Crossing (12 page)

They were still smoking, and the four cadets surrounding the big guns were watching Major Jackson attentively. He had lifted binoculars to his face to look at the targets, which were about three hundred yards away on the side of an earthen breastwork. “Not bad, men. Artillery up!” he shouted.

The four cadets that had been at the guns joined the ranks of the other cadets, and three new teams of four ran to each of the guns.

“Ready your guns!” Jackson shouted. He had a curious, highpitched voice, though it didn’t sound feminine, and it carried clearly on the air.

Two cadets stood in front at each side of the cannons, two at the rear. One of the boys in front took a long pole that had what looked like an enormous corkscrew on one end, rammed it down the barrel, twisted it, and slowly worked it all the way up the muzzle. This was called the “wormer.” The other cadet took another long pole with a roll of canvas on the end, dipped it into a bucket of water, and swabbed the entire barrel, which was called “sponging.” This was to kill any live sparks from the last charge.

Jackson called, “Advance the round!”

The cadet in the rear to the right of the gun picked up a burlap sack. In it was a twelve-pound ball and two and one-half pounds of black powder. He seated it in the barrel, and the sponger turned his pole around and jammed it down the barrel, all the way to the back. Then all four of the cadets stood at the rear of the gun.

Jackson ordered, “Come to the ready!”

One of the cadets inserted a brass spike into the hole for the fuse, puncturing the canvas bag. Then another inserted a wire fuse attached to a long lanyard. Each member of the crew moved back, the crew captain holding the lanyard and stepping carefully until there was tension on it.

“Clear, sir!” each captain shouted.

“Fire!” Jackson roared.

The explosion was extremely satisfying to Yancy, as it seemed to be to each boy there. All of them had bright eyes, and excitement was clear on their faces.

After Jackson checked the targets with his binoculars, his eyes were bright, burning blue, too. “Good men,” he said. “Artillery up!”

And so they began again.

At the very back of the field, Yancy dismounted and stood, stroking Fancy, for she skittered a little at each round though she didn’t panic or bolt. He watched the entire class, which lasted about another hour. He was fascinated.

Finally, Jackson walked back and forth at the front of the two rows of cadets, talking to them quietly enough that Yancy couldn’t hear. Then they came to attention, and he called, “Dismissed.” The group broke up and headed back toward the institute, Jackson several steps behind them.

Yancy took a deep breath then hurried over to Major Jackson, leading Fancy. “Sir?” he called when he got within earshot. “Sir? May I have a word with you?”

Jackson halted and turned his eyes toward Yancy. Yancy thought that he had never seen such a deep penetrating gaze in all of his life. “Yes, what is it, young man?” Jackson asked, not unkindly.

“I—sir—I heard you are looking for a young fellow to do some work for you?”

“So I am. Who told you about it?”

“My father. He heard it from Mr. Mason. From Mason’s Grocery and Dry Goods.”

“What’s your name and who are your people?” Jackson demanded, stopping his stride and turning to look at Yancy attentively. Though Jackson was courteous, he still made Yancy very nervous. His gaze was so intent, and he had such a distant air.

“I’m—my name’s Yancy Tremayne, Major. My father is Daniel Tremayne. We live in the Amish settlement just south of town.”

Jackson nodded. “All right. Walk with me, and tell me about yourself.”

Yancy fell into step with Major Jackson. He didn’t tell his whole life story; he just told him that he and his father had returned to the Amish after his father had been away for many years. He told him that the Tremaynes had lived on the farm since the 1730s, and that though he didn’t despise farmwork, he hoped to find a job in Lexington and work outside the community.

Jackson searched him, his eyes taking in his homespun trousers and his simple muslin pullover shirt, and then he looked at his feet. “You’re wearing moccasins.”

“Yes, sir. My mother was half Cheyenne. So I guess you know that means I’m one-fourth Indian,” Yancy said evenly.

“Guess I do,” Jackson said drily. “Nice moccasins. So I assume you know how to take care of horses?”

It took Yancy a scant moment to shift into the change in conversation, but then he answered eagerly, “Oh yes, sir, because that’s what I love to do! I mean—”

“No, you said it, Yancy, a man does best that which he loves to do,” Jackson said quickly. “And that is a fine mare you’ve got there, looks healthy and well cared for. But what about everything else? Other chores, hard work around a house?”

“I work hard at the farm, sir. I’m handy with tools, I’m strong, and usually I can—sort of figure out how to fix things. Like repairing a roof, or putting up a fence. And I’ve been to four barn raisings, so I’ve learned some carpentry.”

“All right.” Jackson nodded. “Then I want you to wait for me. I’ve got some things to do in my office. My horse is in the institute stables over there. The stable boy will show her to you. You go on over there, clean my tack, and brush her down and pretty her up, show me a little bit of what you can do. By the time you’re through with that I’ll be ready to go home. I’ll take you and introduce you to my wife. As far as I’m concerned you can have a trial period. You can work for a week, and by that time we should know if we can get along with each other.”

On 8 East Washington Street in Lexington was a modest two-story house that Jackson had bought. The front steps crowded up against the street, but as they rode up, Yancy could see a generous garden, stables, carriage house, and washhouse in the back.

Jackson went up the side street, where a path led right up to the stable.

“I’ll take care of the horses, Major Jackson,” Yancy said eagerly. “I know you’ll want to talk to Mrs. Jackson before you introduce me.”

“Good, good,” Jackson murmured, nodding his head. The words and gesture were very familiar to those who knew him. He dismounted, handed the reins to Yancy, and hurried into the house.

Yancy hitched up Fancy, then began unsaddling Major Jackson’s horse, which was an unassuming mare by the name of BeBe. In the stall next to her was a big gray gelding who whinnied in recognition when he led BeBe in and then poked his nose out of the stall to watch Yancy curiously. Yancy unsaddled the mare and brushed her down. It didn’t take very long, for he had curried her very well at the institute and they hadn’t ridden hard to Jackson’s home, so he finished quickly. After that he petted the gelding and talked to both horses. He loved horses, and they loved him.

Yancy was standing at the gelding’s stall, rubbing his soft nose and murmuring to him, when Jackson came to get him. “I see you’ve made Gordo’s acquaintance,” he said.

“That’s his name? Gordo?”

“Actually, it’s Cerro Gordo. Named after a place in Mexico, where I saw my first action,” Jackson said. “This old goat”—he rubbed the horse’s nose—”didn’t have anything to do with it. I just liked the name, and I’ll always remember it.”

“I’d like to know about the Mexican War,” Yancy said wistfully.

“Would you?” Jackson retorted, swiveling his shrewd gaze to Yancy’s face.

“Yes, sir.”

“I have two books, memoirs from men who were there,” Jackson said. “Maybe you’d like to borrow them?”

“Oh yes, sir. I—I like to read, but the Amish don’t encourage it too much. Except the Bible, of course.”

“Good of them. Everyone must study the Bible with great energy,” Jackson said sternly. “But reading books is a good thing, Yancy. I’m glad you want to read. Shows me something of what you’re made of. So, would you like to come meet my wife now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jackson led him into the house. It was modestly furnished, not spare but with good wool rugs, plenty of lamps, and comfortable, gently worn furniture in the parlor.

On a settee was seated a pretty lady, somewhat thin, with thick chestnut hair and warm brown eyes.

“My darling, this is Yancy,” Jackson said. “Yancy, this is my wife, Anna.”

Yancy did his best to make a sort of bow, not daring to extend his hand. “Ma’am,” he murmured.

“I’m so glad to meet you, Yancy,” she said in a soft voice. “Already I feel I know you a little, because Thomas has told me about you. Please, won’t you be seated?”

Awkwardly Yancy perched on the edge of a straight chair by the fireplace.

“As I said, Yancy is reputed to be good with tools and on a farm, and I’ve already seen that he’s very good with horses,” Jackson said, seating himself by his wife. “And he’s been working on an Amish farm, and I know that must be hard work.”

“Yes, sir,” Yancy said faintly.

Anna looked at him intently then smiled a little as she seemed to recognize his nervousness. “The Amish, you know … I’ve heard of them, but I know very little about them,” she said. “Perhaps you and I can talk about them sometime.”

“Yes, ma’am, even though I—I mean, I—it’s kind of new to me, too, so I don’t know much about it,” Yancy said.

“Then perhaps we can learn together,” she said lightly. “Now, you see, the most important thing to Thomas is if you can take good care of the horses and the cart and the carriage and make sure the pump and the drains are working properly. But the most important thing to me, Yancy, is my garden. I think it must be different from farming, but perhaps not so much. And so it doesn’t really matter if you don’t know much about the Amish, as long as you know about horses and gardening.”

Suddenly Yancy smiled at her; he didn’t smile very often, but she was so gentle and so obviously wanted him to be at ease that it made him want to reassure her. “Ma’am, I don’t know much about flowers and things, but I can learn. And I’m not afraid of any hard work. I’ll be glad to do anything around here that needs doing. If I don’t know how to do it, I’ll find someone who does, and I’ll get him to teach me.”

Anna and Jackson glanced at each other; and Yancy was surprised at the softness and the warmth with which the stern major looked at his wife.

Then Anna looked back at Yancy. “I think you’ll do well, Yancy. I’m sure that we’ll be glad that the Lord sent you here. I’ll be glad to have the help, and it will be nice to have a young person around the house.”

Suddenly Jackson reached out and took her hand.

Yancy saw the sadness in her then and remembered that Daniel had told him of their losing their daughter four months ago. “I will work hard, ma’am, Major,” Yancy promised. “I don’t know much about the Lord and all, but I do want you to be glad I’m here. I’ll work hard to earn that.”

Jackson called up, “How’s it going, Yancy?”

Yancy was on the roof of the stable. It had a tin roof, and the seams had expanded and loosened during the hot summer. With cold rain and snow coming, Yancy wanted to make sure the roof was snug and secure, so he was adding extra nails along the seams and sealing them with tar. It was hot work, and hard work, but he didn’t mind. He wanted BeBe and Gordo to be comfortable this winter.

He looked down and smiled at the major. “Fine, sir, it’s going very well. I think I can finish this by tomorrow.”

Jackson nodded. “Come down here. I have something for you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yancy climbed down the ladder, rubbing his dirty hands against his breeches.

“Here are your wages for the week.” He held out two silver dollars.

With great pleasure Yancy took the coins and put them in his pocket. “Thank you, Major. It’s been a good week. I like working for you and Mrs. Jackson,” he said with a touch of uncharacteristic shyness.

“You have done a good job, Yancy. You are indeed a hard worker. What will you do with your money?”

“Give it to my family, sir.”

“Good, good. Be back at eight o’clock on Monday, Yancy.”

“Yes, sir, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Carry on.”

“Sir.” Yancy climbed back up onto the roof of the stable.

O
ne thing that Yancy loved about the Amish was their food. As he sat down to dinner with his family, his mouth watered. Zemira and Becky had prepared chicken and corn soup, biscuits, pork ribs and kraut, tomato fritters, and potato salad. Also, they had cheese cubes, pickles, and fresh, crunchy celery straight from the kitchen garden, the last of the season. Steaming on the sideboard for dessert was apple strudel, a jug of fresh cream standing by.