Jordan's War - 1861

by B. K. Birch

  It was almost suppertime before all the tools were accounted for. Jordan could tell how late it was by how hungry he was getting, even though he couldn’t see the sun and had no idea what actual time it was. He climbed up and sat beside Jim, who fighting off a severe bout of drowsiness.

  “Hurry up Jake,” Jordan said.

  “I could use a little help here,” Jake whined.

  “Does that look like everything we brought,” Jordan asked Jim, ignoring Jake’s groans.

  “I think so son,” Jim said and examined all the items in the wagon. “We’d better get. That rain will be here anytime. What’s that bag?”

  “Something me and Gunner found in the house,” Jordan said. “Pa said he was going to give it to the Home Guard when he saw them again.”

  “Hide it,” Jim said. “I’d rather give it to them than meet them on the road and have them find it on us.”

  “I’m done,” Jake said and climbed on the back of the wagon.

  “Gunner!” Jordan hollered and tucked the satchel under a piece of tarp. “We’re leaving.”

  Gunner ran out of the house with an old handsaw.

  “Did we bring that?” Jordan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Gunner shrugged. “It looks a little rusty. Maybe not.”

  “We can clean it up,” Jordan said.

  “Good,” Gunner said. “We’ll need a saw when we move.”

  “Can you take the reins?” Jordan asked Jim.

  “No,” Jim said. His voice croaked and he grunted to clear his throat, spitting a stream of phlegm on the grass. “You better take them.”

  Jordan stood up and switched places with Jim. He gave a slight whistle and a gentle tug on the straps and they were off. He glanced back and felt ashamed of the way the place looked. Grass was cut in places but grew tall and wild in others. None of the work Pa had planned to do, such as patch the roof or mend the porch rails, was even started. The entire afternoon felt like a waste of time and now Eamon was in trouble.

  Large drops of rain began to fall from the sky and splashed on the parched road in front of them. Soon it was pouring, but there wasn’t any thunder or lightening. It was one of those steady rains that would stay with them for a few hours and give the land a much needed drink of water.

  “Hurry up Jordan,” Jake said and reached for the tarp bundled beneath the seat so he could put it over his head.

  “Leave that alone,” Jim said.

  “But me and Gunner’s getting wet,” Jake whined and rolled his eyes.

  “You heard me,” Jim warned.

  Jake folded it back up, shoved it back under the seat and pouted as the rain ran down his forehead and dripped off the edge of his nose.

  It took longer than expected for them to reach the house. Jordan saw two strange horses seeking refuge from the rain beneath one of the massive oak trees. He stopped at the house to help Jim down from the wagon.

  Jake and Gunner ran inside before Jordan could solicit their help with either Jim or the hitch. Jim had already eased himself to the ground and walked back to the porch by himself. Jordan waited in the rain until he’d climbed all the steps. He’d never hear the end of if he ran off and Jim fell.

  He took the wagon over beside the barn and walked around to unhitch the horses. There was no need to hurry because he was already soaked. He wondered how far Isaac had gotten before the rain drenched him. He probably didn’t make it down the mountain.

  He walked back to the house and took his boots off on the back porch. He didn’t hear any yelling. The satchel! He completely forgot about it. He shoved his feet back in his boots and ran out the back door without bothering to tie them. Only now had the rain soaked into the ground enough to make the path muddy.

  The bag was wet where the tarp had fallen away, but the contents inside were dry. He put it underneath his shirt and hurried back to the house.

  When he came back inside, Willow and Selie was in the kitchen kneading dough. A pot in the fireplace had not yet started to boil and there was a pile of potatoes to be peeled.

  “What’s going on?” Jordan asked.

  Willow looked up at him with tears in her eyes. Selie’s bottom lip hung down and she never took her eyes off the table.

  “What is it?” Jordan asked.

  “Keep your voice down,” Willow hissed and motioned for him to come closer.

  “They arrested Eamon,” she whispered. “They took him away a little while ago.”

  “Who took him?” he asked.

  “That awful Luke Vander and some other soldier,” she said. “They’re digging through everything now. It’s disgusting; those men touching our things.”

  “What are they looking for?”

  “Evidence of spying,” Willow said. “They even searched the house. Sergeant Hummel and another soldier are down at the barn now.”

  “I didn’t see them and I just came from there,” Jordan said. Evidence of spying? Oh that’s just dandy. Jordan felt the buckle of the evidence cold against his stomach. He walked out on the porch and stuffed the bag in the bottom of the wood box and piled kindling wood over top of it.

  “Why didn’t Grandma see this?”

  “I’m certain she did,” Willow replied. “She just couldn’t make no sense of it.”

  “Did you see it?” Jordan asked.

  Willow lowered her eyes and shook her head.

  “What’d Pa say?”

  “Nothing, except that it wasn’t Eamon. They didn’t believe him. That Federal soldier they shot up on the rocks said he’d met some local boy. Those men think it was Eamon and that he was helping him.”

  “Where’s Ma and Grandma?”

  “In the front room.”

  Jordan bent down and tied his laces.

  “Where are you going?” Willow asked.

  “To get Eamon,” Jordan answered and ran out the back door.

  “You’d better wait until Grandma gets done,” Willow said. “She might see something.”

  Jordan picked up a knife and started peeling potatoes. He didn’t know why. He wanted to go after those soldiers who had taken Eamon, but felt helpless to do anything. For some reason holding the sharp metal blade gave him comfort. Willow gave him a strange look as she cut the dough into biscuits and laid them out on a hot, greasy pan.

  Jordan tried to ignore the old quilt that had been tacked up over the doorway to the living room. He knew Ma and Grandma were up to something secret, but he was afraid to ask.

  The boiling pot hissed as he put the last sliced potato, and water splashed out into the hot coals. The voices in the living room grew louder but he still couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  As if drawn to the makeshift curtain by some unseen force, Jordan walked over to the entrance, stooped down and leaned in to listen. He held a tiny corner of the blanket in his hand and rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. Willow must have felt the same urge because she ended up leaning on Jordan’s shoulder.

  It was not his grandmother’s voice, but he knew she was in there by the familiar smell of ginger and sassafras. He didn’t know where she kept it, but it always announced her presence. Ma was crying and her words were muffled by gasping sobs.

  Willow jumped as the back door hinged creaked.

  “What are you two doing?” Pa asked.

  “Nothing,” Willow said and jumped up, held out her skirt and pretended to curtsy to the two soldiers who stood next to Pa. She was really hiding Jordan, giving him time to get to his feet.

  “You remember Sergeant Hummel?” Pa asked and looked at Jordan.

  “Yes sir,” Jordan said and nodded his head. His eyes were bulging and fear was painted on his face. He tried not to glance at the wood box which concealed their dangerous discovery, but the more he tried not to, the more he stared.

  Sergeant Hummel nodded back at Jordan, but his eyes looked past him, to the blanket that covered the doorway.

  “What’s that for?” he asked and pointed.

  �
�Would you like some water?” Willow asked and walked towards the water bucket. “I just brought it from the spring. It’s still cold.”

  “No, thank you,” Sergeant Hummel said in his monotone soldier voice. “I asked a question.”

  “Oh that’s just so the women can talk,” Pa said. “The house ain’t that big and there are too many men around.”

  “What are you trying to hide Sinclair?” Sergeant Hummel snapped and gave Pa a narrow-eyed stare.

  “You’ve searched every nook and cranny of this place,” Pa laughed. “But, you caught me,” Pa threw his arms up in the air. “I’m hiding Lincoln’s entire army behind that there blanket in my front room.”

  “This is no laughing matter Mr. Sinclair,” the Sergeant said. “Spying is a serious offense”.

  “Sergeant Hummel,” Pa said and shook his head. “If there was something to find around here, you’d have found it by now. Please leave the women alone.”

  “You brought this suspicion on yourself, Sinclair,” Sergeant Hummel said. He walked over and ripped the blanket down. It tore where it hung by the nails and left bits of fabric dangling above the doorway.

  Ma was on her knees, leaning against the davenport, deep in fervent prayer. At first glance, it all looked innocent, but Jordan could see part of the white saucer on the floor half hidden by her skirt. Grandma was perched on the cushion above her and had her hand on Ma’s shoulder. There was no one else in the room, but it was so silent that Jordan could hear Jim’s chair creaking as he rocked on the porch.

  “Have you no shame?” Grandma said. She stood up and steadied herself with her walking stick.

  The young soldier with Sergeant Hummel took a step backwards, but the Sergeant did not cower. Jordan was close enough to see his hand tremble as he held his hat to his chest.

  Grandma walked over to him, using the same stare that she used on Jordan when he was younger. She had a peculiar way of making her left eye go a different way than her right eye. It used to scare Jordan, but now he found it funny. Sergeant Hummel wasn’t amused and finally stepped back.

  “Can’t you see my daughter is praying for her son?” Grandma hissed. “An innocent boy your hooligans hauled off in chains! Home Guard, bah!”

  “The Lord has no use for spies,” Sergeant Hummel said to Ma. “You waste your breathe woman!”

  “So, you know who the Lord has use for and who he doesn’t have use for?” Grandma asked. “If you’re so all knowing then why are you in the Home Guard and not leading soldiers into battle?”

  “The Lord uses people for his purpose and his purpose alone,” Sergeant Hummel said. His voice cracked.

  “So, you think the Confederacy has the Lord’s blessing?” Grandma asked, and folded her arms. “You enslave his children, slaughter the innocent, and set fire to his creation. I don’t see where that puts you in his good graces.”

  “Sergeant Hummel,” Pa said. “I’m sure you don’t want to get into an argument with Abigail. . .”

  “This is Abigail McCoy,” Sergeant Hummel interrupted. “The healer . . . the seer?” He gave her a closer look, and then smiled. “Why she’s just a decrepit old crone.”

  Grandma’s eyes straightened and she looked at him, through him, as if to seek out his very soul.

  “Do not be so quick to judge,” she hissed. “There will come a time when you may need me.”

  “I hardly think so,” Sergeant Hummel said.

  “Your men will not last long,” she said. “Most of them will be dead before winter living as they do. Already they are weak even though you cannot see it. The bread you feed them is full of sickness and the meat they eat reeks of rot. Worms grow inside their bellies and long into their gut. Only Vander will be free of the sickness, for his body has grown used to eating such vile.”

  “Shut up old woman,” Sergeant Hummel said. “This is devilry. Pure witchcraft. I ought to haul the whole lot of you in.” He raised his hand to strike her.

  Grandma didn’t budge, not even a flinch as the wind from his arm blew back loose wisps of hair.

  “You will not hit me,” she said. Her voice was calm. “You will go, before those foolish soldiers kill the boy, her son, my grandson. Already he is weak and bloodied. If you do not go to the camp, he will die.”

  “What do I care about another dead spy?”

  “You care because you doubt his guilt,” Grandma said. “You sense the evil in your own men, especially Vander, and even now you sleep lightly because of your fear. You know I speak the truth.”

  “You kill him and there will be one less soldier in your priceless army,” Ma said as she stood up, keeping the saucer hidden behind her shoe. “You kill him and you will have to answer for it. Judgment will be swift and severe. You mark my word.”

  “All of you are crazy,” Sergeant Hummel said and put on his hat. “The boy will be jailed at Renick until his hearing. Good day.”

  The echo of the back door slamming was the only sound to break the heavy silence of the Sinclair house. Jim had stopped rocking and slipped almost unnoticed inside. Gunner, Jake, and Selie emerged from the bedroom and walked dazed into the room. Selie’s face was pale and her eyes were wide with fear. She’d been crying and clung to Jake.

  Ma sat on the davenport and gripped the handkerchief that was entwined in her fingers. Pa sat down beside her, took her hand and held it in his.

  “Bring him home,” she said.

  “I intend to,” Pa said and then looked at Jordan. “Get us a change of clothes and the bed rolls. Don’t worry about hitching the wagon. Jake, you get the horses saddled up.”

  “Can I go?” Jake asked.

  “No son,” Pa said and walked back into the kitchen.

  Jordan knew as soon as Pa took his first step, where he was going. All the guns were stored in the pantry off of the kitchen. Adrenaline raced through his veins as he hurried to pack.

  What gave them the right to harass innocent folks? Just because they wear a uniform and call themselves soldiers doesn’t give them the right to trespass and take Eamon away for no reason. It didn’t give Luke Vander the right to shoot at him as if he were some forest creature. It didn’t give Luke Vander the right to threaten Willow, even if she’d paid it no mind.

  His hands trembled as he stuffed some clothes in a sack and thoughts of injustice overwhelmed him. It seemed as if the family was all alone. There hadn’t been anyone stop by to visit since Reverend Summey came to pray. Even Uncle Tate should have gotten over being angry by now, but he ain’t been by either.

  He hated Luke Vander and smiled as he entertained a short thought about shooting him as he pleaded for his life. He tied the sack and rushed outside.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Willow asked when Jordan passed through the kitchen.

  “You’d better pack something in the bucket,” Jordan said. “No telling what they’ve done to Eamon by now.”

  Chapter 18

  “Jordan wait,” Ma said and grabbed his face in her hands. She pulled him close and kissed him hard on the forehead.

  He didn’t move, partly out of respect and partly because she had a pretty solid hold on him.

  “Oh for goodness sakes Bess,” Pa said. “Let the boy go. I need to find my dowel rod.”

  “You be careful,” she whispered and gave him one more kiss before she let him loose.

  “I will,” he said and paused a moment before he walked outside.

  Gunner and Jake had quite an army displayed on the porch. A couple of the figures even had carved horses. Jordan put the sack down and picked up one the animals. He knocked over three of the soldiers.

  “Stop messing with them,” Jake said and snatched the horse out of Jordan’s hand.

  “I was just looking at it,” Jordan said. “Did you fetch the horses like Pa said?”

  “Yep,” Jake said and pointed to the fence where both horses grazed. “Gunner helped me.”

  “Bye,” Jordan said.

  “You keep your head down,” Jim said and wi
nked one of his big blue eyes at him.

  “I will.”

  His hands trembled as he strapped his bedroll to the back of the saddle. He searched the sky for any break in the clouds. The darkest clouds hovered to the west, which meant it would be dark earlier than normal. They needed the daylight to make it off the mountain as the path was rocky and treacherous after dark. It would be easier without the wagon though because the horses wouldn’t have to pull it and the animals pretty much knew the way down anyway.

  He wondered if they’d ride all the way to Renick this evening. Grandma said something about a camp near there, but he didn’t know how they’d find it at night. He bent down and inspected the saddle belts to make sure Jake got them on right. The last thing he needed was to slide off the horse while being chased.

  “Here’s some food,” Willow said. Selie was with her and already had picked a handful of daisies.

  Jordan jumped and gave her a strange look. He didn’t even hear her approached him. He took the sack she had in her hand and tied it to his saddle.

  “Ain’t Pa coming?” he asked and looked at the sky.

  “He’s making cartridges,” Willow said. “We found the dowel right away but Ma had to search a bit to find the wax.”

  “He’s doing that now!” Jordan shouted. “We don’t have time.”

  “Well you don’t have to yell at me,” Willow hollered. “If I was you, I’d be mighty happy I had a bullet or two when Luke Vander starts shooting at you.”

  Selie giggled.

  “Do you think he will?”

  “He’s a soldier, ain’t he?”

  “I mean, did you see something?”

  “Nope, but I ain’t been looking.”

  Willow walked over and petted the horse. The horse nuzzled her shoulder and pushed her backwards. She stumbled, but managed to stay on her feet.

  “Easy now,” she whispered to the animal and then turned to Jordan. “Do you think you could shoot anyone?”