"Thanks Mr. Phillips, say hello to Jessica for me, will ya?" she asked. Jessica was his daughter and they were good friends.
Mr. Phillips nodded and smiled. "I’ll do ‘er."
"Good day." She smiled.
The story did seem a little outrageous, but it swelled Josey’s heart to think Leroy might have been there and been a part of the whole thing.
She had no idea where he was.
Maybe the war would end soon, and Leroy could come home. She practically bounced all the way to her wagon.
When she got home, Jacob came to help her down and unloaded the supplies for her. "Thank you Jacob."
"Yes ‘em. You look downright happy today, Miss Josey." He smiled.
"I am, Jacob. I am." She turned to the house and couldn’t wait to hear what all Leroy had to say. "We got a letter from Leroy."
She could hardly wait to show Mama the letter.
"Well go on girl, read the letter to us," her mother encouraged, as everyone gathered about to hear the news.
Dear Mrs. Anderson and family,
Hope this letter finds you well. We are doing all right…although not to say we haven’t had some times. Good and bad. It seems the Federals thought they’d up us one on the Sabine the other day, but thanks to a quick thinking Lieutenant named Dowling, we gave ‘em the surprise of their lives. We gave ‘em what-for as they sent their gunboats up the pass. Thanks to havin’ six Napoleons in our fort, two of which we had to make vital repairs of, and with the help of a Major Kellerberg and corduroying we were able to surprise them, considerable. We had no pickets or skirmishers, but relied on the accuracy of our gunners to sink the boats, of which they did quickly. Texas scored a miraculous victory with only forty-nine men against fifteen hundred Federals.
I’m proud to say we had them on the run. We took in over two hundred soldiers with only a splinter casualty. It was a sight to behold. They say the Confederates aim to give us all a medal. However, I don’t put much stock in medals. Just be happy to come home…
However, as I reflect on this war, Mrs. Anderson, let it be known that I still have the utmost respect for Mr. Lincoln and believe he is a fair man. I hold no grudge where he’s concerned, and I wouldn’t want his job for all the money in the world.
This Sabine Pass battle was easy enough on us, the way Lt. Dowling handled things, but it would have been easier if some of the troops hadn’t left to defend their homes and families from the Indians up near Ft. Worth. I cannot in all consciousness blame these men for wanting or needing to take care of these matters as the Comanche has been stirrin’ up troubles near Ft. Worth for some time. Obviously they see the opportunity to succeed at a time when we are at our weakest.
We have had the misfortune to witness some deserters too. It is said they are robbing and looting all long the place. So please be careful of them. If soldiers show up without a commander don’t let them in. They are probably up to no good. Although I don’t blame the Rebels who left, I would not want to walk in their shoes, as it is a sure and certain death.
Thank Josey for lettin’ my ma know I’m okay. That means a lot to me. If she can, I’d like you to read this letter to her and tell her how much I miss her and the boys. That I love them. In addition, I am equally aware of how Josey has grown up, and will be taking up the subject with you later, if this war turns favorable for us soon. If it doesn’t, you know how my heart lies and I ask only that you tell her for me…for truly the love in my heart for Josey has grown by the day and night. She’s my first thought in the morning and the last in the evening. Right now I have no right to speak of such things…but I know you know what is in my heart, and I beg you to understand what brought this to light for me and why I must speak of it now. For with my last breath I will love her.
Right now it is raining and turning cooler. A reprieve from the heat. Soon it will create an even bigger problem as some of my men are barefoot, with little clothing. How we continue to fight so well, I’ll never know. Toward the northern borders of Arkansas many have froze to death. Even here in Texas we’ve had soldiers fall out from sickness, and cold. Coffee is a luxury we gave up some time ago. Hickory nuts and sweet potato have had to suffice. Winter is comin’ on again now and they do little to wake a man to battle.
As I write this, with a victory behind us, I reflect on this war with bitter distaste as many of our friends and families have been murdered on the fields of Arkansas and Louisiana, although Texas has remained untouched through constant battle. Each day we witness the spoils of war, the death is more than a body can stand to see. We’ve word that in Georgia death walks in tall cotton. The stench sours our stomachs but we are committed to keeping the Federals out of our Texas. I won’t go into the hard details of the dead…or the burying, but the job is one that rivals the ills of war. Although we hear rumors, most of them bad in the deeper south, we feel at least that we are holding our own here. The boats we sank held such unspeakable death; I cannot dare express this without tears. However, it makes the glory of war less a victory. We have fought valiantly, but not without an inhuman price to pay. When this is over we will long reflect upon our deeds, with a sadness no man can stand. After a battle our actions are hard to justify, as death stares us down. I don’t feel as I did when I left. I often wonder if I might have killed my own brothers, or if they might one day kill me. How can man live with such shame?
Tell everyone how much I miss them…love them…keep well… Leroy
A quiet came over the room as everyone reflected on Leroy’s words. Josey was still reeling from his admission of love for her. She couldn’t believe that somehow he felt the same for her as she did for him. She would hold that letter to her heart until he returned.
Hank stood up and shook his head. "I should have gone with him…damn…if he don’t come back…"
"No." Rose came to stand beside him and took his hand. "You were too young then, and we need you here. We couldn’t get along without you. The war might be important, but so is this farm."
Their mother smiled at Rose. "She’s right, Hank. We do need you here. We need all of you here. Why, we couldn’t keep this farm up with just us womenfolk. Some must march to the beat of the drum, and some…must keep the home fires burning."
Jacob nodded.
George sat soberly in the corner, his eyes far away.
Josey often wondered if George had a family somewhere; as he often got that far away look in his eyes and never said a word. She figured if he did, it was a story unto itself, and until he was ready to share, she wouldn’t be asking.
Josey reread the letter repeatedly, especially the part about how Leroy felt about her. It warmed her heart to know he cared. And yet, it scared her too. For as much as she loved Leroy, he might never come home. She put the letter in a special tin she had found full of buttons. She removed the buttons and kept only Leroy’s letter there, for safekeeping. After all, she would reread it each and every time she could find a minute.
Josey couldn’t help but stare at Jacob, he couldn’t hide the tear that slid down his cheek and her mother reached to touch his hand. "Jacob, what’s wrong…son?"
"Mr. Leroy…he’s out there fightin’ this ugly ole war, partly because of men like me. And partly for the state in which we lives. ‘Cause Mr. Leroy and I, we believe in Texas…I wish I could take his place…or make it easier on him. I wish I could go to Washington and talk to Mr. Lincoln and tell him how a lot of us…men like me feels…"
Her mother shook her head. "Jacob, don’t go blamin’ yourself fer this war. Even Leroy said it's not just about slavery…there's more than that, and Leroy knows. Leroy told us it was the cotton, the sugar cane, and state rights being abused, the North wants too much, for them big factories up there. They make their money selling goods to Europe and such. You see Jacob, Texas is a fine state. A mighty fine state indeed. But well…all we been worryin’ about is growin’ stuff. For a while, after this great country got its freedom from England, the South produced goods like cotton, and
food, corn, and sugar and coffee, but we didn’t manufacture anything. That was our big mistake. However, it worked well until now. Now, we are faced with having to produce our own factories. The papers speak of such. Why I read just the other day where they are turnin’ Huntsville prison into a manufacturing place, and in Tyler they are makin’ guns. Problem is, all this "industry" comes a little late. At least as far as the war is concerned. But this war ain’t just about Negroes, Jacob, not by a long shot. This war is about greed for wealth and power. It's about two different kinds of white people…those who can’t agree, and want more for themselves.
"But Jacob, I confess something here and now to you." She paused obviously waiting for everyone’s attention.
"I couldn’t run this farm without you. The South couldn’t get the cotton to market without men like you. That is the God's honest truth. We need the manpower down here. The shame of it—and this is God’s truth too—the shame of it is…some don’t treat people right, because they are different. And that's not right…that some are so ignorant, and so cruel. All southerners are not cruel. All white people are not unfair. And here and now, let it be known that I have the papers my husband got for Jacob, and he will be a free man, to do as he pleases soon as Mr. Lloyd in town writes this up for me. I knowed that soldier told you that you were free, but you didn’t take off. You stayed. Now I’m tellin’ you that you are free and I’m givin’ you a paper that says so too. You will be as a free a man as any, Jacob. As one of my last wishes. You have been family to me, all the years you have been here, and I have to tell you that I love you, Jacob, like my own. Always have. In addition, I know you love me, without a word from your mouth, I know. I hope we’ve not treated you too unfair."
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Jacob.
He came to stand in front of her, and then squatted. Josey figured he must have wanted to be at eye level with her mother. He took her mother’s hands and kissed them. "You have been like the mama, I missed all my life. And this is true, I love you, I love all of you…" He glanced around the room. "You’re my family, the only family I’ve knowed fer most of my life."
Her mother smiled, Hank nodded, George bowed his head, and Josey extended a hand to his shoulder. "We all feel the same…about all of you…we are family."
Josey looked around the room, even George’s eyes clouded with tears, but he didn’t let them fall. He just sat there seeming to soak up the words.
Her mother shook herself. "Enough of this now, let’s get supper started and finish the chores so we can all rest and enjoy the evening, and the fact that we heard from Leroy."
But before they all walked off to do just that, Hank burst out in a soulful cry. "I never told Leroy…how much I cared about him. Not somethin’ one man says to another I guess. But he’s my brother, and I’m proud of him."
They all came to stand in front of Hank and smiled. "That’s the pure joy of love, son, you don’t have to…He knows…"
Hank looked into Mrs. Anderson's face, and then broke out in a tearful smile. "Yeah…I guess he does…"
~*~
The winter of ‘63 was hard and even harder when the snows came and the ice froze everything, and the shoes barely covered their feet. They could only guess at the problems Leroy had to face with his men.
Her mother became weaker as time went on, and it was harder to finish the chores now, as Josey took on most of the burdens. Rose assumed the household chores while Josey took care of the wash, the canning and the regular chores she had of her own. Everyone grew up that year on the farm. Hank took on more responsibility too, as if realizing that there was little time for her sister now, as his chores increased. Jacob assumed the fields while George tended to the animals and general repairs.
There was so much that had to be replaced, and nothing to replace with, Josey shook her head but realized ingenuity grew with those needs.
She needn't have worried though for George became industrious at making homemade nails out of scrap wood. When one of the cows froze to death, he quickly skinned it and began making homemade shoes for everyone and dressed the hide out to make some clothing that kept them all from freezing while working outside.
Leaching salt from the smokehouse floors everyday became a chore for Hank and Rose as her mother sent them about it every day.
Their mother couldn’t stand for long at a time, she became so weak. To make herself feel useful, she took to knitting and making quilts for everyone. She had Josey and Rose move the men inside the house during the winter months, it was too cold outside to sleep.
One day, Josey stared outside as Harold Pierce came up the road. Harold was a tall gaunt man, with a long dark beard and piercing dark eyes. He was a mean man by nature. They all knew him as he had the farm down the road about five or six miles. Her mother never visited Harold though, nor even spoke with him since the war began because she had seen him take a whip to his Negroes in the fields. Their mother made no secret that she didn’t approve of those actions. Why he was coming to visit this day no one knew, but he wasn’t welcome and he ought to have known.
"Miss Ruby," he called gallantly. He watched her lay her quilting aside and glanced at Josey and Rose. "My mule went and died on me, and I was wonderin’ if I might borrow Hard Tack for a day as I got some cut lumber for the winter fires, and I got no way of bringing back to the house ‘cept by pullin’."
Josey watched her mother handle Harold. "I cain’t loan him out, I’m sorry, Harold."
She turned back to her quilting as though he had been dismissed.
"What do ya mean…why cain’t you loan him out?"
"I got one horse." She turned to stare him down. "And that horse sustains this farm as far as pullin’, haulin’, and plowin’. He’s a fine horse, and I take good care of him, but I ain’t about to let someone else have what I got. I don’t ask fer no help and I don’t give none unless I deem it proper. Especially not somethin’ as valuable to me as Hard Tack. He’s too valuable to give to the likes of you, to pull your dern logs. You got plenty of manpower down there, what you need my help fer?"
Josey noticed George frowned like a thundercloud as he came in to deliver her mother a pair of fine shoes.
"They done run off, escaped. We’ll catch ‘em soon enough. But…are you trying to tell me you won’t help a neighbor?" Harold eyed her with a narrowed frown.
"Cain’t is a better word. One must look out fer themselves in times like these, especially if that someone is a woman…with a sizable farm to tend to with no outside help. And I don't recollect you ever helping. Now…Harold, you got three strappin’ boys of your own, that didn’t go to war. They’s big and strong, the three of them should be able to handle your problems."
"How ‘bout the loan of Jacob then? My boys cain’t do it alone," he whined.
"Jacob is more prized than Hard Tack. No sir…I cannot." Ruby said.
"Can’t or won’t?" Harold yelled.
"I think you heard the Mrs., sir." George walked straight up to Harold and stared him down. Josey nearly gasped. George was as big and burly as Harold was and Harold seemed a bit threatened.
"Why…you talkin’ on big words, Mr. all of a sudden. You jest the hired hep." Harold laughed.
"He’s as much family as anyone here, Harold Pierce now you git on down the road," Mrs. Anderson insisted, but everyone noticed how weak she’d grown as she fussed with the man. Her voice no longer held the fire it once had, and Josey prayed she’d hold out.
"The answer is no Harold…now git, I got work to do," her mother announced.
"Then I’ll just take Hard Tack. Yer jest bein’ stubborn," he insisted, his fist doubled.
George took him by the collar and pulled him outside, where he proceeded to knock him to the ground.
Harold reared up mad as a bull and ran straight into George. George dodged one blow, but Harold came back with the right hook that clipped him on the chin.
George staggered, blood flew from his mouth as he spit, then
reared back and hit Harold again, this time in the stomach.
Harold took the blow, but bent, and fell to his knees.
Both men grunted and leaned against each other as they rose to their feet. In a clinch, at this point it was hard to tell who might be the victor.
Ruby, Rose, and Josey stared out, their faces in turmoil.
Then Jacob came along and decked Harold to the ground with one blow. Ruby smiled and sighed. Josey could see how weak she had become and wished people like Harold would stay home and take care of their own. However, she got up and got some salt water for George.
When he came in she handed it to him and he went to take care of himself without a word. "Sorry you had to see that, Mrs. Anderson," he said as he was about to go back out.
"George would you like some tea…sassafras," Mrs. Anderson offered with a smile. George looked down at her and grinned. "Sounds a might nice…"
As he sat at the table, she poured him some tea, filling her own little cup too. "Now why did you go and do that?"
"‘Cain’t tolerate disrespect," George said. "I’m sorry."
"Well don’t be, did my heart good, George." She smiled at him wanly. Then she tilted her head. "George…I don’t like to pry into things that ain’t my business, but I think on you as family, and I reckon you’ve come to the same conclusion…you got any real family…livin’?"
Sorrow lined George’s face. "Not anymore, ma’am."
"What happened…I mean if you want to tell it? Sometimes talkin over your troubles makes them easier." Ruby reached over and touched his hand.
He glanced at her for a moment, at their hands and then he looked away.
"I had a place…once. Not as big as this farm, but it was a nice place. Had me a wife and some younguns too," he said, his voice going raspy.
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