Mankillers

She paused, stared out to sea. “That’s when he hit me. And kept hitting me.”

#

She glanced sideways and saw the expression on the physician’s face change from distaste to anger to outrage.

“Perhaps I could have escaped further humiliation if I’d accepted the first blows, run from his presence and remained silent. But I fought him—” she closed her eyes tight “—in my bitter anger I fought him and he raped me to prove he was a man.”

She couldn’t restrain the tears now any more than she’d been able to repulse her husband’s violent invasion of her body. The physical pain was gone, but not the humiliation of being battered and abused by a man she’d thought had loved her. The betrayal of that trust would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Next morning,” she resumed after brushing away the tears and regaining control of her voice, “he was obsequiously repentant. He groveled and begged for my forgiveness. He promised, swore it would never happen again, that he’d never touch another drop of liquor. In retrospect I think he was more afraid of what my father would do to him than he was concerned about my feelings.”

She fell silent for close to a minute. “I don’t know if you can understand this, Dr. Thomson, but I wanted desperately to believe him. I was three months along. I wanted us to be a happy family. I told myself what happened was my fault, that I’d been insensitive to his needs, to the enormous pressure he was under trying to support our family and the ever failing war effort, that he’d became enraged because I’d offended his honor. He couldn’t have betrayed our cause or compromised my family’s integrity.”

“But he had,” the doctor remarked, “hadn’t he?”

She ignored his question, steeled herself and, voicing a deep sigh, went on. “Two days later I miscarried. Momma saw the bruises on my body, brought me home and kept prodding me until suddenly the whole sordid story came tumbling out.”

Buck gazed at her sympathetically. “What did she do?”

“She told Poppa. He became so angry I was afraid he was about to have a stroke or a heart attack.” She glanced up. “The man you’ve met isn’t a shadow of the hero I’ve known. He sent a messenger to Randolph summoning him to the house that very afternoon. When Randolph arrived, Poppa confronted him with a loaded pistol and issued a series of ultimatums.”

The doctor cocked his head attentively, clearly hanging on to her every word.

“Poppa presented him with a blank piece of paper and dictated his letter of resignation as a partner in the firm without compensation. He told Randolph if he ever touched me again, he’d kill him. Next Randolph had to reimburse the firm for the funds he’d embezzled within thirty days or face criminal charges. The scandal alone would ruin his family socially. Finally and most importantly, Poppa demanded that Randolph go to our rabbi within twenty-four hours and start the process to obtain a get, a Jewish divorce.”

“Your father told you all this?”

Sarah smiled thinly. “I listened at the door. But I wasn’t alone. Momma was right there at my side listening too.”

The doctor nodded. “Go on.”

“A month later Colonel Steward ordered Randolph to join the regiment which was then bivouacked in Virginia. Randolph was captured on the second day of the battle of Darbytown Road and was taken to a Yankee prison camp not far from Baltimore. Shortly thereafter I received a letter from Randolph pleading with me to pay

his parole.”

“Surely you didn’t.”

“I debated hard with myself,” she replied uncomfortably. “He’d ruined my chances of ever having children. Our religious divorce had been granted, but as you probably know there’s no civil divorce in South Carolina. My parents were adamantly opposed to my rescuing him. I reminded them that honor doesn’t come from dishonor. He was legally still my husband. I owed him something.”

The doctor’s expression intimated he agreed with her parents.

“But they loved me and insisted on accompanying me to Maryland where the Yankees were holding him. Poppa carried the necessary funds, as well as a loaded Colt. I’ve often wondered if it was to protect us or to kill Randolph.”

“Would he have? Killed him, I mean?”

“At that time, yes. He was that angry. But he never got the chance. Upon our arrival at the prison camp, the commandant informed me that Randolph had died of wounds received a week previous. He was buried with the others in an unmarked grave. By chance I learned he’d been stabbed by one of his fellow prisoners for reasons the exact nature of which are unclear.”

“You did more than he deserved, more than I would have under those circumstances. You can rest with a clear conscience.”

“You must understand, Dr. Thomson, I never wished evil to befall my husband, but these past weeks and months have taught me very clearly that he wasn’t the man I thought he was, nor was he a man of honor. Nevertheless, our southern customs and my faith dictate that I show respect for the dead, and I shall fulfill that obligation, but allow me to add that it’s a formality rather than any lingering emotional attachment. I did what I felt I had to do. As you might surmise from all this, I am a woman in mourning, but I am not grieving.”

He reached over and took her hand gently in his. “Thank you for telling me. The courage you’ve displayed in coping under such difficult circumstances inspire respect and admiration.”

He raised her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed it. “I understand your desire to maintain decorum and I shall certainly honor it, but I also hope that, when it’s more appropriate, you might allow me to call on you.”

She gri

“Under the circumstances, please call me Buck.”

She bowed her head, secretly pleased. “And I’m Sarah. But now, Buck, let’s talk about your friend Asa. Can you tell me what happened to him?”

#

Buck took a deep breath. Asa deserved the same degree of privacy he’d offered Sarah, but he also felt he could trust her with the basic facts of the situation, especially since she’d already learned the most humiliating aspect of it.

“Asa Boone was my hospital orderly in the last year of the war. We all called him Kentucky. Strong but compassionate, he proved willing to undertake the kinds of duties most people recoil from. There are men alive today because of his care and dedication. Since we were both from South Carolina, we decided to travel home together. After a couple of days on the road, I left him to set up our campsite, while I rode into the neighboring town to pick up fresh clothes and supplies. I returned after nightfall to find him tied to a tree and being mistreated by three men. Asa Boone spent three years in the war treating the weak, the suffering and the dying with tender kindness, and these animals were inflicting the kind of pain and humiliation few people can imagine and none should have to endure.”

“My God.” She clasped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes watered. When she lowered her fingers her lips were pinched and it was with visible effort that she spoke. “I had no idea such things happened. That poor man. What action did you take against the fiends who were doing that to him?”

“I killed them. All of them.”

This time her eyes went completely round in shock at his cold, unmerciful statement, and her jaw dropped. No doubt at that moment she considered him a fiend as well.

Perhaps she was right, yet Buck felt no remorse, no shame or guilt for what he’d done. Continuing to gaze across the deep waters Asa had found so inviting, he remained mute, daring not to add that, given a chance, he’d do it again—and without compunction.