Gallant Boys of Gettysburg (16 page)

“It won’t be over till everybody in the South is dead. Never should have started that war in the first place.”

It was a bitter remark and the first time Tom had ever spoken in such a fashion. Jeff knew then how depressed his brother was and desperately
yearned to say something to encourage him. “Well,” he said, “I’ll tell Pa your leg’s healing real good and that you’ll be on your feet in no time.” He bit his lip as soon as he’d said that, knowing Tom would pick up on it.

“No, I won’t be on my
feet
in no time.” Tom rose and snatched his crutch from where it leaned against the stall and hobbled out of the barn. “You go on back. I might as well stay here as anything else.”

Jeff knew he couldn’t leave it like that. He got up quickly and followed. “Wait a minute.” He caught Tom’s arm and turned him around. He swallowed hard and said, “Tom, I reckon you know how much I’ve always thought of you. Never thought more of anyone. But I’m going to have to say something to you.”

“Preach me a sermon, is that it?” Tom glared fiercely at him.

“Call it anything you want,” Jeff said. He lifted his chin and met Tom’s eyes defiantly. “When you went up that hill along with the rest of us, you were a real man. But now that you’ve had a little tough luck, you’ve quit. I know it’s tough. A fellow doesn’t have to lose a leg himself to know how his brother must feel. But I’m telling you, you’re not taking this thing right.”

“How should I take it? You want me to whistle a tune?”

“I want you to take it like Pa would take it. You think he’d quit if he got shot and lost a leg or arm? You know he wouldn’t.”

Tom lowered his head and stared at the ground. It had never been his way to let anger rule over his spirit, but now he could not seem to help it. Finally
he lifted his head and met Jeff’s eyes. “You’re right about Pa, but I’m just not the man he is. Don’t reckon many men are.” He added, “I’m sorry to be such a puppy about this, but I just can’t whip it, Jeff.”

The last words were spoken in a plaintive tone, and Jeff stepped over and hugged Tom’s shoulders. He was almost as tall as his brother now, and the two looked much alike.

Jeff whispered, “It’s all right. It’s tough now, but you’ve got people that love you. One of these days I’m gonna see you ride a horse, hunt, and dance a jig. See if I don’t. No sermons,” he said quickly. He turned and walked quickly away, unable to face his brother anymore. If he had stayed longer, he might have shown himself to be a baby.

“I love Tom so much,” he said later to Mrs. Carter. She had come into his room where he was packing his few things, and he’d told her about his confrontation with Tom. “I don’t want to be hard on him. I guess I’d be even worse if it had happened to me. But he’s got to pull out of it.”

“We’ll just have to pray that God’ll do a work in Tom’s heart, and I’m believing that He will.” Mrs. Carter spoke softly, and there was a warmth of affection in her eyes.

Jeff and Tom were like her sons, he knew. They had grown up with her boy, Royal, and Tom was only one year younger than he was.

Jeff was heartened by what she said. “All right. I’ll believe with you.” He looked at his bag. “I guess this is everything. I’ll be ready to go first thing in the morning.”

“Well, come on downstairs. I’ve got a farewell supper for you. I want to fill you up before I send you back to your father.”

Supper time was filled with nostalgia. All were aware that Jeff would be leaving. He spent a great deal of the time with Esther. He even held her while he ate, letting her taste mashed potatoes from his spoon. She was growing, was crawling, even walking a few steps now. He smoothed her blonde hair and said, “Your daddy’s gonna want to see you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t get a leave and come.”

Morena was standing close by. Her eyes were as blue as the baby’s and her hair just as blonde. Jeff reached over and pinched her cheek, and she smiled at him and patted his hand.

After supper Jeff and Leah went out on the porch to watch the fireflies. He planned leaving before dawn the next day and had said his good-byes to everyone else. Now he turned to her as they sat on the steps. “Guess I’ll say good-bye tonight. I’m leaving early.”

“No, I’ll get up and fix your breakfast,” Leah said firmly.

“You don’t have to do that!”

“Yes, I do.”

Jeff felt good about that. He said, “Well, you always were stubborn. Never could do a thing with you when you made your mind up.”

“I’m firm.
You’re
stubborn!” Leah smiled. She reached out suddenly, took his hand, and held it with both of hers.

They sat quietly on the steps, saying nothing. From far away the cry of a coyote sounded forlorn and lonesome as it always did.

“Sounds kinda like I feel,” Jeff admitted. He was very conscious of his hand being held. He squeezed hers and said, “I wish I didn’t have to go, but I do.”

“I know, Jeff.”

After another five minutes, Jeff got up. Leah stood with him. The moonlight bathed her smooth cheeks with its beams, and he reached out and touched her hair. “You sure do have pretty hair. You and Morena and Esther—three mighty pretty girls.” He turned to go in.

“Jeff, be careful. Don’t let anything happen to you.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “Don’t worry. You’ll have to put up with me for a long time.”

The next morning Leah was up before Jeff, and when he came into the kitchen he found her already fixing breakfast. No one else was up. She made pancakes and grits and biscuits for him and packed an enormous lunch for him to take on the train.

He had made arrangements to ride into town and let Ezra pick up the horse later. After breakfast Leah followed him outside.

Jeff turned suddenly and kissed her on the cheek. Then, without a word, he swung into the saddle and kicked the horse in the side. As the mare galloped out of the yard, he cried out, “Good-bye Leah! Good-bye …”

Leah stood in the yard long after he had disappeared around the curve in the road. Then she turned and went back into the house. She sat down in a chair and stared into space for a while, then prayed, “Lord, don’t let anything happen to him—please!”

J
eff arrived back in Richmond the first week in August. He went at once to the camp, where he found his father seated in front of his tent, working at his portable desk.

At first Nelson did not recognize his son, for Jeff was wearing a pair of brown britches and a checked shirt instead of his uniform. But when the boy lifted his head and peered out from under his slouch hat, the older man jumped up from his chair.

“Jeff!”

He ran to his son and put out his hand but refrained from hugging him, knowing it would embarrass him in public. He felt a wave of relief. “I’m glad to see you, son. Come on, sit down and tell me everything.”

Jeff took a seat in the camp chair across from his father’s and looked around. “What’s happening? Getting ready for another battle?”

“It won’t be long,” the major said, his face turning grim. “And the lines are mighty thin. We left some mighty good men back there at Gettysburg.”

“How many’d we lose?”

“Best as we can tell, nearly four thousand men killed. About eighteen thousand wounded and another five thousand missing.”

“What about the Union?”

“About the same—but it’s different with them. They can replace the men they lost—already have, I guess. With us, there’s just a gap. Every one of us has to fight just that much harder.” Nelson Majors shook his head. “Well, tell me what’s happening. How’s Esther?”

“Growing like a weed, Pa.” Jeff smiled. “She looks like Ma. You’ve got to go see her.” He frowned. “I know you can’t right now, but soon as you can, you’ve got to go.”

The major knew there was little chance that he would be taking a furlough, but he said as cheerfully as he could, “Yes, I’ll do what I can. Now, tell me about Tom. How is he? I got your letter, and you weren’t very cheerful. Is the leg giving him problems?”

“No, the wound’s healed up, but something’s happened to him inside.” Jeff went on to explain how Tom seemed to have given up hope. He ended by saying, “Sarah loves him just like she always did, but it seems like Tom just won’t let anybody close to him.”

Nelson Majors leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed. All around them men were active. Horses dragged a caisson and a piece of artillery by, raising dust in the afternoon air, and he watched it all without seeing them. Turning back to Jeff, he said, “I’ve seen it happen before, Jeff. I think that’s what happened to General Ewell.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, General Ewell was a good general—a real fighting man—but he got his leg shot off. He got an artificial one, but then he was thrown into Stonewall Jackson’s place. I don’t know—those big wounds, they do things to a man. Of course, I never
had one, so I can’t say for sure. But Ewell just wasn’t the general at Gettysburg that he had been at one time—and I think Tom may be the same.”

“He’ll be all right in time, though,” Jeff said. “He’s got to be.”

“I’m believing that he will. Now then, tell me everything else. I don’t suppose you got to see Leah, did you?” Nelson’s eyes twinkled, and Jeff flushed. The major chuckled. “I shouldn’t be teasing you like that. Is she as pretty as ever?”

“Oh, she looks all right.”

Nelson Majors laughed aloud. “She looks all right, huh? That’s all?”

“Well—” Jeff cleared his throat “—better than average.”

His father laughed even louder. “There was another young lady here looking for you not long ago—day before yesterday, I think.”

“A young lady?”

“Lucy Driscoll. Her father was here to visit his brother-in-law. He’s an officer in the Third Brigade. He brought Lucy by to ask about you. Said to be sure to have you come and take dinner as soon as you got back. I expect you’d better do that before you put on your uniform again. May not be much chance later.”

“I guess I should. The Driscolls are nice folks.”

Nelson grinned. “Are you going to write Leah and tell her about all this visiting with pretty young girls?”

“Oh, Pa, don’t tease me,” Jeff said abjectly.

His father stopped the teasing. “You go on, and we’ll see if we can get you a new uniform. You go see Miss Lucy. Go out and visit Uncle Silas for a day. I’d like to get a report on him. When you come
back, you and I’ll go into Richmond and do a little celebrating.”

Jeff’s father managed to get him a new uniform before he went to visit Lucy after all. It was ash gray with brass buttons, and the tailor cut it just to fit.

Then, smartly dressed, Jeff went just outside Richmond to the Driscoll place. He found Lucy very glad to see him, and all the family listened at the dinner table that night as he told of the Battle of Gettysburg.

Afterward, he and Lucy walked outside in the garden.

She clung to his arm. “Jeff! It must have been awful—everybody dying all around you!”

Jeff thought about the battle and said abruptly, “It was bad enough. I don’t really like to think about it.”

“Of course not. Well—” she smiled at him prettily “—tell me about Tom, then, and—you took him to the Carters’ in Kentucky? How was Sarah—and Leah?”

“Oh, they’re both fine, and my sister, Esther, she’s growing so fast.”

When it was time for Jeff to go, Lucy said, “It’s Cecil Taylor’s birthday next week. He’ll be sixteen. You’ll have to come. He thinks a lot of you, Jeff.”

“I’ll come if I can. Don’t know what duty I’ll have.” Then Jeff said awkwardly, “Well, I’m glad to be back. I’m glad to see you again, Lucy.”

Lucy leaned forward and whispered, “You come back every time you can, you hear?”

Jeff’s squad was glad to see him—miraculously, they had all survived the battle—and Curley Henson
grinned as Jeff walked in wearing the new uniform. “Well,” he said, “you look mighty good there, Jeff. That suit looks good enough to be buried in.”

“Oh, shut up, Curley,” Jed Hawkins said. He was leaning back, playing his guitar, and he grinned at Jeff. “How’s Tom?”

“His leg’s healing good, but he’s kinda down in the mouth about losing it.”

Henry Mapes heard this as he strolled by. “Well,” he said, “at least he won’t have to fight in any more battles. That’s something.”

Jeff shook his head. “I don’t think that makes Tom very happy.”

Later on he had time to talk to his father. They went into Richmond, where they had dinner at a café. After they had given their order, Jeff asked suddenly, “What do you think we’ll do after the war, Pa?”

Nelson Majors leaned back in his chair and toyed with the salt shaker. Then he looked up, his dark eyes thoughtful. “I’d like to go back to Kentucky.”

“Not stay here in Virginia?”

“No, this isn’t home anymore. Kentucky’s where my heart is.”

Jeff was pleased. “I’d hoped you’d say that, Pa. Nothing I’d like to do more than to go back to that place.”

Nelson studied his son. “Jeff, it won’t be like it was. Things change. Like Leah,” he observed. “You can’t go back and be a little boy and girl hunting birds’ eggs. You’re already sixteen, she’s fifteen. By the time the war’s over, even if it only lasts two more years, you’ll be full-grown, and she’ll be a young woman.”

Jeff remembered how attractive Leah had been and said quietly, “I know things can’t stay the same, and I don’t guess I’d want them to. You have to go on with life, don’t you, Pa?”

“That’s right. And it’s going to be hard for the South, no matter what happens. It’ll take good strong young men like you—and strong young women like Leah—to build it up again. We’ve lost the best of our young men—a whole generation.” Sadness came to his voice, but he shook it away. “Tell me again about what you did in Kentucky. Was the old homestead the same? Did you go there?”

The major watched Jeff’s face as he talked animatedly about the place where he had grown up.

Suddenly Jeff stopped, surprised at himself, and said, “I’m talking a lot, aren’t I, Pa?”

“You keep on talking, son,” Nelson Majors said quietly. “I like to hear it, and one of these days we’ll not just talk about Kentucky—we’ll go back there, and then we’ll be home!”

They sat for a long while, speaking of old times and dreaming of the days to come. Far away a bugle sounded, thin and clear. Hearing it, Jeff blinked, then rose. “Well, we’ve got some soldiering to do first, I reckon—but someday we’ll go back. All we need is one more miracle!”