Battle of Lookout Mountain (2 page)

Sarah and Leah stood quietly waiting as he played with the child.

And then he looked up. “Tell me about it.”

Sarah said quietly, “It was a miracle really, Royal. I’d gone to Gettysburg to be with Abigail Munson. She was having her first child and was pretty much alone. I was there when the battle took place. Tom and Jeff were there with the army. When Tom lost his leg and couldn’t travel, we had to do something. It was impossible to get back to Virginia. Both he and Jeff would have been captured.” Her blue eyes were thoughtful as she remembered that time. “I bought a wagon and team—we traveled at night, dodging Union patrols until we got back here.”

“Tom’s changed, Royal,” Leah said. “His leg is healing, but he seems to have given up. He just won’t take an interest in anything—he’s not the Tom we knew.”

Royal glanced in the direction where Tom had disappeared. “Maybe I can help him,” he said. “We were always real close.”

Sarah hesitated. “I hope you can.”

The thought came to Royal that Sarah was closer to Tom than anyone else—they had been almost engaged before the war started. He studied her face and knew that, if Sarah could not help Tom, it would be difficult for anyone to help.

“Well, I’ll do the best I can—we all will,” he said. Then he knelt beside the baby on the quilt. “Look at
Esther—she’s growing like a tadpole turning into a frog.”

“That’s awful, Royal!” Sarah protested. “To call a child a frog! She’s the prettiest baby that ever was!”

Esther was the only sister of Tom and Jeff. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and since all the Majors men were in the Confederate army, the Carters, their old neighbors, had taken the child to raise.

Royal picked her up, and she squealed. He said, “She
is
good-looking, the best-looking female on the place.” He winked at his sisters. “But don’t tell Ma I said so.”

At supper that night there was great rejoicing. Mrs. Carter loaded the table, with help from her two daughters: pork chops, fresh ham, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green beans— and two luscious cherry pies in crumbly crusts.

Royal finally leaned back after his third piece of pie. “It would be a sin to eat any more of this,” he declared.

“It was a sin about a half hour ago, I think, Son.” His father grinned at him. “I believe we have all committed gluttony tonight.”

“Tell us some more about the army, Royal,” Leah said eagerly.

“Well, Tom here could tell you more than I could. For us it’s been either bored to death or scared to death.”

Sarah was sitting next to Tom. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Royal had noticed that Tom had scarcely touched his food. He’d been mostly just pushing it around with his fork. He had not said ten words
either. But at mention of the war, his hand closed tightly on his fork, the knuckles growing white.

“I mean it’s either weeks or even months of drilling—the same old thing every day. Then you go into a battle, and for about one day or two you’re scared to death. Is that the way it was with you fellas, Tom?”

“Just about.” Tom’s face was pale, and his voice was low. He did not contribute anything else to the conversation although he had been through every major battle.

Since Tom had been on the opposite side, from time to time Royal had had nightmares that one day on the battlefield he would face a young fellow in a gray uniform and that fellow would be his best friend, Tom Majors.

Leah obviously saw that Tom was not going to participate in the conversation. “Come on into the parlor, Royal,” she said. “I want to show you some pictures. A traveling photographer came, and we all had our pictures made.”

“But I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“I’ll bring it to you,” his mother said. “You go on in. You girls too. I’ll do the dishes.”

The girls protested, but not very much. Sarah finally said, “You come too, Ma. We can all wash the dishes later.”

The parlor was a pleasant room with whale oil lamps on the heavy walnut tables. Royal and his sisters seated themselves on the horsehide sofa, Royal in the middle with Leah and Sarah on each side. Morena came to sit on his lap, and across the room Tom sat, holding the baby, Esther. He stroked her hair gently and, as the others exclaimed and laughed over the pictures, he seemed to be far away.

Perhaps he was thinking about his father, now a major in the Confederate army, and his brother, Jeff, a private—wondering if they were about to go into another battle. He glanced down at his pinned-up left trouser leg, and a spasm of pain crossed his face.

From across the room Royal saw it, and his heart constricted. He said nothing, but it hurt him to see Tom Majors, who had always been the most cheerful young man at any party, just sitting there, cut off from all the rest of them.

Finally the women went back to the kitchen to do the dishes, and Mr. Carter yawned and said, “I’ve had a long day—I’m going to bed. It’s good to have you home, Royal,” he said, and then he left.

Royal sat on the sofa with Morena beside him. She was content to hold his hand and stroke it lovingly. He smiled down at her. The only language she really understood was the expression on someone’s face or the tone of voice.

“You’re mighty pretty, Morena,” he murmured. Then he looked across at Tom and Esther. “She sure is a beauty, Esther is.”

“Yes, she is. She looks like Ma,” Tom said. He smoothed the blonde hair and touched the silky cheek with his finger. Esther grabbed it and pulled at it vigorously. This brought a smile to Tom’s face, the first of the evening.

For a while the two men talked, but it was an effort. No matter how much Royal spoke, Tom answered only in monosyllables. At last Tom rose, put the baby on the floor, and said, “I guess I’ll go to bed too. It’s good to have you back, Royal.”

Royal sat beside Morena, listening to the thump of Tom’s crutches echo from the hall. Then he heard
a door slam. Finally he picked up Esther, and he and Morena went into the kitchen, where his mother dried her hands and carried the baby off to bed.

When it was past everyone’s bedtime, Royal was left for a few moments alone with Sarah.

“It’s real bad, Sarah,” Royal said quietly. “Is he always like this?”

“I haven’t seen him smile hardly twice since he got here,” Sarah answered slowly.

“But surely he knows that life’s not over!”

“He acts as though it is. He never talks about what is going to happen. He doesn’t talk about anything.”

“But there are ways that he can be helped. There are artificial legs. He could get one of those.”

Sarah turned and faced her brother. “Ezra has tried to talk him into that.”

Ezra Payne
, Royal thought. Their hired hand, who was very clever with tools. Although young, he could make almost anything out of wood.

“Ezra could make one too. But Tom won’t listen.”

“But we’ve got to convince him.”

“You remember Gus Springer?”

“Sure, I remember Gus.” A light came into Royal’s eyes, and he said, “Why, yes—
he’s
got an artificial leg, and he gets around great.”

“Yes, he does—and I asked him to come out and talk to Tom, and he did.”

“Well, how did it go? You know Gus. He can do almost anything—you hardly know he’s lost a leg. But—” Seeing the look on his sister’s face, Royal asked quietly, “He wouldn’t listen to Gus?”

“No, and he got angry with me for asking him here.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, and she abruptly
dashed them away. “I—I don’t know what we are going to do about Tom.”

A feeling of helplessness filled Royal Carter. He put his hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “We’ll do something,” he said firmly. “God saved Tom’s life. He’s not through with him yet!”

C
ome on, Tom, you don’t have to dance, but you always liked music. I don’t think you ought to sit here at home.”

Royal had found Tom on the parlor sofa, watching Esther crawl around on the floor.

“I don’t think so, Royal,” he said.

A frown passed across Royal’s face. He had promised Sarah and Leah that he would do his best to get Tom to go to the dance that was being held at the schoolhouse. They had both warned him that it would be useless to try, for Tom had not left the house more than once or twice since he had come back to Pineville.

Biting his lip, Royal tried once again. “Look, Tom, maybe you feel out of place, your being Confederate and all, but that’s all over now.”

Tom’s eyes flashed. “I may be a cripple,” he snapped, “but I’m still a Confederate! People around here aren’t going to forget that. Leave me alone, will you, Royal! If you want to help me,
that’s
what you can do—just leave me alone.”

Royal wanted to argue, but he saw from the stubborn look on Tom’s face that arguing would be useless. He turned and left the room and found Sarah and Leah ready to go. They had obviously been listening to his conversation with Tom.

Sarah shook her head warningly. “It won’t work, Royal,” she said in a whisper.

They went outside, and Royal helped Sarah and Leah into the carriage. He climbed in then and spoke to the horses, and the buggy was soon bumping along the road headed for the schoolhouse. They said little, everyone avoiding the subject of Tom Majors. However, Royal knew that Tom was on their minds.

Royal did say, “He’ll come around. It’ll just take a little time.” He saw that Sarah was unhappy, but he knew her well enough to say no more on the subject.

They pulled up at the schoolhouse. The yard was already full of buggies, wagons, and saddle horses. The sound of music was wafted on the warm summer air, and as Royal helped the girls down, he said, “This is a little bit different from what I’ve been used to lately.”

Sarah reached over and straightened his collar. He was wearing his uniform and looked rather dashing in it. Although not strikingly handsome, Royal was nonetheless attractive. His blue eyes sparkled, and he looked trim and fit.

Lanterns hung over the outside platform that had been built for the dancers, and he looked around at the crowd. “I guess all the pretty girls have been taken since I left for the army.”

“No, there are lots of them without their young men.” Leah smiled at him. “You better take a stick, Royal, to beat them off!”

He laughed at her and pinched her cheek. “None of them will be as pretty as you, Sis,” he said, “except maybe for Sarah here. But you both look like angels.”

Sarah wore a rose-colored dress, and her hair was done up in a way that he had not seen before.
She was a beautiful girl, and at once she was claimed by a young man who took her off to dance.

Leah was claimed by one of her youthful friends, David Peterson, who lived just down the road. He was overweight, and his collar was so tight his face seemed to be swollen. He was hopelessly in love with Leah, who liked him but was not nearly as much taken with him as he was with her.

As the sisters had said, Royal became the center of attention almost instantly. He found himself dancing with Maude Kimberly, a short, plump girl of seventeen, who batted her eyelashes at him in a way she evidently thought was very fetching. She was wearing a bright red dress that emphasized her plumpness. She looked in fact rather like an overripe tomato, although Royal, of course, did not say so.

After that dance, he danced with Mable Conroy, an old friend, and then he sought out the refreshment table, where he was surrounded by the men. They asked him eagerly about his war experiences. He spoke about them briefly, and then Sarah pulled him away.

“You can talk to the men down at the feed store tomorrow. That’s where they go to chew tobacco and spit and decide how to run the country,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Tonight you just have fun!”

Even as she spoke, a clear tenor voice rose up, and Royal looked around to find the singer.

“Why, that’s Drake Bedford,” he said. He listened for a moment. “Drake always was the best singer— and one of the best fiddle players.”

“Oh, yes, he’s in his element at these dances.” Sarah hesitated. “But he’s kind of wild, Royal.”

“Yes, he always was. All the time drinking and fighting with some other fellow over some girl. He still doing that?”

“I’m afraid so. He is handsome though, isn’t he?”

Royal examined the features of the young singer. He was tall, over six feet, strong-looking and athletic. He had crisp brown hair, gray eyes, and was wearing a stylish gray suit with a black string tie. When he finished his song, the musicians struck up, and he grabbed a young lady standing nearby and began swinging her around the platform.

“How about a dance with you, Sis?” Royal asked.

“You didn’t come to dance with your
sister
, Royal!” Sarah protested.

“Well, let’s see who I can dance with. There’s Amy Perkins. She always walks all over your feet—don’t want her. And there’s Roseanne Grangerford—she wants to talk about poetry all the time—and bad poetry too. She doesn’t know the difference between good and bad.” His eyes ran over the crowd, and he halted his cataloging of the young ladies abruptly. “Who’s
that
, Sarah?”

Sarah looked in the direction of Royal’s glance. “Oh, that’s Lorraine Jenkins.”

“Who is she? She’s new around here, isn’t she?”

“She’s Hamilton Jenkins’s niece. You know him and his wife, Mae, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think anybody as homely as that pair could have any relatives as pretty as she is.”

“You shouldn’t say that! The Jenkinses are fine people!”

“Yes, they are. I was just kidding!”

Royal watched the girl Lorraine Jenkins. She was with a man he did not know, and the man was
obviously taken with her. She was a small girl, and the lantern light glinted on her auburn hair, making it look almost red. She had an oval face, and there was something vivacious about her. He could tell from her chin and the side of her face that she was strong-willed—and that she had lovely eyes and full red lips.

“I suppose I ought to take pity on her and pull her away from that clodhopper that is probably walking all over her feet.”

“You always were chivalrous, Royal,” Sarah teased.