When Ruth had left the cot where Manuello died, she, first, found
Estrella and told her what had happened after she had gone, and, then,
as she had liberty to go where she desired, she started out, just as the
dusk was falling, to drive along an unknown road, which as she thought
must lead away from the battle-field; she felt secure for armed men of
her own race and nation were patrolling all the roads surrounding the
hospital; the freshness of the coming night appealed to her and, under
its enticing influence, she went much farther than she meant to do; her
horses often shied at little heaps that seemed to take on most fantastic
shapes with the increasing darkness.
She knew full well of what these little heaps had been made up, and,
yet, surrounded as she was by horror, she did not feel afraid, for she
was lifted up by patriotic fervor and a great desire to help where help
of her was needed as were so many of the Red Cross nurses whom she met;
splendid women volunteered their services as nurses during the progress
of the Spanish-American war, and wore, with pride and reverence, the
brilliant cross that indicated what the calling they had chosen was;
Ruth Wakefield served her country with her might and wore her uniform as
proudly and conscientiously as any General could; she drove along that
lonely, unknown road as quietly and fearlessly as if her horses trotted
over the finest boulevard in some populous city of her own United States
and firmly held within her strong and steady hands the lines that guided
the high-lifed team she had secured for her own use since coming to take
charge of the hospital which she had endowed with her own funds.
Suddenly and without warning, her team was startled by a man who rose to
his full height and stood erect and tall beside the road as if he'd
risen from the heaps of dead that lay beside the way; the horses soon
became unmanageable and overturned the vehicle, so that Ruth suddenly
found herself thrown against a slight embankment lining the road, while
her frightened team turned back toward the hospital; her first thought
was of them, but, remembering that, only a few miles back, she had
passed one of the patrols, she hoped the team would be secured and taken
into safety; then, shudderingly, she realized that she was all alone in
a strange and hostile neighborhood, and, acting on a sudden impulse, she
hastily climbed over the embankment as she thought she heard a noise
approaching on the road; she turned and started back but kept herself
concealed as much as possible behind the friendly embankment.
As she proceeded she began to feel a sort of faintness, almost amounting
to nausea, creeping over her and dreaded the long walk to the hospital,
but decided to go on until she saw an armed man dressed in the uniform
of the United States army; she wondered, at first, why she felt faint
and almost sick, and, then, she realized that the offensive odors that
assailed her sensitive olfactory nerves were those that rise when
material bodies have been deprived of the higher life that gave them
animation ... that the horrors of a bloody battle-field surrounded her,
and, as she advanced slowly and with dreadful anticipation ... as she
even stumbled over more than one unconscious form, that, only a few
short hours before, had been as full of bounding life as she was then,
she thought of what the suffering must be of those who lay among the
dead, perhaps for weary, pain-filled hours, alive yet helpless; the
thought was a terrific one for any tender-hearted woman to entertain,
and Ruth had always been particularly thoughtful of the comfort of
anyone who happened to be near to her, and, so, she soon became enthused
with the idea that she might search among the heaps of dead and find,
maybe, someone who lived and might, if he were rescued, yet be happy in
the world she lived in, and, so, she softly called to see if anyone
could hear her voice and guide her to the object of her search:
"Are any here who are in need of earthly help?" she asked. "If any here
can hear my voice, pray answer me and tell me where to come to find
you."
She waited for an answer but none came, at first; and then it seemed to
her as if she heard a far-off whisper far away ... she listened
breathlessly ... it came again and, then, she followed it until she
found the one from whom the whisper came.
He lay among a heap of bodies tossed about as if they had found death
together; one whose body lay across his own, Ruth lifted, though she
shuddered while she did it, for the stark, stiff form was that of one
who'd, only lately, been as full of life as she was then; she laid it
softly down and sought the one whose whisper she had heard; her hand
crept up, along a rough and blood-soaked uniform, until it found a face
and found it warm with sentient life; she was electrified by joy at
finding one who lived among the dead, and hastened, then, to separate
him from the other bodies lying all around him; it was as if they'd
followed after him ... as if he'd been a leader of the rest ... for he
was well in front of all of them and yet they were so near that, when
they fell, they fell together, all around the one whose life she sought
to save.
She was intent on saving life and did not shrink although her gentle
hand found many bloody wounds in searching for the one from which his
life-blood flowed full fast; she found the place, at last ... a deep
flesh-wound that touched an artery in his right arm ... she had a silken
scarf about her throat, and, wrapping this about the arm above the
wound, she made a tourniquet by using a small surgical instrument which
she always carried for that purpose in the pocket of her nurse's apron
which she still wore; this stopped the flow of blood at once, and, as
the brachial artery was untouched, the man gained strength enough to
whisper:
"Tender Heart ... I'm going to name you right away. Tender Heart, how
did you happen here ... at night ... alone?"
"I think I came to find you," answered Ruth. "I thought my horses ran
away and dumped me on the ground, but, now, I think I came here just to
find you and to bind that poor arm. Now I'll go to bring assistance to
you just as soon as I can do so."
"Tender Heart," he whispered, for his voice was growing fainter, "if I
should not be here when you come again, good-bye.... God bless and keep
you safe from harm."
She knew the meaning of the words and almost flew along, although she
often stumbled as she went among the bodies lying there upon the
blood-soaked ground; she reached the hospital at last ... the time
seemed long to her ... and, there, in front of it, stood her two
frightened horses, looking all around as if in search of her; she
soothed them with her reassuring voice, and then she found a vehicle
adapted to the use she wished to put it to, and two assistants from the
hospital staff; thus equipped, she took the lines again and drove along
the road again but with a different object than the one she'd had
before; turning off the road, she found the object of her search and the
assistants lifted him upon the stretcher they had brought and, very
soon, the man lay, white and spent with loss of blood, but conscious, in
a little cot, and Ruth, forgetting her own needs, stood there beside it.
"Tender Heart," said her new patient, after he had been refreshed and
bandaged thoroughly, "Tender Heart, I'm very grateful to you. Let me
introduce myself to you ... your name, you see, I know. I am one of the
five men who answered Roosevelt when he asked for volunteers to follow
him to gain the very top of all the ridges that cropped up about San
Juan hill." He smiled, "I think you know me, now, as I know you. We're
both Americans.... I know that, too ... we both love Teddy.... I could
see your eyes flash at the mention of his name. He is a man among men. I
wish you could have heard him when he said 'I did not think you would
refuse to follow where I would lead.' I stood beside his horse as he
said those sad words ... the others followed, then. They followed Teddy
up that hill ... they took it, too. We won the day. The Spaniards fled
before us. You know me, now," he ended, whimsically, "just as well as I
know you."
"Yes," said Ruth, "I know you, now, and you know me ... we're both
Americans and both of us love Teddy and are proud of him and what he did
this day. And, now, you'd better go to sleep and rest up for we still
have work to do ... the Spaniard is not conquered, yet. They'll need us
both and so we must do all we can to keep our strength. I'm going, now.
Good-bye until tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Tender Heart," he said. "Goodnight."
Ruth went, then, to the little cottage where she found old Mage and
Tid-i-wats awaiting her; Estrella stayed on duty in the hospital where
she had learned to do her work with neatness and dispatch.
Ruth always told old Mage the happenings of the day as they were seated
at their evening meal; her old nurse loved to listen to her animated
account of every little thing that she remembered that she'd seen or
heard about; she had an unusual memory of small details and a most
graphic power of description; these she employed to interest and amuse
her old nurse who had been alone with little Tid-i-wats, almost all day;
in recounting recent events she passed as lightly as possible over the
occurrences of the battle-field where she had found and rescued one who
had been left as dead among the lifeless bodies of the slain; she did
not wish to shock old Mage too much and, somehow, she did not wish to
speak of him she'd rescued ... somehow, she feared that her auditor, who
was always eager for romantic episodes would, maybe, choose to enter
into rhapsodies concerning the possibilities of her own future if she
talked too much about the handsome stranger, for remembering how he'd
looked resting, as she'd seen him last, upon the little cot, his
dark-blue eyes regarding her with whimsical tenacity, she freely
acknowledged to herself that he was handsome and distinguished in
appearance; so she changed the subject when old Mage began to question
her too closely about him, and, in the changing of the subject, the rosy
flush that was so much a part of her expression, crept over her fair
face and lighted up her deep gray eyes until her countenance was
glorified, as if her inner consciousness shone through her delicate and
expressive features; old Mage observed this blush and speculated on its
cause and wondered whether Ruth had found another man more worthy of
affection than the one she hoped she had almost forgotten.
When Ruth returned, the next day, to the hospital, she went among the
little cots until she came to that one where he lay ... the man she'd
helped to rescue from a slow and very painful death; she found him lying
wide awake and very thoughtful:
"Tender Heart," he said, "Tender Heart, you've come to me, again; I've
longed for you and now you're here beside me."
She rested one of her soft hands upon the cot and his hand searched for
hers and found it; then their fingers intertwined and clung together for
a moment only, but the memory of that hand-clasp lingered with them
forever after; it was as if their very souls had intermingled in that
clasping of their hands ... it was as if their spirits swung, together,
out ... far out ... beyond the things of earth ... and, then, still
farther out and on and up into eternal peace and lasting joy and
gladness ... it was as if they had been translated into disembodied
spirits while they still remained on earth ... as if a higher and a
holier love than any earthly love can ever be had sought them out and
found them there within that shadowy hospital ... it was as if they had
gone on into the astral world and left their human bodies where they
seemed to be themselves ... as if they had been separated from the
material surroundings that seemed to be about them.
Ruth blushed until the rosy flush crept up to her brown hair that seemed
to frame her face, and looked at the soft fingers that his hand had held
and then she smoothed his pillow with them as she said:
"I'm very glad to find that you are better than you were last night. I
surely hope that you'll recover very rapidly. I'm told that men like
you will soon again be needed. It is reported that another battle will
be fought not very far from here."
"I surely hope," he said and said it very earnestly, "I surely hope that
I'll be able to take my part in whatever engagement is entered into by
our troops, and if, perchance, I should be left again upon a
battle-field, I trust that you will come and find me, Tender Heart, I
trust that you will find me and, if it pleases you, I hope you'll keep
me, Tender Heart."
She blushed again at that and simply said:
"Now you must go to sleep and rest and gain what strength you can, for
men like you," she ended, archly, "for men like you are almost always
needed very badly."
Ruth Wakefield was no flirt and never had been one; she was quickwitted
and she had a wide command of language, and she smiled as she went on
upon her rounds among the little cots when she remembered that neither
of them really knew the other's name; she liked the name he'd given to
her ... she liked the way he said it ... she liked the fine expression
of his speaking countenance ... she liked his eyes ... she liked his
manly way of meeting whatever came to him with courage and with cheerful
readiness to serve the country they both loved ... her heart went out to
him in very many ways, and, then, she looked again at those soft fingers
that his hand had held ... she seemed to feel again the subtle,
unexplainable, electric thrill that crept through all her being at his
touch ... that seemed to answer to the look within his eyes ... the
accent on his tongue, and, then, she blushed again and went about her
work within that shadowy hospital where many strong men lay in bitter
pain with renewed courage and with a new and hither-to unknown
tenderness.
She stood, at length, beside a cot whereon lay one whose face was hidden
while surgeons dressed a gaping wound he had received upon his head;
Ruth stopped and gave her scissors that she always carried in the pocket
of her apron to the one who needed them for use in cutting away the dark
hair that grew along the edges of the wound; it clung in tiny ringlets
and was black as night and very soft and thick.... Ruth could not help
remembering, that her hands had often strayed among such soft and dark
and clinging ringlets, but she shuddered as she thought of them and of
Estrella who had deemed herself to be the only woman Victorio Colenzo
had ever loved, and, then, she wondered if all men were like to that one
she had married thinking him to be as he professed to be ... judging him
to be as truthful as she was ... she wondered if the man she had just
left would be like that under similar circumstances ... he was ready in
his hints at tenderness ... was he, too, perhaps, a gay deceiver?
While her thoughts were rambling on in this way, her eyes were idly
looking at the man who lay upon his face and writhed under the stitches
that the surgeons took to close the gaping wound upon his head; he
turned his face an instant toward her and she recognized him as a
Spanish officer she'd seen in San Domingo under most distressing
circumstances; she had gone, as she had often done before, to minister
to the needs of those who were among the poorer classes in the village,
one day, and found before a hovel a most richly caparisoned horse held
by an orderly; inside, there knelt upon the floor a young and pretty
peasant girl; she was imploring this same officer who lay upon that
little cot not to make her go with him to be his helpless slave; Ruth
rescued her and told the man to go his way in no uncertain language;
now, he lay there dressed as if he were an American soldier; she
recognized him perfectly for his face had often haunted her, it was so
sinister and devilish.
She sought out Father Felix, then, and told him what she had discovered,
and he took what steps were necessary in the matter, for he who'd named
Ruth Tender Heart had named her very well indeed; it seemed to her she
could not bear to turn this Spanish spy over to the proper authorities,
and, yet, she knew it was her duty to do that very thing, so the good
Priest helped her to do her duty as he'd promised her he would, and,
after that, there was a wall at sunrise and a platoon of armed men, and,
then, that Spanish spy soon disappeared.