When Johnny Came Marching Home

by William Heffernan

  "No. It hadn't arrived before I left for home. I'm very sorry. She was always very kind to me."

  "She loved you, Jubal. Just as we all love you," Rebecca said.

  * * *

  When my father and I entered the church that evening, people I had known all my life rushed up to us. Many of the older women had tears in their eyes as they welcomed me home; many told me how they had prayed for me; almost all looked at my empty sleeve with sadness.

  Reverend Harris and his wife came to us before the service started, welcoming me home and explaining that Johnny had gone to visit a friend that evening but would be back later. When he took the pulpit, Reverend Harris began by praising the Lord for my safe return.

  The service for President Lincoln had been going on for almost an hour when Mary Johnson arrived and took a seat next to her husband. Walter smiled at her and whispered something in her ear. Rebecca just stared straight ahead as the choir and the congregation began singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."

  When the service ended I was again surrounded by well-wishers, and while I appreciated their kindnesses I very much wanted to get away and be off by myself. I worked my way to the door as politely as I could and thanked Reverend Harris for the service and for his kind words and finally stepped out into the cool April night. I had only taken a few steps when I heard Johnny's voice.

  "Hail the conquering hero."

  I turned and saw him leaning up against a maple tree. He seemed thinner than I remembered and his face had a pale, pasty look to it.

  I walked up to him and stared into his eyes.

  He sneered at me. "Did ya tell all the folks how you an' fat ol' Abel got ta meet President Lincoln at Sharpsburg?"

  "No."

  "Too bad, they woulda been mighty impressed. Jubal, ya look like ya wanna kill yer ol' friend. I know ya tried ta get me stuck in front of a firin' squad." The cold smile returned to his lips. "But that din' work out too good fer ya, did it?" He looked behind me at the people gathering outside the church. "Too many witnesses," he said. "Guess you'll havta wait till later."

  "There's no rush," I replied coldly. "No rush at all."

  Johnny let out a short, barking laugh and lightly cuffed the stump of my left arm. "Be easier if ya had two arms an' two hands," he said as he stepped by me and headed toward the parsonage.

  * * *

  Johnny was sitting on the front steps of the parsonage when I left my house the next morning. He watched me as I crossed the road and headed toward him; then he stood and walked around the side of the house and back to his barn. I followed him and saw him enter the barn. I walked up to the open door and stopped to allow my eyes to adjust to the change in light. I had put on my sidearm, letting my jacket conceal its presence, and now I pulled back the side of the coat so the Colt was more easily accessible.

  "Well, well, the sergeant's got his pistol," Johnny said as I stepped into the barn. We were only six feet apart. There was a rifle leaning up against one of the stalls and Johnny's hand inched toward it. I took two quick steps forward and kicked it out of reach, then hit Johnny as hard as I could, driving him back against the side of the stall.

  As he tried to regain his feet I hit him again, then drew the Colt and shoved it up under his chin and cocked the hammer. The two clicks it made sounded like explosions.

  "Ya gonna kill me now, Jubal?"

  I could hear the quiver of fear in his voice. It seemed to match the shaking of my hand and I drew the Colt back and lowered the hammer. Johnny was drawing a deep breath when I slammed the Colt against the side of his face, knocking him to the ground. Blood ran from a cut above his eye. I leaned down and stared into his face.

  "Not yet," I said.

  I picked up his rifle and unloaded it and threw it across the barn.

  "You see, Johnny, one arm's good enough to handle a piece of dog shit like you."

  * * *

  Five months later, as I was saddling my horse, a recently returned Josiah Flood came and told me that Johnny Harris was dead.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Jerusalem's Landing, Vermont, 1865

  I took Rebecca for a buggy ride the day after we exhumed Johnny's body. It was a bright, sunny day, the air brisk but carrying none of the winter that would soon be upon us.

  Rebecca smiled as I turned into the road that led up to the base of Camel's Hump Mountain. "Are you taking me to that beautiful place—the place where you asked me to marry you?" she asked.

  "Yes, I am."

  "Why? Are you going to take back your ring?" she teased.

  "I can't," I said. "Your father has a gun."

  "I'm glad you remembered."

  I pulled the buggy to the spot where I had proposed to her only a day earlier. "I need to tell you something," I said.

  She looked at me curiously. "What is it?"

  "We exhumed Johnny's body last night."

  She was startled, trying to get her thoughts around what I had just told her. "W . . . Why?" she asked at length.

  "We found the weapon that killed him," I said. "And we had to be sure it fit the wound on his body."

  "Did it? Did if fit the wound? Where did you do it, where did you take his body?"

  I told her and she shuddered at the thought of it.

  "The weapon was an awl," I said. "The blade was covered in dried blood. Josiah found it and came straight to me."

  "How did he know it was blood?"

  "Dried blood was something he saw every day for the past four years," I explained. "I took the awl to the university and confirmed that it was human blood, and when Doc reexamined Johnny's body the blade fit perfectly into the wound."

  "That's horrible. Don't tell me any more, please."

  "There's just one more thing you have to know," I said.

  She stared at me, fearlessly.

  "The awl was in the barn behind your father's store," I said. "Josiah found it while he was helping your father restock the shelves."

  "Wha . . . What?"

  I reached out and took her hand. The shock on her face was exactly what I had hoped to see.

  "Are you saying someone in my family killed Johnny Harris?" she stammered.

  "I'm not saying that. But if people hear that we found the murder weapon in your barn it's certain to create a great deal of suspicion." I paused, giving her time to understand what I was saying. "Did your father know about the relationship between Johnny and his wife?"

  She shook her head vehemently. "No, I'm certain he didn't. I suspected there was something between them, but I didn't know for sure until you spoke to her. And I know my father. He's a very straightforward man. If he had known, if he had even suspected, he would have confronted Mary, and if she admitted it he would have gone after Johnny openly."

  I could find no argument with her rationale. We were quiet for several moments, then she said, "If it was Mary, and it comes out, it will kill my father. He's lost so much; first Abel, then my mother. This . . . this would be more than he could bear." There was fear in her eyes now.

  I picked up the reigns and started Jezebel in motion. "I don't want you to worry about this anymore," I said.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "When will your father be away from the store again?"

  "Tomorrow," she said. "He'll be picking up supplies again."

  "I want to talk to Mary."

  "You think she killed Johnny, don't you? You think she killed him and hid the awl in our barn."

  I very much wanted to ease her fear. "Anyone could have put the awl in your barn," I said. "Anyone at all."

  * * *

  Mary was alone in the store when I got there the following morning. It was ten o'clock. I had watched Walter drive his buckboard north toward Richmond, and then had waited half an hour to make sure he wouldn't return unexpectedly.

  Mary gave me a warm smile when I came through the front door, but the smile disappeared when I asked if she could call up to Rebecca and have her take over the store for a short t
ime. "I need to talk to you," I said. "And it's best I do it while Walter is away."

  Rebecca came downstairs looking happy to see me, and it made my heart swell to glimpse the pleasure in her eyes. She rose up on her toes and kissed my cheek.

  "We won't be long," I said.

  "Take all the time you need." I noticed that Rebecca had not looked at Mary when she came downstairs, nor did she now.

  "Do you want to go up to the parlor?" Mary asked. She too had consciously avoided making eye contact with her stepdaughter.

  "No, I'd like you to go out to the barn with me. I need to show you something there." She seemed initially confused, but she held it in and followed me outside without objection.

  I led her into the barn and walked her to the rear corner where Josiah had found the bloodstained awl. I removed it from my jacket pocket and opened the neckerchief in which it was wrapped. Mary gasped when I held it out to her.

  "This is the weapon that killed Johnny Harris," I said simply. "We've had the dried blood examined at the university and we exhumed Johnny's body to make sure the blade of the awl fit the wound. All the results were positive, and Doc Pierce is certain that this was the murder weapon."

  Mary's hands were trembling and I paused to draw the moment out. Then I stepped up to a box that sat next to the rear wall. "We found the awl behind this box. Someone threw it here to hide it."

  "What are you trying to say, Jubal?" Her voice was shaking, and despite the chill in the air there was a visible line of perspiration on her upper lip. "Are you saying you think I hid it here?"

  I stared at the earthen floor and toed the dirt with my boot. "I'm not trying to say anything in particular, Mary."

  She began to shake uncontrollably. "He was terrible and vile," she blurted out. "He laughed at me, just laughed at me, and then he threatened to tell Walter that he'd been with me. He said he'd have to leave Jerusalem's Landing when he did, but that he planned to do it anyway. He said with him gone, the whole village would turn against me and Walter would throw me out with nothing. He said I'd be lucky if the townspeople didn't take a bucket of tar to me." She was sobbing, no longer able to control herself. I handed her a clean handkerchief and she wiped away some of the tears.

  "I asked him what he wanted and he said he didn't want anything. He said I'd already given him what he wanted. Then he laughed at me again and promised me this time I'd get what I deserved. I asked him what he meant and he just laughed again, and told me I knew exactly what he meant. Then he slapped me across the face and he kept doing it. Once, twice, three times, more. Not hard really. It was for humiliation more than pain. We were in the barn and the awl was just there, and I . . . and I . . ." She squeezed the handkerchief between her hands and twisted it fiercely. "Later, after Johnny was dead, Bobby Suggs came to me and told me he knew everything about me." She was babbling now, unable to stop talking. "He said I had to tell him where Johnny had hidden it or he'd go to Walter and tell him everything—"

  "Hidden what?" I asked, stopping her.

  She seemed momentarily confused. "I thought I'd told you. It was why Johnny was afraid of him—why he thought he might have to kill Bobby."

  "Slow down and tell me," I said.

  "I'm sorry," she said. She took a deep breath and continued: "Johnny told me that he had something he'd brought home from the war and that half of it belonged to Bobby Suggs. But he said he had no intention of giving him his share, and that he'd told Bobby that. He said they argued and that Bobby had threatened to kill him, and that he'd had to use his gun, had to stick it in Bobby's face to drive him off. But he knew Bobby would be back. He said it was only a matter of time before he came after him, and when he did he wouldn't have any choice. He'd have to kill him."

  "What was it that he had?" I asked.

  "I don't know," Mary said. "Johnny wouldn't tell me. But he said he'd be able to live off it for a long time, maybe even use it as a stake to head out west."

  "Did he tell you where it was?"

  "No. He said the only people besides him who could find it were you and Abel. He said it was hidden in a place only you three knew about, a place the three of you had built when you were younger. Then he laughed and said that since Abel was dead you were the only one who would know where it was, but that you were too thick-headed to figure it out." She stared at me for a long time, her eyes begging me to understand. "Jubal, Johnny was a terrible man. Everybody tells me what a wonderful boy he was, but he wasn't like that anymore. He was cruel and vicious and hateful and he enjoyed hurting people. And I think Bobby Suggs is maybe even worse."

  "I know," I said. "I know what Johnny was like, what Suggs is still like. On the day Abel died I saw them shoot down a man and his wife. They weren't armed, they were just proud and defiant, and Johnny and Suggs never gave them a chance; they just murdered them where they stood."

  I felt no pity for the woman. Whatever happened to her she had brought upon herself, just as Johnny had brought about his own death. But in Mary's case being a fool didn't warrant the destruction of her life. And it was certainly no reason to bring pain to Rebecca or her father. I studied the earthen floor again, then took Mary's elbow and led her back toward the store. "Johnny would have killed you without giving it a thought," I said. "Consider yourself lucky he didn't." I held her eyes again. "Bobby Suggs would do the same. Stay clear of him."

  When we reached the back door she stopped me and stared up into my face. "What's going to happen to me? What are you going to do?"

  "Nothing's going to happen," I said. I saw relief course through her, and it angered me. My mind took me back to the night I told the Harris's that their son was dead; how Mary had accompanied her husband to help ease their pain, help them through that terrible night, and I recalled how Mary's hands had trembled violently as she reached out to Johnny's mother. Now she reached for the door and I took her arm and turned her back so we faced each other again. "Nothing is going to happen to you, unless you do something to hurt Walter or Rebecca," I said. "Or if you say anything that hurts Reverend Harris or his wife. If any of those things happen, you'll regret the day you met me, and you'll wish to God you had never heard of Jerusalem's Landing."

  * * *

  The next morning I headed for Billy Lucie's woodlot. I had asked Josiah to ride with me and to bring his rifle along.

  The work crew had just gotten out of bed and was having their morning coffee when we rode up to their campfire. Suggs was sitting on the bunkhouse steps and he glared at us, but said nothing. I dismounted and walked over to him, and without warning, reached out, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and yanked him to his feet. Josiah angled his horse so his rifle took in the entire work crew.

  "What the hell are ya grabbin' me fer?" Suggs yelled.

  "I'm about to lock your sorry ass up for the murder of Johnny Harris," I said. I shoved him as hard as I could and sent him staggering across the dooryard of the bunkhouse.

  "I din' kill nobody," he snarled.

  "Really?" I leaned in close so the other loggers wouldn't hear me. "I seem to remember a farmhouse in Virginia where you and Johnny Harris slaughtered a man and his wife."

  "That was the war!" Bobby shouted.

  "The war. Oh, I see, it was the war. That's where unarmed civilians were fair game. That's the place where you could gun down a man and his wife because they wouldn't give you the key to the cashbox you and Johnny stole from their house. Abel and Josiah and I watched you do it, and if that artillery barrage hadn't started we would have blown your ass to hell right then and there."

  "Ya tried ta git the army ta arress' me on that, an' they tol' ya ta forgit it; they tol' ya there wasn't no evidence. It was jus' yer word and that nigger's word agin' Johnny's and mine."

  Josiah raised the barrel of his rifle and smiled down at Suggs. "Ya call me a nigger one more time an' ya ain't gonna have ta worry 'bout Jubal arrestin' ya. The only thing ya'll havta worry 'bout is what hole yer bones is gonna rot in."

  "Ya gonna let that . .
. that sumbitch talk ta me like that?"

  "I'm going to let him talk to you any way he wants. And you take one step out of line and I'm going to let him shoot you any place he wants. And if he misses, I'll shoot you myself."

  "I won't miss, Jubal. I sure won't miss this piece a sorry white trash."

  I heard a voice call out and watched Billy Lucie ride across the clear-cut. When he reached the campfire he dismounted, handed the horse's reigns to one of his men, and walked toward me. "Looks like maybe I'm gonna be shorthanded a man fer the day," he said.

  "I'm afraid so," I replied. "He'll be packing up his things and coming with me. Does he have any weapons in the bunkhouse?"

  "Ain't supposed ta," Billy said. "But I can't guarantee it." He raised his chin toward Suggs. "He's wearin' a knife on his belt."

  I nodded. "Not for long. His horse still in your barn?"

  Billy said it was. "An' his pistol should be in his saddlebags," he added.

  "Will you collect his horse?" I asked Josiah. "And see if his pistol is there."

  Josiah nodded and rode off.

  I turned back to Suggs. "Throw the knife on the ground." My hand was on the butt of my pistol for emphasis.

  Suggs did as he was told and I picked it up and pointed the blade at the bunkhouse. "Let's go pack up your stuff," I said.

  When we were alone in the bunkhouse, Suggs turned to me "I din' kill Johnny," he said. "An' tha's the truth."

  "I don't care who killed him. I just want someone to hang for it. And you've been elected."

  "Wait." He held up his hands, palms facing me as though he were warding me off. "There's some money to be made cheer. A lotta money."

  "Tell me about it," I said.

  "Ya was talkin' 'bout that cashbox, the one me an' Johnny took from the farmhouse in Spotsylvania."

  "That's right."

  "Well, the only reason we went there was that we heard those folks had a big poke stashed away. Had it since afore the war started. We found it sure enough. All it took was puttin' a gun ta the man's head an' that woman opened up right quick. But when we found it the man wouldn't give us the key, an' we wanted ta be sure we got us the right cashbox. So I shot him in the leg, figgerin' the woman would come ta her senses. But then Johnny panicked an' shot her too. Killed her right where she stood, so I had ta kill the man, an' we ended up blastin' the lock off the box when that artillery barrage started up. An' jus' like we'd been tol', it was stuffed with money, and not that Confederate kind, but real money from afore the war started. An' they was big bills, hun'reds mostly. There hadda been $10,000 in there."