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murdochmysteriesimagines · 5 years

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The Rose of Texas

Request: Female S/O and George writing love letters to each other please.

A/N: What was asked of me and what I provided are completely different. I had an idea and it snowballed into a product not only longer than intended but something I plan to work on further. In the end I wrote something that I wanted to write. I hope you enjoy it.

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12/02/1910

My Sweetest George

I assume its too late to say Merry Christmas while I’m writing to you, no doubt when you finally receive it. If it manages to get through whatever blockade is set up for the Red Cross Couriers. I should have written to you when I first departed. That night I left it felt like I hadn’t said enough to you, now I can barely think of any words that could explain the world I find myself in. But like you say George, its best to start from the beginning. What I ask myself is what is the true beginning of this? I suppose your start would be me sneaking off in the middle of the night. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I said to you that evening, or to be more accurate, to say what I yelled at you in blind anger. All the trouble I’m going through seems to be an appropriate punishment for my sins, but I still feel guilty for it. I guess I’m not as heartless as you think. Kidding aside I am truly sorry for what I said about you George, you are one of the best men I know. No man I’ve met can hold a candle to you, such a man does not deserve to be branded a coward because he refuses to follow every whim I have like a trained dog. Regardless of what you believe me to be, just know I deeply regret what I said to you. I love you George, do not ever think otherwise.

To most Canadians this ugly situation would have officially started back in ‘01’, when McKinley was shot dead and our beloved Roosevelt ascended to the Oval office, to the rank of self-appointed King. Another Caesar stabbed in the senate house with an opportunistic Augustus looking to forge his throne from the blood of the opposition. For every Pure Food and Drug Act making headlines, there was a coal miners strike repressed by federal troops. For every shining railroad built off the labour of the Southern states in his so-called relief camps, political opponents arrested and shipped out west. Corruption in the government pulled out like a weed and replaced with a loyal lap dog. Any man could see Roosevelt moved against anyone who dare opposed him with a vengeance, quickly and decisively. The press would say it was all in the name of stability and security; those journalists untouched by the Bears Claws at the cost of singing him endless praise and justifying every sin they could not cover up. The press in Canada more than happy to parrot their kin who looked up to the ever kind, ever present presidential king. How many truly knew the light of democracy that all sources held on the highest pedestal was being snuffed out. Fuel to the flame being cut by a tyrant who would stop at nothing to consolidate power around himself. Roosevelt’s party switch in the ‘04’ election should have been the wake-up call to the world, yet most remained ignorant. From the Republicans to the newly founded Progressive Party of America. The medias favourite figurehead as the acting chair; old officials sent to replace the ‘corrupt’ surprisingly changing sides to the governing party. The ignorant sang their praise at the man, no longer was America a two-party country, surely liberty and prosperity would follow us into the new century. The naïve and unenlightened will maintain that rhetoric, those paid to believe that it was the ungrateful south that opposed our King who kindly kept us under the federal government’s thumb. I guess we should be grateful to Roosevelt George: he had generously allowed our suffering to continue rather than slaughter the disgruntled southern population entirely, although even his media sources would have a rough time justifying that atrocity.

To me George, this started all the way back in ‘65’ with the end of the civil war. I’ve heard the cries that we are nothing more than a second coming of the Confederacy, succession is the last thing on our minds George. Instead of state and property rights; our cause is against tyranny and for a liberation of our enslavement. Only Lincoln wanted to reintegrate the confederates into the union. When he died so did any hope of unification. They liberated the slaves only to create a new breed to replace what was lost. While the new states in the west would thrive, we were kept in limbo, we were added back to the boarder but treated like foreigners, a conquered population, an enemy. P.O.W’s were sent home branded as traitors, permanently disfigured, or not at all. Their labour was used to rebuild the country they supposedly destroyed. If they refused: beatings would be felt, if they persisted: executed. All vailed as righteous punishment for a war that was spouted to end such treatment. When the work force gradually trickled back to their impoverished states the federal government still needed bodies for their factories, to build their rails, roads, to work for starvation wages. They have been stealing our men since the war’s conclusion, leave it to the Bear to expand upon a profitable idea. The men before him content with only conscripting the innocent for a camp or costly war abroad.

I remember the stories Pa would tell me of his time in the labour camps, whips, a hot iron and chains placed onto the worst offending farmers and militia men, not one rich enough to own a slave. That fact still true when they passed reforms for meager wages to be paid after years of free imprisonment. He’ll never tell us the full story of how he made it back to Texas. Just whispers about riots and hard choices being made. You’ve seen photos of him back when I was a youngling. It’s hard to imagine that moustache wearing the skin of an old gray back bludgeoning a guard for his freedom. He wore the uniform so his sons and daughters could wear suits and dresses. That fantasy gave way to reality when the Bear took the office. We all know now that was the turning point, the final act calm before the storms return.

When that French self-proclaimed Marxist revolutionary tried to rob Roosevelt of his life outside the senate building last September, we all knew there would be no turning back. A final push for greater political power while he was still in the hospital; forced eradication of opposing political parties, arresting any figure suspected of discontent towards the Bear, tightening the reigns on labour camps; all in the name of security and stability. Just short of a throne and crown for the new set appointed Royal and his noblemen. That revolutionary expected to trigger an uprising of the workers of America. Perhaps the French immigrant will be disappointed he mistook the civil discontent for an overthrow of the upper class. Maybe he’s in such a state with the provider answers given to him from outside that cell, upset that the only revolution to come is for the fate of our democracy rather than his ideology.

They call us Confederates, slaver, traitors: we are no such thing George. We didn’t betray the constitution, our foundations of the Republic. Our police forces haven’t arrested innocent diplomats and citizens for imagined crimes. The re-emerging National Unity Party did not crown a king. The Federalists fight for the Progressive Party and their oligarchies own interests. The Union States Of America fight for a greater purpose than self improvement; we fight for our republic, our constitution, our freedom. That is why I went home George, to save my country, not destroy it. The territory of an old enemy along with states tired of Washington’s rule now harbor the government they once opposed.

When we departed from Toronto, I expected the worst, years of training and work in hospitals as a nurse has filled my mind with standards for the dead and injured. All were surpassed when we arrived. Medical tents filled with victims of the Bull Run offensive executed by the federalist along the Virginian boarder. Such audacity does not surprise me: expecting us to falter at a single push into the Tennessee mountain ranges and entrenched divisions. Their hastily assembled army under Pershing has failed to end this war in the one fell swoop that the Bear has promised. As the winter snows began to set in November, we all knew this would be another long war.

However, we are determined to fight until our flag flies over Washington. The problems of the old war are gone. Allies from South America and Europe not blinded by the Tyrants propaganda rally behind us, bringing with them the newest toys of war. Self loading rifles from Mexico, artillery and generals from Germany, raw materials from Chile; manpower from all. I’m curious if it was more surprised to hear the Kaiser’s finest were getting involved rather than the United States got caught in another war. The old guards of Europe stay neutral for the time, I doubt the British will stand idle if an ally to the Germans were to set up south of their biggest dominion, not while world tensions are on the rise. I pray that this war stays contained to a single country. Perhaps with some luck the Germans, Unionists and British can unite against the tyrants of the North.

It must have been a field day for the parliament and press when the German Kaiserliche Marine flying the new flag of free America appeared off the eastern coastline. We don’t always get the best information of their front, rumours of skirmishes between the two fleets at best. It’s ironic: after the Spanish American war the federalist tried to bring their armada into the modern age. Their expensive steel monsters laying at the bottom of the Atlantic or under siege in harbour to another European power; neutralized, useless. Unable to halt the merchants and never-ending convoys bringing supplies into the bastion of freedom that will be their undoing. The southern men they conscripted as canon fodder returning home with knowledge of war. Liberated slave labour taught the craft of large-scale production under the threat of death now building our infrastructure from the rubble it was left in. All in due time George, we will rebuild our homes into a flourish state.

The war was quiet for most of December; everyone was busy drawing lines on maps to lay claim to whatever they could get their hands on. When the dead and wounded came down to what the regulars call “acceptable levels”, the medical staff finally got some rest. I got word from my older brother; he’s been stationed in loyal Missouri as a mechanic. Apparently, he learned a few more tricks with a wrench while interned in Wisconsin last year. He’s still not pleased I moved up to Canada, it’s not my fault there was no work in Texas. He’s a stubborn man, stuck in his own mind most of the time. He really is a spitting image of my Ma at times.

He did tell me something wonderful. Since the actual constitution was re-enacted after our schism the original voting laws have been put in place. Any citizen who owns property has a formal vote in government affairs. My brother wrote to me and informed me that after I left Pa added my name to the family homestead. I was able to vote George; man or woman, gender and race made irrelevant in a single move. Now I know they say a man’s vote is his own business, but I won’t pretend I’m not pleased with President Wilson being sworn in as the true leader American republic. God willing, he’ll be able to see us through these trying times.

In more personal news George, I have an update. I received a promotion of sorts, although I’m sure you would have a less glamorous title for it. Back in January our medical unit got assigned to the 12th Union Division near the Missouri, Illinois boarder. We were near the front providing what we could to soldiers on rotation to reserves when our dressing station was attacked by the federalists. Apparently, they exploited a breach the line and rushed into gain land. We were doctors and nurses being targeted, fresh faced recruits and wounded apparently a grave threat.

Pa always said I had the best shot in the family, hunting rabbits in my youth to avoid starvation has paid off. I managed to organize what soldiers remained and we held the federalists off, long enough for the reserves to come in. I’ll spare you the details George, but shooting an animal isn’t much different than a man. Not here at least.

We managed to push them back to the starting line of trenches before they gave up. In the heat of the moment no one noticed or cared about a nurse with a rifle and ammo pouch along side them. It came to a marksman battle between the two trenches cut short by an artillery barrage. When the explosions and flying dirt came back down to earth the Boots finally noticed the out of place skirt.

I received a medal for my work. “For outstanding bravery in service of the American Republic, her citizens or sons of war in the daunting presence of the enemy.” Words inscribed on the back of a silver wolves head now pinned to my new uniform. The same animal that occupies our flag. The red and white stripes guarded by a ferocious beast.

I expected to be chewed out for stepping out of line. Instead, punishment gave way to practicality and I was given the ability to be more than a subject for propaganda. I agreed to become a Lance Corporal for the first company in the division. A hybrid of marksman and field medic, whatever the situation calls for. I’m happy to serve my country however I can, even if the task has become more deadly. I will answer the call, even if I maybe one of the only woman on the battlefield of this war. I know I still have to earn the respect of the men around me, citizen soldier or foreign volunteer. I know I can rise to the challenge George. I know I can prove myself to be a model soldier, perhaps an officer if I get lucky. I know I can be the strong woman you believe in. I know that together our united effort from around the globe can crush the tyrants of the North.

I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve sin to you George. I want nothing more than to be back by your side. To be held in your arms that seem to protect me from the horrors of the world. We might be in for a lengthy war, but I have eternal confidence, our armies, our allies, our mission for freedom for all Americans; not just those in the Bears preferred party. Our armies will march north until we reach the Canadian boarder, crushing all resistance in our path. Then George, perhaps we can be together once again.

Lance Corporal y/n Crabtree.

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