Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862

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Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862 Page 33

by Linda Pendleton


  Denny Storm carried a bucket of chicken feed toward the hen house. Walking with him was his great grandfather, Alexander.

  Alexander told him, “Your daddy is going to be so proud of you, Denny. You’re a big help to your Mama now that you’re bigger.”

  Denny smiled and seemed to stand a little taller. “Daddy will be home soon, won’t he?”

  “It should be not too far away. The war is coming to an end, but sometimes it takes a little time to get all the duties done that have to be finished.”

  “But Mama said his time is up before long.”

  “It is by sometime in August but he might head home before that.”

  “Really?”

  “Maybe, we will see.”

  Denny emptied the feed bucket. He stood quietly and appeared to be watching the chickens as they ate but he had a frown on his face and Alexander knew something was on the youngster’s mind.

  “What you thinking about, Denny?” he asked.

  He looked up at Alexander. “Maybe Daddy won’t want me to go to school.”

  Alexander chuckled. “Don’t you worry about that. Your Daddy wants you to be smart and get lots of knowledge from school.”

  “Will he like Katrina better?”

  “Better than what?”

  “Better than me. I heard Mama tell Katrina she will be Daddy’s little princess.”

  Alexander couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t you worry about that,” he said. “Little girls have a way to make Daddy’s happy but boys make them happy and proud. And he’s going to be proud of how you’ve grown up while he’s been gone.”

  “He’s been gone a long time fighting those Rebel men. Maybe he forgot me. I don’t want the war to have changed him.”

  “Denny, everything will be fine when he comes home. You will be so happy to have your Daddy home again.”

  Denny had a sober look. “How many weeks left to count?”

  Alexander put his hand to his chin and tapped his long, thin index finger on his lips, “Hmm,” he said. “I would guess maybe eight weeks or ten weeks. ‘Bout the time the corn in the field is sweet and full of golden corn silk.”

  Denny looked across the yard toward the field. The corn stalks were now standing up straight and growing upward with each day’s sunlight.

  He said, “Can you really hear the corn grow like you told me, Pap?”

  Alexander chuckled. “Sure you can Denny, you just have to be very quiet and listen.”

  Denny reached for his great grandfather’s hand and said, “Come on, let’s go listen, Pap.”

  Elizabeth Jane stood near her window, Katrina in her arms, as she watched her son and Alexander walk across the yard toward the corn field.

  By the time Silas would return the crops would be at full production. At times she wondered if he would be proud of how she kept the farm going while he’d been gone. She had been able to keep the money coming in with the harvest of the wheat and corn and considering she had the help of family and a few others, she felt she had done a good job of it.

  And she could only hope Silas would agree. She had been careful with money but when Silas was unable to send money home, things occasionally had been tight. Prices had gone up. Food, and especially prices of clothing. Now that Silas said he could sew she might put him to work helping to make their clothes.

  She put Katrina down to play with toys and went into the kitchen to prepare lunch.

  A few minutes later, Denny came bouncing into the house followed by Alexander.

  “Mama, we heard the corn growing!” Denny told her.

  She smiled at Alexander. “Did Pap show you how to do that?”

  “Yes, it’s easy. You just bend down and put your ear near the corn, and tell the birds to be quiet, and the crickets, too and then ... it is so exciting! I think next time I will take my ruler out there and measure it.”

  He looked at Katrina who had one of his school books in her hand and hurried over to her. “No, no Katrina, that is not to play with.” He took the book from her. “You find something else,” he said. “When you are old enough to read then you can have it.”

  Elizabeth Jane asked, “Did you wash up? Lunch is ready.”

  Alexander spoke up. “We did, Janie.”

  They enjoyed lunch and after the children went to play, Elizabeth Jane poured cups of tea for her and Alexander.

  As she sat down at the table she said, “I was thinking about Silas coming home soon. It’s been such a long time. In some ways, I’m nervous.”

  “Why is that, Janie?”

  “I was wondering if he’ll be happy about the farm. I know he wants to buy more land, more animals. Then in many of his letters he’s talked of living in other states.”

  “He’ll have plenty of time to do what he wants after he settles in back home,” Alexander assured her.

  “I really don’t want to leave here. This is home.”

  “Ah, don’t worry about it. He won’t want to leave either, Janie. He’ll be so happy to be back home, with you, the young-uns, and a good bed to sleep in.”

  She laughed. “I hope you’re right, Pap.”

  Alexander gave her a wink. “I’ll bet on it,” he said.

  It was a Saturday, mid-morning, and Lucinda Garrison was outside at her clothes line hanging clothing onto the line from a basket of wet laundry. Above her was a deep blue sky scattered with beautiful cirrus clouds.

  She was unaware that Benjamin Storm was nearby. He stood back and watched her, delighting in every move she made. As he watched, she filled one row with clothing and then moved on to the second line. He waited until she had clipped on the last blouse and then started toward her.

  As she picked up the basket and turned, she saw him. She stopped, and he thought even from where he stood, that she gasped, unless it was his imagination. But nevertheless, it was obvious to him she was surprised.

  He called out, “Hi Lucinda.”

  “Hi Benjamin,” she quickly replied.

  She stayed where she was as he walked closer. “I didn’t know you were back,” she told him.

  “Mama was sick and my dad asked me to come.” he said.

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s gonna be fine.”

  When he stood close to her, the basket between them, he asked softly, “How are you, Lucinda?”

  She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  “I’m really sorry about James.”

  “Thank you,” she said, lowering her eyes.

  “I should have come back for the service, but I—”

  “That’s okay, I understand,” seemingly not wanting to discuss it. She asked, “Do you want to come in for something cold to drink?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I would like that,” he said. “Do you have any of your good cookies to go with it?”

  She laughed. “Come on, let’s see.”

  They went into her house and Benjamin felt the warmth of her home. On the table was a stack of books, and next to the stack, pen and paper.

  He asked, “You busy with school work?”

  “Hmm, not really. I was doing some research for new lesson plans. I have to keep ahead of the children, they seem to learn so fast,” she said, removing glasses from the cupboard.

  He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. “I’ve been working for the newspaper in Cincinnati for awhile now.”

  “Oh, really? How do you like it?”

  “I do like it. I’ve even thought of having my own newspaper some day,” he replied. “Be my own boss.”

  She filled a plate with cookies, filled the glasses with sweet tea and set them on the table.

  “That might be a nice career.”

  “It beats farming and working at the lumber mill.”

  She sat opposite him and they enjoyed light conversation, seemingly avoiding any talk of James. And for that reason, Benjamin was having a difficult time sensing how her grief was. Not that he expected her to be over her mourning, but several months had passed and m
aybe it was now easier for her. But he couldn’t tell. As he had glanced around the living room when they walked in, there was not sign of a masculine influence at all. He remembered there had been before. He had noted the bookcase no longer held a framed photo of James.

  After awhile she got up and went to the sink for more tea. He followed her. She turned around, leaning her back against the drainboard, one hand at her waist on her hip, and he could barely resist taking her into his arms. He was close and neither of them said a thing or made a move until she reached out and grabbed his hand and placed it over her heart.

  “Look how my heart is beating so fast,” she said. “Benjamin, why do you do that to me?”

  He said softly, “You do it to me. Feel my heart.” He put her hand on his chest and could feel the beat of his own heart pick up under her hand. He smiled and said, “If our hearts continue to beat that fast we may wear them out sooner than we should.”

  They locked gazes and in a moment he tilted her chin up to kiss her and she fully accepted his lips, and as he explored her warm mouth with his lips and tongue, he felt her fingers digging into his back as she clung tightly to him. His lips left her mouth and he kissed her neck and slowly moved down toward her breasts. As he moved his hands to the fullness and touched the erect nipples revealing themselves under her blouse she moaned and he knew they were not stopping or denying the chemistry between them.

  She pulled back and reached for buttons on his shirt and allowed his hands to begin to unbutton her blouse.

  Benjamin was not sure which of them began the move toward the sofa but that is where they were in moments, making love with a passion he had forgotten and yet a passion he remembered from a time that seemed so long ago, and yet like it had never ceased. Their bodies melded into one as the intimacy of the love between them overflowed in sensual expression.

  They then moved to her bed and continued their love making and when they lay in each other’s arms, exhausted and content, quietly listening to and feeling the breathing of the other, Benjamin’s fears completely faded away. The beautiful woman he loved for so long was in his arms, her head resting on his chest. And he had heard her words, the words he had for years longed to hear again. Benjamin, I love you.

  It was nearly dusk when Benjamin helped Lucinda take her laundry from the clothes line.

  The moon, full and bright, was coming up and breaking through the clouds. They watched the moon for a few minutes, arms full of clothes, before going into the house.

  When she was finished putting the laundry away she came into the kitchen and told him, “I’ll fix us some supper. Will you stay tonight?”

  “Yes, you bet. But I do have to go back to Cincinnati on Monday. I told Mr. Halstead I’d be back as soon as I could.”

  The reality of that caused Lucinda butterflies in her stomach. “But you’ll be back soon?”

  “Do you want me back soon?”

  “Yes. I want you back. But you have to promise me you won’t ... ah you won’t—”

  “Drink?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled her into his arms, as she hoped he would. He said, “You have my promise, my love. I waited too long for you. I love you. And I want you to be my wife.”

  “Well, when will you move back here?”

  “Very soon. I will see about working out a deal with Halstead to start a newspaper here in town or even close by.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to wait a month to marry you,” he said. “Will you marry me, Lucinda, marry me tomorrow?”

  She threw her arms tight around his neck and screamed with delight. “Yes, oh yes, Benjamin, I will!”

  Chapter Sixty-eight: Wednesday, the 26th Day of July 1865

  Vicksburg

  Dear Jane,

  It has been sometime since I have written to you. When we were in Columbus, Texas the mail could not go out because the railroad bridge across the Brazos River was destroyed by the rising water so the cars could not get to us.

  I heard some of the Iowa boys have been discharged and went to Davenport. It looks like we will stay until our time is up. At Mobile Colonel Glasgow said to me probably we would stay six weeks or so. I heard he is now at Galveston and Provost Marshal General of the State of Texas. When we get to go home I want to start and not stop until I’m home.

  Well Jane, about two thirds of the citizens of Texas deserve hanging. They do not nor never did regard law. They were getting very bold and saucy in that place. When we got there the major was in command of the regiment and when we got there he took command of the Post and put in one of those Chicago Copperheads as Provost Marshall (he is a Captain of our regiment). Well the Major is not very strict and the Provost Marshall ran the machine himself. The citizens soon found out that they would not be punished for these misdemeanors so they got very saucy drawing their revolvers on the soldiers and threatened to shoot them. The head man of the regiment let it pass and it was raising the boys and they would not stand it much longer. Fortunately the lieutenant colonel came and he straightened things out. He was not here very long when he made one citizen pay ten dollars for using about four words against a soldier and he has told the Provost Marshall not to let them off less than $25 dollars for such language. He has got a great many of them in jail for the misdemeanors toward soldiers. He said he will let them know that they are fooling with U.S. troops and if they do not behave themselves he will fill the jail full of them. Those men that are so mean are men who were in the rear or at home and they are a blowing what they can do and that they have not been whipped but when one of the soldiers comes down on them they are not so brave. If they could slip up and shoot a person probably they would do it. Confederate soldiers that were in the ranks and done their duty, despise such men as bad as we do, and say if they had been to the front where the soldiers had been they would have been whipped. Those men want good laws and they say such hot-headed men should be hanged up to a tree. That is my sentiments. The boys upheld Colonel Clark’s strict orders and the town was getting peaceful. The boys do not like having a fuss with the citizens. They look to the authorities to tend to such business but if Colonel Clark had not come I presume that we would have had a big mess here. The boys will not hurt good loyal men.

  Well Jane, we are blessed with the Negroes here. They are badly used by their masters. I have heard of several being shot by the overseers and that is a poor way to get anyone to like them. Those men who have given their Negroes their freedom and have used them right, then the Negroes will not leave them and will stay and work for them and get paid. I have seen some Negroes here who I would have liked to tie a rope around their neck, like some of those Texas citizens. But most of them are good people. I know you don’t like Negroes so I will not say any more about them now.

  I must tell you where I am now. My health is not very good at present but I am getting around. I walked about a quarter mile yesterday to where the regiment is to get my mail. I was happy to find your two letters. I am now on the Nashville Hospital Boat. I do not know how long I will be on it or whether I will be sent up the river. The sick are being sent up the river as fast as possible. I think I would have my health if I was in the North. I know I would rather be in the North than in the sunny South as they call it. I am in hopes our men will keep ground as the Rebellion plays out and then we can all return home and live in peace. There is a great many sick soldiers here at Vicksburg and it is hard that they can’t be sent home to be taken care of.

  I understand there was a show at Newton and they had two or three White Negroes in it. If the folks would come down here they could see a great many White Negroes. I suppose you know what I mean (it is soldiers).

  There is a lot of work to do before we leave here. Our regiment has to patrol one hundred miles square and the Amnesty Oath is given to every person within this area. All the Rebel Government property has to be brought in and turned over to the authorities of the United States and it will take some time to do all that. I t
hink by the time it is all done it will be between the 10th of August and the first of September. If such is the case I should be home about the 18th of September or a little later. It is very easy to get in the service but a difficult matter to get out.

  I wanted to get home so I could make some hay for myself but that question is decided now. If I can I want to buy some calves this fall and I will want some hay. I want you to get me some hay cut if you can and have it stacked at the north side of my stable, if it does not cost too much to have it stacked there. I don’t want you to wait for me to come home to make hay as I cannot be there in time. I thought for awhile last spring that I would be home by Fourth of July but I took the Fourth of July in camp at Columbus and I had a piece of roast turkey.

  Well Jane, I was to church up town one week ago last night. I seen several ladies there singing. That was the first singing I have heard ladies do since I left home. I am ashamed to tell it but this was the first meeting I have been to since we left old Town Texas.

  I look forward to seeing you all soon.

  Yours as ever, Silas

  Epilogue

  It had been three years of living through the horrors and dangers of war since Union Army Sergeant Silas Storm had his feet planted firmly on Iowa soil. He was now twenty-eight years of age, a mature man, who had grown into his maturity rather quickly when he put on a Union Army uniform and held a weapon in his hands to fight for a just cause. More than 600,000 soldiers died as a result of battle and disease, along with an undetermined number of civilians, but as the war came to an end, it was a victory for slavery, the Union was restored, and the role of the federal government was strengthened.

  When Silas stepped off the train in Des Moines, Iowa, he sighed deeply, and stood firmly, taking in the view of everything around him, feeling thrilled his feet were on home ground.

  This was the land he loved. And he knew without a doubt he would not leave Iowa to live in another state. He had seen enough of the country, the good, the bad, the ugly, to last his entire lifetime, he was sure.

 

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