Jordan's War - 1861

by B. K. Birch

  “Then get the irons out of the fire so I can start supper,” Ma said. “Then get Selie in here to change.”

  “Has she had her bath?” Willow asked.

  “Yep,” Ma said. “But she’s been running after those boys ever since, so she probably needs her face washed again.”

  Willow walked away, moving her hips just right so the skirt would rustle with each step she took.

  “What’s Reverend Summey coming here for?”

  “To pray for Henry,” Ma said.

  “Where is he?” Jordan asked. The davenport was bare.

  “Me and Willow helped him back to your bed,” Ma said. “Figured he’d be more comfortable. It’s quieter back there too.”

  “My bed? Why my bed?”

  “You weren’t here to say no,” Ma reasoned. “You ain’t going to get all pouty because your poor cousin needs to rest, are you?”

  “No,” Jordan said and swallowed hard. He could feel his ears burning red. The burn crept into his cheeks and he just knew his neck was splotchy.

  “Well,” Ma said. “That’s good. Now get down to the creek. I laid out your clean clothes.”

  “Do you want me to take Jim with me?” Jordan asked.

  “Nope. He’s out back in the tub.”

  He looked away from her and hoped she wouldn’t notice his shame. He shouldn’t have left Sissy Mae lying there but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

  He scooped his clothes and the lye under his arm and headed down to the creek.

  Chapter 26

  “Hold still,” Willow hissed at Selie. Her tiny body jerked each time Willow fastened another one of the tiny ornate buttons on the back of her dress.

  “I’m trying to,” Selie whimpered and bit her trembling bottom lip in an attempt to hold back the flood of tears brimming in the corners of her eyes.

  “You don’t have to be so hateful,” Jordan said as he sat in the chair and watched Selie’s torment.

  “Be quiet,” Willow snapped. “I worked for days on this dress. Am I asking too much for her to hold still while I button the darn thing?”

  “She ain’t moving,” Jordan shot back. “You’re moving her.”

  “Am not,” Willow argued through her clenched teeth.

  “You are too,” Selie said in her softest voice.

  “See!” Jordan said.

  “All done,” Willow said. “Do you want a ribbon in your hair?”

  “No!” Selie said and ran into the kitchen.

  The steady clip-clop of horses’ hooves got louder with each passing second. The Summey family had arrived.

  “They’re here!” Willow called. “Emanuel’s here.”

  Ma came into the living room and peered out the window.

  “Take Grandma’s plate over to the cellar,” Ma said to Jordan.

  “Why can’t she come inside to eat?” Jordan asked.

  Ma shot him a look. He went into the kitchen, picked up the plate, and headed over to the cellar.

  The door was wide open and he could hear her whispering and smell some stinking root concoction boiling. Grandma was sitting at the table leaning on her elbow. Her back was to him and he couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or not, but she was mumbling something strange.

  “Grandma,” Jordan whispered. “Ma made you a plate.”

  She didn’t answer him nor did the rhythm or volume of her words change.

  “Grandma,” he whispered again.

  No answer.

  He sat the plate down on a small table beside her chair, stepped back, and put his hand on the latch to close the door. No use for the Summey’s to see this. They already think she’s a witch.

  “Leave it open,” she said in a monotone, yet musical, voice.

  “Huh?”

  “Leave it open,” she said. “Gets too hot in here with the fire.”

  Jordan put the door back where it was and walked back to the house.

  “Wash your hands,” Ma ordered as she finished putting dishes of sumptuous food on the table. He only heard the Reverend and peeked around to see if Lula and Manny were there.

  “I do hate that poor Lula ain’t feeling well,” Ma hollered into the kitchen. “I know that gout can be pretty painful.”

  “Well, Doc McCord gave her some ointment,” Elijah said. “It’ll just take some time.”

  “Grandma could fix her,” Jake called out from the front porch.

  “Hush up Jake,” Willow said. “The Reverend prefers a more traditional approach to healing.”

  Jordan noticed Willow had changed the moment she stomped into the kitchen. The beautiful blue dress was gone and now she wore one of her old plain dresses.

  “Where’s Manny?” Jordan asked.

  Willow glared at him as she re-filled the milk pitcher.

  “Seems Sissy Mae had an accident over at Tate’s house this afternoon,” the Reverend said as he stood in the doorway. “Old Widow Sharp found her lying on the porch a few hours ago with a gun in her hand. She wouldn’t say what she was shooting at. Manny’s over there making sure she ain’t hurt too bad.”

  Jordan’s face turned hot and red. Ma acted like it was news to her. But when Jordan thought about it, he only told Ma that she shot at him. He didn’t tell her that the left her lying on the porch and ran home. That’s probably why Willow’s sulking around in an old dress.

  “Come and eat!” Ma hollered.

  To Jordan’s surprise, Henry made his way to the table without any help at all. But instead of dining on fried chicken, fried potatoes and all the rest of the usual fixings, Ma placed a bowl of warm broth in front of him. He wrinkled his nose a little but didn’t complain.

  He looked a little pale and he smelled really bad. Jordan figured Grandma put a fresh poultice on him so the smell would remind Reverend Summey of who is really doing the healing around here.

  They all bowed their heads and said a prayer.

  Jordan flopped down on the arm of the chair where Henry was sitting. Henry winced and held his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Jordan said and jumped up. “Did I bump it?”

  “Nah,” Henry said. “It just hurts whenever I move it. Sit back down.”

  Jordan was a bit more careful when he sat down this time.

  “I’m scared,” Henry whispered. “I don’t like all that whispering in tongues. I can’t understand any of it.”

  “Me neither,” Jordan said. “I ain’t afraid of it though.”

  “You ain’t never had it happen to you,” Henry said. “You’d be scared if you did.”

  “Yeah,” Jordan said. “You’re probably right. I don’t think you’ll get the long session. Last time he was here right after Jim came back, we were up late. But you ain’t that sick.”

  Why didn’t Ma get Reverend Summey to come over and pray for him when Gus ran him over? His injury looked just as bad as Henry’s and he had the scar on his back to prove it.

  “I wish he hadn’t come at all.”

  “You don’t want the prayer?” Jordan said and tried not to sound shocked. He never heard of such a thing.

  “Yeah,” Henry said. “I suppose I do, but I guess I just don’t like all the attention. I’m feeling better already.”

  The sun was resting on the treetops casting brilliant red and orange striations thin clouds that lined the sky.

  Jordan and Henry were soon joined by the rest of the family and Reverend Summey.

  He really didn’t mind Reverend Summey’s visit too much as he carried the only news from the outside they could get – how tall the corn crops were growing, who has the best lambs and who has the greenest garden.

  Henry was wide-eyed and breathing hard. There were a few times Jordan thought he would bolt from the chair and run off into the encroaching darkness.

  “Well, Henry,” Reverend Summey said and then slurped the rest of his coffee. “Are you ready to feel the mercy of our Lord?”

  Henry didn’t answer him.

  “I’ll take that,�
� Willow said and took the cup from Reverend Summey.

  The Reverend leaned over and pulled Henry’s shirt away from his shoulder to expose the bruised flesh which the poultice did not completely cover. He winced at the unusual odor emanating from the white cloth soaked in the healing herbs and roots that Grandma had so carefully brewed and pasted on his shoulder.

  “Witchcraft!” he shouted and ripped the bandage off the wound and tossed it on Henry’s lap.

  “Ahhhhhh!” Henry screamed and held his shoulder.

  The wound began oozing blood. Reverend Summey sopped it up with his clean, white handkerchief.

  Ma brought a clean rag and held it over the wound. She tried to hide the shock on her face, but she wasn’t doing a very good job.

  “Gather around now,” Reverend Summey said to all of them.

  “Shouldn’t we try to get the bleeding stopped first?” Henry whimpered.

  “Jesus Christ will stop the bleeding son,” he said and rubbed the boy’s head.

  Jordan saw Henry clutching the poultice that had landed on his legs just a few moments ago.

  They all knelt down and bowed their heads. Jordan prepared for the worst, but to his surprise and relief, the whole vigil took less than ten minutes – then the “Amens” were whispered and everyone stood up.

  The bleeding had indeed stopped by the time the Reverend and the others looked up and Henry pretended he was asleep. It was a convincing act and Jordan had to watch closely to see the subtle rise and fall of Henry’s chest.

  Chapter 27

  Jordan sat in the floor beside Henry’s chair and watched him as he pretended sleep.

  “It’s over,” Jordan whispered out the side of his mouth. “He’s out on the porch.”

  “Where’s your ma?” Henry whispered back.

  “She’s out there with him,” Jordan whispered.

  “Get up, you big fake,” Jim hollered as he walked back into the front room and smacked Henry on the thigh.

  “Ouch!” Henry yelled and swatted at Jim with his good arm. Jim lunged to the side, diverting the blow so it only caught the fabric of his overalls.

  “You move pretty quick for an old man,” Jordan laughed.

  Henry was still wincing from the pain.

  “You’re damn lucky you didn’t get the full prayer,” Jim laughed. “You’d have been up all night.”

  “Shhh!” Jordan hissed and pointed towards the door. Jim stopped talking and they all looked at Ma and Reverend Summey through the screen door as they stood on the porch.

  “Elijah, if you have a moment, can we say a short prayer for Finnian, Tate, and Eamon?” Ma asked.

  “Is Tate with them?” Reverend Summey asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Was that a wise decision on Tate’s part?”

  “I don’t know. It was Tate’s decision,” Ma said.

  “What have you seen?” Reverend Summey asked.

  “I’ve been too afraid to look,” she admitted. “Why do you ask? It’s all witchcraft to you anyway.”

  Reverend Summey put his arm around Bess and helped her get comfortable in one of the rocking chairs. He scooted another one around to face her.

  Jordan crept closer to the door.

  “These are hard times,” he said.

  “Yes indeed,” Ma replied.

  “The future of our country hangs on the outcome of this war,” he said.

  “Amen,” Ma said.

  “The Confederacy needs all the help it can get,” Elijah said.

  “I understand that,” Ma said.

  Reverend Summey leaned over and whispered into Ma’s ear. Jordan stretched his neck to hear but their voices were too soft to hear anything.

  “Eamon don’t need to see the error of his ways!” Ma shouted and stood up. “He didn’t do anything. Those men hauled him off with no proof. Maybe they need to see the error of their ways!”

  “If he did nothing wrong, he would have been set free,” Reverend Summey said and stood up to face her. “Why did he run away? Was he guilty of helping those spies?”

  “They would have killed him if he hadn’t escaped,” Ma cried.

  “And you know this?” Reverend Summey asked. “How?”

  Ma stood with her arms folded and glared at him.

  “And how exactly did he escape, Bess?” Reverend Summey asked then threw up his hand. “You don’t need to answer. I already know. I don’t want any hard feelings. Boys are dying everywhere. We must stand together as a community. We must fight those devils!”

  “Those so-called devils have families too – and they’re dying right alongside us,” Ma said. “I cannot support something that I feel could eventually hurt my family.”

  “How do you know this?” Reverend Summey asked, using his pulpit voice.

  “How can you not know it?” Ma screamed back. “Good God Reverend, look around you. There hasn’t been one moment of peace since this war began. We ain’t got no slaves and I don’t reckon we need to be dying so some rich man down south can have his.”

  Reverend Summey adjusted his hat and walked down the steps to his carriage.

  “Goodnight Bess,” he said and rode off down the path.

  Grandma emerged from the shadows and embraced her sobbing daughter.

  Jordan awoke to the sun streaming through the curtains. Henry was still asleep beside him but he was already dressed. It had been four days since he’d been shot and Grandma seemed pleased with his healing. She didn’t say much but if it weren’t going well, she’d have would have set out a piece of raw meat to hatch maggots by now.

  He sat up, found his breeches and his shirt, and sauntered into the kitchen. The smell of sausage gravy and biscuits lingered in the air, but it was evident by the clean pots and clear table that breakfast was only a distant memory.

  He stuck his finger in the pot of gravy still warm, even though the cooking fire was now only a few smoldering embers. A soft morning wind carried voices through the open window and he stretched his neck to see where everyone was.

  “Morning sleepy-head,” Grandma said as she shuffled into the kitchen.

  “Morning Grandma,” Jordan said and kissed her cheek. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

  “Your ma said you needed your rest,” she said and pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. “You get any taller and I’m going to need the step stool to get your hair out of your eyes. You want a biscuit?”

  “Yeah,” Jordan said and poured a cup of milk. “Has Henry been up?”

  “He was awake earlier, but he’s still tired,” she said and put a plate full of biscuits drowning in white lumpy gravy on the table. “Sit down and eat.”

  Jordan plopped down. Grandma sat down at the table with him and leaned on her elbows.

  “You look tired,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” Jordan said. “I miss Pa a little though.”

  “Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore,” Pa said.

  Jordan turned around and saw Pa and Uncle Tate leaning in the doorway.

  “Pa!” Jordan squealed. He jumped up ran over and gave them both a big hug.

  “Abigail,” Tate said. “How’s my boy?”

  “He’s asleep right now,” Grandma said. “He’s going to be just fine though. It didn’t hurt the bone.”

  “Hallelujah,” Tate said.

  “Where’s Eamon?” Jordan asked.

  “Go on and tell everyone we’re home,” Finnian said. “There better be some biscuits left.”

  “There’s plenty,” Grandma said. “Sit down and I’ll fix you a plate.”

  “Where’s Eamon?” Jordan asked again.

  “Go get everyone,” Pa said.

  “Do as your pa says,” Grandma said. “I’ll keep your plate warm.”

  Jordan walked outside and saw everyone running towards the house. Otter was running back and forth across the backyard, barking and wagging his tail. Rusty lay stretched out under the shade of the old oak tree, as if this was just any other mor
ning.

  “Why didn’t you come and get us!” Willow shouted as she ran past him.

  “I was,” Jordan said. She was already inside by the time he got the words out.

  Ma walked with Jim up the path. Jordan waited until they reached him before he walked back to the house.

  “Do they look alright?” Ma asked.

  “I guess so,” Jordan shrugged. He couldn’t tell any difference other than they both could use a bath and Pa needed a shave.

  Grandma kept her word and his food was still warm when he got back inside. He took his seat beside Pa.

  The excitement and commotion must have woken Henry because he was back in the kitchen sitting in a chair beside Tate.

  “Where’s Eamon?” Ma asked and planted a kiss on Pa’s cheek.

  “In the army,” Pa replied.

  “What!” Ma said.

  “In the army,” Pa said again.

  “You better start talking,” Ma said, and smacked him on the back of his head.

  A heavy silence fell over the room and an eerie darkness came over the kitchen as clouds covered the mid-morning sun. The shock and confusion of the entire family electrified the air. Jordan didn’t move, not even to chew the bite of warm doughy biscuit that he’d just stuffed in his mouth.

  “Bess,” Pa said. “I think you need to sit down.”

  “I don’t want to . . .” Ma began to protest but Grandma pulled back a chair and motioned for her to sit. She looked as though someone had knocked the breath from her.

  “How could you?” she asked. The way her voice trailed off told Jordan that either she didn’t want to know the answer or she already knew the answer.

  “He couldn’t come home,” Pa said.

  “We could have hid him,” she said. Her hand trembled as she clenched a damp rag in her hand.

  “Who knows how long this war will last,” Tate said. “He’ll be safer there.”

  “Safer with those mongrel dogs?” Ma asked then her eyes widened. “Did you take him to Nealy?” A glimmer of hope washed over her face.

  Jordan slowly began to chew the biscuit which by now was just a slab of mush on his tongue.

  Pa looked at Tate and grinned.

  “No,” Pa said. “We headed north . . . to Beverly.”