“At times like this, the army doesn’t pay me enough.”
They sat together in silence for a few minutes more, then Joe pulled her to her feet. “We have to do this now, before word gets there before we do.”
“I’m afraid.”
“No, you’re not, just hesitant. You’ll know precisely what to do when Mrs. Hanrahan opens her door and sees me standing there, Major Grim Reaper. I’m counting on you to make me look good.” He gave her a slight smile. “Did you ever meet a more selfish man?”
“Actually, yes,” she told him, which made Joe give her a squeeze.
It was unnerving to walk with the post surgeon down Suds Row, and see women look out of windows and follow their progress with terrified eyes. Some crossed themselves, others turned away. Joe walked calmly, his face serious. She wondered how many times he had done this death walk.
When they turned in at Hanrahan’s quarters, Susanna heard a wail inside before Joe even raised his hand to knock.
Joe was right, she decided later as she still sat in the Hanrahans’ parlor, holding Eddie on her lap. When Mrs. Hanrahan collapsed, Susanna’s arms just naturally opened for Eddie, and there was room for his little brother and sister, too. She held the children on her lap and cried with them as Joe revived Mrs. Hanrahan, and gave her the additional bad news that there would be no body to bury. Soon the room was full of other army wives, many of them Irish, keening. In a few minutes they had shut the door on the post surgeon, death’s messenger unwanted.
Susanna stayed where she was, humming to the bereft children now, then talking to Eddie about books, and summer coming. She told him about her son, Tommy, and climbing trees, anything to distract him from the sorrow all around. She knew she was not successful, but she tried anyway.
The stars were out when she finally left the Hanrahans’ quarters. Her back ached and she crossed the footbridge slowly. The river was free of ice now, and she thought she heard small birds. It would be April soon.
Emily was waiting for her with warmed-up dinner. “Major Randolph told me you’d be late,” she said. Her face grew more solemn and there was suddenly nothing frivolous about Emily Reese. “Dearest, why do I feel guilty because my darling survived?”
“I don’t understand, either, Emily,” she replied. “Bless you, do you go through this every time he rides out of the fort?”
“Every time. No one talks about this before marriage. Then, it’s all gilt buttons and swords.”
Susanna gave her a brief smile. “Men are such deceivers.”
Emily looked shyly at her cousin. “Major Randolph said he hoped you’d stop by his quarters.” She blushed. “He told me thanks for the dried apricots.”
Susanna knocked on his door, then opened it when no one answered. Joe Randolph sat in his armchair, staring at nothing. His eyes flickered to hers. Without a word, he held out his arms and she sat on his lap with no hesitation. His heartbeat was regular and reassuring; she closed her eyes.
“You realize that when Louis Pasteur accepts you as an intern—I’m promoting you beyond mere student—you won’t have to make a death walk ever again. Emily told me the other deaths were single men, and the company commanders will write those family letters. No more death walk today.”
He was a long time speaking. “The death walk isn’t over, Suzie. Take a deep breath.”
She gasped and leaped off his lap, backing away and staring at him. “Please, no. Not Tommy!”
Joe hesitated, and she felt her legs suddenly give out as though some cosmic hand had swept away her knees. For the second time in her life, she fainted.
When she woke up, she was lying on the post surgeon’s bed, her shirtwaist unbuttoned and her corset stings loosened. Joe sat in a chair beside his bed, looking at her with an expression so tender she had to close her eyes.
“Please. You’re too far away.”
His shoes were already off. In another moment she was in his arms.
“Now you can tell me,” she whispered, her face turned into his chest.
“I’m not quite sure what to tell you, Suzie,” he began, “because there’s an unknown here. Take a deep breath. I mean it. Keep breathing regularly, because there is more here than I understand.”
The post surgeon took his own deep breath. “Along with the dispatch from Fort Fetterman, there were letters from Cheyenne. One came addressed