Spake As a Dragon

by Larry Hunt

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Samuel Babb Farm

 

  Luke and Nate spend the rest of the day searching through the snow trying to find Old Bill. But not only did they not find Old Bill’s body they did not even find a piece of anything belonging to him – no shoes, clothes or hat... nothing.

  About an hour before dark they get back upon their horses and begin to lead Lucky and Brownie on farther down the backside of the mountain. “Luke, what are we’s to do now? We don’t have Old Bill to show us the way.”

  Luke explains to Nate the conversation he had earlier with the mail-rider Kay Mann. Mr. Mann told Luke that they must follow the trail down the mountain until they come to a farm about three-fourths of the way to the bottom. The mail-rider said a man by the name of Samuel Babb owns the farm. Samuel is a Southern sympathizer and will provide them a safe place to stop and rest.

  Days later Luke and Nate trudge slowly along the trail, and once again another blizzard has set in. Luke is leading, head down, trying to shield his face from the blinding, wind-driven snow. Luke has tied a rope to his saddle, which leads to Brownie, from Brownie to Lucky the burro and Nate brings up the rear.

  The bone chilling wind is whistling through the pines, Luke knows they must find shelter and find it fast – the temperature must be near zero. From the end of the rope, Nate yells, “Stop! Luke please dear Lord; we’s gots to stop. I’m nearly done froze to death. We needs to find shelter, please Luke!” Luke could hear Nate yelling, but he couldn’t understand what he was saying over the screaming of the ferocious, frigid wind. He pulls back on his reins and brings his horse to a stop, turns and walks it back to Nate. What he sees horrifies him, Nate’s beard is a mass of ice around his mouth. His old black face and slouch hat are covered white with ice and snow. He struggles to breathe. “P-P-Please,” Nate says shivering, “Please Luke, we gotta find a place to git outta this wind and snow, or we’s done fer!”

  “You’re right Nate, and we must find shelter fast. We can’t last out here much longer.” Wait, what is that smell? There...there it is again. “Smell that Nate. Do you smell that?”

  Nate looks at Luke as if Luke were crazy.

  “Smoke, Nate. That’s smoke I smell. The wind is blowing smoke from a fire toward us. That’s got to be coming from the Babb farm. Come on Nate, hold on just a little longer, it can’t be too far now.”

  Back in the lead Luke urges his horse on. Nate is right, even the animals know they cannot last much longer, “Come on,” Luke says to his mount while kicking his heels into her side. Slowly the horse begins to move. One step then another, the line to Brownie tightens and she begins to move also. ‘How far can they stay on their feet,’ thinks Luke? He stares in to the blinding snow – ‘is that a light I see in the distance? Yes, there it is again, it is a light!’ Turning in the saddle he hollers at Nate and points with his finger, “There’s the farm Nate, we’ve made it – hold on for just a few more minutes.”

  Luke stops at the hitching rail in front of the house, falls from his horse and stumbles through the deep snow to the front door. He barely has the energy to pound on the door, ‘whomp, whomp, whomp,’ each strike with his fist is weaker and weaker. He thinks, ‘Does anyone hear me? Oh please, I have not the strength to pound again!’ He is beginning to collapse on the porch as the door begins to open.

  “Lord have mercy!” Exclaims a young girl opening the door. “You men are almost frozen to death. Get yourself inside!” She yells to her brother, “Sam! Please help get these men into the house, and put their animals in the barn. Dry’em down and give’em some feed and water too while you are out there, please.”

  Later Luke and Nate are sitting around a roaring fireplace, wrapped in quilts and sipping hot, parched corn coffee spiked with a taste of white lighting. Luke speaks first, “Miss you don’t know how much Nate and I appreciate your hospitality. If we hadn’t gotten a whiff of your smoke, I’m afraid, in the wind-driven blizzard, we could have plodded by your farm without notice and eventually, frozen to death. Oh, I’m sorry... we didn’t introduce ourselves. My name is Luke Scarburg, and my friend here is Nathaniel Scarburg, or Nate as we call him.”

  “Is he your slave, Mr. Scarburg?”

  “Oh no, certainly not – his family and my family have always been splendid friends. His Pappy was a slave on my great-grandfather’s plantation; however, my grandfather freed all the slaves when he inherited the Scarlett Plantation. No, Nate is a free man, as free as you and I.”

  “Pleased to meet you both. I am Catherine Ann Babb and Samuel Junior, my brother, is taking care of your animals at the barn. My parents Samuel and Eleanor Babb own this farm.”

  “I must ask Catherine, what is that substance you are burning in the fireplace? It is black, and I know by the smoke’s smell it is not wood. Could I inquire as to what it is?”

  “Up on the mountain Pa found these black rocks that burn. We use them to burn in the fireplace and our lamps.”

  “Catherine, I have seen these rocks before at a railroad yard in Columbus, Ohio. It is called coal. They are beginning to use it to fire the boilers in the locomotives of the trains, but how do you get them to burn in an oil lamp?”

  “Father made a type of moonshine still out by the barn. Instead of making alcohol, he heats the black rocks until they form what he calls coal oil. He extracts the stuff, and we use it in our lamps. He has drums full of it in the woodshed. Works splendidly, but sometimes the lamps get terribly smoky. Ma always said she wished we could still get the whale oil again, but it is near impossible with this War going on.”

  “Speaking of your parents, where are your father and mother?”

  “Both of them are upstairs in the big bedroom. A bunch of outlaws rode through here right after Christmas and shot Father. He’s alive, but paralyzed and cannot walk. The bullet hit his spine. They shot Mother too, but she comes in and out of consciousness. She occasionally is awake long enough for Sam and me to give her something to eat and drink.”

  “How did you and Sam manage to escape harm?”

  “I had gone to the barn to milk the cow and Sam was in the house. Father came out on the porch, and I could hear the talking getting real rough. The riders raised their voice pretty loud, and I suppose an argument arose that’s when they shot Father. Mother ran out of the house, and they shot her too. We both hid as the shooting took place. We were too far away to hear what was being said, but Father later said they wanted money. After the shooting, Sam stayed in the closet, and I hid underneath the hay in the barn until they left. The only thing Sam said he could remember was the jingle of the outlaw’s spurs as he walked across the room. He said he would never forget their sound.”

  “Did your father offer any resistance to those thugs.”

  “No, Father is a member of the Religious Society of Friends and doesn’t believe in violence.”

  “Quaker? You mean he is a Quaker? What about the white lightening we had with our coffee? Did he make it himself? I always thought your religion refrained from strong drink?”

  “We believe in plain speech and dress, are opposed to slavery and war, and refuse to swear oaths, but there is nothing against drinking strong drink in our beliefs. However, many Friends abstain from the use of strong spirits of all kinds. Father,” she puts her hand to her mouth to mask her laugh, “believes in the Biblical verse from 1st Timothy, ‘Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake...”

  “Wine? Wine, you say girl? That is hard liquor your father makes. That stuff must be one hundred-fifty proof, at least! Does he sell it too, or use all of it for ‘his stomach’s sake’?”

  Smiling, Catherine responds, “I must admit it is not wine, but Father does not make it either. Each summer he carries a few of the Walker hounds down into Tennessee and trades with a man named John or Jack, I think his last name is Daniels. I understand he has a large still that he runs somewhere back in the hills next to a large cave. Mr. Daniels uses the spring water from the cave to ma
ke Father’s spirits. He always returns with a thirty-five-gallon barrel of his ‘wine’ he has swapped for the bunch of Walkers he carried with him. He works on his stomach with the contents of that barrel until he can return the next summer.”

  “All right, enough of your father’s trading deals. If I may ask,” inquires Luke, “How old are you and Sam?”

  “Sam is fifteen and I will be nineteen my next birthday.”

  “I understand from your religion you are against the War, but I don’t think the military, either North or South would care. Have they tried to impress Sam into the Army?”

  “Yes, Father obtained an exemption for Sam, Jr., by paying the Yanks a fee of five hundred dollars. The tribute keeps Sam from being conscripted into the Army, but the Conscription Officer comes by regularly to forcibly haul him away. When we see him coming we hide Sam to keep them from getting him.

  “Father moved here from South Carolina to practice his religion in peace, and we were doing so until this awful War began. I can see by your clothes you all are Yankees, but I have to be honest, we side with the South; although, we do not take any active part in the War.”

  “Sometimes one’s looks can be deceiving. May we go upstairs and pay our respects to your parents? We’ll talk more about this later.”

  Luke sees two beds as he enters the bedroom, in one bed, lies Mr. Babb and his wife rests in the other. A coal oil lamp illuminates the room. The lamp is sitting on a table between the two beds. A small fireplace supplies heat and a little more light.

  “Father, are you awake? We have visitors. Are you well enough to speak with them? This man is Luke Scarburg, and the other is Nate Scarburg. They have arrived from the backside of the mountain.”

  “Yes daughter, bring them closer to the light. Sirs, ye are welcome in my humble home. I am Samuel Babb and I consider it an honor to make your acquaintance. Thou are to stay and partake of our hospitality as long as ye deem necessary. I can hear we are in the midst of a great storm; surely thee have not traveled down the mountain in such dreadful weather?”

  Reaching to grasp Mr. Babb’s hand, Luke utters, “It is a pleasure Sir to meet you. We both thank you for giving us shelter from this storm. I’m sure you and your kind family have saved us from a terrible frozen demise, and yes we have traveled from the far side of the mountain.”

  “Daughter, find seating for these two gentlemen, I must hear of their adventures.”

  For a while, Luke and Nate sit and tell Mr. Babb and Catherine, about their exploits beginning with the Battle of Gettysburg, over six months earlier. Sometimes they laugh and at other times they have a tear come to their eye. Finally, Luke says, “That’s enough for now about Nate and myself. How about telling us about your family.”

  “Gettysburg!” The old man was hesitant to speak; a tear could be seen forming in the corner of his eye, “My Charles, my dear oldest son Charles’s life was lost at Gettysburg. Died just as you said your father and brother died. ‘Gettysburg’, Sir I prefer that name not be mentioned again in my house.”

  Luke muttered, “I am sorry Sir, the name will not be used again, but after I was captured I knew none of the Yankee’s by name. I am sorry.”

  “No! No need to feel sorry. He had volunteered as a hospital orderly, albeit, for the North. He felt it his Christian duty to assist in any way he could helping the wounded. We shant speak of him anymore Mr. Scarburg.”

  Samuel continues, “Sir I am against violence, but...,” shutting his eyes as in prayer he finally opens them. “Thank you for smiting those vile outlaw villains.” Mr. Babb quotes::

  ‘To do justice and judgment is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice.’ Proverbs Chapter 21, Verse 3.

  “It appears those heathens received justice and judgment at ye hands – thank thee my friends.”

  Samuel tells Luke and Nate of his life in South Carolina. As a young lad, the settlement, in which his father and mother lived had many Friends of the Society. The Meetinghouse was usually filled with believers; however, as he began to grow older the place gradually began to change. More and more non-believers moved into the town.

  “The weekly Meetinghouse known as the Jacob Ingram House of the Lord, or as some called it the Damascus House of the Lord, was hardly filled on meeting day.”

  “Stop! Stop Mr. Babb, what was the name of your Meetinghouse?”

  “Twas the Jacob Ingram Meetinghouse, or some called it the Damascus House of the Lord, why? Thou knowest of it?”

  “Where did you live in South Carolina Sir?”

  “We had a small place on Mink Creek close to a settlement called Scarlettsville, and there was a mill there too. It was called the Scarburg Mill. Thou name be Scarburg too, is it not? Is there some connection?”

  “Connection? A connection indeed Mr. Babb, the Meetinghouse of which you speak was constructed by my great-great-grandfather Jacob Ingram! He is my mother’s great-grandfather! My other great-great-grandfather John Scarburg built the very mill of which you speak. My father and mother are both from Scarlettsville also, but they later moved to Alabama. I was born in that very place! Isn’t this a mysterious world or what?”

  “Yes indeed, the mysteries of God are an amazement. Thou speakest of your relative Jacob Ingram, my grandfather – God rest his soul – told me of your forefather when I was but a young lad, and ah, Scarlett Plantation and its name. The name that became our beloved community Scarlettsville.”

  “Tell me Mr. Babb, do you know of the origin of the name Scarlett? My family knows nothing of it.”

  “Ah, Scarlett...ye see Mr. Scarburg, your great-great-great-grandmother Celia’s mother was Lettie Washington, a younger sister of our beloved President George. It was said she had the most beautiful auburn hair that gave rise to her affectionate nickname of Scarlett. My grandfather relayed to me that she died giving birth to your great-great-grandmother Celia. Grandfather stated records of this union and birth were all destroyed during the Revolution. Ye see Scarlett be not only a beautiful plantation is has a beautiful historic namesake.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Babb, thank you so much, our family never knew why Scarlett Plantation was so named.”

  Mr. Babb continued, “When we lived in Scarlettsville and met at the John Ingram Meetinghouse the Friends always questioned why a particular Bible scripture was engraved on the inside wall over the door, it read:

  ‘And Ahaz took the silver and gold that was found in the house of the LORD, and in the treasures of the king's house, and sent it for a present...’

  Mr. Scarburg, ye say your parents are from Scarlettsville too. Were they Quakers? Did anyone ever tell ye what that passage meant or why someone saw fit to engrave it over the door? The Friends have always assumed it referred to one’s soul or spirit that our God sends to be with Him when our earthly life is finished.”

  “It is a mystery to me too Mr. Babb. I suppose your thoughts on the verse could be correct, but no, my parents did not attend the Scarlettsville Meetinghouse. They were just plain old Southern Baptists.”

  “Sir would thee please remove thou firearm resting there on thy hip; our religion forbids violence.”

  Luke unbuckles his pistol belt and hangs the gun and holster over the corner headboard post of Mr. Babb’s four-poster bed.

  “Good, now would thee please sit down on the edge of my bed; I would like a few words of import with thee.” Speaking to Catherine, he requests she go downstairs and prepare their guests a proper supper. Nate follows closely behind Catherine as she leaves the bedroom.

  “Ma,” he says pointing toward Mrs. Babb’s bed, “will never recover, and I am worse than useless. My darlin’ girl Catherine and brave boy Samuel Junior will always have to tend to us both. That’s a fearsome burden to put on them. I’m askin’ ye to promise if something was to happen to Ma and me I want my children taken care of. Ye being from Scarlettsville are most like family, and God has guided thee to our humble farm for a purpose. Your presence here today has got to be God’s divine will.
Please get a piece of paper and pen from my desk and write what I will say to thee.”

  Luke did as requested and wrote the following:

  February 10, 1864

  Laurel County, Kentucky

  I Samuel Babb, being of sound mind, state this be my last will and testament, I do request all my debts be settled and request Ma and me be buried up behind the house in the grove of dogwood trees, if possible, if not, we feel our Heavenly Father will find our remains on that great resurrection day.

  Further, I do hereby give all my worldly goods to Luke Scarburg. My farm and all the livestock will be his too. I request that my daughter Catherine Ann and son Samuel Junior, both under the age of consent will remain under his care until the age of twenty-one, then upon his discretion, all my worldly goods will be returned to them.

  Samuel Babb

  “Sir, I beg you, I cannot accept your terms. Nate and I are bound for Alabama. We are not able to carry Catherine and Sam Junior with us. It is too dangerous. Sir, you must have relatives or even neighbors that can be of assistance?”

  “Master Scarburg, I have none! I have no close relations in South Carolina. I had one close friend Riley Walker, but he must be plumb nigh on eighty or ninety years old now, if he be still alive. And sir, as ye probably surmised during your trek across these beautiful Cumberland Mountains, I have no neighbors. Tis sorry to put thee in this dire situation, but Sir, I have no one else to rely on. Thee, I’m sure was surely Heaven sent. I plead thee accept my request and care for my children. Stay here with us ‘til spring, and when the snow melts, ye can continue thou journey. By then ye will have time to consider my plea.”

  Luke tries to explain again that he is in no position to assume the guardianship duties that Mr. Babb requests. He points out the simple fact that Mr. Babb is not dying and as far as he can tell, is not apt to do so anytime in the near future. Obviously, Mr. Babb is not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. After a couple of back and forth arguments Luke relents and accepts his fate as the benefactor of Mr. Babb’s farm and children.

  If sometime in the future word is sent to him in Alabama that Mr. and Mrs. Babb have passed away, he agrees to return, settle the estate and make arrangements for the care of his children. Mr. Babb heaves a sigh of relief, sinks back on his pillow as though a tremendous burden has been removed from his shoulders.

  Later downstairs sitting around the fireplace Luke calls to Catherine in the kitchen asking if she would bring him a Bible. She takes her father’s Bible to Luke. Luke opens it and is surprised at all the notes and notations up and down various pages. She explains to Luke their big Bible serves as a record of the Babb family, going back a number of generations. Indeed, the notations go back to their time in South Carolina.

  He sees nothing that gives him a hint of the meaning of the Biblical passage over the Meetinghouse door. Placing the Bible down he walks to the front floor, the blizzard seems to be getting worse. He and Nate will not be moving on for the time being.

  Sam Junior bursts through the front door nearly knocking Luke down. Sam dusts snow from his coat and slaps his hat against his britches leg, “Darn, this is a mean’un. Worst I’ve ever seen, but gents I got your horses and the burro stabled, rubbed and dried down, watered and fed. Sorry, ‘bout the door.”

  Following closely behind Sam walks the finest hound that Luke or Nate have ever seen. It trots across the floor and plops down in front of the fire. Luke and Nate both stare at the hound. This obviously is a coonhound with powerful, mobile shoulders; the ears are large compared to the head; its upper lip is hanging well below the lower jaw; the forelegs are long, straight and lean; it is a medium to large hound, weighing somewhere between forty-five to fifty pounds they guess; its tricolor coat is white with black and brown swatches. ‘What a magnificent dog’, thinks Luke.

  No one speaks; Luke walks to the fireplace and begins to rub the hound’s head. “Catherine, could you please fetch me a rag, I need to dry this hound’s coat. He is covered in snow and is lying here soaking wet.”

  As Luke rubs the dog dry Catherine asks, “I see you admire Kentucky Lead, Sam’s coonhound?”

  “Kentucky Lead? That’s an unusual name, but you say ‘admire’? Catherine, I more than ‘admire’ this dog - this is a coonhound. I have never seen one better in fact I do not believe I can even identify this breed. Have you ever seen such a fine hound, Nate?”

  Nate shakes his head. “No sir Mr. Luke! Finest one I’s has ever seed too.”

  Catherine Ann continues telling them about the hound, “When Father lived in Carolina his nearest neighbor was old Riley Walker. Mr. Walker had an English foxhound and Father had a hound he called ‘Carolina Lead’. Anyway, as the story goes Father and Mr. Walker crossed their two breeds, which resulted in the breed of hound, you see lying here in front of the fireplace. Father has always just called them Walker Coonhounds. He’s been raising them for years now. We have eight or ten more out in the barn. They are good hunting hounds at least that’s what coon hunters say about them. The only thing, I can tell you, is their bark; every one of them seems to be different. When Father lets them run over the mountains hunting I can recognize which hound has treed a ‘coon by the sound of their baying. We just narrowed Kentucky Lead’s name to ‘Kentuck’.”

  “Walker coonhounds huh? Well, I never! I was wondering earlier why you called them Walker’s.”

  Leaving the Walker hound sleeping snuggly beside the fire Catherine invites Luke and Nate into the dining room for a good home-cooked meal. Nate provides coffee for some honest to goodness real coffee – it has been a long time since the Babb’s have enjoyed coffee with their meals. As they sit at the table sipping the coffee suddenly, the tranquil evening is shattered by the startling blast of a pistol being fired. Not once but twice.

  From upstairs, two gunshots rang out. They seem to have come from the bedroom...Luke ascends the steps two at a time, Catherine, Luke, Nate and Sam, Jr. follow. They burst into the room to find Mrs. Babb’s quilt covered in blood, she is lying dead in her bed.

  “Mother...mother! Luke she is gone.” Luke moves over to the bed and checks her pulse to confirm Catherine’s outburst. Her mother is indeed dead. She turns to her father, “Father! Oh Father!”

  The pistol Mr. Barr used to shoot his wife and himself is lying next to him on the bed – it is Luke’s Colt .44. Blue smoke is still trailing from its barrel. Luke turns and tries to comfort Catherine. She sobs hysterically, “Why? Why...why would he do this?” Luke does not answer he hands the Will her father had written earlier to Catherine. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she reads the piece of paper.

  “Catherine, your father was a proud but stubborn, strong- willed man. He did not want to burden you and Sam Junior with the responsibility of caring for the two of them constantly for the rest of their lives. He told me he and your mother would consume you and your brother’s own existence and rob you of your future. He did not want that. He said you both deserved to grow up, have your own families and be happy. I assume if he had said he would have stated for you not to be sad, but be happy for now both of them are once again young, happy and holding hands in God’s warm and eternal sunshine.”

  “Did he not realize they were no burden, they were my mother and father – he had no right, no right!” she said staring at her dead father. “Luke you had no right either – you shouldn’t have kept this from me!”

  “Catherine this Will and Testament was your father’s decision – I was merely to carry out his wishes. I had no idea this was going to happen tonight. I expected their passing would be years from now. If I had any idea, I would not have left my .44 hanging on the bedpost. When your father requested I remove my gun, he must have already had this is mind. I was just a means to his end.”

  “What are Sam Junior and I to do now? I’m scared Luke – what are we to do?”

  “Do not worry, as I promised your father, you and Sam Junior will be taken care of.”

  Nate speaks softly to Luke,
“Take these two young folks back downstairs and lets me take care of this...I’ll come get y’all whens I’s got this straighten up.” Whispering to Luke he adds, “You knows I’s taken care of dead folks fer a long time now, they’s ain’t soldiers, but I’s will lay’em out real nice.”

  A little while later Nate comes down and announces to Catherine and Sam, Jr. they can come back upstairs. Nate has cleaned both bodies, changed the bed linens, dressed Mr. and Mrs. Babb in their best Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and have them lying on their beds in a very dignified manner. He had positioned candles around the room to make the death of the children’s parents as bearable as possible.

  Luke and Nate seat themselves in the corner of the bedroom and allow Catherine and Sam to grief in silence for the rest of the night. At daybreak, Luke walks over to Catherine, places his hand on her shoulder, “It’s time to say good-bye. I’ll give you a few minutes then you and Sam, Jr. go downstairs, and Nate and I will take care of your parents.”

  After a few minutes, Catherine and Sam began to leave, Luke reaches out and stops Sam, Junior, “Sam, tell me, I know farmers clear new ground in the fall getting ready for spring planting. Did you and your father have such a piece of ground?”

  “Yes sir, up on the hill we had begun to clear a spot when the winter snows set in. It’s up there next to that grove of dogwood trees.”

  “Have the trees that you cut been burnt?”

  Sam, Jr. explains that he and his father had cleared a couple acres of trees, piled them up, and they were going to burn them this winter, but they had not gotten around to burning them yet. That is precisely the answer Luke is seeking.

  Luke and Nate wrap the two bodies in quilts carry them outside into the freezing cold. For the next two days, Luke and Nate burn the pile of logs – once the logs are burnt, and the ashes cool, with shovels and picks they dig two graves in to the thawed earth the fire created. Nate makes a cross for Mr. Babb and one for Mrs. Babb.

  After the burial is complete, Catherine and Sam, Jr. walk through the deep snow to the gravesites. Luke takes the Bible turns to the Fourth Chapter of I Thessalonians and reads:

   

  ‘Then we, which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.

  The funeral over snow begins to fall once again. Sitting at the kitchen table with everyone, Luke looks out the window at the sea of white. “You know Nate our plans have just taken a turn.”

  “What’s you reckon Luke?”

  Luke begins explaining how he thought just a few days ago the blizzard was subsiding and within a week or so they should be back on the trail heading to Knoxville. Now it is snowing again, but snow is not the reason for the postponement of their journey. Luke and Nate now have two other lives for which they are responsible.

  Catherine is the first to speak saying in a harsh tone, “Luke and Nate Scarburg you two do not have to stay here with Sam and me, we can take care of ourselves. You don’t have to feel sorry for us either, you two just get on your way to Alabama and leave us be, we will make out fine. I can see after Sam so don’t you worry!” She said sarcastically.

  “I’m sorry Catherine; I did not mean to sound so begrudging I am truly glad Nate and I found your house. Your father said it while he and I talked – he said it was God’s intent that we stumbled upon your farm during the blizzard. Your father’s exact words were ‘Heaven sent’. You know, I now believe he was correct - God surely intervened in all our lives.

  “Catherine say as you will, but Nate and I will not leave you here alone – in fact, we will not leave you both at all. It has been a long time since the both of us have been home. I enlisted in the spring of ‘62; it is now almost the spring of ‘64 that has been two years. In all this time, I have never received a letter from home. I don’t even know if my family is still alive. If they are, perhaps the letters never reached me. Nate and I are both deserters – I escaped from a Yankee prison but never tried to rejoin a Southern unit and Nate was impressed into the Union Army. He since has learned that the Yankees have killed his wife and son in North Carolina. His father, mother, and brother, live with my mother in Alabama, so what I am saying is you both are not hindering Nate and me. A few more months more or less is not going to make a big difference.”

  Luke suggests they wait out the winter, when the spring thaw arrives they will prepare enough land to plant vegetables, corn and enough hay for horse feed. They will raise chickens, a hog and tend to the cow. After harvest, they will load the wagon with provisions and they all, and he emphasized all, would proceed to Alabama. Once Sam and Catherine Ann reach the age of accountability, they can return to this farm and live if they so desire.

  “Luke Scarburg I’m telling you right here and now if you make me and Sam leave our farm I will hate you forever!”