Different Sin by Rochelle Hollander Schwab

Author:Rochelle Hollander Schwab [Rochelle Hollander Schwab]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781879603080
Google: jwWs8Y_xEQIC
Amazon: 187960308X
Barnesnoble: 187960308X
Goodreads: 3087925
Publisher: Hombres Press
Published: 1993-05-31T14:00:00+00:00

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Like Alexandria, Washington had become a city of military encampments and hospitals. David rode the horse car to the last stop, then continued on foot down the muddy, rutted lane northwest toward Twelfth and R streets: the location of Freedman’s Hospital, established by the government for the contrabands, those runaway slaves who’d slipped through the Union lines to freedom.

Hundreds of makeshift shanties stretched beyond the boundaries of the rickety wooden barracks that had been provided to house the contrabands. Half-naked children ran and shouted in the rapidly falling evening, women stirred pots of greens over smoky fires, men lounged together talking and laughing. Chickens and dogs roamed free, squawking and barking, their noise drowned out by the sound of hymns swelling from fire to fire. The smells of people crowded together, cooking pots and poorly drained outhouses hung over the area.

The hospital was a one-story frame building, in little better repair than the fugitives’ barracks. A Negro man wearing the uniform of an army officer was entering the front door. David called him. “Mike! Hey Mike, wait a minute.”

The man turned, startled, then hurried toward David. “Can I help you?” he asked.

David looked at him in embarrassment. From the front he didn’t look much like Mike at all. The same mulatto coloring, but his features were sharper and Mike had never sported a handlebar mustache like that. “I was looking for a colored man who’s a doctor,” he managed.

“Well, you’ve found one, sir.” The man smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Major Augusta. I have charge of this facility.”

David extended his own hand. “I didn’t realize—” He stopped, feeling foolish.

The major smiled again. “That there was more than one colored doctor serving in the army? I believe there’s seven or eight of us stationed in Washington City. Who are you looking for?”

“Mike- Michael Mabaya. He’s—”

“Yes, I know him. He’s here. He should be going off duty about now.” Augusta waved his hand in the direction of the doctors’ quarters.

Mike smiled a greeting, leading the way to a bench outside the noisy barracks. David sank down next to him. He looked older, David thought. His frizzy black hair showed new patches of white at the temples. The same place Dad first started to gray—

David started, realizing he’d missed Mike’s words of condolence on his uncle’s death. Not that Mike could be very grieved, after the way Uncle James had dragged him back to slavery. “Do you see much of Dad?” he asked.

“When I get a chance. We’re pretty well swamped here. The camp’s full of smallpox, yellow fever.” Mike closed his eyes a moment, rubbed them with the back of his hands. “He’s been helping out at one of the hospitals in Alexandria a couple of times a week. At his age.” He smiled tiredly.

“He didn’t say.” David paused. “I— I wanted to ask you—” He broke off. How could he bring himself to ask Mike for his help? They sat in silence a few minutes. Hell, he’d come all the way out here.

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