Spake As a Dragon (21 page)

“
Well, first off my names
Kay Mann, yeah my Ma wanted a girl, I’ve just learned to live with
it. I see you fellers are Yanks. Well as least you are young
feller, I ain’t exactly figured the black one out, he’s dressed
half Yank and half Confed, and that other one he must’a fought with
them Israelites when they escaped with Moses from Egypt,” he said
laughing.

Limping up in a hurry, “Now you look
here you young whippersnapper, I can fight my weight in mountain
lions and bite the head off’a rattlesnake, don’t you be callin’ me
old – I’ve jest mellowed some. Dadburn if I weren’t so pert near
froze I’d jest whoop you right here and now!”

“
Sorry! Sorry old-timer, I
didn’t mean no harm; it was all just in fun. Who are you fellers
anyhow? Yanks? Rebs? Deserters? It don’t make me no never you mind
anyhow.”

Luke answers, “Mr. Mann we are, well
me and Nate are Rebs all right, but Moses here,” Luke grinned,
“he’s kind of neutral. To be exact though, Nate
WAS
impressed into Union service from North Carolina as a wagon driver
and burier of the dead. I was a Yank prisoner and me and Nate
escaped together.
”

“
Rebs is fine, I work for
the Yanks, but my heart is with the South. Ole Nellie slipped a few
years back and I broke my arm, never did get the total use of it
back. I tried to jine up with the ‘federates, but they wouldn’t
have me. Said I’d be more use carrying the Yankee mail. You see I
am the mail rider for these mountains. I usually make my last run
across in early December, but news is a braking and I knowed people
wanted information on their kin.”

Luke pounced on the mail rider for
information, “Tell us! Tell us, what is the news of the War? We
have heard nothing.”

Kay explained that he carried the mail
back and forth from the south of Lexington to Knoxville making the
round trip about once every two months. If he found any letters
that might be of use to the Southern cause, he would turn them over
to a Confederate emissary at Knoxville.

“
Enough talk, please Sir
tell us the news!”

Kay went on to explain the Yankees
have a general by the name of Grant that has taken Vicksburg. “In
effect,” the mail-rider continued, “cutting the South’s main line
of supply – the Mississippi river.”

“
Fellers I’m afeared the
South has lost this here War. All that’s goin’ on now is Yankee
carpetbaggers robbing the South. Thieves and outlaws are taking
what remains. That’s why I’m using this back trail instead of the
main road. Them outlaws waylay practically everyone traveling the
old Wilderness Road, even the mail riders. What’s y’all’s
story?”

Before Luke begins to explain their
situation he speaks to Nate, “Would you get the bag out of your
saddlebag? Nate, it must be close to Christmas, bring all the other
vittles too. We’re going to have us a good old Christmas feast.”
Luke reaches over the fire picks up Kay’s coffee pot and pours the
contents onto the floor of the cave.

“
Whoa, there feller, what
you doin’? That’s my coffee yer flinging out!”

“
Be patient for just a
spell and we will have you some ‘real’ coffee.”

They fried beans sliced off some salt
cured ham and fried bacon, opened up hardtack and washed it all
down with freshly brewed coffee. They ate until they could eat no
more. Sitting around the fire Kay was the first to speak, “Fellers,
I’ve had many a Christmas dinner in my life, and thought I had some
good’ens, but I believe this is the best ever. Thanks, thank you
for lettin’ me share a part of this Christmas with
y’all.”

“
Hang on for just a
minute,” Luke says as he gets up and walks toward the cave
entrance. In a couple of minutes, he returns with about a four-foot
top section of a cedar tree covered in snow. Back at the fire he
shakes the snow off and props up the little cedar with a couple of
big rocks. He takes a scrap of paper from his pocket, tears it into
small pieces and uses it to decorate the ‘Christmas Tree.’ Nate
finds a couple of odd looking sticks to hang on a limb or two, Old
Bill removes some string from Lucky’s halter and Kay removes a
couple of old used stamps from some un-delivered letters. They now
have themselves a honest-to-goodness Christmas tree.

“
Mr. Jefferson, if I may,
would you lend me your guitar?”

Luke strums on the strings, tightening
one string and loosening another, humming as he goes through the
musical chords until the guitar is tuned just right. He then starts
strumming a tune. At first he is a little rusty, it has been a long
time since he held a musical instrument. He picks a few notes,
stops then starts over, picks a few more, then starts playing and
softly singing,
“Hark the herald angels sing...”
the others
all join in singing:

“
Hark the herald angels
sing,


Glory to the newborn King!


Peace on earth and mercy
mild


God and sinners reconciled.


Joyful, all ye nations rise


Join the triumph of the
skies


With the angelic host
proclaim:


"Christ is born in
Bethlehem"


Hark! The herald angels
sing


"Glory to the newborn King!"

Luke continues to play all the
Christmas carols he knows,
Deck the Halls, Oh Come all Ye
Faithful, It came upon a Midnight Clear
and ends with an
uplifting song
Jingle Bells
.

“
That was wonderful Luke,”
Old Bill said, with the flames from the fire glistening off a tear
in the corner of his eye, “That sure brought back old memories. If
I just had me some eggnog, this Christmas would be
complete.”

“
Ahem, ahem,” Kay clears
his throat.

Luke sitting down the guitar looks to
the mail-rider and asks, “Do you wish to say something Mr.
Mann?”

“
If someone were to take a
peek in my left-side saddlebag, there might be something in there
besides the mail. Of course, I could not allow anyone to open a
saddlebag belonging to the U.S. Mail, but if I were not looking I
suppose I’m not responsible.”

The last vowel had barely exited Kay’s
mouth as Luke bounds to Nellie. Opening the saddlebag he sees a few
letters and a small leather pouch big enough to hold a little
Christmas cheer. Back at the campfire, Kay still has his back
turned to his horse. He turns and announces, “Oh, I see you have a
leather pouch, you know there might be a bottle of snakebite
ointment in there. For use in cases of emergency only of
course.”

Luke opens the pouch – inside indeed
was a bottle of whiskey, a small bottle of ink, a pen and a few
pieces of folded writing paper. He withdraws the bottle and begins
to pass it around the circle, each taking a long drink. Kay takes
the bottle from Nate saying, “Darn it, I believe a rattlesnake jest
bit me! I need a sip of that life saving medicine Nate.” Kay laughs
and passes it to Luke. Luke takes a drink, “Darn rascal done bit me
too!”

Luke hands the bottle back to Old
Bill, but turns to Kay, “I see you carry some writing material in
your saddlebag. What is its purpose?”

“
Oh,” says Kay, “many
postal customers on my route do not have ink or paper, but have a
desire to communicate with some dear one far away. I give them a
chance to do so. Sometimes I have to write the letter myself,
‘cause they can’t read or write.”

“
Would you allow me to do
the same Kay? I would like to write a letter to my mother, if you
would post it when you get down the mountain.”

“
Of course, help
yourself.”

December 25, (or
there-a-bouts), 1863

My Dear Mother,

Merry Christmas to you and
all my brothers and sisters, I hope this finds you well and in good
health. I know I have been gone a long time and have written you
many times, but must inform you that I have never received a post
from you or from any of my friends at home.

I write to you from a cave
somewhere in Kentucky where we have sought shelter from a blizzard,
I have recently been imprisoned by the Yankees but have escaped and
am headed home. If all goes well Nate, yes that is correct Nate is
with me, we should reach Albertville in a couple of
months.

My love to all,

Your loving
son,

Luke Scarburg

p.s.

Nate says tell his Ma, Pa
and brother Jefferson, he is well and will see them
soon.

Chapter
Twenty-Four

CHRISTMAS EVE ON THE
FARM

Albertville, December 24,
1863

Dearest
Husband,

It is Christmas Eve, this
will be our second Christmas apart. Oh, how I have missed you.
Since you and the boys left in ’62, I have not received one word
from any of you. I hope and pray you and my two darling boys, Luke
and Matthew are still alive and well. You understand I know nothing
of the working of the military, but I do not know why you or the
boys can never post me a letter. Surely writing letters are not
secrets...are they?? Maybe you cannot tell me where you are, that I
can understand, but please just get word, somehow, that you are
alive.

When I get to town, I
always check the casualty lists posted on the telegraph office’s
wall, but as yet, thankfully I have never seen your name or the
boys. Each post I send I try to keep you up to date on the family,
I am pleased to say all is well. I don’t know what I would have
done without Sary though. I don’t remember if I told you or not,
but after Uncle Jed and Jefferson were killed we buried them out by
the large red oak tree. William and Isaac set up a nice picket
fence around the plot of ground. It looks almost like the little
cemetery we left at Scarlett Plantation in Carolina where little
Paul and the rest of our family are buried. I put them next to
Margaret. I hope that was right by you. Tom Henry found some nice
flat rocks down beside Hog Creek and etched their names on them. I
think you would have been proud.

Until I see you here on
Earth or in Heaven, I will always be

Your
loving wife,
Malinda

Finishing her letter Malinda speaks to
William, “William it is Christmas Eve, this year take Thomas Henry
out into the back pasture and look along the fence line and cut us
a nice cedar Christmas tree.”

“
But Mama,” argued
William, “Tom Henry is too young! I’ll have to do all the work –
find a tree, cut it down and then drag it back to the house. Let me
at least take Isaac, he’ll be some help, and besides Tom Henry will
probably chop his leg off.”

Malinda placing her pen on the table
turns to William giving him a stern look explains that young Thomas
Henry has never had the pleasure of a Christmas tree cutting. She
suggests since he is so inexperienced he is allowed to choose the
‘perfect’ tree, William can cut it, thereby saving Thomas Henry’s
leg, and they both can take turns pulling it back to the house.
Someday the responsibility will fall on Thomas Henry and he needs
to learn.

Still grumbling William storms out the
front door. Tom Henry follows with a grin that stretches from ear
to ear. By the time he reaches the steps William is in the yard
waiting.

“
All right, if you’re
goin’ we need the axe from the barn. Go get it!”

“
Right, William,” Tom
Henry says beginning to run toward the barn door. He enters the
barn; William sits down on the front steps expecting him back
immediately. Immediately turns into a couple of minutes. Getting
worried William begins to walk to the barn himself as Tom Henry
comes riding out on Blaze. He is carrying an axe and
rope.

“
What the...! What are you
doing Tom Henry, we can’t take Blaze.”

“
Sure we can, you know I
have never been Christmas tree hunting before, so I’m not supposed
to know that we’re not allowed to take Blaze to drag the tree back.
And besides Mama didn’t say anything about
not
using
Blaze.”

William looks at his brother, the
horse, the axe and the rope then nods his head, “Right! Right,
stick with that story: you don’t know nothin’ about taking the
horse.” Jumping upon Blaze the two of them quietly ride off toward
the back pasture.

THE PERFECT
TREE

Riding double on Blaze across the
pasture of knee high, green Rye grass William remembers back a few
years when a neighbor told them about the winter Rye. At first he
did not believe that grass could grow in the winter, but they tried
it and sure enough, here it is. It is perfect forage for the cows
and horses, well for their one horse Blaze. “All right little
genius find us that perfect Christmas tree, Tom Henry.”

William rides Blaze along the fence
line knowing the area along a fence is the perfect place to find
the young cedar trees. As they ride, Thomas Henry looks at first
one then the other so far none meets with his approval. “Come on
Tom Henry, pick out one, it’s cold out here and we need to get back
to the house.”