“Don’t worry, Maggie.” Will patted her shoulder comfortingly. “I swear, we’ll lick those Yankees. You just watch us.”
He didn’t understand. Ben would. How she needed Ben, needed his common sense more than ever now. Was he lying in some forlorn ditch somewhere, his handsome face buried in the mud and blood of a tattered cornfield turned battle ground?
Chapter 25
B en hung onto Caedmon’s reins, his legs feeling like pudding. Caedmon neighed, pulling Ben along as if he understood the urgency. Ben blinked, trying to see the shadows and deep ditches. He’d lost a day from the blow to his head that had knocked him out proper. Another day had gone by before he’d made it back to the battleground to find his dad. The date was December 15, and like a patchwork quilt, gray and blue coats blanketed the Fredericksburg’s cornfield. The spiraling mountains loomed on one side of him and a forest on his other. Where could his dad be?
“When are you planning to stop?” Big Jim had been shot clean threw his shoulder.
“Soon. How’s your arm?” Ben stepped gingerly around the corpses strewn across the cornfield. “Then we’ll be having our supper.”
“You said that two hours ago.” Big Jim bent down. “Ben, we cannot find your dad.”
Ben looked up. Jacob was picking his way through the battlefield. Burial squads were dragging the dead men and dumping them like so many logs in endless rows of shallow ditches. He’d never find his dad if he was piled there.
“Ben!” Big Jim slid off his saddle. Taking Ben by the shoulder with his good arm, he gave him a hearty shake. “Your dad’s in heaven. He don’t care where his bones lie. He’s in his celestial home.”
“I care.” Ben stuck a thumb to his chest. “I want him buried on his land like a true Irishman. But you’re right. I’ve forgotten to do my praying. What can a man accomplish without it, and it being so close to our Savior’s birth? Bow your head. I’ll be making my peace.”
Ben waved his arm to get Jacob’s attention, but Jacob was a black speck amidst the shadowy bodies lying about the darkened field. Slate-gray clouds danced before the moon in ghostly shapes.
“Lord.” Ben fell to the ground, the dew wetting his pants, or was it blood? “Lord, look humbly upon your servant tonight and grant me my wish to find my dad so I can give him a proper burial on his land. And, Lord, send these brave souls home to be with Ye and heal our land. Amen.”
Jacob yelled, waving his arm.
“Do you suppose he’s found him?”
Big Jim smiled. “Well, didn’t you pray? Come on, looks like we just might make it home for Christmas after all.”
To what kind of home, Ben didn’t know. Tangled underbrush bogged down his feet. He stepped higher and led Caedmon and Big Jim through a maze. In the thick wood, the bodies lay two deep. Jacob pointed to a half concealed emerald green flag. Ben knelt. Dad, is that you?
He turned the corpse over. The eyes stared up at him like two shiny green marbles, the flag clutched in his fists. Ben could not remember anything of the battle, how he knew his dad was here, or that he was dead. The surgeon said his memory would come back in time. He had to pry his dad’s fingers open to remove the emerald flag. His dad’s body and face were caked with dry blood; bullets had entered his skull and leg.
Ben’s tears wet his dirty cheeks and sooty-black beard. He didn’t care. He’d say his eulogy here for his friends and the dead to hear:
“Dad… bigger than life he was. Even now, I remember when he sat me upon his knee, his sharp green eyes poking into my face, and he gathering up my wee fingers in his large ones… ‘Son, I’ll teach ya to hunt, live off the land, ride, and shoot. But I can’t teach ya how to be a man. That you’ll be learning on ya own. A man is bigger than what he does. Like the Bible that is bigger than any religion… you lean on God, and He’ll be showin’ ya how to be that kind of man.’” He turned his eyes upward. “Dad was that kind of man to the end.”
Ben scrunched his hat, twisting it about in his shaking hands. “Jesus, take good care of my dad, he being a good man, but as You know, he had a bit of the blarney in him. I thank You for allowing me to find him. Now I’ll be reciting John 5:24… ‘He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.’”
“That Jesus saying that?” Jacob asked.
Ben nodded. Jacob’s eyes, larger than two silver dollars in the church offering, stared from him to his dad. His dad’s face was so disfigured only his eyes, his solid hands, and the mark on his wrist confirmed his identity.
A man with a stretcher said, “You taking this one with you?”
“Yes. We’ll be taking him home to bury him.”
“Hmm… looks a little too old to be fighting in this young man’s army.”
Ben hoisted his dad up on his horse. Laying him on top of the saddle, he tied him down. Indeed, young at heart his dad was, and a good soldier right to the end.
“Dad’s laughing at us from the doorway of his mansion, yeah, laughing and bragging to St. Michael that he died an old man fightin’ a young man’s war.”
“How do I gets to a be Christian?” Jacob muttered.
Death clung to the vines, the trees, like rotten meat left out in the sun. Gun smoke hovered above their heads like goblins, mingling with the dew and blood-soaked ground. Ben swallowed down a deep breath. It was a fitting place.
“Bow your head, Jacob and repeat after me. ‘God, due to my hard heart, killin’ my fellow man, and the altogether sinfulness of my life, I don’t deserve heaven; please forgive this sinner. You sent Your Son, Jesus Christ, to die and shed His blood for me… because you loved me. I ask Your forgiveness and I ask You to come into my heart, guide and direct me and give me strength to faithfully follow the road You have chosen for me to travel until You bring me home to be with You. Amen.”
“Well, I don’t feel no different after saying those words.” Jacob said.
“Keep believing in Jesus.” Ben tapped his chest. “You’ll be feeling His Holy Spirit soon enough.” He laid his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “Jacob, may the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.”
Jacob coughed. “Well, we needs ourselves another horse.”
“Or you could be giving Ben yours, seeing how he bought him,” Big Jim said quietly, “that being a Christian thing to do.”
Ben held up his hand. “No, it’s yours, Jacob. You and the horse have a bond, and I don’t mind walking my dad home. You two go up ahead, I’ll be there shortly.”
The smell, the gaping mouths, and staring eyes were so atrocious it was hard for Ben to breathe and step around the corpses without feeling nauseous. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me…”
Big Jim and Jacob, their bandana’s swabbing their noses and mouths, reined their horses around the corpses and were soon out of site. Ben hunched his shoulders against the northern wind. It was well he was alone with his dad. Dad didn’t smell too well to be having company.
They made camp in a little grove of trees near a clear running brook. It had been the first clear brook they had come to.
Big Jim had a small fire going when Ben walked up. He slid is dad down and laid him out downwind of them. Caedmon seemed to appreciate that. Ben looked around. “Where’s Jacob?”
“He lit out as soon as I told him I’d make camp here.”
The warm beans tasted good to Ben, as did the coffee. The ground never felt so soft. He rubbed his swollen leg and rested it on a rock. This had been the first meal of the day for them both. A noise to the left of them had both reaching for their rifles. Jacob rode up.
“Here!” His face was expressionless in the twilight. Jacob held out the reins to him. “It’s the best I could do, but I don’t think your dad would m
ind going home on this here mule.”
“Thank you kindly.”
Jacob squatted down in the dirt and helped himself to the coffee. He was a curious man. Stuck to himself mostly. What destiny awaited Jacob now that he had given his heart to Jesus? It would be interesting to see.
Big Jim stirred the fire. “Thought you left us for sure this time.”
Jacob gulped down his brew and said, “You’ve got no claim on me.”
“Nor do we want any. Have you heard from your wife or children?”
“Just this here letter I got three months ago. They’s in Canada waiting for me. I wrote them about your farm.”
“Fine mule, Jacob. At least I can be resting my sore leg, and riding my horse will make traveling faster. Hopefully, we’ll make it to my cabin by Christmas Eve.” Ben looked over at Big Jim. “So, Jacob, why don’t you head for the Canadian border? We can always write you when the war is over and— ”
“I told ya I like where I is.”
The next four days were a continuation of the last, drenching rains that often turned into big puffy snowflakes. Every pass in the Appalachians along Kentucky was guarded by the Confederacy. Unbeknownst, they had slipped past. Bone weary, they stumbled on, feeling cold, wet, and hungry. Hunching into his collar, the winter wind gnawed at Ben’s exposed nose like the beak of a vulture. He squinted out from beneath his cavalry hat, trying to see if his house and barns were still standing. The picket fence welcomed them as he rounded the corner.
The stars, just appearing in the night, twinkled a greeting to him. He felt as though he was envisioning the night the Christ child was born. Only, he couldn’t enjoy it. His big toe throbbed, and his stomach growled because they hadn’t eaten all day. But it wasn’t food they needed; it was water. He shook his canteen. Only a drop left and Big Jim might need it; he had a fever. Through the trees, a light shone in his cabin. “What’s that?”
Who could it be? The snow changed to freezing drizzle. Ben burrowed into the collar of his blue wool coat.
Big Jim rode up. “Hold up, we’d best see who’s in there. Could be a Confederate cavalry group getting out of the weather, and I don’t care to be spending my Christmas in one of their prisoner of war camps.”
“Well, I ain’t standin’ in this here rain any longer. I’m going to walk up and knock on that cabin door. If’n they be Union blue, I’ll motion for you to come.” Jacob handed the reins of his horse to Ben. “If’n they be Confederates all they can do to me is to take me back south with them. But don’t you worry none; I’ll get free and find ya.”
Big Jim leaned over on his saddle horn, his eyes gleaming respect; however, his words held a threat. “You ain’t got a dog’s chance in Hades stayin’ alive if you ride with us. Go to Canada and find your family. Why you want to ride with us anyway?”
“You two need tendin’ to. Besides, you’d sit here all night and you with a hurt arm and a fever and Ben with a powerful smellin’ dad needin’ put in the ground.”
Ben covered his mouth so Jacob couldn’t see his grin. Clearly, Jacob felt he was a vital part of his and Big Jim’s survival.
“You mean you’d come back here to find us and probably get your fool head shot off for your trouble?” Big Jim whispered.
“That’s what friends are for.” Jacob walked toward the cabin. His horse nickered softly, as if to a fellow friend. He turned. Put his finger to his lips and hissed. Then he was gone, swallowed in the night with his dark hair and clothes.
“Did you see that? What I wouldn’t do to be that camouflaged when I’m facing Johnny Reb.”
The wind blew about Ben’s body. He shivered. “Goes right to my bones like I’m not wearin’ a thing.” He pulled his wool cap over his ears.
“Minutes move like hours when you’re cold and wet.”
The door opened, and out ran Jacob waving his hand, jumping up and down. Two other figures joined him, waving their hands.
“Well, maybe we’ll have a joyous Christmas after all,” Ben said as he and Big Jim approached the cabin.
“Meet my family, gentlemen. My wife, Prudence, and my little girl, Flora, and my son Jacob Jr. I wrote them in a letter where I be livin’ and here’s they are.”
Ben could see why Jacob was so proud of his wife. She was nearly as tall as Jacob, with light skin and high cheekbones. Her large eyes peeked out of high arched brows and lashes thick and long enough to make any southern lady jealous. He bowed. “’Tis a pleasure to be meeting you, ma’am, only, you left a place with no war to be in the middle of a place that is.”
“I couldn’t be where I was doing no good. Besides, Lincoln is freeing us, and I don’t see no need to hide and not do my part in this here war.”
Ben noticed that the girl had acquired her mother’s slenderness and eyes; the boy, being at the most five or six, would give him a bit more time to decide. He chuckled, looking about his cabin, swept clean, a fire burning brightly in the hearth, and a wild turkey turning on the spit. “My, it looks like someone knows how to trap a turkey.”
Big Jim rubbed his hands together. He sat down and pulled his boots off, displaying two large holes on both big toes. He limped over to the fire and first rubbed his hands together and then turned, rubbing his backside. “I declare, I believe I might be rubbed raw, being in that saddle all those months.”
In the corner of the room stood a tree about the size of Jacob Jr.
“I see you’ve got a Christmas tree.”
Prudence continued hugging Jacob. Her long, slender arms wrapped around his waist. Jacob crushed her to his side, kissing her forehead. “Yes,” came the sweet sound of her voice, as soft as a turtle dove’s, but as determined as a donkey’s. “Little Jacob wouldn’t let up till we cut one. I think he’s got his father’s stubbornness.”
“Mama, I cut it myself, rembers?” Jacob Jr.’s bare feet pitter-patted across the wood floor and picked up a hatchet almost as large as himself. His father was right after him like a bug on a hound. “Don’t you be picking that up. Why, you could drop that hatchet and cut off your toe.”
Ben sat down on a chair next to the fire and extended his legs. Some day he hoped Maggie would be here, and they would have a passel of young’uns, lusty stout lads like him and soft-eyed beautiful lasses like Maggie. His children would know the value of working hard and playing just as hard. He’d teach them how to defend themselves, how to shoot a rifle, and know the Good Book. They’d have a spirit about them that would never quit, and a love for his Savior that could withstand the devil’s deceit.
He watched the boy sit down next to Big Jim, handing him a corn pone he warmed in the fire.
Ben would build another house, a big white frame house with glass windows and… well, with fluttering curtains on the windows and rugs on their shiny wood floor. Women took great store in those things. They’d have an upstairs for sleeping and a kitchen and a parlor and it would resemble Spirit Wind and be something he’d be proud to bring his Maggie to. It was so clear, yet so surreal.
“I didn’t notice; is the barn still up?” Big Jim looked up grabbing his boots he’d laid before the fire to dry.
“Don’t you be disturbing yourself.” Ben stopped Big Jim from getting up, careful not to touch his wounded shoulder. “I’ll be tending to the livestock. I need to check out the buildings, anyways.”
“Master, you want me to put vittles on the table when you get back?” Prudence asked.
“No, none of that. ’Tis a bother saying master this and that and isn’t true. I’m not your master. You only have one Master, and He being in heaven.”
Ben motioned for Big Jim to remain by the pallet near the fire. “I’ll take care of your horse better than you.”
“Humpf!” Big Jim’s low baritone bounced about the cabin walls with a fervor Ben hadn’t heard for some time. Big Jim accepted the mug of coffee Jacob’s wife handed him. “I could do more work than you with one hand tied behind my back…. Mrs. Prudence, don’t you be listening to that Irishman’s bla
rney.”
“Isn’t blarney something like fibbing?” she asked.
“That’s tellin’ it lightly.” Jacob had donned his coat and now covered his thick coarse hair with his Union cap.
“You need not come, Jacob, I can manage. Take the time you need getting reacquainted with your missus.”
“I’ll do that tonight.” He smiled sheepishly at his wife and reached for the door knob a split second before him. “I’m going to help you whether you wants my help or not.”
Ben’s shoulders ached almost as bad as his back. The icy rain now covered hitching posts and fences. It was going to be hard walking to the barn without falling. He started to slip. Jacob grabbed him just in time. Ben glanced at his dad. “He’s faring better than I.” They slowly made their way to the barn, found a kerosene lamp, and lit it. Then they unsaddled the horses, and rubbed them down with straw.
Jacob found some hard corn on the cobs and the horses crunched down on them with relish. Ben went up in the hayloft and tossed down some flakes of hay. Checking out the hayloft, an idea came to mind.
“Big Jim and I could sleep right well up in the hayloft tonight and give your wife and you some privacy.” No answer. Ben climbed down, looking for Jacob.
Jacob was outside, leaning against the barn.
“What are you doing out here in the ice?”
Jacob wiped at his face. “I don’t understand women. Or should I say my woman? She had a nice place, least that’s what she told me. I just can’t believe her comin’ here alone, and I can’t understand why she didn’t stay put. What if we didn’t make it back?”
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