Sharon Poppen

by Hannah

  "James, please listen to reason. The war changed everything. It can't be like it was."

  Pa turned his attention to Jim and Joe. "What do you two think? Do you like the looks of this place now? Do you like the thought of your mother and brothers living in hiding in the marshes or in a slave cabin? What do you think of Yankees using Grandpa Hugh's watch or Grandma Kate's silver?"

  Joe spoke hesitantly. "I hate all Yankees, Pa. But Ma's right. We do have it a lot better than some of our neighbors.”

  "I hate them too," Jim added. "But, I'm tired of fighting. Working the land doesn't make me half as tired as fighting."

  Pa looked from son to son. Each boy lowered his eyes to avoid their father’s silent accusations. The older man shook his head for a few seconds as if in disbelief. His eyes swept across the table and focused on his wife. Slowly, he got up and walked to her chair. His hand came to rest gently on her shoulder. In a voice just above a whisper, he continued. "Your Ma doesn't want me to tell you this, but you need to know that –

  "No!” Ma cried out. She turned in her chair and stared up at him. “Please don't tell them.” She grabbed Pa's arm, her voice an anguished prayer, “Please, for God's sake. Don't tell this thing to my sons."

  "Tell us what, Ma?" Jim asked, instantly alert and looking intently at his parents.

  "Nothing.” She whispered, but never took her eyes off Pa.

  "Elizabeth," Pa said quietly to Ma. "They are men. They need to know what happened."

  Joe looked to Ma. His fists clenched. “Ma, did they hurt you. Did they hurt the boys?"

  Michael would never forget the anguish in Jim’s voice that night. "Oh, Ma. No!” The words seemed to bounce off the cabin walls in a dreadful keen. His voice cracked. "When? Who?"

  Pa answered. "The morning they burned the house. Three of them attacked her as she watched the house burn. Three of them!"

  Michael and Danny had watched in terror as their mother, their rock, collapsed and lowered her head to the table. They heard her anguished sobs. They were afraid. They had never seen their mother like this. They looked at Jim.

  His face was white. He made no attempt to wipe his tears away as he walked to her and knelt. "I love you, Ma. I love you so very much.” He paused and caressed the top of her lowered head. “But, those bastards have got to pay. Pa is right. Oh God, I don't want to see you hurting anymore than you've already been hurt, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't help Pa.” He looked over at Joe who was studying the floor. "Joe?”

  His brother looked up. His face, too, glistened with tears in the flickering lantern light. He looked at Ma, then Pa and finally met Jim’s determined stare.

  “Joe, we have to do this. Pa’s right."

  Joe’s words were barely audible. "I'm with you."

  Ma raised her head. There was a tremble in voice as she pled with them. "Please? For God's sake, don't do this."

  "Elizabeth, this is something a man has to do.” Pa stood beside her and stroked her hair. She looked up at him, then turned to Jim, who took her hand and folded it into his, and finally to Joe, who had resumed staring at the floor. She closed her eyes, let out a breath that was half sigh, half moan as she realized her pleas were not going to penetrate the hate that held her men in it's grip.

  She was the first to speak. "What will you do?"

  Pa answered with the most animation he’d shown since returning from the war. "We'll take care of it, the boys and I will. We'll sit down and figure out what each of us will need to do. This is going to affect all of us, even Michael and Danny."

  At that point, Ma had looked over to the bunk where her gaze was returned by four little eyes all agog over what they had seen and heard. As she feared, the little boys had heard everything. She rose from her chair, looked from face to face, saw their determination and slowly walked out into the night.

  *****

  Michael sat up. It was no use; he couldn’t sleep. Memories were flowing through his mind. He rose from his bedroll and walked outside. He sat with his back to the adobe wall of the small house and stared to the heavens. He wondered if their Pa was looking down on them? Pa. Michael could hardly picture him anymore. But he remembered that from that night on, Pa had become alive and focused. He moved with a purpose in his steps. Even whistling at times. He and the older boys would sit after supper most evenings and work out what they needed to do and the best way to go about getting it done.

  They spent time in town probing friends and storekeepers for names of Yankees who had been in town and possibly stationed at Farrell Oaks. Had they talked with these men, know anything about where they had come from. Pa, to Ma’s worry, spent a lot of time talking with barkeeps and saloon girls.

  Slowly they began to glean names and places. Not much, but it was a start. Once they found just one of the bastards, they’d ‘persuade’ him to ‘share’ more names, more places. Eventually, Pa laid out their first itinerary. It would take them to Pennsylvania.

  Through all this, Ma went about her daily chores taking care of her family. She still sang to her youngest sons and read to them after dinner. She still gave them their lessons each day, but Michael couldn’t remember her smiling as often.

  Jim and Joe had added two rooms on the cabin. Now Ma and Pa had their own quarters. Danny & Michael thought it was great bunking with their big brothers. Things were going along smoothly enough until the night when they had sat down for their supper meal and Pa announced, "Elizabeth, we will miss this good food each night".

  Ma's body stiffened as she looked from Pa to Jim to Joe. All she said was, "I can't change your minds?”

  No one answered.

  "Well, then I guess we need a special prayer before this special meal. James?"

  Pa reached to his right and took Ma's hand, then to the left and took Jim's hand. When all hands around the table had been linked to form a family circle, Pa began.

  "Lord, I know you preach forgiveness and brotherly love. But, my family has suffered greatly from some of these so-called brothers. You also preach an eye for an eye. I'm not sure which applies here, but I know what has happened to my family. I embark on this crusade hoping that you agree with me. I pray that you protect my sons and me from harm as we go about our mission, and please merciful Lord, watch over my dearest Elizabeth and our younger boys while we are away. In return for your blessings of safety and protection, I swear to you that we will only avenge the wrongs; we will not deal in revenge. Thank you, Lord. Amen.”

  The next morning, Michael remembered waking to see that Pa, Joe and Ma had gone outside. Only Jim sat staring into his coffee cup. Michael slipped out of his bunk, without waking Danny, and crept down the ladder. He slid into the chair next to the big brother he idolized.

  "I don't understand why you and Pa and Joe are leaving again. There's no war. I’m afraid if you leave those blue coats will come back and we’ll have to go live in the swamps again."

  Jim put his arm around Michael’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word for a while. He just held Michael close. Even today, Michael could remember the warm protected feeling he had experienced while engulfed in the protection of this big brother. It was the safest he had felt in years. He was trying to be grown-up, but he couldn’t help snuggling closer.

  Finally, Jim spoke. “Michael, you may not see the soldiers anymore, but the war continues. When you get older, you'll understand.” He released his embrace and looked down at his little brother. “For now, you need to trust our judgment that this needs to be done. Can you do that?”

  It had been a poignant moment in Michael’s life. He could still see the mixed emotions that stared back at him when he raised his eyes to meet the eyes of his brother. The eyes were narrowed, the lids half-closed and so very, very sad. Yet, there was also purpose and a challenge. It made Michael feel special. This idol of his was asking something important of him. Michael was not sure how or why it was so important, but the special feeling it gave him was euphoric, despite the sad fact that Jim was going out of
his life again.

  “Yes,” he promised and nodded his head emphatically.

  “Good. Now listen carefully. You're eight now. You’re getting to be a big boy. We need you to do your part at home here to help the family. Can you do that?”

  All Michael could manage was a nod.

  Jim smiled and continued. “You've got to help Ma while we're gone. We'll be back as soon as we can. But in the meantime, take care of Danny and don't give Ma any trouble. Also, be sure and give her lots of hugs and kisses and if you can, make her smile now and then. Can you do that for me?”

  "Yes.” Michael remembered answering.

  And then they were gone.

  The eight weeks they were gone during that first foray passed very slowly. They arrived home just before dusk one evening. They were tired and dirty, but everyone stayed up late and listened to the tales of their travels. They had ridden hard and fast. They had gone as far as Missouri. Pa said they had found some land there. Good farm land, real cheap. Then everything got real quiet.

  “Well, bedtime, boys," Pa said.

  Though protesting, the small boys were hustled up the ladder and off to bed. Jim and Joe came to bed too. The four brothers settled into the makeshift bunk bed of a double lower bed with a single top bunk. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the smoldering embers in the fireplace.

  Danny and Michael were in danger of falling out of their bunk as they leaned over the edge to question their big brothers sharing the bunk below. They could not contain their excitement and curiosity. Did they see Yankees, did they get shot at, and did they see any Indians. They remembered the Indian tales Joe had told them when he had returned from Texas. Jim and Joe answered their questions for a while, but soon the little ones heard light snoring and gave up their interrogation. Next thing they knew it was morning.

  Ma was especially quiet at breakfast. In fact everyone was quiet. Danny and Michael finished their grits, grabbed their fishing poles and took off before Ma remembered their lessons. Around noon, they came back to the cabin for their dinner meal. They found their mother stirring the soup kettle with big tears running down her cheeks. When she noticed them, a smile appeared at the corners of her lips. She dabbed her tears away with her apron.

  "Well, sons, I wonder what kind of life is ahead for you two.” She asked while continuing to stir the soup. She shook her head. “Only God knows!"

  "What does that mean Ma? Are you ok?” Michael asked as he and Danny settled on the table bench.

  His mother had lifted the kettle and set it on a trivet in front of the boys. "I’m fine, sweetheart. It’s just that I look at you two and thankfully realize that life goes on, no matter how grown-ups act. Yes, I'm just fine, but let’s just say you two make me very happy and give me peace of mind. I only wish I could make you two stay this age forever.” Her smile was replaced by a melancholy far away look. They boys squirmed in their chairs not knowing what to say.

  Then the smile returned and she began to ladle out the steaming soup. “But for now, I've got to tell you about another adventure this family is going to have"

  Danny and Michael sat quietly as their mother cut the freshly baked bread, their faces attentive as they waited expectedly. They blew on spoonfuls of the vegetable laden broth as she sat across from them and began to unfold the plans for their coming adventure.

  “We're going to move to some place called Missouri. Papa thinks things are better there. And it will be closer for him and your brothers to get home between their travels.”

  "Will this happen soon?" little Danny asked between big slurps.

  "Tomorrow morning!"

  And in fact, by the next morning at dawn all had been loaded into a prairie schooner and the Farrells were on their way. How they got the schooner, sold the property and got everything packed was still a blur in Michael’s mind. They moved out, leaving behind three generations of Farrell ghosts.

  Pa rode first, staring straight ahead. Jim rode alongside the wagon, also staring straight ahead. Joe drove the wagon with Danny and Michael seated on either side of him. Ma walked alongside looking out over the land. At one point, Pa rode back jumped from his horse and stood beside her. Joe started to rein in the horses.

  Jim spoke to him softly. "No, keep moving. Let them have this moment to themselves."

  *****

  Michael got up and walked to a well just down from the little cabin and drew a ladle of water. The cool liquid soothed his dust-laden, itchy throat. He sat on the old well wall and thought about that trip. He remembered it well. It had taken a couple of months to reach Missouri. Ma had been right; it had been an adventure. They crossed many rivers, camped out in the middle of nowhere, saw big cities like Memphis, Natchez and St. Louis, before finally pulling up to the new plantation.

  Actually, like Jim said, it was a ranch, a horse ranch. It was located about fifty miles northeast of St. Louis and just outside a little town called Boonesboro.

  The house was a two-story place with a parlor, dining room, kitchen, one bedroom downstairs and three bedrooms upstairs. It needed paint, soap and lots of elbow grease, but all in all it seemed like a good place.

  Pa, Jim and Joe painted and fixed while Ma, Danny and Michael cleaned. It came together fast and within two weeks, Pa and the older boys were gone again on what was becoming known as family business.

  Barely two weeks later, they arrived back at the ranch around suppertime. Only this time, they brought someone with them. It was a girl. The men dismounted as Ma, Danny and Michael gazed at her. Michael remembered how she had looked back at them with a defiant set to her chin. Jim reached up and although she visibly stiffened, she let him lift her to the ground.

  She was short, maybe five feet tall. Just the top of her copper colored hair could be seen over Jim’s shoulder as he set her down. Her big green eyes, wide with apprehension, scanned every family member before she lowered them and averted her face from their scrutiny.

  Pa started to speak, but Ma cut him off.

  "Now where have our manners gone? Come in child, have some hot coffee and maybe a bite to eat.” Ma stepped forward and reached out to the girl.

  Cautiously, the new arrival lifted her head and scanned Ma’s hand before meeting her eyes.

  “What shall I call you?” Ma cooed.

  The girl came forward, took Ma's hand and followed her into the kitchen. The men and boys heard her say, "My name is Nora Cassidy.” The soft voice had a definite Irish lilt to it.

  "Well I'll be damned!” Exclaimed Pa. “Not a word out of her in a week and your Ma has her talking within a minute."

  "Who is she, Pa?" Michael had asked.

  "Don't know. Found her near a burned out wagon near the Oklahoma Territory. Found bodies of a man, woman and two young-uns. We were burying them, when Jim spotted her hiding in the tall prairie grass. He and Joe had a heck of a time catching her.” He laughed and looked over at Jim and Joe who were looking somewhat embarrassed.

  “They've still got the bites and scratches to show for it. Had to tie her up for awhile to get her to sit still. She wouldn’t talk. Just kept watching us. Couldn't just leave her there, so we decided to bring her back here with us. Only time she let us know she wanted something was when we started our ride home. She was riding double with Jim. We were set to leave when she touched Jim's arm and pointed to the graves. He helped her from the horse and we watched her walk over to them. She crossed herself, bowed her head and seemed in prayer. Directly, she allowed Jim to help her back onto the horse. No further trouble, but no talking either."

  "Did the Indians do it?"

  "Who knows?” Jim offered. "But white or red they were savages and she was damn lucky to survive. Maybe Ma will find out what happened."

  And Ma did. Nora, her parents and two little brothers were coming from New York to settle out west. Her Pa and Ma had originally come from Ireland. From the day of their wedding in Boston, they had saved every penny they could for their dream of going west.

 
The family had been on the road for six months. They had been with a wagon train earlier, but the trail went northwest and her Pa felt the good land was just a little further southwest. They had been alone only three days when attacked. It had not been Indians, just common road bandits.

  The only reason she escaped was because her Ma had sent her to pick some blackberries they had spotted along the trail. They were to be used for a cobbler for supper. Nora was busy with her chore when she heard gunshots. Quietly, she made her way through the bushes and saw the bodies of her family lying on the ground.

  They were not moving. She stayed hidden as three men tore into their belongings looking for anything of value. She watched as they pillaged through their few valuables. The bandits seemed somewhat angry about the scant takings. They ripped her mother’s tiny gold ear bobs from ear lobes and pulled the simple gold band from her ring finger. When they were satisfied that they had found everything of value, they shot the two old oxen, set fire to the wagon and rode off. The whole thing had taken less than ten minutes.

  The frightened girl stayed hidden until dusk. Under the cover of the evening shadows, she crept to the bodies. First, she was sick. She couldn’t remember how long she had vomited and wept. Finally, shivering and in a daze, she gathered wood and made a fire to warm herself and hopefully to keep critters away. She found a piece of the burned wagon axle to use as a weapon and sat wide-awake all night tending the fire and listening to the night sounds.

  At dawn, she began hunting up rocks. She had nothing to dig with and the ground was hard, but she knew she had to bury her family. She was among the berry bushes again when Pa and the boys came upon the scene.