Jordan's War - 1861 (14 page)

Jordan picked up a
knife and started peeling potatoes. He didn’t know why. He wanted to go after
those soldiers who had taken Eamon, but felt helpless to do anything. For some
reason holding the sharp metal blade gave him comfort. Willow gave him a
strange look as she cut the dough into biscuits and laid them out on a hot,
greasy pan.

Jordan tried to
ignore the old quilt that had been tacked up over the doorway to the living
room. He knew Ma and Grandma were up to something secret, but he was afraid to
ask.

The boiling pot
hissed as he put the last sliced potato, and water splashed out into the hot
coals. The voices in the living room grew louder but he still couldn’t make out
what they were saying.

As if drawn to the
makeshift curtain by some unseen force, Jordan walked over to the entrance,
stooped down and leaned in to listen. He held a tiny corner of the blanket in
his hand and rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. Willow must
have felt the same urge because she ended up leaning on Jordan’s shoulder.

It was not his
grandmother’s voice, but he knew she was in there by the familiar smell of
ginger and sassafras. He didn’t know where she kept it, but it always announced
her presence. Ma was crying and her words were muffled by gasping sobs.

Willow jumped as
the back door hinged creaked.

“What are you two
doing?” Pa asked.

“Nothing,” Willow
said and jumped up, held out her skirt and pretended to curtsy to the two
soldiers who stood next to Pa. She was really hiding Jordan, giving him time to
get to his feet.

“You remember
Sergeant Hummel?” Pa asked and looked at Jordan.

“Yes sir,” Jordan
said and nodded his head. His eyes were bulging and fear was painted on his
face. He tried not to glance at the wood box which concealed their dangerous
discovery, but the more he tried not to, the more he stared.

Sergeant Hummel
nodded back at Jordan, but his eyes looked past him, to the blanket that
covered the doorway.

“What’s that for?”
he asked and pointed.

“Would you like
some water?” Willow asked and walked towards the water bucket. “I just brought
it from the spring. It’s still cold.”

“No, thank you,”
Sergeant Hummel said in his monotone soldier voice. “I asked a question.”

“Oh that’s just so
the women can talk,” Pa said. “The house ain’t that big and there are too many
men around.”

“What are you
trying to hide Sinclair?” Sergeant Hummel snapped and gave Pa a narrow-eyed
stare.

“You’ve searched
every nook and cranny of this place,” Pa laughed. “But, you caught me,” Pa
threw his arms up in the air. “I’m hiding Lincoln’s entire army behind that
there blanket in my front room.”

“This is no
laughing matter Mr. Sinclair,” the Sergeant said. “Spying is a serious
offense”.

“Sergeant Hummel,”
Pa said and shook his head. “If there was something to find around here, you’d
have found it by now. Please leave the women alone.”

“You brought this
suspicion on yourself, Sinclair,” Sergeant Hummel said. He walked over and
ripped the blanket down. It tore where it hung by the nails and left bits of fabric
dangling above the doorway.

Ma was on her
knees, leaning against the davenport, deep in fervent prayer. At first glance,
it all looked innocent, but Jordan could see part of the white saucer on the
floor half hidden by her skirt. Grandma was perched on the cushion above her
and had her hand on Ma’s shoulder. There was no one else in the room, but it
was so silent that Jordan could hear Jim’s chair creaking as he rocked on the
porch.

“Have you no
shame?” Grandma said. She stood up and steadied herself with her walking stick.

The young soldier
with Sergeant Hummel took a step backwards, but the Sergeant did not cower.
Jordan was close enough to see his hand tremble as he held his hat to his
chest.

Grandma walked
over to him, using the same stare that she used on Jordan when he was younger.
She had a peculiar way of making her left eye go a different way than her right
eye. It used to scare Jordan, but now he found it funny. Sergeant Hummel wasn’t
amused and finally stepped back.

“Can’t you see my
daughter is praying for her son?” Grandma hissed. “An innocent boy your
hooligans hauled off in chains! Home Guard, bah!”

“The Lord has no
use for spies,” Sergeant Hummel said to Ma. “You waste your breathe woman!”

“So, you know who
the Lord has use for and who he doesn’t have use for?” Grandma asked. “If
you’re so all knowing then why are you in the Home Guard and not leading
soldiers into battle?”

“The Lord uses
people for his purpose and his purpose alone,” Sergeant Hummel said. His voice
cracked.

“So, you think the
Confederacy has the Lord’s blessing?” Grandma asked, and folded her arms. “You
enslave his children, slaughter the innocent, and set fire to his creation. I
don’t see where that puts you in his good graces.”

“Sergeant Hummel,”
Pa said. “I’m sure you don’t want to get into an argument with Abigail. . .”

“This is Abigail
McCoy,” Sergeant Hummel interrupted. “The healer . . . the seer?” He gave her a
closer look, and then smiled. “Why she’s just a decrepit old crone.”

Grandma’s eyes
straightened and she looked at him, through him, as if to seek out his very
soul.

“Do not be so
quick to judge,” she hissed. “There will come a time when you may need me.”

“I hardly think
so,” Sergeant Hummel said.

“Your men will not
last long,” she said. “Most of them will be dead before winter living as they
do. Already they are weak even though you cannot see it. The bread you feed
them is full of sickness and the meat they eat reeks of rot. Worms grow inside
their bellies and long into their gut. Only Vander will be free of the
sickness, for his body has grown used to eating such vile.”

 “Shut up old
woman,” Sergeant Hummel said. “This is devilry. Pure witchcraft. I ought to
haul the whole lot of you in.” He raised his hand to strike her.

Grandma didn’t
budge, not even a flinch as the wind from his arm blew back loose wisps of
hair.

“You will not hit
me,” she said. Her voice was calm. “You will go, before those foolish soldiers
kill the boy, her son, my grandson. Already he is weak and bloodied. If you do
not go to the camp, he will die.”

“What do I care
about another dead spy?”

“You care because
you doubt his guilt,” Grandma said. “You sense the evil in your own men,
especially Vander, and even now you sleep lightly because of your fear. You
know I speak the truth.”

“You kill him and
there will be one less soldier in your priceless army,” Ma said as she stood
up, keeping the saucer hidden behind her shoe. “You kill him and you will have
to answer for it. Judgment will be swift and severe. You mark my word.”

“All of you are
crazy,” Sergeant Hummel said and put on his hat. “The boy will be jailed at
Renick until his hearing. Good day.”

The echo of the
back door slamming was the only sound to break the heavy silence of the
Sinclair house. Jim had stopped rocking and slipped almost unnoticed inside.
Gunner, Jake, and Selie emerged from the bedroom and walked dazed into the
room. Selie’s face was pale and her eyes were wide with fear. She’d been crying
and clung to Jake.

Ma sat on the
davenport and gripped the handkerchief that was entwined in her fingers. Pa sat
down beside her, took her hand and held it in his.

“Bring him home,”
she said.

“I intend to,” Pa
said and then looked at Jordan. “Get us a change of clothes and the bed rolls.
Don’t worry about hitching the wagon. Jake, you get the horses saddled up.”

“Can I go?” Jake
asked.

“No son,” Pa said
and walked back into the kitchen.

Jordan knew as
soon as Pa took his first step, where he was going. All the guns were stored in
the pantry off of the kitchen. Adrenaline raced through his veins as he hurried
to pack.

What gave them the
right to harass innocent folks? Just because they wear a uniform and call
themselves soldiers doesn’t give them the right to trespass and take Eamon away
for no reason. It didn’t give Luke Vander the right to shoot at him as if he
were some forest creature. It didn’t give Luke Vander the right to threaten
Willow, even if she’d paid it no mind.

His hands trembled
as he stuffed some clothes in a sack and thoughts of injustice overwhelmed him.
It seemed as if the family was all alone. There hadn’t been anyone stop by to
visit since Reverend Summey came to pray. Even Uncle Tate should have gotten
over being angry by now, but he ain’t been by either.

He hated Luke
Vander and smiled as he entertained a short thought about shooting him as he
pleaded for his life. He tied the sack and rushed outside.

“Aren’t you going
to eat?” Willow asked when Jordan passed through the kitchen.

“You’d better pack
something in the bucket,” Jordan said. “No telling what they’ve done to Eamon
by now.”

Chapter 18

“Jordan wait,” Ma
said and grabbed his face in her hands. She pulled him close and kissed him
hard on the forehead.

He didn’t move,
partly out of respect and partly because she had a pretty solid hold on him.

“Oh for goodness
sakes Bess,” Pa said. “Let the boy go. I need to find my dowel rod.”

“You be careful,”
she whispered and gave him one more kiss before she let him loose.

“I will,” he said
and paused a moment before he walked outside.

Gunner and Jake
had quite an army displayed on the porch. A couple of the figures even had
carved horses. Jordan put the sack down and picked up one the animals. He
knocked over three of the soldiers.

“Stop messing with
them,” Jake said and snatched the horse out of Jordan’s hand.

“I was just
looking at it,” Jordan said. “Did you fetch the horses like Pa said?”

“Yep,” Jake said
and pointed to the fence where both horses grazed. “Gunner helped me.”

“Bye,” Jordan
said.

“You keep your
head down,” Jim said and winked one of his big blue eyes at him.

“I will.”

His hands trembled
as he strapped his bedroll to the back of the saddle. He searched the sky for
any break in the clouds. The darkest clouds hovered to the west, which meant it
would be dark earlier than normal. They needed the daylight to make it off the
mountain as the path was rocky and treacherous after dark. It would be easier
without the wagon though because the horses wouldn’t have to pull it and the
animals pretty much knew the way down anyway.

He wondered if
they’d ride all the way to Renick this evening. Grandma said something about a
camp near there, but he didn’t know how they’d find it at night. He bent down
and inspected the saddle belts to make sure Jake got them on right. The last
thing he needed was to slide off the horse while being chased.

“Here’s some
food,” Willow said. Selie was with her and already had picked a handful of
daisies.

Jordan jumped and
gave her a strange look. He didn’t even hear her approached him. He took the
sack she had in her hand and tied it to his saddle.

“Ain’t Pa coming?”
he asked and looked at the sky.

“He’s making
cartridges,” Willow said. “We found the dowel right away but Ma had to search a
bit to find the wax.”

“He’s doing that
now!” Jordan shouted. “We don’t have time.”

“Well you don’t
have to yell at me,” Willow hollered. “If I was you, I’d be mighty happy I had
a bullet or two when Luke Vander starts shooting at you.”

Selie giggled.

“Do you think he
will?”

“He’s a soldier,
ain’t he?”

“I mean, did you
see something?”

“Nope, but I ain’t
been looking.”

Willow walked over
and petted the horse. The horse nuzzled her shoulder and pushed her backwards.
She stumbled, but managed to stay on her feet.

“Easy now,” she
whispered to the animal and then turned to Jordan. “Do you think you could
shoot anyone?”

“Yep,” Jordan
said, without hesitation and smiled as he recalled his daydream of holding a
gun to Luke’s head while he begged for mercy.

“Well, I
couldn’t,” she said. “All that blood. It would be much worse than a deer or a
pig. God says you’re not supposed to kill.”

“The Israelites
killed and they were God’s children,” Jordan said argued. “And you just said
you’d want to have a bullet or two when Luke Vander starts shooting.”

“They fought
before Jesus was born,” Willow said. “And I was talking about you, not me.”

“I know what God
says,” Jordan said and rolled his eyes. He was in no mood to argue Bible points
with her. “But what if they were going to kill you first?”

“I’d turn the
other cheek, just like Jesus did,” Willow said.

“I know what Jesus
did,” Jordan said. “But I don’t reckon my other cheek would do me any good if
it was full of buckshot.”

“I’ll bet
Grandma’s got a poultice for that,” Willow said and snickered.

“Yeah. I bet that
would feel real good after she’s poured whiskey on my hind-end and picked the
buckshot out with them foot-long tweezers she has.”

“At least you’d
live.”

“But I’d wish I
was dead.”

“You shouldn’t
wish to be dead,” Willow said. “Life is God’s precious gift.”

“Oh will you shut
up.”

Willow stuck her
tongue out at him and stormed off. Selie followed her. Jordan was glad she was
gone. He had heard enough about God. If God was so great, why did he allow this
war to happen? He had to be tired to listening to prayers from both sides. Why
was Jim so sick from working in the mines? Why did Gunner’s ma die? Why did he
take Aunt Ginny to Heaven when she had youngins’ to take care of? Why did the
Home Guard arrest Eamon when he didn’t do anything?

God probably threw
his hands up in the air and figured we’d made this mess without His help, so
we’d have to clean it up without his help. That’s probably why most everyone’s
prayers go unanswered. We brought all this bad on ourselves.

Jordan ran his
fingers through the horse’s mane and rested his head on the animal’s belly. His
stomach was in knots and he wished Pa would just go alone. He jumped when he
heard the front door slam and saw Pa walking toward him with a rifle and a
revolver.

“Can I have the
Spencer?” Jordan asked. “I can’t shoot that Colt very well.”

“No,” Pa said and
handed him the pistol. “The Colt is easier to handle. Be careful now, it’s
loaded.”

Jordan turned
around and stuffed the gun in between the layers of the tightly wound bedroll.

“Do you know where
Eamon is?” Jordan asked as he flung his leg over the horse’s back and sat in
the saddle.

“I got a pretty
good idea,” Pa said and clicked his tongue against his teeth. His horse took
stride towards the main road and Jordan’s horse fell in behind him.

It seemed to take
forever to reach the turnpike and a breeze rustled the trees. The leaves showed
their pale underbellies, a sign that another storm was approaching. The rain
clouds that were west of the mountain loomed ever closer.

Just as they had
turned south on the turnpike, two riders appeared just north of them and
approached out of a low-lying fog.