Blair sighed as he pushed a strand of sweat soaked hair out of his face with a bloody hand. For the last three hours he had patched up wounded soldiers, doing what he could for those who had a chance to survive and trying to ease the pain of those who would not. Most of the wounds he had treated had been minor but there were two patients that needed to be moved to a field hospital as soon as possible.

Blair was about to pack up his equipment and get something to eat when a noise outside the tent made him look up. In the doorway of the tent Corporals Simons and Wallace were dragging an unconscious Union officer.

"Doc, we got a patient for you," Wallace said.

"Put him down there next to the door," Blair said as he quickly washed his hands and walked over to the wounded man. A quick examination showed Blair that the captain had a bullet wound in his shoulder and a painful looking knot on his head.

"Get his jacket and shirt off while I get what I need to take that bullet out," Blair ordered as he turned to gather the instruments he needed.

"Sure thing Doc," Corporal Simons answered as he began stripping off the blue Union jacket.

Blair quickly and efficiently extracted the bullet. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey he poured a small amount of the rotgut on the wound before sewing it up. He had just finished when the captured officer started to wake up. A pair of pain filled hostile blue eyes opened and the officer started to struggle. "Hold him down," Blair ordered. If the officer continued to struggle, Blair was afraid the captain would tear the stitches in his shoulder and start bleeding again.

"Look at me. I'm trying to help you. I'm a medic," Blair explained trying to calm his struggling patient. "I just took a bullet out of your shoulder; if you don't stop fighting you might make it worse," Blair explained in a low calming tone, trying to get through to the Union officer.

Evidently his efforts worked as the officer stopped struggling and calmed down enough to let Blair finish bandage the captain's shoulder.

"I wish I could give you something for the pain but we are low on morphine and laudanum. I have to save it as possible." Blair explained.

"I understand. You don't want to waste painkillers on an enemy when you can give it to one of your own," the wounded officer said, speaking for the first time.

Blair frowned at him. "No, Captain, some may think that way but I don't," he explained. "I have to save what I have for those with serious injuries. I don't know about how your doctors work but I don't differentiate between Union and Confederate in here."

The hostility in the ice blue eyes faded a bit. "Sorry, I apologize for making that assumption."

"Doc," Corporal Wallace interrupted. "Colonel Brigs wants to know when he will be able to question the prisoner?"

"Not until tomorrow at the earliest," Blair answered. "He's lost a lot of blood. He will need to rest."

"I'll let the Colonel know," Wallace answered.

"Thank you, Corporal," Blair answered. He didn't think the Union captain had enough strength to sit up, much less escape, but he knew it would be useless to argue. Besides, Blair thought, that captain was a larger than he was; it was better to err on the side of caution. "If you could send some food over later, I would appreciate it. It looks like I'll be staying here tonight."

"I'll make sure to have something brought over. Corporal Simons will be right outside if you need him," Corporal Wallace said before leaving.

After checking on his two other patients, Blair walked back over to the union captain with a cup in his hand. "This should help with the pain," he said handing over the cup.

The captain sniffed the cup and made a face at the pungent aroma. "What is it?"

"It's a combination of herbs. It should help dull the pain," Blair said. "I know it smells terrible but it works."

The officer took a deep breath and downed the concoction all at once. "Ghakk.... That tasted worse than it smelled. Why can't they teach you doctors to make better tasting medicines in school, Doctor?"

"Call me Blair, Captain. I'm not actually a doctor, though I did study medicine for a couple of semesters at the University of Pennsylvania before I changed my area of study to anthropology," Blair explained. "I was given the recipe for that particular drink from a Lakota medicine man I met a few years back."

"I wish you had told me that before I drank that potion," the captain said with a grimace.

"When that potion starts dulling the pain in your shoulder, you will change your mind. I don't suppose you'll tell me your name," Blair asked.

"Is this the start of the interrogation? Be nice, give me something for the pain, and when I'm nicely drugged start asking questions," the captain asked trying to sit up.

The hostility and the accusation stunned Blair. "No," denied. " I don't work that way. I'm just here to help people. I don't think that I'm even technically part of the Confederate army. I just like to know what to call people but if you want I can just continue to call you 'Captain,' Big Guy."

The captain looked back at him with suspicion and asked, "What did you mean when you said that you're not sure if you're part of the Confederate army?"

Blair looked at him for a moment, "That's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"I don't think I'll be going anywhere any time soon," was the sarcastic response.

"If you get tired, let me know and I'll stop. A couple of years ago, right before the war started, I was in Louisiana to study a tribe of Indians living in the swamps for my anthropology dissertation. The tribe is made up of mostly Choctaw who refused to move to the reservation, but they also have members from other tribes who have been pushed off their lands. I wanted to study the social make up of this group," Blair said.

"How did you get that close to them? I wouldn't have thought they would have wanted much to do with a white man," the captain asked, interested in the kid's story in spite of himself.

"They do have limited contact with white men, mostly trading for supplies. At first they wouldn't have anything to do with me, then one day I got a little lost out in the swamp. I was sure I was about to become some alligator's lunch when a group of braves came and took me back to their camp. They weren't exactly a friendly group. I was beginning to think that I might have been safer with the gators," Blair said.

"You obviously survived the experience," the captain said. "So why didn't they kill you?"

"The shaman," Blair explained. "He told me he had sent the braves to find me. Apparently, he had a vision about me."

"A vision," the disbelief in the captain's voice was matched by the skeptical expression on his face.

Blair held up his hands. "I know how that sounds, but I was not about to argue with him about it."

The captain smiled faintly. "You have a point there. I doubt I would have argued with him either. What happened after that?"

"I stayed with them for a couple of years, studying and learning. The shaman taught me a lot about healing and natural remedies for various sicknesses. I heard about the war from some traders, but the war never touched me personally until about six months ago. We got word that the fighting was getting closer. The tribe was going to move deeper into the swamps to avoid the soldiers. I was going to go with them until the shaman took me aside and told me that it was time that I left to go back to my own people. Since I had more than enough information for my dissertation, I packed up my things and a couple of braves showed me the way out of the swamp."

Blair paused a moment as he remembered saying goodbye to the old shaman. "You have to follow the path of your destiny Silver Wolf, the old man said, calling him by the name he had given Blair. "You have learned everything you need to know from me. It is time for you to return to the white man's world."

"What happened after you left?" the captain asked, interrupting Blair's train of thought.

"I tried to avoid the fighting as much as possible. I just wanted to get back to Pennsylvania and finish my degree. Eventually my luck ran out. I ran into a group of wounded Confederate soldiers who had gotten cut off from their unit. I just had to help them. I couldn't just leave them there to die. I did what I could to patch them up and then I helped them to get back to their unit. When we found the unit there were so many wounded, I just pitched in and started helping where I could," Blair said thinking back to those first days. He had never seen so much blood before in his life. He shook off the memory.

"When we reached the field hospital a couple of days later the doctors told Colonel Briggs that the only reason that some of the men were still alive was because what I had done to help. The Colonel asked me if I would be willing to be the field medic for the unit. I said yes. Somewhere along the line I started wearing the uniform as my old clothes wore out. That's how I ended up here. I'm not sure I have any actual rank. I don't carry a gun and I don't take sides. I just try and help those that I am able to." Blair said as he finished his story.

"Now you need to rest and I need to go check on my other patients," Blair said. "I'll bring you something to eat later."

"I am a little tired," the captain admitted. "Thank you for telling me your story."

"You're welcome. Now, go to sleep, Captain," Blair said as he moved away. He turned back when the union officer called out to him, "Hey Chief."

"Yes, Captain?" Blair answered.

"You can call me Jim."