by Laurie Myers
“Father, remember at the beginning of the war, how excited everyone was, and all the parades on Broad Street?”
“Yes, there was great hope for victory.”
“Well, I don’t think war is exciting,” Tommy said. “I think war is terrible.”
“Indeed it is,” said Reverend McKnight. “‘Blessed are the peacemakers’ has new meaning for me these days.”
“Father, what happens to Yankee prisoners?”
“Some are traded back to the North in exchange for our men, but most are sent to prison until the war is over.”
“I heard Dr. Harold say there’s not enough food and the prisoners are starving,” Tommy said.
“That could be. Food shortages are everywhere.”
Tommy nodded. “Mother sent me out for sugar yesterday, and I couldn’t find any.”
“Sugar is about as scarce as a burp in a prayer meeting,” Reverend McKnight said.
Tommy laughed. Reverend McKnight stopped at the steps. “You coming?”
“No, I’m going to stay out here with Samson.”
Reverend McKnight nodded, then his long legs took the steps two at a time, and he disappeared into the house.
Tommy sat on a step while Samson stood alert like a soldier ready to hear the battle plan.
“Samson, I’m thinking about something, and it’s serious.”
Samson gave Tommy his full attention.
Tommy lowered his voice. “I’m not sure Red is a Confederate soldier.”
Samson moved closer.
“I know what you’re thinking, Samson. What else could he be? Well, I think he might be a … Yankee.”
The word hung in the air, like a cannonball ready to crush them.
“I know he doesn’t look like a Yankee,” Tommy said. “But did you hear his accent? He sounds different, like he’s not from around here, or not even from the South. And his jacket … I know it’s from Mississippi, but it’s way too big. And that line in his poem about making the nation whole. Yankees want to make the nation whole.”
Samson placed his head in Tommy’s lap.
“The whole idea is crazy,” Tommy said. “A Yankee hiding out in Augusta? In First Presbyterian Church? Right across the street from our house!”
Tommy scratched the dog’s ears. “Maybe my mind is just running away with me. That’s what Mother says. But somehow we have to find out. Are you with me, Samson?”
Samson wagged his tail.
“Good. Tomorrow we’ll investigate.”
“It is my turn to read,” Annie announced, as if it were a biblical truth.
With her short dark hair parted down the middle, Annie looked like Mrs. McKnight.
“It is Marion’s evening to read,” Mrs. McKnight said.
“Marion may be reading tonight, but tomorrow it’s my turn, and nobody better try to take my place,” Annie said.
Tommy knew no one in the room was foolish enough to try that.
“What are we reading?” Tommy asked.
“History of the Covenanters in Scotland,” Marion said.
Everyone in the family loved those stories. The British government wanted to conquer the Covenanters, who were heroic Christians from Scotland. It was kind of like the Yankees trying to take over the South, Tommy thought.
Reverend McKnight walked in. He turned up the gaslight on the wall. “Tommy, I found this outside.” He held up a baseball. “With all the refugees in town, things are likely to disappear.”
Reverend McKnight pretended to be a pitcher. His long legs and arms whirled around like a windmill as he tossed the ball to Tommy. Tommy caught it and Reverend McKnight yelled, “Out!”
“Joseph,” Mrs. McKnight said, suppressing a laugh.
“We couldn’t let the runner get to first,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Marion, you better get us started before the runner heads to second.”
Marion smoothed back her ringlets, then began reading in a soft, tension-filled voice.
Tommy had chosen a seat by the window. It was not the most comfortable seat in the room, but he could see the church. Samson curled up under the chair.
The family listened as the Covenanters scattered throughout the countryside.
Tommy turned his attention to the church. The corner of the churchyard appeared to be filled with fireflies, more than Tommy had ever seen, flashing their lights on and off, on and off. He looked closer. It was only a few of the hospital patients standing outside smoking their cigarettes.
“Bang!” Marion yelled as a Covenanter shot a government soldier.
Tommy wished he could be like the Covenanters—heroic and brave. If Red really was a Yankee, Tommy could expose him and be a hero. He imagined Robert E. Lee stepping off a train at the Augusta depot and shaking Tommy’s hand while the citizens of Augusta cheered.
With great feeling, Marion read the final words of a soldier to the minister: “You owe your life to this mountain.”
Then, in a perfect minister’s voice, Marion read the reply. “Rather, sir, to that God that made this mountain.”
Marion closed the book and said, “The end.”
“Marion, that’s not the end,” Reverend McKnight said.
“Well, I want a happy ending. A book is the only place to find a happy ending nowadays.”
“Yes,” Annie said. “The war is ruining everything. You have to wait in line forever at the store, and then they don’t have half of what you want.”
“When the war started, everyone said it would not last more than two months,” Marion said. “It has been going on for over two years!”
“Father, how is the war going?” Tommy asked.
They could tell by Reverend McKnight’s face it was not good.
“The Yankees are almost in Georgia.”
Marion threw up her hands. “Next thing you know, they’ll be in Augusta!”
Tommy held his breath.
“Is there news from Atlanta?” Mrs. McKnight asked.
“The fighting is in the mountains now. If the North is victorious there, I fear the entire state will be lost. And if Georgia is lost, the Confederacy can scarcely survive.”
Mrs. McKnight gasped.
“You mean we might lose?” Tommy asked. This was something he had never considered. It was one of those impossibilities, like flying horses.
Marion straightened in her chair. “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed. That’s Second Corinthians.”
“Very good,” Reverend McKnight said.
Tommy glanced out the window again at the church. He felt troubled on every side, and distressed too.
Tommy stood at the entrance to the sanctuary with Samson and Annie.
“We have to get rid of Annie,” he whispered to Samson.
“Don’t talk behind my back,” warned Annie. “I have very good hearing.”
Tommy spotted Mrs. Williams and waved. She bustled over.
“Tommy, that soldier friend of yours still isn’t talking, at least not to the white folks.”
“What soldier friend?” Annie asked.
“No one,” Tommy said.
Mrs. Williams pointed across the room. “See, he’s talking to Henry again. Tommy, go tell Henry to get back to work.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy said.
Mrs. Williams led Annie away. “There’s a soldier I want you to read to.”
Tommy made his way across the room. He could see Henry and Red talking intently, like they were planning some major battle strategy.
Henry hopped up when he saw Tommy. “I best be gettin’ back to work,” Henry said.
Tommy thought Henry looked nervous, but decided it was because he had been caught talking instead of working.
“Take a seat,” Red said to Tommy.
Tommy searched Red’s face for some sign that he was a Yankee, but saw nothing.
Red grimaced and rubbed his upper arm briskly. “My stump sure hurts, but I’m better off than most.” Red wiggled his right fingers t
o show their vitality.
Tommy noticed Annie several rows over, reading to a soldier who looked asleep.
“You’re quiet today,” Red said.
“Just thinking,” Tommy said.
“About what?”
“I was wondering why you wouldn’t talk to my father.”
“I didn’t feel much like talking. That’s all.”
“I’d like to hear more from your book,” Tommy said. “Unless there are things in there you’d rather me not hear.”
Red studied Tommy. “No, I’ll read more, but like I said, I put a trust in the people to whom I read.”
Red reached for the book, but it had fallen on the opposite side of the cot.
“Samson, fetch the book,” Tommy said.
Samson went around the cot, picked up the book, and offered it to Red.
“Smart dog,” Red said.
“Watch this,” Tommy said. He turned to face the dog. “If you want to hear Red read, bark.”
Samson barked.
“Good dog,” Red said. He opened the book. “I’ll read you a dream I had on the battlefield.”
A man on a nearby cot was softly playing a fiddle, and it seemed to Tommy like the perfect music for a dream.
“I am traveling down a long road covered with leafy trees. I am carrying something fragile, and all around me is danger. I come to a big hole in the road, and I cannot pass. A sadness comes over me, because my mission might fail.”
Red paused.
“Go on,” Tommy urged, but Red would not be hurried.
“Out of the woods steps an angel. The angel shows me a bridge. If I cross, my mission will be complete.”
Red stopped.
“Did you cross the bridge?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t know. The dream ended.”
“What was the dream about? Were you on a mission?”
“You could say that.”
“What was the big hole?” Tommy asked.
“An obstacle.”
Tommy’s heart beat faster. “And danger is all around you.” He swept his arms out to take in the entire sanctuary.
“That’s right.”
Tommy couldn’t stand it any longer. He blurted out, “Are you a Yankee?”
Red’s eyes did not leave Tommy’s face. His answer was simple. “Yes.”
For a moment, Tommy was speechless, then he whispered loudly, “You aren’t supposed to be here. This is the South!”
“I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
Tommy studied Red. “You look like a regular person.”
“I am. I just want to get back to my family in Ohio. Tommy, I have a two-year-old little boy I haven’t seen in over a year. I need an angel.”
“Like in the dream?” Tommy said.
“Yes,” Red said. “I have to get out of here soon. That Mrs. Williams keeps asking questions. Next thing you know, some Mississippi boys’ll be here, and I’ll be found out. Will you help me?”
“That’s against the South,” Tommy whispered.
“Tommy, it’s not right to keep another person as a slave. Men should be free.”
Tommy paused. He had thought about the states being free, but not the slaves.
“Some slaves are happy,” Tommy said.
“Is Henry happy?”
Tommy could not think of anything good about living with Mr. Barrett. Mr. Barrett was constantly yelling at all his slaves, not just Henry. It would be miserable to live with him.
“We’re not fighting about slaves,” Tommy said. “We’re fighting because the North is trying to tell us what to do. States should be free.” It didn’t sound nearly as good as when he’d heard Marion say it.
“Some folks may not be fighting about slavery, but I am. Slavery is wrong, and I’ll give my life to stop it.”
“Red may be a Yankee, but I still like him,” Tommy told Samson on the way home. Samson pushed his head into Tommy’s hand.
“I guess I’m supposed to turn Red in. But if I do, they might send him to a prison camp. I’ve heard terrible things about those places.”
“Master Tommy!” Henry caught up with Tommy and Samson.
“You and Samson talkin’ serious. Don’t forget now. Mercy is a great power,” said Henry.
“Father preaches about mercy. God gives us mercy, even though we don’t deserve it,” Tommy said.
Henry nodded. “He sure does. And you know what God expects of you?”
“What?” Tommy asked. That was exactly what he had been wondering.
Henry leaned forward like he was revealing a deep secret. “Micah. Chapter six.”
Tommy thought hard. Micah was a book in the Old Testament. He knew that much. But that was all he remembered.
Henry recited the passage. “What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God?”
“You know as many Bible verses as Father,” Tommy said.
Henry smiled big, showing a row of bright white teeth. “It’s the power to help you live right.”
“You make it sound easy,” Tommy said.
“Looooooove mercy, Master Tommy. That’s all.” Henry smiled and walked on down Telfair Street.
Henry always smiled, even when things went badly for him. Tommy recalled once a couple of years ago when he and Samson were waiting for his father outside Mr. Barrett’s bank. Henry was sweeping the brick walkway. Mr. Barrett kept yelling at him to hurry up. It looked to Tommy like Henry was working as fast as a man could. When he was almost finished, some older boys passed by and kicked dirt onto his clean walk. They laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.
Mr. Barrett had been watching from the window, and Tommy thought he would chase the boys away. Instead, he charged out with his rifle and pointed it at Henry. Then he cocked it. Samson growled. Tommy held him tight. Henry didn’t move. Finally, Mr. Barrett barked, “Get it clean.” Then he laughed and went back inside.
Henry had whispered to Tommy, “I’m waitin’ for the blessed hope.”
“Are you going to tell?” The sharp voice brought Tommy abruptly back to the present. He wheeled around to see Annie with that I-know-a-secret look on her face.
“Are you going to tell?” she demanded again.
A bad feeling washed over Tommy. He thought back to the hospital. Several times he had seen Annie watching them. She might have heard what they were saying if she had made an effort, which Tommy now thought she had.
“Tell what?” Tommy asked, trying to sound innocent.
“You know.” Annie looked back at the church as if the building itself were guilty.
Tommy looked too, half expecting to see the devil standing at the door.
“Annie, there is nothing to tell.” Tommy was sure he sounded guilty.
“Tommy, we are at war, and we cannot have Yankees parading around as Confederates. If you don’t tell, I will.”
Her words hit like a hammer. She whirled around and started up the steps.
“Annie, wait. I have a deal for you.”
She stopped. “What kind of deal?”
Tommy thought quick. “A good deal.”
“What kind of good deal?”
Tommy was silent.
“Tommy, you don’t have a deal. You are just stalling for time.”
“Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not. Maybe I have a really good deal, and you don’t know it.”
“All right. I’ll give you till tonight. And the deal better be good, or I’m telling.” She marched up the steps and into the house.
Samson had found a bone and was working on it by the steps. Tommy sat down beside him.
“Samson, we’re in trouble. We have to come up with something to keep Annie quiet. And on top of that, I’m not even sure we should help Red.”
Samson abandoned his bone and gave Tommy his full attention.
“Remember when the war started? Everyone said how bad the Yankees were.”
Samson stared at Tommy.
> “I thought Yankees were bad, too. Maybe some are bad, but I don’t think Red is. All he wants is freedom for people like Henry. And to tell the truth, I like the idea of Henry being free.”
Samson gave his bone a sideways glance.
“If I were Henry, I’d want to be free,” Tommy said.
He picked up the bone and handed it to Samson, who anchored it between his paws and began working on it with his back teeth.
“If we don’t help Red, he might go to prison. But helping wouldn’t be easy. And it’s against the law, so I’m not even sure we should.”
Samson paused from his work on the bone.
“Whatever we do, Samson, we need to keep Annie quiet. And I think you just might be the answer.”
Annie sat on the sofa fluffing out her dress, like she was the queen and Tommy was her subject.
“Pleeeease don’t tell,” Tommy pleaded.
“Tommy, you heard Father last night. We are on the verge of losing the war.”
“One Yankee is not going to matter,” Tommy said.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Samson came in. Sensing the importance of the conversation, he sat erect between the adversaries and followed the conversation with his head.
“Just promise you won’t tell, at least until tomorrow.”
Annie refluffed her dress. “I cannot make such a promise.”
Tommy said, “Yes, you can. Open your mouth and say, ‘I pro—’”
“Tommy, stop it. You said you had a good deal. Now, let’s hear it.”
“I’ll let Samson sleep in your bed,” Tommy said.
Annie stopped fluffing. “For how many nights?”
“One week.”
“A week? Hmm.”
“Annie, Red has a two-year-old little boy, and he hasn’t seen him in a year.”
Annie’s brow wrinkled.
Mrs. McKnight came in. “I’m sorry to be late. More refugees came in today. And as if that weren’t enough, I was on the other side of the tracks and had to wait for a train to pass.” She removed her bonnet. “Your father has a meeting tonight, so he will not be here for reading. Annie, I believe it is your turn.”
“I don’t feel like reading,” Annie said, giving Tommy a sideways glance.