12
Fort Daniels, 24 February 1871
Chad almost turned toward the general’s house as he sprinted toward the hospital. He hesitated but took the crucial right. His responsibilities were to his patients. Claire could take care of herself—he hoped. But he couldn’t take the thought of losing her again so soon after they’d been reunited—in a fashion, but it was better than nothing. He couldn’t shed the thoughts of how the general’s house, being so close to the administrative buildings and officers’ dwellings, would be a prime target.
Of course there were wounded from the surprise attack. He worked to the uneven rhythm of shells outside and the discordant symphony of moans, screams, and whimpers inside. Whenever a shell struck too close, the whole building shook, but he didn’t look up, only cov
