Jordan's War - 1861 (5 page)

“Gave you
nightmares too,” Jake retorted.

He was right. Just
the description of the evil beast, ten foot tall and covered with hair, who
stalked the mountain at night, scared the daylights out of him for a long time.
No one would have known, except for the fact that Jordan talked in his sleep.
Ma told him later it was only a legend and she had heard the same story when
she was young.

“Who’s that?”
Willow asked and pointed at someone riding towards the house.

“I hope they ain’t
wanting any dinner,” Ma said and stood up. “Oh good gracious, it’s old man
Wheeler. What in the world are we going to tell him?”

“How about the
truth . . . if he asks,” Grandma said.

There was no more
talk until Mr. Wheeler got to the porch and took off his hat.

“Howdy, Finnian,
Bess, Abigail,” he greeted.

“Evening Vance,”
Finnian said.

“I ain’t supposed
you seen my little girl, Sissy Mae?” he asked.

“You need to sit
down,” Grandma said.

“She here?”

“She was here
earlier,” Finnian said. “We fed her some biscuits and jam and then sent her on
home.”

“Then you know.”
The old man’s brow furrowed and his anger was clear on his face.

“Afraid so,”
Finnian said. “She came around here looking for Abigail.”

“How much do I owe
you ma’am?” Vance asked.

Grandma shook her
head and waved him off. “It didn’t take a seer to know what was troubling that
poor child.”

“Yep. I had a long
talk with Nealy and Tate about it a few weeks back,” Vance said. “Of course
Sissy Mae don’t know. She don’t say nothing no how. Seems they been sneaking
out and seeing a lot of each other.”

“You could say
that,” Finnian said. Ma elbowed him.

“To be honest, I
was fixing to shoot him until he said they’re planning to marry when he comes
back,” Vance said. “Bess, her ma and I may need some help with the birthing.”

“Certainly,” she
said.

“What if he don’t
come back?” Finnian asked. “Lots of boys going to be dying. We can only pray
Nealy ain’t one of them.”

“Of course he’ll
come back. This whole convoluted mess will be over in a couple of months.”

“I’m glad to see
you’re taking this so well. Not sure I’d be the man you are,” Finnian said and
shot Willow a look.

“Well, if you see
her, tell her to come on home. Her ma’s worried something awful,” Vance said.

“If I see her,
I’ll bring her home myself,” Finnian said.

“Much obliged,”
Vance said and walked back down the path.

Everyone remained
quiet until Mr. Wheeler was out of sight.

“Hell, Nealy would
say much of anything with a gun barrel pointed at his chest,” Finnian laughed.
“No wonder he left so quick.”

“Sissy Mae’s going
to have a baby?” Jordan asked with a convincing air of surprise.

“Give it up,
Jordan,” Willow said. “We confessed to Pa while you were slopping the hogs.”

“Funny,” Grandma
grunted.

“What’s funny?” Ma
asked.

“Funny, Sissy Mae
was over here hysterical, wanting me to give her something to kill that baby
and he’s walking over here putting on airs like nothing’s happened.”

“Maybe Sissy Mae
misunderstood,” Ma said.

“Maybe,” Grandma
said.

Chapter 5

 Jordan was tired
of the wool. It was greasy, smelly, and even though it was still morning, it
was already getting hot. To make it worse, he was mad because he had planned to
go fishing this morning and even spent part of yesterday pulling only the
plumpest worms out of the manure pile. He was up and dressed before dawn so he
could get to the fishing hole just as the sun came up. But Pa had other plans
and now Jake had the fishing hole all to himself.

Tuffs of the itchy
white fiber clung to his neck and hair, and some had even made their way down
inside his shirt. He was so sweaty even the occasional morning breeze wasn’t
powerful enough to rid him of it and his skin was streaked red from his
relentless scratching.

Eamon wasn’t the
friendliest of company either. They’d been bickering at each other ever since
Pa told them to load the wagons because neither of them wanted to do it. The
sacks were heavy and cumbersome and there were just too many. They’d be there
until after noontime.

Eamon flung the
sacks out of the loft as hard as he could, just to clobber Jordan as he worked
in the wagon below. He was so angry his ears burned red and his insides were
quivering. One of the sacks hit him in the head with such force, it knocked him
to his knees, dizzy and confused. Enough was enough. Jordan threw his hat on
the ground, stormed into the barn and up the ladder.

Eamon must not
have seen him go inside, because he was about to hurl another sack and stood at
the edge of the loft to get a better aim at his target. Jordan jumped off the
ladder and knocked Eamon’s feet out from under him. He went tumbling to the
floor. Jordan pounced on him, like a wildcat on a bloodied deer, and commenced
to pounding any part of Eamon he could find with his fists.

“Get off!” Eamon
yelled and thrashed on the floor to escape the blows. He twisted and turned,
but couldn’t knock Jordan off. He was too heavy.

“Make me!” Jordan
hollered.

Eamon socked
Jordan as hard as he could, right in the gut. Jordan felt a burn in his stomach
and tasted the bile that erupted out of his stomach and up his throat, but
ignored it in favor of the satisfaction he felt at getting the best of Eamon.

Blaaarrrghhh!
Jordan vomited most of his breakfast right on Eamon’s chest. Eamon covered his
face with his hands.

“You ignorant
little . . .!” Eamon yelled and shoved Jordan off his chest.

Jordan slid across
the loft floor. Eamon jerked his shirt over his head and threw it down. Jordan
got to his feet. Eamon tackled him and they became a tangled mass of limbs.

Jordan felt
Eamon’s weight being lifted off him. He looked up and saw Pa, standing behind
Eamon, holding his arms. Eamon was fighting to break free, but Pa seemed to
have a pretty good grip on him. Jordan got up, wiped the spittle from his chin
and dusted off his trousers.

“The little
bastard got sick on me!” Eamon yelled. He was so mad he was spitting and Pa was
struggling to hold onto him.

“He was throwing
the sacks at me!” Jordan screamed. He didn’t bother holding back the tears,
which by now were streaming down his flushed cheeks.

“You boys better
figure out how to load that wagon without killing each other,” Pa ordered. “Or
neither one of you are going to Fairmont with me.”

Jordan looked at
Eamon. Eamon shrugged and stood still. Jordan took a couple of steps backward
when he saw Pa let go of him.

“Where’s
Fairmont?” they asked, almost in unison.

“Up north.”

“Why are we going
there?” Jordan asked. He’d never heard of the place and they normally took the
wool either to Lewisburg or Marlins Bottom.

“I can get a
better price for the wool if I take it up there myself,” Pa explained. “It’s
closer to the mills.”

“How far is it?”
Eamon asked.

“Three days ride,
with the wagons.” Pa answered. “We’ll ride to Elkins and stay with Jim. Ma sent
word a few days back.”

“When are we
leaving?” Eamon asked.

“Tomorrow morning
if you two can quit fighting long enough to get these wagons loaded,” Pa said.
“Now, get moving and don’t forget to leave space in front for Willow’s syrup.”

Jordan hoped Eamon
forgot about their feud, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He kept a close eye
on the sacks as they sailed from the loft to the wagon. It took them longer to
move the full wagon than to load it. Jordan begged Eamon to hitch up the horse,
but Eamon insisted it would take too long and they could do it faster
themselves.

They pushed,
pulled, grunted, and cursed a bit, but at last managed to move the wagon out of
the way to make room for the next one. This time around, the boys worked like a
team.

They were done in
no time and headed back to the house, just in time to eat. Jordan was greeted
by the sweet smell of cornbread, butter beans, and fried ham right when he stepped
on the porch. Pa was already done with the afternoon feeding and was sitting in
his chair whispering to Grandma.

“Why can’t I go?”
Jake pouted to Ma.

“I need you here,”
Ma said.

“What about
Jordan? He can stay.”

“I said no. Eamon
has to take one of the wagons and Jordan’s a little more responsible. There’re
too many people in the city and Pa would lose you for sure.”

“I’d stay right
with him, I promise.”

“No.”

“You can have the
worms I dug,” Jordan said to Jake. He’d say just about anything to get him to
stop pleading with Ma and besides, they’d probably be dead before he could use
them.        

“I already used
them,” Jake said.

“There’s more.”

“Where?”

“Under the front
porch,” Jordan said. “In the old can  . . . by the lilac bush.”

Jake took off.
Jordan wondered if he was really that excited about the worms or just
regrouping to nag Ma some more after supper. He felt sorry for him, but he
wasn’t about to volunteer to stay behind. Not this time. They were going north.

Everything was
bigger and more exciting up there. Roads were wider, buildings were taller, and
folks did other jobs besides farming. The women wore big ornate hats and fancy
dresses, while the men wore ties and preferred those silly-looking round topped
derby hats to the wide brimmed hats like Pa and Uncle Tate wore. He’d heard
many stories, but this would be the first time he’d get to see it himself.

“Why does Eamon
have to take one of the wagons?” Jordan asked. “Ain’t Uncle Tate going?”

“Not this time,”
Ma said.

He looked over at
Pa for an explanation. Pa looked him in the eyes but offered no words. The icy
stare was all Jordan needed. He understood he must never ask about Uncle Tate
until they talked about him again. This was the longest they’d gone without
visiting each other. A chill ran through him.

Willow blew into
the room with her usual grace and fury.

“Ma, I’d like to
go with Pa,” Willow announced. “I need some new cloth for Sunday dresses. You
even said they were getting too tight and I’d like to see what the other girls
are wearing up north, just to get a few ideas.”

“I did say that,”
Ma agreed.

“Then can I go?”

Willow knew there
would be a store somewhere in town filled with reams of cloth – every color,
texture, and print imaginable. Every large town had one. Her eyes sparkled. Although
Jordan admired her approach he doubted she’d be successful.

“No,” Ma said.
“Not this time. Perhaps when things calm down.”

“You mean the
war?”

“Yes. That place
is going to be crawling with strangers.”

“But please mom,”
she begged. “I’ll have some money from selling the syrup. I always sell it
all.”

“Tell Pa what you
want and he’ll pick it up for you,” she said. “It’s just not safe. Finnian, can
you help me here?”

“It’s not safe,”
Pa said. “And you’ll have to tell Jordan what you want though. I won’t
remember.”

“Ohhhh,” Willow
said through clenched teeth, grabbed Jordan’s arm, and pulled him into the
kitchen.

They were up and
dressed before daybreak. Jordan stuffed his face with as much food as he could
during breakfast. He didn’t know when Pa would stop again to eat, and he didn’t
want to be the first one to whine about being hungry.

He looked back at
Jake as they rode off. He grew smaller as they got farther away and Jordan
couldn’t decide if he could still see his lip curled down around his chin and
the sadness in his big brown eyes or if it was his own guilt playing with his
imagination. He felt sad, but it didn’t last long as they traveled down the
path to the turnpike.

He kept repeating
in his head what Willow told him about the fabric: six yards of blue, two yards
of a blue plaid, six yards of green, not too dark, just medium, six yards of
white, no print, six yards of that gorgeous burgundy she’d seen at Marlins
Bottom, twelve pearl buttons, and don’t forget to memorize what the girls up there
were wearing. He knew Willow would never forgive him if he messed it up. She
even made him promise to pray to God to help him remember.

The sun was just
coming into view to the east, but it was already getting hot. It seemed odd to
turn north on the main road, instead of their usual south, but it was all still
familiar to Jordan because this was the same pass they took at least once or
twice a year to Marlins Bottom.

Five men on
horseback emerged from the shadows of the trees and approached the wagons the
moment they’d turned onto the main passage. They were dressed similar, in
varying shades of gray and all of them were armed.

Soldiers
!
He never thought they’d be so close to home. They rode side by side and looked
so distinguished, so noble, so. . . .

Jordan gasped. One
of the soldiers was none other than that devil, Luke Vander. Four of them
stopped, including Luke, while one of them kept riding. Jordan figured this man
was their leader and studied him, looking for any characteristics which set
this man apart from the other three. He didn’t bother counting Luke – he was
just a stupid indigent.

“Morning boys,”
Finnian said and stopped the wagon. Eamon stopped his behind Pa’s.

“Morning sir,” the
man said. “I’m Sergeant Hummel, of the Lewisburg Home Guard and these men are
with me.”

The other men
moved in closer to the wagons. Jordan stared at the ground. He could feel
Luke’s stare burning into the back of his head and even though he was a good
three feet away, Jordan could still smell his putrid breath.

“Home Guard . . .
Lewisburg . . . What are you doing all the way up here?” Finnian asked and
looked at Jordan. Jordan shrugged.

“Yes sir,”
Sergeant Hummel said. “There’s been Union activity up around Philippi and we’ve
been assigned to patrol this area.”

“Philippi!”
Finnian laughed. “Hell son, you got the wrong end of the state. Philippi’s a
two day ride north.”

 “I understand
that sir,” the sergeant said. “I have my orders. We’ll need to search your
wagons.”

“For what?”
Finnian asked.

“We’ll need to
search them sir,” Sergeant Hummel said and offered no further explanation.

Luke was the first
one off his horse and into the wagon. He pulled a large-handled hunting knife
from his belt and slit one of the sacks from top to bottom.

“No need to cut it
son,” Finnian said. “All you got to do is open it from the top. They ain’t
fastened too tight for you, are they?”

Luke sneered at
Finnian and slit another sack the same way. Fluffs of wool escaped the tightly
packed sack and floated off with the breeze.

Finnian stood up,
jumped out of the wagon, and walked around to the back. He grabbed Luke’s arm,
the one that held the knife, before Luke was even aware he was out of his seat.

“I ain’t going to
tell you again son,” Finnian said.

Luke jumped down
and attempted to knock Finnian off his feet. Finnian twisted the knife out of
Luke’s hand and threw it on the ground next to him. Sergeant Hummel grabbed
Finnian by his shirt but he was too solid of a man to get a good hold on him.
Finnian shook him off and walked away.

“You do that again,
sir, and I’ll have you arrested,” Hummel warned. He was out of breath and
Jordan thought he heard his voice tremble. Pa had a way of scaring folks
sometimes.

“For what?”
Finnian asked.

“For assaulting a
soldier.”

“That ain’t no
damn soldier,” Finnian scoffed. “That’s just one of them thieving, lying,
Vander trash.”

“He is a soldier
in the Confederate army and is due the utmost respect.”

“Here’s all the
respect he needs.” Finnian spit a large chaw of tobacco out of his mouth next
to Luke’s foot.

Jordan watched in
horror as one of the soldiers pulled a revolver and pointed it at Pa.

Finnian backed off
and leaned on the wagon.

“Put the gun away,
Olin,” Sergeant Hummel said and turned to Luke. “There’s no need to destroy
this man’s hard work. Just a quick search will do.”

Jordan watched the
man’s hand tremble as he put down the gun.

Eamon and Jordan
got off the wagons while Luke and two other soldiers rummaged through their
belongings.

Luke picked up a
jar of Willow’s maple syrup he discovered up in front, under a few sacks of
wool. He started to pull back the seal.

“That ain’t
yours,” Jordan said.

“What are you
going to do about it?” Luke hissed and let the jar slip from his hand. To
Jordan’s surprise and Luke’s disappointment, the jar didn’t break when it
landed on the ground. The sergeant tapped Luke on the shoulder and he jumped to
attention. Jordan snickered and grabbed the jar off the grass.

“Nothing here
sir,” one of the men called.

Sergeant Hummel
walked over to Finnian.