by Al Lacy
“I know about your problem,” Donner said. “Dr. Olson explained it to me, and said he had told Mrs. Harper you need to get professional help. Suggested you see someone at City Mental Asylum.”
“City Mental Asylum! I’m not goin’ to any insane asylum!”
Dottie bounded off the porch and took hold of her husband’s arm, praying in her heart for God’s help. “Honey, Dr. Olson was very concerned when he saw what James had suffered. He simply doesn’t want anything worse to happen.”
“Mr. Harper, you need professional help,” Sheriff Donner said. “I know a little about combat fatigue. My brother was in the War, and he had symptoms much like yours. He brutalized his wife and was always sorry afterward, but it didn’t stop. He did it repeatedly for two years.”
“Did he ever get over it, Sheriff?” Dottie asked.
“Yes, ma’am—when he killed himself. He went wild one day and almost beat his boss to death. He lost his job, and his wife left him. It was all he could take. He took a shotgun and—well, he’s been gone now for six years. I can’t make you get professional help, Mr. Harper, but there’s tragedy coming if you don’t. You need to see Dr. Carroll.”
“Dottie and I will work through this thing, Sheriff,” Jerrod said.
“Not without the right kind of help, you won’t.”
Dottie was holding Jerrod’s arm and could feel him trembling. The lawmen saw a change come over him, and both took a step back.
Dottie shook him and said, “Jerrod! Jerrod get hold of yourself.”
Jerrod took a deep breath and patted the hand that held his arm. “We’re going to whip this thing, Sheriff,” he said calmly. “Believe me. I don’t need this Dr. Carroll. I have the Lord, and I have my wife and children who love me. We’ll make it.”
Max Donner sighed and fumbled with one end of his thick, droopy mustache. “Well, Mr. Harper, I can’t force you to get the help you need. I could jail you for what you did to your son, but I couldn’t legally hold you for very long. So … let me make it very plain. If there are any more child beatings, I will come after you, and I’ll have you declared unfit to run free in society. You’ll see the inside of a cell, be it a prison or the asylum. What’s more, if I learn of you beating your wife like you did yesterday, I’ll be all over you like fur on a grizzly. You understand?”
“I understand, Sheriff. I don’t want to ever hurt my family again. And I’m not going to. Dottie and I are going to work together, and I’m going to be like I was before the War.”
Donner took a deep breath, glanced at his deputy, and let the air out slowly through his nose. “You won’t ever be like you were before the War, Mr. Harper. That’s about as possible as a man losin’ an arm and growin’ a new one. You need to put yourself under Dr. Carroll’s care, and I urge you to do it.”
With that, the sheriff turned and said, “Let’s go, Myron.”
When the two lawmen had ridden out of earshot, Jerrod turned to Dottie with fire in his eyes. “Why did you tell that Dr. Olson so much? He didn’t have to know everything that goes on in our lives!”
Dottie heard Molly Kate eject a tiny whine. She turned to see her begin to back across the porch toward the front door, her eyes wide with terror.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Dottie!” Jerrod bawled. “What goes on in our family is none of his business!”
“Molly Kate, go on inside the house,” Dottie said. “See what James is doing. I didn’t just up and tell Dr. Olson everything, Jerrod. He figured most of it out by himself, and simply asked me if it was so. Would you want me to lie?”
“You didn’t have to answer his questions! You could’ve told him to mind his own business!”
Dottie could hear Molly Kate whimpering behind her. She glanced at her daughter, who was at the door but frozen to the spot and staring at her wild-eyed father.
“Go on, honey,” Dottie said. “See what James is doing.”
Molly Kate burst into tears. “No, Mommy, I can’t leave you! Daddy will hurt you!”
“Jerrod! Look at Molly Kate!” Dottie cried. “You’re terrifying her! Don’t do this to us!” Dottie wanted to run, but she knew Jerrod could easily catch her.
“You deserve to be punished, Dottie! Do you hear me? That doctor wants to put me in the asylum, that’s what he wants! And it’s your fault because you told him things you shouldn’t have. You must be punished!”
Jerrod took a step back and raised both fists over his head as if to strike her.
“Daddy-y, don’t! Don’t hurt Mommy! You promised you wouldn’t ever hurt her again!” Molly Kate screamed.
Jerrod froze and looked past Dottie to the quaking, weeping little girl. His chest was heaving and his breath was rasping in and out. Molly Kate saw it and moved toward the edge of the porch, crying, “Please, Daddy! Don’t you love Mommy? If you love her, you won’t hurt her!”
“That’s right, Daddy,” came a fear-filled voice from above. “You love Mommy, don’t you? Don’t hurt her! You promised you wouldn’t!”
“James!” Dottie gasped, turning to see him standing at the window in Molly Kate’s room.
Jerrod stared at James in the upstairs window, then looked again at Molly Kate. He studied her for a moment, still breathing hard, then looked at Dottie. He strained to gain control. An ache began as the pressure built behind his right eye, clouding his vision.
Dottie shuddered and stared at him. “Jerrod,” she said softly, “I love you.”
Jerrod ejected a wild cry, shook himself, then turned and ran toward the barn.
Dottie looked up and said, “Come down, James. Quickly. I’m taking you and Molly Kate to Grandpa and Grandma Reeves’s house.”
Maudie Reeves left the kitchen, carrying a cup of hot coffee, walked into the parlor, and stood over her husband, who lay on the couch.
Will painstakingly worked his way to a sitting position. “Thank you, sweetie,” he said.
Maudie handed him the steaming cup. “I really think we ought to go to town and let one of the doctors at City Hospital take a look at you.”
“No need, honey. I’m okay … just bruised and sore. I’m sure nothin’s broken.”
“Not even some ribs?”
“Man’s lived in his body as long as I’ve been in this one, he knows it pretty good. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
“Well, praise the Lord Jerrod was home or there’s no telling what might’ve become of you.”
“Amen to that.”
Maudie smiled. “Jerrod and Dottie are such precious kids. I don’t think there’s anything they wouldn’t do for us.”
“Man couldn’t ask for better neighbors,” Will said. He blew on his coffee; it still wasn’t cool enough to drink.
Maudie saw movement in the yard through the large parlor window that faced onto the front porch. She moved across the room to the window to get a better look. “Well, I declare! It’s Dottie and the children, Will.”
Will wanted to get up and follow his wife as she headed out the door, but the pain and stiffness in his body made him decide to stay where he was.
Maudie knew something was wrong when she stepped out on the porch and saw the looks on their faces and James in his pajamas. She hurried down the steps to meet them. “Dottie, what happened? What’s wrong?”
Dottie Harper was on the verge of tears. “Could we go inside, Maudie? I’ll tell you in there.”
“Sure, honey,” nodded Maudie, taking the hand of a child in each of hers. “C’mon. Let’s go in the house.”
Maudie and the children moved through the parlor door ahead of Dottie. Will set his coffee cup down and began to work his way off the couch.
Dottie saw that he was hurting and said, “Will, what happened to you?”
“Jerrod didn’t tell you?” Maudie asked.
“No. Tell me what?”
Will was unsteady on his legs. He held his hand to his chest and said to Maudie, “You tell her, honey. I’ve got to sit down.”
Maudie to
ld Dottie about the wagon falling on Will less than two hours before. She explained how she had run to the Harper place for help, found Jerrod in the strawberry field, and sent him to lift the wagon off her husband.
“Shouldn’t we take you to the hospital so they can check you over?” Dottie said.
“I’m okay,” he said with a tight smile. “Coupla days’ rest and I’ll be good as new. What I want to know is, where did you get those bruises … and where did James get his?”
Dottie sighed, backed to a chair that faced the couch, and before easing onto it, looked at Maudie and said, “You’d better sit down. What I’m about to tell you is going to jolt you.”
James and Molly Kate sat on either side of Will, edging up close. He was the only grandfather they knew, and they loved him dearly.
Dottie had never told the Reeveses about Jerrod’s problem. It had been difficult to keep it from them, especially in the past five months when it had gotten progressively worse. She could no longer remain silent, nor, she found, did she care to. She broke down several times as she told them.
When she finished, Dottie wiped tears from her cheeks and rose to her feet. “If it’s all right, I’ll leave Molly Kate and James here while I go back to Jerrod. When it’s safe for them to come home, I’ll come and get them.”
“Dottie, from what I’ve just heard, it isn’t safe for you to go home either,” Will said. “You stay with Maudie and the kids, and I’ll go get Sheriff Donner. Jerrod’s got to be locked up.”
“I have to go to Jerrod. He needs me. And besides, Will, you’re in no condition to sit in a saddle.”
“Then I’ll walk home with you. From what you’ve told us, Jerrod could be very dangerous. I can’t let you go there alone.”
“Please, Will. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not afraid. Jerrod and I need some time alone.”
The old man sighed. “Well, young lady, I won’t interfere since you put it that way. But if you get home and find him still out of control, you get out of there and hurry back here. You understand?”
“I understand, Will.” She kissed both children, telling them she would be back soon to get them. She thanked Maudie and Will for their help and headed across the fields toward home.
Jerrod leaned against a post that held up one corner of the hay loft, the words of his children echoing though his mind. A sheen of sweat filmed his face. His throat was dry from hard breathing. He felt relief that he had been able to turn and run before he struck Dottie.
An earth-shaking sound suddenly assaulted his ears. He raised his head and looked through the open barn door that led to the corral. Instead of sunlit corral, lined by split-rail fence, he saw Rebels coming across steaming grassy fields. He stumbled to the door and used its frame to steady himself.
Sergeant Jerrod Harper was back at Wilson’s Creek on that hot August day in 1861. The thunder of battle roared in his ears. He looked around for his squad. He was alone. Where were his men? Had the Rebels killed them all?
“Hey!” he yelled, running his gaze around the deep-shadowed interior of the barn. “Maynard! Wilson! Dougherty! Girard! Where are you?” Were his corporals all dead?
A cannon shell exploded a few feet from the barn door. The blast of it took Jerrod’s breath. Muskets were barking from the field before him. He could hear the slugs tearing into wood all around him. Hundreds of Confederates were coming across the field in a swarm of gray. He looked around for his musket. Where was it? It was in his hand only a moment ago.
Again, he searched the interior of the barn. Where had his men gone? They wouldn’t have deserted him. Not those brave—Suddenly there were dozens of bloody bodies crumpled, heaped, sprawled all around him.
The Rebel yell mingled with his scream. They were closing in on the run. Jerrod swung his head back and forth, trying to find a weapon. All these dead men … they had muskets. What happened to their muskets? The wild-eyed Rebels were almost to the door of the barn. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. He would find something—
His eyes fell on the double-bladed ax he kept with some garden tools near the barn’s front door. His head was hurting, as though it would split apart. His feet felt heavy, but he shuffled to the ax and closed the fingers of both hands around the handle. The screaming Rebels weren’t going to get him without paying a price.
Louder and louder the chorus of voices beat at him, punctuated with the boom of cannons and the rattle of musketry. The men in gray taunted and yelled as they poured through the door, their eyes bulging with hatred for Yankees. Jerrod clutched the ax handle and swung it with all his might at the first line of soldiers who came at him, bayonets cutting the air.
The ax struck the milking stanchions, sending splinters in every direction. To Jerrod Harper, the sharp blade cut into Rebel flesh.
The battle continued. Hissing through his teeth, Jerrod swung the ax over and over and over again. Most of the time, it cut only air. Sometimes it struck a wall, a post, the gate of a stall, a feed bin.
Jerrod drove the enemy troops backward through the door that led to the corral. Then the sharp blade chewed into the heavy post that sided the door frame and buried itself deep. Jerrod struggled to free the blade, but it wouldn’t budge. He jerked on the handle till it broke, then used it to drive the remaining troops backward.
Abruptly, the enemy disappeared. The Rebel yells stopped. Jerrod was at the door frame, swinging the ax handle at thin air. He was all alone. He blinked in amazement and could see the horses and the family cow huddled together at the split-rail fence a hundred feet away, staring at him and swishing their tails.
He turned about and searched the barn interior for the bodies of his men. They were gone. He was suddenly very weary. His throat was parched, and he was breathing as if he were climbing a mountain at a run above timberline. He dropped the broken ax handle and sank to his knees.
He began to weep. Tears streaked his cheeks as he sobbed heavily, mumbling, “Dottie! Dottie, where are you? I need you!”
Dottie Harper prayed as she crossed the fields, asking the Lord to show His power in Jerrod’s life. Certainly God could reach down and make Jerrod’s problem go away. Her heart cried for her husband. He had seemed to be getting better, and then this happened.
As she drew near the barn, she heard Jerrod’s voice, coming from inside. She lifted her skirt and ran to the door, pulled it open, and found him a few feet inside on his knees, weeping and calling her name.
Dottie knelt in front of him, cupped his face in her hands, and said, “Jerrod, I’m here! See? It’s me, sweetheart!”
Jerrod opened his eyes and tried to focus them on her face. He breathed her name and threw his arms around her, begging her to forgive him.
“It’s all right, darling,” she said. “Come on. Let’s go to the house.”
When they rose to their feet, Dottie noted the broken ax handle, the blade stuck in the heavy post at the door frame, and the splintered posts, gates, feed bins, and walls. She told herself Jerrod had fought a gallant battle in the war going on inside him.
She was unaware he had again fought Rebels.
7
THE NEXT DAY WAS SUNDAY. As usual, Jerrod Harper was up before the sun to do the chores. Sunrise came while he was milking the cow and pondering the horrible experience he had lived through the day before.
The battle he fought at the barn had been so vivid and real. Its effect still haunted him. Seeing the lifeless bodies of his men strewn around the interior of the barn brought back memories he wished he could forget.
Jerrod thought of how the children remained withdrawn from him when Dottie had brought them home late yesterday afternoon. But could he blame them? Not in the least. What a horrible thing for James and Molly Kate to have to see—their father acting like a wild man, threatening to punish their mother for telling too much. Jerrod lashed himself. Dottie had never been one to talk too much. Dr. Olson had figured things out for himself and simply asked for verification of his assumptions. Certainly Jerrod
did not want Dottie to lie.
“Lord,” he prayed, while streaming milk into the bucket, “please don’t let all this become public knowledge. It’s an embarrassment for Dottie and the kids … and it certainly is for me. Help me, Lord. Please help me overcome this other man who lives inside my body. You well know that I’ve never wanted to hurt Dottie and the kids. I love them with everything that’s in me. You know my heart, Lord, and You know it’s the truth. Help us as we go to church today to gain strength from You to overcome this awful thing in our lives.”
Jerrod continued to pray for God’s help while he finished milking. Moments later, he carried the full bucket to the back porch of the house and poured the milk through the strainer into another bucket. He could smell breakfast cooking as he neared the kitchen door and went inside.
Dottie was at the stove, scrambling eggs, and Molly Kate was seated at the table in her robe. She gave her father a fearful look as he crossed the kitchen to the cupboard and carefully poured the milk into a metal container. He put the lid on the container and turned around to find the little girl staring at him. She quickly avoided his eyes. Dottie saw it as she set a plate of steaming eggs on the table.
“I don’t blame her, Dottie,” Jerrod said. “She has every right to be cautious of me.” He turned to his daughter and said, “I know that when I let the bad man inside me take control, I frighten you. I don’t blame you for shying away from me. I love you, and I hate it when I act so bad. All I can ask is that you try to understand that I can’t help what happened to me in the War, and that I’m doing everything I know how to get better.”
“I heard that sheriff man say you should go to that Dr. Carroll,” Molly Kate said.
Dottie smiled at her daughter, leaned close to her, and said, “Well, honey, we’re trying to make Daddy better without him going to Dr. Carroll. It costs money, and right now, our funds are sort of low.”