The ringing in my ears was the first thing I noticed as consciousness slowly returned. Then came the pain - sharp, burning agony along my left side that made breathing feel like knives in my ribs.

Galveston. The battle on the wharf.

Memory came in fragments. The order to dismount and advance on foot when the naval bombardment started. Union artillery turning those wooden piers into splinter-filled torture. My horse screaming as grapeshot tore through the ranks. The sickening crack when something - shrapnel, maybe a piece of dock timber - caught me across the ribs and sent me tumbling.

I tried to move and immediately regretted it. Definitely broken ribs. My left arm felt wrong too, probably dislocated when I hit the ground. Blood had dried sticky on my forehead, pulling at my skin.

"Easy there, soldier."

A woman's voice, soft but commanding. I forced my eyes open, squinting against lamplight that felt too bright. White walls. Clean sheets. This wasn't a field hospital.

"Where...?" My voice came out as barely a croak.

"Galveston. You're safe now - we retook the city." She moved into my field of vision, and I had to blink several times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Auburn hair pinned back neatly, intelligent dark eyes, sleeves rolled up over capable hands that were checking the bandages wrapped around my torso.

"How long?" I managed.

"Three days. You took quite a beating - broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, concussion. You're lucky to be alive."

Lucky. I tried to process that. My men...

"My unit-"