Jordan's War - 1861 (7 page)

“Oh hell, you’re
probably right,” Finnian said. “Ain’t no money in farming anyway. Not like you
can make here.”

Jordan ate the
rest of his supper in silence. There was conversation about old times, but
Jordan paid them no mind. He was angry because Pa didn’t push harder to get Jim
and Gunner to come back to the mountain.

“Gunner got out
Pa’s old fiddle,” Jim said as he picked the teeth he had left. “It’s a little
battered but I told him if anyone can play that old thing, it’d be you.”

Gunner stopped
clearing the table and ran into the other room. He wasn’t gone more than a few
seconds and back he came, carrying the busted fiddle and the bow.

“Let’s see what
you got here,” Finnian said and took the instrument. He didn’t hide his shock
very well. He looked up at Gunner, who waited eagerly for his response. “Let’s
give it a try.”

Pat put the fiddle
across his shoulder and ran the bow across the two strings. If Hell ever had
music, Jordan heard it right then and there.

Gunner laughed and
clapped. “Can you play a song, please?”

“We’ll clean up
later,” Jim said. “I feel like singing.” He got up and danced a jig into the
other room, hunched back and all. Gunner was right behind him.

“You boys got to
help me,” Pa whispered. “Jordan, you make sounds – like a banjo at church
singing and Eamon – you sing as loud as you can.”

The boys nodded
and followed him into the other room.

“Lookie what I
found,” Jim said and showed off an old dusty jug with a chip in the lip. “I
used to be pretty good at this.”

“You go huffing
around on that thing and you’re going to kill over right here and now,” Finnian
said.

Jim looked at the
jug. “Ah, you’re probably right.”

The moment Pa
broke into Church in the Wildwood, Jordan started twanging just like Pa said
and Eamon sang as loud as he could without screaming. It took a while to get
used to, but after a few songs Jordan found himself enjoying the music. Gunner
was singing and clapping along even though he didn’t know all the words and Jim
swayed and grinned the whole time. They didn’t even notice Pa was making more
music with his mouth than with the fiddle. At last Pa stopped playing.

“We’d better turn
in,” Pa said after the sixth or seventh song. “Got to get an early start
tomorrow.”

“Just one more
Finnian, please,” Gunner begged.

“Finnian’s right
son,” Jim said. “You got to go to work tomorrow anyhow. I beat the dust off
that old mattress in the back room as best I could. Figured ya’ll could sleep
over there.”

“Goodnight
Finnian,” Gunner said and walked off into another dark room.

“See you in the
morning,” Jim said and followed him.

Jordan and Eamon
stared at the bare mattress lying in the corner of the room. There were obvious
piss stains in the middle, dark spots on the edges that could pass for either
blood or dirt, and most of the buttons were missing.

“Can we get the
bed rolls out of the wagon?” Jordan whispered to Pa.

“No,” Pa said.
“You’ll make us look uppity.”

“I’m sleeping with
my clothes on,” Jordan said.

“That’s probably a
good idea,” Pa said.

They all laid down
in the darkness.

“Move your leg,”
Eamon yelled.

“Hush now,” Pa
whispered. “That poor child has to work tomorrow.”

Jordan hadn’t been
asleep very long when he felt Eamon thrashing around.

“Quit moving,”
Jordan whispered.

“Something’s
biting me,” Eamon said.

“Get off the
mattress!” Pa said. “It’s got bugs.”

Jordan was on his
feet even before his eyes were fully opened.

Chapter 7

Jordan woke up on
the floor, confused and unsure of where he was. He sat up, rubbed his burning
eyes, stretched his throbbing back and looked around for Eamon and Pa. They
weren’t around. He brushed his fingers against his face and could feel the
creases in his cheek from where he used his arm for a pillow.

It wasn’t daylight
yet, but it was morning enough to get up. An old hound was on the floor next to
him, thumping a steady beat with his tail. Jordan wrinkled his nose when he
caught a whiff of the dog’s butt.

“That’s Rusty,”
Gunner said. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?”

Gunner startled
him. Jordan struggled to focus on the pale blur sitting on the tree stump
holding a cup.

“I don’t
remember,” Jordan lied. “How long you been up?”

Jordan felt
uncomfortable. How long had Gunner been watching him? Was he talking in his
sleep? Worse, did he fart?

“Not long,” Gunner
replied. “I got to get going in a minute. I’m glad I got to see you before you
take off for the city. The company whistle blows at six sharp.”

“How far away is
it?”

“Less than a mile
if I cut through the woods,” Gunner said. “You stopping back by on your way
home?”

“I’d say so,”
Jordan said, but part of him wished they’d just drive on past. It would never
happen though, because Pa thought too highly of family.

“Is Pa and Eamon
up?” Jordan asked.

“Yep. They went to
round up the horses,” Gunner replied. “They sure are pretty. We had a mule
once, but it wandered off. Most of our fence has fallen down and Pa’s not well
enough to fix it.”

“Why is his back
all bent over?” Jordan asked, but then felt a bit guilty about being so nosy.
It wasn’t any of his business.

“It’s the mines,”
Gunner said, and didn’t seem at all bothered by the intrusion. “They got real
low ceilings. Not three feet high in some places. Everybody looks like that
after a while.”

“Do you like
working there?”

“I don’t mind.
Most of the folks are real friendly,” Gunner said and stood up. “Well got to
get going. Bye Jordan.”

“Bye Gunner,”
Jordan said.

He walked out on
the porch and waved to him. Gunner waded through the weeds and vanished into
the darkness.

Jordan peed in
some bushes, stretched again and walked back inside to find his boots. He’d
love to have some coffee and sugar, but had little hope of finding any around
here. Last night’s dirty dishes were still stacked in the kitchen and the
clutter alone was frightening. Jim sauntered into the room just as Jordan
finished lacing up.

“How’d you sleep?”
Jim asked.

“Fine,” Jordan
said.

“You hungry?”

“Nope,” Jordan lied
again. He was going to have to do some real praying when he went to the next
Church Meeting.

He heard Pa and
Eamon’s voices get louder and a few moments later, they walked through the
door.

“Bout time you got
up,” Eamon said and messed up his hair. Jordan patted it back down as best he
could, but he could feel pieces of it sticking up. He didn’t bother to get back
at Eamon. His stomach was empty and it was impolite to be a grouch in someone
else’s home.

“Ya’ll don’t need
to run off,” Jim said. “I’m sure the hen’s got a few eggs we can cook up.”

Eggs. Jordan’s
mouth watered.

“I appreciate that
Jim, but we’ve put you out enough already,” Pa said. “We got a long ride ahead
of us. Much obliged for all your hospitality.”

“Anytime,” Jim
said and followed them outside. “What’s this?”

A crate was
sitting on the porch and he was sure it wasn’t there earlier. Jordan recognized
it as one from Eamon’s wagon.

“Bess sent you and
Gunner some preserves,” Pa said. “Ain’t much. You got some last year’s corn,
green beans, and there’s some dried butter beans too. Willow packed some
strawberry jam and some of her syrup. I threw in a plug of tobacco. It don’t
cost so much back home.”

It sounded like a
lot to Jordan.

“Aw, she didn’t
have to do all that,” Jim said. “I do appreciate it though. Gunner’s going to
be shocked when he comes home to all this. It’ll feel like Christmas.”

“Boys, take that
inside for Jim,” Pa said.

Jordan grabbed one
side of the crate and Eamon grabbed another and carried it inside.

“What’d Ma put in
this thing anyway?” Jordan asked when they were inside.

“I don’t know, but
the dang thing sure is heavy,” Eamon said. “Me and Pa almost dropped it twice
carrying it up here.”

They left it on
the floor next to the hearth in the kitchen.

“I hope the floor
don’t fall in,” Eamon said.

“I hope the house
don’t fall in,” Jordan added.

Goodbyes were said
and within minutes Pa, Eamon, and Jordan were riding through the pasture.
Jordan waved at Jim until he lost sight of him behind the tall grass. The wagon
dipped as they crossed the ditch to the main road. Jordan watched the sun peek
out in the east and foreboding dark clouds roll in from the west. The chill of
the night air dissipated with the light.

“You hungry?” Pa
asked and handed him a piece of cornbread. Jordan took it and didn’t eat any.

“What’s the matter
with you?” Pa asked.

“I feel bad about
Gunner and Jim.”

“They seem happy
enough,” Pa said. “They’ll be alright.”

“But look how they
live,” Jordan said. “Their house is falling down, they ain’t got no food, and
their bed got bugs in it.”

“They ain’t
bothered by it. Why should you be?”

“I don’t know,”
Jordan sighed and flopped against the backrest. It wasn’t right. Jordan didn’t
see a fishing pole lying around or a creek anywhere close by to swim in. He bet
Gunner never stepped foot in a schoolhouse and that was a shame. He felt a
little guilty because he had all those things.

“It’s not fair!”
Jordan cried out. “Gunner has to get up every day and go to work like a
grown-up. I’ll bet he never gets to have any fun. He said Jim’s back’s all bent
because the roof in those mines is so low. What if that happens to Gunner?”

“Probably will,”
Pa said.

Jordan stuffed the
cornbread in his mouth and brushed the crumbs off his shirt. He looked straight
ahead, but his insides were shaking. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why don’t you do
something?” Jordan hollered.

Pa jumped and just
stared at him.

“You always talk
about family sticking together and helping each other. He’s family ain’t he?”

“You heard him
last night at dinner,” Pa said, in a calm tone. “He don’t want help. Ma packed
that whole crate full of food. Hell, she even hid the flour and the sugar at
the bottom so he wouldn’t see it. It should hold them until we pass by on the
way home.”

“Why wouldn’t you
want him to see it?” Jordan asked.

“Because if we
gave him too much he’d see it as charity,” Pa explained. “Giving a little is
just being gracious.”

“Why wouldn’t he
take the food?” Jordan said. “Anyone can see they’re starving.”

“There’s a thing
called pride, son,” Pa said. “And good or bad, this family’s full of it.”

“What happens when
the food runs out?” Jordan asked. “Will we bring them more on our way home?”

“Nope,” Pa said.

“Why not?”

Pa took a wad of
tobacco out of his shirt pocket and shoved it in his cheek. Jordan had seen him
use this tactic with Ma when he didn’t want to answer a question.

“Why not?” Jordan
asked again.

“You’re just like
your ma. You know that?” Pa said and looked over at him out of the corner of
his eye.

“Well?”

“Oh, all right,”
Pa scoffed. “We’re not bringing them any food when we come back because we’re
going to drag them both out of here and take them back home. I don’t care if I
have to hogtie the stubborn old coot. There just ain’t no sense in raising a
child that way. I don’t care how lame he is. You happy now?”

“Yes sir.” Jordan
leaned back and smiled. He knew Pa wouldn’t leave them there.

He watched the
forest disappear, replaced by rolling fields, herds of cattle and sheep, and
farmhouses.

“Must be rich
folks living there,” he commented as they passed one of the more stately homes,
perched majestically atop a hill surrounded by budding oaks.

“Looks like it,”
Pa said.

Jordan couldn’t
help but wonder what life was like behind those pristine plaster walls. Did
they have slaves to serve them and luxurious carpets on their floors, like the
ones he’d seen in the stores at Lewisburg? Did the women wear fancy dresses and
sip tea like a lady? Did the men wear stiff suits and smoke cigars all day?

A screaming siren
pierced the tranquil morning and jolted Jordan away from his thoughts of
privileged life. It startled the horses, but Pa calmed them down with his calm,
soothing words.

“You all right?”
Pa yelled back to Eamon.

Jordan looked back
and saw Eamon struggling with his team but managing to keep control of the
wagon.

“What’s going on?”
Jordan asked and looked all around.

“Something going
on at the mine, I reckon,” Pa said.

“Why didn’t we
hear it this morning?” Jordan asked. “Gunner said the whistle goes off at six
sharp.”

“We’re closer to a
bunch of mines now,” Pa explained.

Could it be the
lunch whistle? This early? He pictured Gunner leaning against a tree with his
salt pork and hardtack bread laid out in front of him, as if it were steak and
potatoes. Jordan wanted to believe someone would take pity on the unfortunate
child and share whatever food he had. He closed his eyes and whispered a short
prayer.

“You thirsty?” Pa
asked and handed Jordan a full water jar.

“Is this pond
water?”

“Would it make a
difference?”

Jordan wanted to
think it would.

“I guess not.”

“Well, it ain’t,”
Pa said. “I got it from the spring this morning.”

Whew! Jordan drank
half the jar in one gulp. After a few hours, the fields had all but disappeared
and rows of tiny houses lined both sides of the road. They all looked the same
– small porch, a door, one window in front beside the door and an upstairs.
There was no yard, little grass, and the few strands of fence still standing
were broken and stained a dingy gray.

Sun-bleached bones
lay abandoned in the dirt and dogs were everywhere, barking the news of passing
strangers. Smoke from cooking fires lingered in the air and children in
tattered clothes with no shoes ran out to the edge of the street to watch them
pass.

“Who lives here?”
Jordan asked.

“Men who work in the
mines,” Pa said.

“Why don’t Jim and
Gunner live here?” The houses weren’t much, but at least they weren’t falling
down.

“I said work in
the mines.”

“Oh,” Jordan said.
“They don’t look like the make all that much money.”

“Only one making
any money is the fella who owns the mine.”

The houses
gradually grew larger and had more space between them. Soon they were riding
through the middle of a small town called Elkins. Shops lined the streets and
people bustled about their business. It reminded Jordan of Marlins Bottom.

“Look Pa!” Jordan
shouted and pointed at a wagon surrounded by folks rummaging through cartons of
merchandise. “There’s that peddler!”

“Wonder if he’s
sold any of them fake legs?” Pa laughed.

“I hope not,”
Jordan replied.

The wagons rolled
across the bridge and up a hill. Jordan’s smile dropped. Soldiers – hundreds of
them. Rows of white tents covered the fields. Smoke billowed from countless
campfires. His heart raced and he glanced at as many faces as he could, just to
make sure none of them was a Vander.

Pa slowed down as
two of the soldiers stepped out onto the road. They were both armed and carried
themselves in a stiff, soldier-like manner. Another one scurried up the bank
and stood in front of Eamon’s wagon.

“Afternoon,” Pa
said.

“The road is
closed,” the soldier said. “There is Union activity in Philippi and the pass
isn’t safe for civilians.”

“I sure ain’t
going that far,” Pa laughed. “I’m just heading to my brothers place up yonder
about two miles.” Pa looked back and smiled at Eamon.

“What for?”

“Headed up to my
brother’s place and drop off this load,” Pa lied. “Ran out of room at my
place.”

“Where’s your
place?”

“Back there in the
valley. Before you get to the mines. Ain’t much, but it’s home.”

The soldier didn’t
seem to believe him. Large raindrops began falling from the sky and lightning
flashed.

“Is that a Sharps
Breechloader?” Pa asked the soldier and adjusted his hat to keep the rain out
of his eyes. “That’s a right nice gun.”

“Yes sir,” he
answered and held it up just a little.

“Did the army give
you that?”

“No sir,” the
soldier said. “It’s my daddy’s.”

“Can’t tell you
how proud I am of you brave boys,” Pa said. “My son Eamon back there can’t wait
to join in. But I told him – I said Eamon, you got to wait till you’re
eighteen. That’s what I told him.”

The soldier looked
back at Eamon and waved to him. Eamon waved back. Jordan chuckled at the
befuddled look on his brother’s face.

“Jordan, give
these brave men a few jars of that fine maple syrup,” Pa said.

“What!”

“Just do as I say,”
Pa said and turned back to the soldiers. “I ain’t got much, but I am willing to
share what I do have.”

Jordan pulled out
two jars and handed them to Pa. The rain was now pouring.

“Here you go
boys,” Pa said and gave the jars to the men. “Made by the prettiest girl this
side of Elkins.”

One of the
soldiers scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Pa.