Jordan's War - 1861

by B. K. Birch

  “Is this pond water?”

  “Would it make a difference?”

  Jordan wanted to think it would.

  “I guess not.”

  “Well, it ain’t,” Pa said. “I got it from the spring this morning.”

  Whew! Jordan drank half the jar in one gulp. After a few hours, the fields had all but disappeared and rows of tiny houses lined both sides of the road. They all looked the same – small porch, a door, one window in front beside the door and an upstairs. There was no yard, little grass, and the few strands of fence still standing were broken and stained a dingy gray.

  Sun-bleached bones lay abandoned in the dirt and dogs were everywhere, barking the news of passing strangers. Smoke from cooking fires lingered in the air and children in tattered clothes with no shoes ran out to the edge of the street to watch them pass.

  “Who lives here?” Jordan asked.

  “Men who work in the mines,” Pa said.

  “Why don’t Jim and Gunner live here?” The houses weren’t much, but at least they weren’t falling down.

  “I said work in the mines.”

  “Oh,” Jordan said. “They don’t look like the make all that much money.”

  “Only one making any money is the fella who owns the mine.”

  The houses gradually grew larger and had more space between them. Soon they were riding through the middle of a small town called Elkins. Shops lined the streets and people bustled about their business. It reminded Jordan of Marlins Bottom.

  “Look Pa!” Jordan shouted and pointed at a wagon surrounded by folks rummaging through cartons of merchandise. “There’s that peddler!”

  “Wonder if he’s sold any of them fake legs?” Pa laughed.

  “I hope not,” Jordan replied.

  The wagons rolled across the bridge and up a hill. Jordan’s smile dropped. Soldiers – hundreds of them. Rows of white tents covered the fields. Smoke billowed from countless campfires. His heart raced and he glanced at as many faces as he could, just to make sure none of them was a Vander.

  Pa slowed down as two of the soldiers stepped out onto the road. They were both armed and carried themselves in a stiff, soldier-like manner. Another one scurried up the bank and stood in front of Eamon’s wagon.

  “Afternoon,” Pa said.

  “The road is closed,” the soldier said. “There is Union activity in Philippi and the pass isn’t safe for civilians.”

  “I sure ain’t going that far,” Pa laughed. “I’m just heading to my brothers place up yonder about two miles.” Pa looked back and smiled at Eamon.

  “What for?”

  “Headed up to my brother’s place and drop off this load,” Pa lied. “Ran out of room at my place.”

  “Where’s your place?”

  “Back there in the valley. Before you get to the mines. Ain’t much, but it’s home.”

  The soldier didn’t seem to believe him. Large raindrops began falling from the sky and lightning flashed.

  “Is that a Sharps Breechloader?” Pa asked the soldier and adjusted his hat to keep the rain out of his eyes. “That’s a right nice gun.”

  “Yes sir,” he answered and held it up just a little.

  “Did the army give you that?”

  “No sir,” the soldier said. “It’s my daddy’s.”

  “Can’t tell you how proud I am of you brave boys,” Pa said. “My son Eamon back there can’t wait to join in. But I told him – I said Eamon, you got to wait till you’re eighteen. That’s what I told him.”

  The soldier looked back at Eamon and waved to him. Eamon waved back. Jordan chuckled at the befuddled look on his brother’s face.

  “Jordan, give these brave men a few jars of that fine maple syrup,” Pa said.

  “What!”

  “Just do as I say,” Pa said and turned back to the soldiers. “I ain’t got much, but I am willing to share what I do have.”

  Jordan pulled out two jars and handed them to Pa. The rain was now pouring.

  “Here you go boys,” Pa said and gave the jars to the men. “Made by the prettiest girl this side of Elkins.”

  One of the soldiers scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Pa.

  “Let them pass,” he hollered and the others soldiers stepped aside.

  “You keep your head down and keep praying,” Pa called back to them as the wagon rolled out. Thunder rolled from the heavens.

  Jordan didn’t utter a sound until the soldiers were out of sight.

  “Why’d you lie to them?” Jordan hollered.

  “They wouldn’t have let us pass if they knew where we were going,” Pa said.

  “Why are we going all this way?” Jordan asked. “With the war and all, it seems a little dangerous.”

  “It’s a little complicated,” Pa said. “I could take this wool to Lewisburg, get twelve cents per pound and that’s a right fair price. But I can take it to Fairmont, get sixteen cents a pound in gold and silver coin. Gold is always better than that dang paper money.”

  “I suppose,” Jordan said. He’d never thought about it that way before. He was full of questions but he also had an empty stomach. A big, fat raindrop plopped on his cheek. He’d been so preoccupied with the soldiers that he hadn’t noticed the darkening skies.

  “We need to get out of this storm. The horses need a rest,” Pa said. “We’ll pull over at the next watering hole and get a bite.”

  “Do you think we’ll see any more soldiers?” Jordan asked.

  “A few probably,” Pa answered. “But now I got this pass.”

  Jordan climbed back into the wagon with a full stomach and sleepy eyes, but fought his heavy eyelids and the overwhelming urge to crawl back on the wool and take a nap. Only children took naps. The storm only lasted long enough to give everything a good soaking before it drifted off to the east.

  He was tired of riding. The road was bumpy, the wagons were slow, and every field, farmhouse, and forest started to look the same.

  “Uh oh,” Pa said.

  Jordan saw them just as Pa uttered his alarm. A group of five soldiers were walking north on the road ahead of them. All fatigue left him and his heart started to pound. They were dressed a bit different so they must have been Federal soldiers. They stopped walking as the wagons approached.

  “You fellas need a ride?” Pa asked.

  “This road is off limits to civilians,” one of the soldiers said.

  “I did hear that,” Pa said and grinned. “Where are you headed?”

  “Back to camp,” one of them said. “It’s a few miles to Belington.”

  “Hop in,” Pa said. “Ain’t no use walking if you can ride.”

  The soldiers looked at each other, then at one of the men who Jordan believed to be their leader.

  “What the hell,” the man said and they all hopped in the back.

  “Name’s Fitzgerald,” the leader of the men said. “From Wheeling. Where you taking all this wool to?”

  “Up to Fairmont,” Pa replied. “There’s a jar of water back there if you’re thirsty.”

  “Thanks mister,” another one of the soldiers said.

  “Why you hauling this all the way up there?” Fitzgerald asked. “There are merchants in Philippi who’d pay a fair price for this much.”

  “Well,” Pa said. “The way I see it is, if I can get this wool north, it’ll most likely end up in one of them mills in Pennsylvania. I don’t believe you boys are going to be wearing cotton anytime soon, so it’d be in everyone’s best interest if I make it.”

  “I see your point,” Fitzgerald said.

  Pa looked over at Jordan and winked.

  Chapter 8

  The wagons reached the outskirts of Fairmont just after supper time. Shadows were long and thin as the sun neared the end of its journey west and Jordan warmed his face on the last of the lingering rays.

  There was no need to travel into town this evening, as the markets would be closed by the time they got there. Pa offered a local farmer a do
llar to let the horses graze in his fields and for them to camp overnight. The man wouldn’t accept any money, but said they could help themselves to the pasture and the creek by the woods.

  Jordan had just turned the horses out when he heard it. A shrill whistle, similar to the blast he’d heard at the mine just after they left Jim’s place. It scared him a little, especially when he saw thick black smoke rising above the treetops about a half a mile out, heading north towards town.

  “What is it Pa?” Jordan asked and climbed up into a crab-apple tree to get a better look.

  “It’s a locomotive,” Pa said. “I think.”

  “A train?” Eamon asked and stood up.

  “Sounds like it,” Pa said. “Ain’t never seen one though. Not one that runs on steam anyway. I saw a horse-pulled one once.”

  “Can we go see it?” Jordan asked.

  “After you get in the creek and wash the stink off,” Pa said and threw him a satchel of clothes and a block of lye. “Wash them clothes you have on while you’re down there.”

  “Awwww,” Jordan whined. “Can’t we do that later?”

  “It’ll be dark later,” Pa said. “Now get!”

  Jordan crashed through the weeds towards the creek, stepped onto the rocks, and stripped down. There was only one spot on the water where the sunshine still managed to penetrate the dense foliage and that’s where he jumped in. The freezing mountain water took his breath away and he surfaced, gasping for air.

  “Is it cold?” Eamon hollered.

  “No,” Jordan lied.

  Eamon didn’t bother to choose the sunny spot. He jumped in and came up hollering.

  “Jesus, its freezing!” he yelled.

  Jordan busted out laughing and finished rubbing the soap all over his face and hair.

  “You done with the lye yet?” Eamon called through chattering teeth.

  “Almost,” Jordan said, finished scrubbing, and tossed him the bar. He had to admit, the water felt good, despite its chill. The smell from Jim’s house combined with his own stink was overwhelming, even though they got drenched in the rain storm earlier today.

  He got out of the water and shook like a wet dog to get the water off of him. He dressed, rolled up his sleeves, and took his dirty clothes down to the creek.

  “Throw me the soap,” Jordan called and the block spiraled through the air. Eamon didn’t quite get it all the way to the bank so Jordan waded in ankle deep to get it before it sank.

  He laid his filthy clothes on a flat rock, scrubbed them with the bar and tossed it to Eamon, who had just finished dressing.

  “Hurry up,” Jordan called. “I don’t want to miss the train.”

  “Wait a minute,” Eamon said and rinsed his wet clothes. Jordan waited anxiously and watched the grease from the soap float on top on the water. He could see a rainbow when the sun hit it just right.

  They ran back to the camp and laid their wet clothes on the grass to dry. Pa already had a fire going and a pail of smoked meat and cornbread ready to eat.

  “Eat something before you run off,” Pa said. “Finish up that corn bread before it gets too hard. I’m going to the creek.”

  Eamon tossed him the soap.

  “Hurry up,” Jordan said.

  “Just grab some and take it with you,” Eamon said and took a handful of beef. Jordan took what was left and ran off after him.

  It was over a half a mile from their camp to the edge of the tracks. Gray clouds veiled the last remaining sun rays and the darkness made it seem later than what it really was. The air snapped with a brisk mountain chill and Jordan blew on his hands to keep them warm. They decided they could get a better view if they climbed up into the tall pines. They didn’t have to wait long for the next train.

  Jordan’s heart pounded when the gradual chugging of the engine reached his eager ears. The train appeared out of the evening haze to the south. He’d never seen anything go so fast. There was no whistle this time, but the smoke blew into the crisp evening air. Black bits of ash and charred leaves flew into Jordan’s eyes as the engine sped past his hiding place. He wiped his eyes and leaned out over a limb to watch it disappear up the tracks.

  “Wow!” Jordan said. “That was the fastest thing I ever saw!”

  “Don’t move,” Eamon whispered, and pointed down.

  Jordan’s elation turned to fear when he saw two soldiers dressed in gray pants and dark shirts creeping down the tracks south towards them, just behind the tree line. They didn’t carry muskets, but Jordan could see revolvers strapped to their sides. They moved swift and silent, hidden beneath a blanket of white pine.

  Jordan held his breath as the soldiers traipsed right under their roost. He prayed they wouldn’t look up, for if they did, they’d surely see Jordan and Eamon perched in the branches looking down at them, wide-eyed and panicked. They disappeared into shadows as if they were never there.

  “We’d better get out of here,” Eamon said.

  “But what if there’s more of them?” Jordan whispered.

  “You going to sit here all night and see?” Eamon asked, and eased down the branches to the ground.

  Jordan followed him as there was no way he was going to be left all alone in the strange woods.

  They scurried through the woods and didn’t slow down until they reached the open fields. Jordan was out of breath and relieved to see Pa’s campfire glowing in the dusk.

  “Well,” Pa said. “Did you see the train?”

  “Yeah,” Eamon said and flopped down beside the fire, winded from running so far. “We saw soldiers!”

  “Well, there is a war going on,” Pa laughed. “We’ve seen them all day.”

  “But Pa,” Jordan said. “These were the gray ones! They was running down the tracks, right after the train passed by.”

  “That ain’t good,” Pa said. “Raiders probably. Stealing guns, ammo, or something.”

  “They weren’t carrying nothing,” Eamon said.

  “I’d better go round up the horses,” Pa said and stood up. “No use leaving them out there for someone to steal.”

  Jordan sat down by the fire and ate a piece of cornbread.

  “What do you think they were doing?” he asked Eamon.

  “Stealing . . . or spying, I reckon,” Eamon answered and took a gulp of water out of Pa’s jar.

  He heard Pa’s distinct whistle and soon he was walking back to camp with the horses in tow. Pa never had to lead them anywhere. All he had to do was whistle and they followed him like a dog. So did the cattle for that matter. The sheep, however, weren’t so easily led.

  Jordan threw more wood on the fire and laid out his bedroll. He normally complained about the stiff itchy wool, but after spending last night on the floor, it felt like a soft feather bed. He drifted off to the crickets evening serenade.

  Fairmont was everything Jordan thought it would be. Buildings – the tallest ones he’d ever seen – jutted out from the river valley and cut through the layer of smoke that covered the town. The streets were wide and filled with wagons and folks going about their daily business. The air was full of contrasting odors – one street would smell like horse manure while the next one would have sumptuous aromas of sausages and bread wafting through the air. It was the busiest place Jordan had ever seen and it was much larger than Lewisburg or Marlins Bottom.

  A massive wood structure dominated both sides of the river and there were hundreds of men hustling about below and climbing on a maze of large beams.

  “What is that?” Jordan asked.

  “Looks like a bridge of some sort,” Pa said.

  “I’ll bet it’s for the train,” Jordan said.

  Pa turned the horses down the street towards the river. He stopped in front of the mercantile and put down the reins. Jordan was elated when he saw the train depot just ahead and there were two locomotives sitting on the tracks.

  “You stay here,” Pa said to Jordan. “Keep an eye on everything and don’t wander off.”

  Eamon follo
wed Pa into the building.

  Some boys, about Jordan’s age, ran past him in a cloud of dust, hollering and laughing. Jordan stepped out to see what they were so excited about. He wandered about twenty feet away from the wagons and saw the boys gathered in front of an enclosed rail car painted with bold bright colors and the words BARNUM’S AMERICAN MUSEUM written on the side. He wanted a closer look but Pa would kill him if he went too far.

  He kicked at the dirt as he walked back to the wagons. In the window of the mercantile, he saw the same writing that was on the side of the rail car, written on a notice. He ran over and read the words: First ever and only real hippopotamus ever seen in America and other curiosities – 25 cents.

  A hippopotamus! The drawing on the notice depicted a strange fat beast with its jaws wide open and giant blunt teeth inside a cavernous mouth. Maybe Pa would give them some coins to go see it. There certainly wasn’t any animal like that running wild on the mountain.

  The boys ran back past Jordan, but stopped when they saw him at the window and stared at him. Jordan stared back.

  “Hey Bud,” one of the boys said. “Look at the mountain trash!”

  “I’ll be he can’t even read that paper!” another one of them hollered.

  “Hey trash, you got horse shit on your shoes!” one of them teased.

  Jordan’s face turned red and he picked up his foot and looked at the sole of his boot. There wasn’t any horse shit. The boys laughed and ran off down the street.

  “Don’t mind them,” a soft voice said. “They think they’re better than everybody else.”

  Jordan whirled around. A girl stood next to him. But this wasn’t any girl. She had a strange appearance. She wasn’t white but she wasn’t a Negro either. Her hair grew past her waist and was black as the bottom of the coal bucket at Jim’s. Her skin looked like polished glass and her dress exposed a large portion of her bosom. Jordan tried not to stare.

  “Aw, they don’t bother me,” Jordan said and puffed out his chest, hoping to look taller. “You know them?”

  “No, but I’ve seen boys like that before,” she said. “My name’s Ester. My folks travel with Barnum’s.” She pointed at the paper in the window.