Jordan's War - 1861 (15 page)

Chapter 19

“Who is that?”
Jordan asked.

“Too far away,” Pa
said. “I can’t see them.”

“Think it’s the
Home Guard?”

“I don’t believe
so,” Pa said. “There’s only two of them.”

“I think they
might be,” Jordan said and held his reins a little tighter. He reached back
with one hand and felt the barrel of the Colt tucked securely between the
blanket folds.

“You ain’t going
to need that right now,” Pa said.

“Just makes me
feel better,” Jordan said. He’d carry that gun with him all the time if Pa
would let him – to the barn just to point it at Gus, to the river, and even to
the outhouse. Luke Vander would never catch him unarmed again.

He wished Grandma
was able to travel with them. He’d feel a little safer. Heck, he’d even settle
for Willow right now. Half a seer would be better than riding blind right into
a trap. But then again, she’d probably just start preaching at them and get
everyone arrested.

Jordan urged his
horse into a trot.

“Slow down,” Pa
said. “If they’re Home Guard, they’ll catch us.”

Jordan slowed and
fell back in behind Pa and focused on the trees which were still showing off
the newness of summer. It would be another few weeks or so before the soft
velvety leaves would be covered in dust and riddled with insect holes. By the
end of summer they’d be covered with worm nests and beetles, and their branches
would sag all ugly and brown.

The road was dry
even after the afternoon rain, but the clouds made the mountain sky darker than
it should have been for this time of day. Jordan tried to pretend it was just
another lazy spring evening, but as the clopping hooves became louder, his
uneasiness grew. He glanced back every so often, just to keep an eye on the
approaching riders.

“Finnian!” a
voiced called out. “Finnian!”

Pa stopped his
horse, turned around and pushed his hat up off of his head a bit so he could
see.

“Oh, hell,” he
said and let out a long breath. “It’s Tate and Henry.”

Jordan’s heart
raced as Uncle Tate and Henry rode up and stopped. He didn’t know why they were
on the turnpike, but he figured nothing good could come from it.

“Where are you
going so late?” Tate asked and raised a familiar disapproving eyebrow at his
younger brother.

“I’d rather not
say,” Pa said.

“I know where
you’re going,” Tate said. “It’s all over the mountain that Eamon’s a spy for
the Feds. I know the Home Guard took him.”

“He ain’t a spy!”
Jordan yelled.

“Hush
up, Jordan,”Pa
said
.
“That ain’t no way to talk to
your uncle.”

Jordan caught a
glimpse of Henry’s smirk. He looked away and bit his lip as his anger seethed
inside him. He found himself brushing his fingertips against the polished wood
butt of the pistol and jerked his hand away before Pa saw him.

Henry was still
sneering from beneath the shadow of his hat and Jordan wished he had a rock.
That’d take that smile off Henry’s face.

“How long they
been gone?” Tate asked.

“The less you know
the better,” Pa said. “Just go on back home and let me handle this.”

“What are you
going to do?” Tate laughed. “Just ride up and bring him home?”

“Nope,” Pa said.
“But I ain’t going to waste time jawing with you either. It’ll be dark soon and
me and Jordan got a lot of ground to cover.”

“Where you going
to take him?” Tate asked. “He can’t come home now. You started this whole mess.
It’s your fault Eamon’s a prisoner.”

Jordan’s blood was
boiling to the point where his temples were throbbing and his face was turning
red.

“Eamon shouldn’t
be there!” he shouted. “It was Isaac! He was the one who was with the Feds. Eamon
didn’t do anything.”

“Shut your mouth,”
Pa hissed.

“Tell him!” Jordan
shouted. His insides were shaking, but nothing showed on his face except for
this anger. “I’m sick of you two fighting. I’m sick of the Home Guard pushing
folks around and I want Eamon to come home!”

No one uttered a
sound. A flock of birds scattered from the trees as Jordan’s shrill tone had
frightened them from the branches of the tall pines that lined the road.

“Is that true?”
Tate asked Pa.

Pa looked at the
ground then back up to Take, with his head cocked to one side.

“Is it true?” Take
asked again. His voice was a little louder and his words were more concise.

“It’s true,” Henry
whispered, but didn’t look at his father. Instead he fixed his eyes on a rock
protruding from the packed earth next to his horse’s hoof.

“What did you
say?”

“It’s true,” Henry
repeated. “What Jordan said. Isaac’s been over at Uncle Abe’s old place going
on four days now. I ran over and told him Jim was back and he’d have to get.”

“What in the
world?” Tate asked. “Why?”

“Who knows why,”
Pa said. “I can only imagine what a war would look like for a boy.”

“Where is Isaac
now?” Tate asked Jordan.

Jordan shrugged
his shoulders and looked at Pa.

“I sent him off
earlier this afternoon with a sack full of vittles,” Pa said. “I told him to go
to Princeton and find Nealy. We can talk about this later. Me and Jordan got
something we need to do.”

“We’ll ride too,”
Tate said and gave his horse a light nudge in the ribs with his boot. The
others followed him.

Daylight had all
but abandoned the travelers long before they reached the valley and to make the
journey more dangerous, they chose to abandon the open pass of the turnpike for
the safety of the dense forest. They led their horses down the more treacherous
parts, with only a half-moon to light their way. Thankfully, the fog had
dissipated but Jordan still tripped over many of the jagged rocks and roots
that littered the mountainside.

He could hear the
footsteps of a bobcat or two as they followed the men down the mountain. He
felt better knowing they were there because animals seemed to sense evil and
danger more so than humans. If they followed this close, there must be no one
else nearby.

“The way I figure
it,” Pa said as they reached the bottom, “If we can get Eamon out of there
without anybody getting hurt, we’ll hide in the cave by the creek until
daybreak. You know the one I’m talking about right?”

“Yep,” Tate said.
“I know where it is. I don’t think many other folks do. Did you hear that boys?
If we get separated, we’ll meet at the cave. Stay hidden until we signal. Use
the bird call.”

Jordan’s heart
pounded so hard, he could barely hear Uncle Tate’s instructions. It wouldn’t be
long now.

Chapter 20

Jordan smelled
smoke long before he saw the flickering light from the campfires. It didn’t
matter how tightly he gripped the reins, his hands still shook, even though the
night was warm and breezy. His legs went from throbbing to numb and he hoped he
wouldn’t have to run anywhere.

There was little
movement in the camp although if he listened close enough, he could hear a
clang of a pot or the whiny of a horse, and he wondered if the soldiers had any
idea of what was about to happen.

A subtle, strange
stench drifted from the camp. Jordan didn’t know what it was but it was foul.
No one else seemed to notice the odor, although they had to have smelled it.

Pa stopped and
motioned for everyone else to stop as well. It was quiet except for an
occasional crackle or hiss from the campfire and the crickets singing their
evening serenade as if this was just another night. Jordan was afraid to
breathe and was sure everyone could hear his heart pounding. He jumped every
time one of the horses snorted or laid a hoof too heavy on the twig-laden
forest floor. A husky cough, followed by a few guttural curses came from one of
the tents and interrupted the stillness of the night and it seemed like they
remained in the shadows forever.

“You two stay
here,” Pa finally whispered to Jordan and Henry. “You’ll know if something goes
wrong and if it does, get yourselves out of here.”

Jordan only nodded
because he was unable to muster enough saliva to speak.

“Get that pistol
out and be ready,” Pa said. “Tate, does Henry have a gun or a knife?”

Henry pulled out a
pistol and held it up for Finnian to see. The barrel gleaned, reflecting the
spotty amber light from the camp.

“Never mind,” Pa
whispered. “You remember the plan?”

Both boys nodded.

“Alright then,” Pa
said and looked over at Tate. “Let’s get this over with.”

Pa’s gun looked
enormous as he pulled it from the straps. Jordan swallowed hard and tried to
rid himself of the dread that wretched his being as he watched them disappear
into the darkness. He squinted to keep his eyes focused on them, but they soon
vanished into the shadow of the trees.

He kept watching
the camp and looked for signs of Eamon, but had doubts whether he was still
there. They may have already taken him to Renick.

“You scared?”
Henry asked in a voice so soft that Jordan could barely hear him.

“A little,” Jordan
admitted. “Are you?”

“Nope,” Henry
said. “If I die tonight, I’ll be with Ma tomorrow. Don’t sound too bad to me.”

“I guess not.”

Jordan never
thought about dying that way before. The look on Henry’s face told him that he
meant it. Jordan didn’t want to die. Aside from Aunt Ginny, everyone he loved
was still here on the mountain. He’d never met Gunner’s ma.

There was no noise
from the camp and Jordan started to relax. Maybe Pa and Uncle Tate didn’t see
Eamon anywhere. He didn’t want to ride all the way to Renick tonight, but he
didn’t want to stay here either.

“They have the
prisoner!” a man shouted then gunfire ricocheted through the tranquil valley.

Jordan sat on his
horse, paralyzed in fear as chaos and gunshots ripped through the darkness. The
camp came to life and there were soldiers scurrying in all directions.

He paid no
attention to the cramp in his hand from clutching the gun so hard and
frantically searched the darkness for any sign of Pa, Tate, or Eamon. He didn’t
stop his horse from backing up each time a gun went off. It was just another
step away from the pandemonium taking place only yards away.

Three silhouettes
emerged from the trees amidst brilliant fiery blasts of bullets. Jordan
hunkered down and silently urged them to run faster.

“Ahhh!” Henry
yelled and slumped over in the saddle. Jordan let go of Pa’s horse, jumped to
the ground and caught Henry before he fell to the ground.

“Oh God!” Jordan
cried, and pushed Henry back up on his horse. He grabbed his pistol which had
fallen from his hand.

“Get up there and
steady him,” Pa hollered. “Get him home!”

Jordan mounted the
horse and pulled Henry in front of him.

“Can you hold
this?” Jordan said and shoved his pistol into Henry’s limp hand before he could
answer.

He turned around
just long enough to catch a glimpse of Eamon’s swollen and bloodied face as he
climbed onto Jordan’s horse.

Jordan bolted
through the trees and didn’t even consider taking the path home. He headed for
the turnpike.

“Where you hit?”
Jordan asked.

“In the shoulder,”
Henry whispered.

Jordan worked his
hand up Henry’s left side until he felt globs of warm sticky liquid and wet
fabric.

“Don’t touch it!”
Henry cried.

“Shhhh,” Jordan
said. “I’m sorry. Try to stuff some of your shirt in the hole. It might stop
the bleeding.”

“I can’t move my
arm,” Henry sobbed. “Oh God!”

Jordan tried not
to zigzag or hold Henry too tight. He seemed to have a secure grip on the
saddle horn but moaned all the way to the road.

“Please be quiet,”
Jordan said. “They’ll hear us.”

“It hurts,” Henry
cried.

“Hang on,” Jordan
said. “Grandma can fix you.” He felt Henry’s warm tears on his arm.

He was riding as
fast as he could while trying to keep Henry’s groaning to a minimum. There was
no way he could hear anyone chasing them and kept chancing a glance behind him
every so often just to check.

He had to stop
about halfway up the mountain so the horse could drink from the mountain
spring. Henry stayed in the saddle, clutching the horn with his right hand and
looked as though he’d fall over any minute. His shirt was shredded and wet
where the bullet entered his shoulder, and his face was so white it seemed
ghostly. There was no exit wound and Jordan knew the bullet would have to come
out and probably some of the cloth was down inside as well. He only hoped he
could get Henry to Grandma in time.

“You thirsty?”
Jordan asked and scooped some water in his hat.

“No,” Henry said.
“Let’s just go.”

Jordan jumped when
he heard the clopping of at least two horses trotting up the road in their
direction. He poured the water out of his hat and led the horse behind a large
rock. Thank heavens they were far enough from the road to be hidden from view.
He held his breath as the riders slowed down.

“I’m telling you
they didn’t come this way!” a man yelled.

“I heard them,”
another one said. “They can’t be too far ahead now.”

It was Luke
Vander!

“They didn’t come
this way,” a man said. “And I’m not going up this mountain tonight.”

“Go back then,”
Luke said. “I’ll catch them myself and then I’ll tell the Sergeant you didn’t
help me.”

“Oh, alright,” the
man said. “Let’s get a drink before we head on up.”

A drink! Oh no!
Jordan leaned into the shadows of the rock and whispered a prayer. His heart
pounded with each crashing step the soldiers made towards the spring.

Gunfire echoed
through the valley. The soldiers stopped.

“I told you they
didn’t come this way,” the soldier yelled. “I’m a danged fool for listening to
the likes of you.”

Jordan peeked
around the side of the rock. Luke Vander was back on the turnpike before the
man even finished his sentence. He watched the soldier mount his horse and head
towards the road. He didn’t move until he could no longer hear them.

“Don’t go back on
the road Jordan,” Henry pleaded. “They might come back.”

“It is probably
shorter to cut up over the mountain,” Jordan said.

“Do you know the
way?” Henry asked.

“Yep. You just
hang on and I’ll walk. We’ll be home before dawn.”

Jordan didn’t say
anything to Henry, but the gunfire in the valley frightened him. It sounded
like it came from the direction of the camp but sometimes the mountains played
tricks on his ears.