Jacob's Way (19 page)

“Oh, no, indeed. I am Jacob Dimitri, Reisa's grandfather. I fell ill on our travels, and we were taken in by Mr. Sam Hall and Mr. Phineas Long.”

“It's all comin' back a little, but everything's a little fuzzy.”

“They are very kind to strangers. I see your fever is gone, and you are eating. That is a good sign.”

“I guess so.”

Driver wiped the plate with the last morsel of biscuit, and as he did Sam came in. He was wearing a checkered shirt and a pair of faded jeans with a bright red neckerchief stuck in his shirt pocket. “Well, you ain't gone to be with the angels yet.” He came over and smiled down at Driver. “How are you feelin'?”

“All right. Much better.”

“Sam here and his partner Phineas were very good,” Reisa said. “They bathed you with cold water several times until your fever broke.”

Sam shrugged. “Wasn't that. It was that anointing with oil and the prayer. It was Doctor Jesus done the work.”

Driver cut his eye around to stare at Sam as if he were some strange creature, but he said nothing.

“How'd you lose that there eye?”

“Got too close to some Yankees at Spotsylvania. Shell blew up.”

“I lost this here wing when I was ridin' around with General Nathan Bedford Forrest.”

Driver examined the small man with fresh interest. “You rode with Forrest?”

“Yep. Through most of the hull war.”

“I've always thought Forrest was the best fighting general on either side.”

“You can say that twice.” Sam grinned. “I reckon as how he kilt more people personal than any officer in the whole army. Hey, let me show you somethin'!” He left the room and was back at once. “What do you think of this?”

Driver took the pistol that Sam extended to him and examined it carefully. “It's a La Mat, isn't it?”

“Sure is. Fires nine shots as quick as you can get 'em off. The general would go into a battle with two of these things, and I swan if he didn't get eighteen Yankees, he was plumb out of sorts. I reckon you did some fightin' your own self.”

“I was with Lee all the way,” Driver said.

“You stacked your musket at Appomattox, did ya?”

Driver nodded.

“What does that mean?” Reisa asked.

“Well, a lot of fellers got scared and threw their muskets away. Some surrendered, but some folks like Driver here carried their musket all the way to the very end. General Lee finally had to surrender. Just plumb wore out with a plumb wore-out army. He stacked his musket. About the finest thing you can say of a fella, I reckon.”

“It was a hard war,” Driver murmured.

Phineas entered, and Sam turned, gesturing toward the recovering man. “Hey, this is Ben Driver. This is my sidekick, Phineas Long.”

“Glad to know you,” Ben said.

“You keepin' that grub down, are ya?” Phineas asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, that's good. I don't want to have to go to the trouble of buryin' you.”

Driver's long lips curled up into a small smile. “I'll do my best to accommodate you.”

“All of you leave,” Reisa said suddenly. “He needs to rest, and he can't get any rest with you clucking like a bunch of chickens.” She hurried them out and finally turned and took Ben's plate. “What else can I do for you?”

Ben clawed his whiskers. “Maybe tomorrow I'll shave. Not today though. Weak as a kitten.” He turned and reached out his hand and stroked Boris's fur, and Boris obliged him with a mighty purr and a grin.

Driver shook his head in wonder. “Never saw a thing like that in my life.”

“Anything else I can get you?”

“Do you have any books?” Driver had read so much in prison he felt unmanned without one.

“Yes. I will bring you something.” She left the room and came back quickly. “This is all I have. Phineas and Sam probably have more.” She handed him the copy of
Uncle Tom's Cabin.

Driver looked at it and shook his head. “I don't want to read that. Some people say this is the book that started the whole war.”

“It is a terrible book.” She hesitated, then said, “I feel sorry for the slaves that were mistreated.”

Driver gave her a quick glance, shook his head, and handed the book back. Picking up the other one, he said,
“Great English Poetry.”

“It is a very strange book. I don't know what to make of it.”

“Well, I'll try anything once. What's the other one?”

“It is—a book that a man gave me on the ship coming over. You have probably read it.”

Taking the small book, Driver glanced at it. “Gospel of John,” he murmured. His head came up, and he put his eyes on Reisa. He could not figure the woman out. “You're Jewish, I take it.”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing reading part of the Bible?”

“I don't know, but I thought you might like it.” She was unwilling to talk about the book. “I will see if Sam or Phineas have more.” She waited for him to speak his gratitude, but he simply opened
Great English
Poetry and started reading.

Ben was awakened later by the sound of Reisa's voice.

“Are you awake?”

When his eyes flew open, she said, “I brought you a piece of chicken and a boiled potato.”

“Sounds good.” He sat up, laying his book aside, and took the bowl hungrily. She had brought him a glass of milk, and he drank that as well. When he handed them back, he said, “Much obliged.”

“You're very welcome.”

“I reckon, if you give me my clothes, I can get out of this bed.”

“No indeed!” Reisa said quickly. “You need to rest.”

“I'm not much of a one for stayin' in bed.”

“You will stay in bed until I say so.”

Driver studied the face of the young woman. He wondered what her hair was like, guessing it would be thick and glossy. The quick curves of her healthy, supple body were plain to him under the dress. He studied the depths of her eyes and wondered what lay behind them. There was a serenity to her. She had a long, composed mouth and lips that could charm a man if she so chose. Still, there was an innocence about her.

Finally he said, “I guess you're the boss.”

Reisa smiled briefly. “Did you like the book?”

“Can't make head nor tail out of most of it.”

“Neither could I, but I learned English from those two books,” she said. “A friend of ours had been in America. He taught me to speak. I know I do not speak English well.”

“Better than most.”

Light pink touched her cheeks at the compliment, and without another word she turned and left the room.

Driver shook his head. “Funny sort of girl,” he murmured aloud. He turned and ran his hand over Boris's head. “And you're a funny sort of cat.”

As Reisa was helping Phineas fix supper, the two of them talked. She had gotten closer to Phineas. There was an innate sadness in the man, and she had found out that he had been married and had a child, but both had died of cholera while he was serving under Longstreet in the army. That explained a great deal about him—that and the loss of his leg, and the poverty that the war had brought to him. Reisa felt such compassion that she quickly forgave his abruptness and sometimes almost harsh language.

“That fellow, Dov, he's somethin' else,” Phineas said. “He's done more work around here than I dreamed a man could do.”

“Dov is a good worker and a good friend to me.” She related how Dov had saved her from being molested on the ship. “He just picked that sailor up by the neck with one hand and held him kicking there.” Her eyes danced, and her lips curved upward. “You should have heard him cry out then!”

“He'd be a bad feller to cross in a ruckus, I'd guess.”

“A ruckus? What's a ruckus?”

“A fight.”

“Oh. Ruckus—a fight.” At that moment a crash occurred from somewhere in the house. “What was that?” she cried.

“Don't know.”

The two of them ran quickly down the hall and opened the door to the room that Driver shared with her grandfather. They found Driver getting up painfully.

He was wearing only a pair of long underwear, but still Reisa turned away. “Put him back in bed, Phineas.”

Driver insisted, “Give me my clothes!”

Reisa kept her back turned as she said, “I'm washing them, and you're not going to get them until you're stronger. You're getting up too soon.”

“Here. Get back in that bed!” Phineas demanded. He grabbed Driver by the arm and even with crutches was able to maneuver him back into the bed. “Now you stay put until Miss Reisa says so.”

“Yes. You do that.” Reisa left the room and waited outside.

She heard Phineas's voice. “You ain't much for sayin' thanks, are you, Driver? Them folks saved your life.”

“What for, I wonder?” Driver said flatly.

Phineas snorted in reply. Reisa stepped aside as he came out of the room.

“That feller's no good,” Phineas said.

“He's had great trouble, Phineas,” Reisa said quickly.

“Don't matter. He could be decent…”

The next day Driver was sitting in bed fretting when Reisa brought his clothes. They had been washed and pressed.

“Now, I think you may get dressed and sit up,” she said.

He did not answer, for he was still put out with her. She left the room, and he dressed. Holding onto the wall, he made his way outside. Down the short hallway he saw the kitchen area and Sam sitting at a table with Jacob. He made his way in, and Sam jumped up.

“Here. Have a cheer.”

Dizzy and unsure of his balance, Driver slumped down into it. He sat there, and Reisa brought him a cup of sassafras tea. “We're out of coffee,” she said.

“This will do fine.”

“I'm glad you're feeling better, friend,” Jacob said.

“Thanks,” Driver said but spoke no more. He sat there drinking and studying the people in the room. He was especially interested in Jacob Dimitri. He had known two Jews in the army, but had never been close to one of their educated people. He was amazed to hear Sam, whom he knew to be a devout Christian, and Jacob getting along famously. They would argue at times over the meaning of a passage of Scripture, but still there was an obvious affection between the two of them. He could not quite figure Sam out. He had met religious fanatics before, but Sam did not seem to be one of these. There was a cheerful spirit about him, and once he hopped up to go bring wood in to the stove for Reisa.

Driver sat up for two hours, then grew tired and made his way back to bed.