart sped up.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“Do you know if he ever lived in Connecticut?”

She shrugged. Phoebe didn’t know for certain. But she had seen some of the letters that arrived from the doctor’s wife every week. The return address was a city in Connecticut.

“I think you’d better wait here,” Nathaniel told the soldier. “Miss Bigelow will take me to him. I’ll let you know what he has to say.”

Phoebe felt like a traitor as she walked across the campground to the field hospital with the minister. She didn’t want to believe that Dr. McGrath had murdered somebody. But she remembered the first night she’d ever worked with him and how he’d told her he had come to Washington to escape, just as she’d run away from home. “I should warn you,” he’d said that night, “it has been my experience that you can never escape your past.”

“I assume that you knew nothing of this man’s past when you began working with him?” the minister asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“No, sir. I didn’t think it mattered when there were wounded soldiers to take care of.” Phoebe knew that the other nurses at Fairfield Hospital didn’t get along too well with Dr. McGrath, but she liked him in spite of his gruffness. “He doesn’t kill people,” she added. “He would never harm the soldiers under his care. He saved my life.”

“Your life? How so?”

Now she would have to explain about all her lies, and Phoebe didn’t want to do that. “I was sick and nearly died,” she said instead. “He was my doctor. I’m alive because of him. Listen, I’ll show you where his tent is, but I don’t want any part of this.”

“No, wait. You just heard a very serious accusation being leveled against the doctor. It’s only fair that you stay and hear his side of it. Especially since you have to work with him every day. You shouldn’t be left with doubt and suspicion.”

It was true. Phoebe would always wonder if Dr. McGrath was truly capable of killing someone in cold blood. “That’s him over there,” she finally said, nodding her head. The doctor stood behind the cluster of hospital tents, sipping from his silver pocket flask and gazing into the distant woods. “He’s the fellow with the reddish beard.”

The minister’s brows raised in surprise. “Really? I’ve met that man before, in Washington. Come with me, Miss Bigelow. Please.”

She followed reluctantly as the minister strode over to Dr. McGrath and extended his hand. “Good morning. I’m Nathaniel Greene, the regimental chaplain. This is an amazing coincidence, but we’ve met once before, in Washington. You were at a hospital there, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” Dr. McGrath seemed wary and not at all friendly. But Phoebe knew it was his usual manner.

“You probably don’t remember me. It was more than a year and a half ago. I came to the hospital to visit one of your nurses, Julia Hoffman.”

His words startled Phoebe. “You know Julia?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she looked from the minister to the doctor and thought she saw a flicker of fear cross Dr. McGrath’s face.

“What about her?” he asked.

“This has nothing to do with Julia. It’s somewhat of a private matter,” he said, glancing around the noisy camp. “Perhaps you’d like to go somewhere—”

“Just get to the point.”

“All right.” Nathaniel drew a quick breath. “A man named Noah Murdock came to see me. He says he once knew you in Connecticut. He told a rather gruesome story about a murder in which he claims you killed a man. Since your nurse, Miss Bigelow, happened to hear his accusation, I thought she should stay and hear your side of it, as well. Murdock claims you shot his employer, Mr. Tyler, in cold blood.”

Dr. McGrath crossed his arms. He remained silent, his face as hard as stone.

Phoebe felt embarrassed for the doctor. She wished she hadn’t come.

The minister cleared his throat. “I told Murdock I would try to clear things up with you. He’s concerned because you’re responsible for the welfare of his regiment. He also seems to think you might be a fugitive.” He paused, and Phoebe could tell that he was trying to be cautious in what he said. “I’m not accusing you, Doctor. If you have an explanation in your defense this would be a good time to give it. If Murdock is mistaken, I wish you’d tell me and I’ll gladly apologize for bothering you.”

“Are you through?” the doctor asked coldly.

“I’m simply trying to be fair and hear both sides of this story.”

“I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation,” Dr. McGrath said. He turned and walked away, ducking into his tent at the end of the row.

The minister seemed bewildered. He stared at the row of tents for a long moment as if unsure what to do next. “Well,” he finally said, “Julia warned me that he was a difficult man to converse with.”

Phoebe’s mind stirred from its state of numbed shock when he mentioned her friend a second time. She wanted desperately to ease the tension, to replace the suspicion and ugliness with something pleasant. “I know Julia Hoffman, too,” she said. “We worked at the same hospital.”

“She’s my fiance e,” the minister said offhandedly, his mind obviously still on the doctor. “We were engaged to be married this past fall.”

Phoebe remembered how Julia had longed to find a man who loved her for herself, not for her beauty. Reverend Greene was very handsome. They would make quite a couple. And surely a minister would look at the good in a person and love Julia for all the right reasons, wouldn’t he?

“When you write to her,” Phoebe said, “tell her I’m real happy for her. She’s an awful good nurse, you know. She did a lot of good and saved a lot of lives.”

He frowned. “Yes, I know.” Something Phoebe had said made him uncomfortable, but she didn’t know what. “I had no idea Julia was working with a doctor with such an unsavory past,” the minister said. “Thank God she’s no longer with him.”

“You believe that soldier’s story?” Phoebe said in surprise. “You think the doctor really murdered somebody?”

“Well, if there was any other explanation, I see no reason why Dr. McGrath wasn’t willing to tell us and clear his name.”

A sick feeling of dread for the doctor slowly crawled through her. Surely the minister wouldn’t allow a lynching. “What are you going to do about all of this?” she asked.

“Well, I’ll have to contact the authorities in Connecticut and see if he’s a fugitive. If so, it will be up to the provost marshal to take care of it, not me.”

“I don’t believe it,” Phoebe said. “I don’t believe he would shoot someone like that. Or if he did do it, he’s changed an awful lot since then. I ain’t afraid of him, and the men don’t need to be afraid, either. God can change people, Reverend. I read where Peter was running scared and saying he didn’t even know Jesus, but afterwards Jesus forgave him and gave him another chance. Can’t people give Dr. McGrath another chance, too? He’s already saved thousands of lives, and he’ll save a lot more if you don’t lock him up in prison. Ain’t we supposed to forgive people?”

“Are you preaching to me, Miss Bigelow?” He smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “At any rate, it isn’t up to me. It’s up to a judge and jury to decide.”

Dr. McGrath had said the same thing to Phoebe when she’d asked why he’d saved her life. He hadn’t believed that she was a coward. He hadn’t judged her, and she didn’t want to judge him, either. After the minister left, she slowly walked down the long row to the doctor’s tent.

“Dr. McGrath?” she called. “It’s me, Phoebe Bigelow. Can I talk to you?”

“Come in.” He sat alone inside the tent on a campstool, rubbing his eyes. “If you have any doubts about me, Phoebe,” he said quietly, “if you’re afraid to work with me now, I’ll understand.”

“No, sir. I ain’t afraid. I just come to say I don’t believe it. I don’t believe you’d ever kill anybody.” He nodded slightly and closed his eyes. But not before Phoebe saw the look of pain in them. “That’s all. So I reckon I’ll just go check on our patients now.”

As she ducked through the door again, she thought she heard him say, “Thank you.”