The Old Florida Series

No.”
But her cousin wrenched her covers away, caught her arm, and dragged her to her feet. “Tia, there’s a major battle going on. Injured men all over. I’m being sent out to a field hospital. You’re coming with me.”
“No ... no. You’ve got Mary. Nurses, orderlies—”
“Mary is coming. And you’re coming with me, too. You’re experienced. You’ve worked with Julian. You know me, and you’ll be good with me.”
“No, Brent, I don’t care anymore. I’m sick of injured soldiers and chopped-up men.”
“Oh! You’re suddenly sick of them? Well, believe me, Tia, they’re sick of being chopped up!”
“I don’t care.” She closed her eyes.
She was startled when her cousin suddenly seized hold of her, shaking her. “Damn you, Tia, now! I need your help—they need help. They’re suffering. Not crying over what they can’t change!”
“Brent!” She pulled free from him, taking a deep breath, meeting his eyes. What was the matter with her? “Brent, I’m sorry ... I’ll get dressed. Quickly,” she told him.
“Good! I really need you, Tia.”
Within a few minutes, she was ready.
With Brent and Mary, she rode down the street to the hospital, where dozens of wagons were being prepared with canvas tents and medical supplies. Men were shouting orders, horses were neighing, bugles were blowing, drums were pounding.
“The engagement has begun!”
“The bloody Yanks are everywhere.”
“They say there will be thousands fallen.”