He ran down the steps and made a beeline for the figure lurching toward them. Percy took off after him.
“Boys, get back here.”
Clara reached for them but was able to grasp only air.
The soldier staggered and nearly fell when Abram slammed into him and crushed him in a bear hug. Percy wasn’t too far behind, wrapping his arms around the soldier’s uninjured leg and holding on for dear life. Clara wanted to believe her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, but she didn’t dare get her hopes up. Could it really be Solomon, alive and home from the war? But if he was here, why wasn’t Papa with him?
“What’s the matter, sister? Don’t you recognize me?”
Tears flooded Clara’s eyes when she heard Solomon’s voice. Heard his familiar laugh.
“I can’t believe it’s you.”
After he laboriously climbed the porch steps, she touched his arm to convince herself he was real.
“What are you doing home? What happened to your leg? Where’s Papa? And when was the last time you had a bath? You smell worse than the hog pen in the middle of summer.”
“I missed you, too, sister.” He went inside the house and sat down hard in the closest chair. “I’ll tell you everything in a minute,” he said, rubbing his splinted leg, “but I gotta have something to eat first. I haven’t had a bite of food in three days and my stomach is practically touching my backbone.”
“I’m glad you’re home, brother.”
Clara patted his shoulder before she headed to the stove to fix him a plate of ham, biscuits, and redeye gravy.
“Abram, run tell Mrs. Bragg your brother’s home.”
“Don’t you move, Abram,” Solomon said sharply. “I don’t want nobody to know I’m here.”
“Why not?” Abram asked.
Clara shushed him and set the plate of food in front of Solomon, who attacked it like he hadn’t eaten in weeks instead of days. After he swallowed the last bite, he held out the empty plate to ask for more.
“What’s wrong, Solomon? Where’s Papa?”
Solomon drank greedily from a cup of water. Clara refilled it as Solomon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slowly began to tell a tale she wasn’t certain she wanted to hear.
“He caught the pneumonia about a month ago and kept getting sicker and sicker every day. We left camp one night to try to find some herbs to brew into a tea, but we got captured by a bunch of Yankees up in Nashville. Their doctor did his best to help him, but Papa kept getting sicker. The Yanks ordered us to be sent to a prison camp. They put us on a train to Louisville and would have locked us up sure enough, but Papa gathered what little strength he had left to help me get away. He choked one of the guards half to death and probably would have killed him if the other guard hadn’t cracked him on the head with his gun. I bunged up my leg jumping off the train after Papa fell. It’s probably broke, but I ain’t got time to fret about it. I’ve been on the run for nearly a week now.”
Clara wiped her streaming eyes with the hem of her apron.
“You left Papa behind with a bunch of strangers?”
“He told me to go so that’s what I did.”
Solomon gripped her hand, and the years that had been added to his features during the months he had been gone fell away. He wasn’t a nameless, faceless soldier anymore. He was her brother once more.
“He knew he wasn’t going to make it, sister. I doubt those soldiers got the chance to take him to the prison. He probably died right there on that train car. He gave his last breath to save me.”
Clara held out hope.
“But you left him with those men so you don’t know for sure if he’s dead or alive. That means there’s a chance he might come walking out of the woods one day like you did just now.”
Solomon shook his head.
“No, Clara. His body could be buried anywhere from Tennessee to Kentucky, but his soul’s with Mama now. I know it in my heart. Quit your sniffling, you two,” he said as Abram and Percy began to cry. “You’re getting too big to be bawling like babies.”
Abram and Percy tried to put on brave faces, but their masks refused to stay in place. Solomon wrapped his arms around their waists.
“Papa died a hero. Don’t ever forget that, hear?”
Abram and Percy nodded dutifully. Percy was the first to find his voice.
“Are you home to stay, Solomon?”
“It would be too dangerous for all of you if I stayed here. I’ve got both sides after me. The Yankees want to hang me for being an escaped prisoner and the Rebs want to shoot me for being a deserter. I ain’t neither one of those things. I’m just a soldier doing his job.”
“What are you planning to do?” Clara asked.
“What I signed up to do: kill as many Yankees as I can. I spotted a whole host of them setting up camp around the church.”
Clara’s heart lurched.
“They’re already here?”
She clutched the ring she always wore on a cord around her neck. The ring was her mama’s and had passed to her after Mama died. Touching it offered her comfort in times of trouble, and she had never needed comfort more than she did now.
“Does Preacher Parsons know? Why didn’t the Reserves sound the alarm?”
“The preacher probably thinks the Yanks will disappear if he prays hard enough. And the men in the Reserves ain’t been trained. They probably turned tail and ran as soon as they saw that wave of blue as vast as the ocean heading toward them. I ain’t scared, though. I know these woods better than anyone around these parts. I’m going to find a place to hole up until the war’s over and if any blue coats cross my path, I’ll pick them off one at a time. Hand me the rifle and a box of cartridges. That ought to hold me for a while. I’ll come back if I need more.”
Clara took the rifle down from its place above the mantle and set it and a box of ammunition next to Solomon’s right hand.
Abram eyed the rifle, obviously unwilling to see it change hands.
“How am I going to hunt with no gun? We’ve got to have meat, don’t we?”
“We’ve got half a hog hanging in the smokehouse,” Clara said. “If we ration it right, that should be enough to tide us over. I’ll take the wagon to town tomorrow and go see Mr. Stallings at the general store. He may have some rifles in stock. If he don’t, he can order one.” She ruffled Abram’s hair to rub away the sting of loss. “It’s past time you had a gun of your own anyway.”
Abram’s chest swelled with pride. Except for the bear rug, he had never owned anything except Papa’s and Solomon’s hand-me-downs. The new rifle would be the first thing he ever had that was his and his alone. Clara hoped they had enough credit left at the store to be able to buy it for him. If they didn’t, what would they do then? The Braggs needed their rifle to protect themselves. They couldn’t go lending it out like it was a library book. But she couldn’t worry about that now.
“Percy, go and fetch your brother some clean clothes,” she said. “Abram, drag the washtub off the porch and take it into the bedroom. After you fill it up, I’ll add a bucket of hot water to it so Solomon can scald off the six months’ worth of dirt he’s carrying around.”
“But I ain’t had a chance to ask him how many Yankees he’s killed yet,” Abram said.
“Not as many as I’m going to,” Solomon said. “Now mind your sister and do what she said.” After the boys left to perform their assigned tasks, he turned back to Clara. “How are you holding up?”
“Fair to middling. Some days are better than others. But any troubles I may have are nothing compared to yours.”
She longed to tell him everything that had happened while he was gone—especially how Jedediah wouldn’t give her a minute’s peace—but he already had enough worry on his plate. He didn’t need an extra helping. He had never shown more than a passing interest in her life in the past. They didn’t have time to change that now.
“I hate to leave you alone like this when the three of you have been on yo
ur own for so long,” Solomon said, “but I don’t see no other way around it. With Papa dead, the land passes to me. It would go to you if I got killed, but you’re a woman so you ain’t got a head for business and you don’t have a husband to make the decisions for you. Abram’s too young to hold the deed so that leaves him out. With the ownership in doubt, anyone could swoop in and snatch this place right from under you. Those damned Ogletrees would be first in line. Papa worked too hard to build this place up. I won’t let anyone have it who ain’t family. I’ll keep my eye on all of you as best I can, but I can’t stay here with you.”
“I don’t want you risking your life trying to protect ours. Don’t worry about us. Just do what you have to do to keep yourself safe. The boys and I have managed this long. We’ll find a way to manage a little longer.”
“From the looks of things, you don’t need me around here nohow.” He seemed surprised to see the farm hadn’t fallen apart without him and Papa around to tell her what to do.
“Don’t start thinking we don’t miss you around here because we do. We could always use an extra hand,” Clara said as she put some water on to boil. “Enid and Mary help out as best they can, and we try to do the same for them since they’re in the same situation we are with Mr. Joseph away and Moses unable to see.”
Solomon tossed his greasy hair out of his eyes as he sopped the gravy off his plate with the remains of his third biscuit.
“I’ll take a broke leg over losing my sight any day.”
“Moses doesn’t seem to mind it too much. Not like he did in the beginning.”
Solomon looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
“How do you know so much about it? Has he been courting you while I was gone? Plenty of able-bodied men have shown an interest in you over the years, and you didn’t pay them no mind. Why did you finally set your cap for one who doesn’t have all his parts in working order?”
Clara took offense both to what Solomon said and the manner in which he said it. He’d always had something of a mean streak, but he never used to direct his ire at his family and friends.
“Moses is a good man. He would make someone a fine husband someday despite his infirmity.”
“Would you want to marry him?”
“No, but not for the reasons you’re saying. I’m not interested in him in that way. I never was even before he got hurt. He keeps me company while I do my chores, but that’s all there is to it. Besides, I think one of the Franklin girls has her eye on him. She drops by the Braggs’ place every Sunday afternoon to bring a cake or a pie, or just to sit with him for a while. Enid’s waiting for one of them to make their intentions clear, but both of them are proving too shy to say anything. Just like Abram and Mary.”
“Abram’s sparking with little Mary Bragg? That little devil. I didn’t know he had it in him.”
“He doesn’t have anything in him yet. Neither one does. You can’t even mention one’s name to the other without having them turn red in the face.”
“Do you want me to tell him about the birds and the bees before I go?”
“He’s spent his whole life on a farm. He knows where babies come from. And he’s much too young to even think about making or providing for one of his own.”
“It’s getting kinda late for you, though, isn’t it? You’re going to be twenty soon. Isn’t it time for you to think about settling down?”
“Not if it means settling for less. I’m not going to marry someone I don’t love just to please someone else.”
Clara forced herself to stop staring at the water on the stovetop. A watched pot never boiled and this one was surely proving the adage.
“It don’t seem right not to tell Moses and the rest of the Braggs the news about Papa,” she said, returning to the table. “Papa and Mr. Joseph have always been fast friends.”
“Mrs. Enid knows how to keep a secret. It probably wouldn’t hurt none to let her know what’s happened, but we don’t want word to get around to too many people. You never know who might be a Union sympathizer.”
“You sound like Jedediah Ogletree.”
“I’d rather rip my tongue out of my mouth than be compared to that overstuffed peacock. Has he been keeping you company, too?”
“No, he rides by when he’s on patrol for the Reserves, but I’ve made it clear he isn’t welcome in our house.”
“Good. I don’t care if you never get married as long as you don’t get mixed up with the likes of him.”
That was the best news Clara had heard in months.
“The washtub’s full,” Abram said after his third trip from the well to the house. A trail of splashed water marked the path.
Solomon peeled off his uniform and socks and sat shivering in his drooping long johns. He handed the soiled clothes to Abram.
“Take these out in the yard and burn them. The coat’s filled with so many lice, it’ll probably sound like you’re cooking popcorn once it hits the flames.”
Abram held up the filthy rags.
“Don’t you want to keep your uniform as a souvenir? I could wash it up real good and save it for when you come home to stay.”
“I’ve got all the souvenir I need right here,” Solomon said, rubbing his left leg. “I’m sure to remember the war every day for the rest of my life, especially when rain’s coming.”
He tried to push himself to his feet but fell back in the chair. Clara took him by the arm and helped him up. She couldn’t get over how much weight he had lost. He had never been a big man, but now his cheeks were hollow, his chest was as scrawny as a boy’s, and his arms and legs were as thin as twigs.
“You need fattening up,” she said as he limped his way to the bedroom.
“When the war’s over, I’ll find a wife to help me put some meat on my bones, but I ain’t got time for that foolishness now. I’ve got Yankees to kill. Three in particular. One goes by the name of Maynard. I don’t know his Christian name, but I know his face. He was the one who was so hateful to Papa and me when we were at the Yankee campsite. If I see that sorry son of a bitch again, I’m going to put a bullet right in the middle of his forehead. Then I’m going to smile as I watch him die. After that, I’m gonna find his friends. None of this would have happened if the one named Weekley had let Papa and me go when we ran up on him taking a piss in the dark. We wasn’t armed or nothing. That Weekley fella could have looked the other way if he wanted to, but he didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you and Papa have your guns?” Abram asked. “You weren’t running, were you?”
“Watch your mouth, boy.” Solomon cuffed him on the back of his head. “I told you me and Papa was out hunting herbs. You don’t need guns for that.”
“You do if you know there’s Yankees around,” Percy said.
“I’m not going to argue the point with either one of you because you wasn’t there,” Solomon said sharply. “Now where was I? Oh, yeah. The last one I’m gonna get is named Fredericks. From the looks of him, he couldn’t be a day over sixteen. But if he’s old enough to shoot a gun, he’s old enough to get shot at.”
Clara had never heard Solomon speak so coldly about seeking revenge. He’d had conflicts in the past, usually over some girl he and another fella both had their eye on, but he had always resolved those issues with his fists instead of reaching for a gun.
“I’m going to miss Papa, too,” she said, pouring hot water into the tub, “but killing those men won’t bring him back.”
“You’re a woman, Clara. That means you have limitations. I wouldn’t expect you to understand something this complicated. Just know I have to do it for the sake of our family’s honor as well as mine. You understand, don’t you, boys?”
Abram nodded fervently as he handed Solomon a washcloth and a bar of lye soap.
“Kill them twice, Solomon. Once for Papa and once for me.”
He looked at Solomon with eyes filled with adoration. Abram had learned most of the things he knew about life and the world from his older brother, bu
t Clara wished this was one lesson he had never been taught.
Chapter Eight
Wilhelmina’s arms, shoulders, and back screamed with pain, and bile rose in her throat. She didn’t know which was worse, the stench of the open latrine or the laborious task of adding ten more feet to the trench. She adjusted the handkerchief she had tied over her nose and mouth, but the smell still seeped through. She could even taste it on her tongue. She clenched her stomach muscles to keep from vomiting.
As punishment for their part in the failed prisoner transfer, Maynard had been stripped of his sergeant’s stripes, and Wilhelmina and Erwin had been assigned to thirty days of latrine duty. A host of men had been ordered to dig the latrine at the campsite in Savannah, Tennessee, but only Wilhelmina and Erwin had been compelled to complete it. Once her assignment was over, she would be more than happy if she never saw a shovel again.
Most men headed to the woods when they felt the need to relieve themselves. Doing so offered more privacy and the smell wasn’t nearly as overpowering while they did their business. The latrines were mainly used by those too sick, too desperate, or too lazy to find a secluded spot. Wilhelmina gagged at both the sight and the odor of the waste those men’s bodies had expelled as they tried to rid themselves of the various virulent diseases spreading through the ranks like wildfire. Influenza. Smallpox. Malaria. Measles.
“The next time you want someone to volunteer to help you do something,” she said, tossing another shovelful of dirt aside, “ask someone else.”
Erwin chuckled behind his mask.
“Point taken, son. Point taken.”
The officer tasked with monitoring their progress had positioned himself safely upwind. He pinched his nostrils shut as he approached them.
“Okay, you two. That’s enough for today.” He looked at the expanded latrine with disdain. “General Grant should have you digging trenches we can use for defense, not for taking a crap in, but he’d rather have us run you through drills and teach you how to march nice and pretty than prepare you for a fight. Put those shovels back in the supply wagon and get cleaned up. Dress parade is in an hour.”
Divided Nation, United Hearts Page 9