The Curse of the Buttons (7 page)

Mrs. Hinman’s hands stopped. She looked up from her knitting. Then she threw down her needles and stood up.

“Why, you dear boy! Of course! And here I’ve been babbling when all the while you’d come here with an olive branch. A dove
and
a solution. Did you hear that, Daddy? Oh, the Lord works in mysterious ways. From the mouth of a Button. Well, I’ll be.”

She took Ike’s shoulders and squeezed him into a hug.

Ike pulled away in alarm and looked at Old Man Hinman, who shrugged.

“I must tell all the ladies,” Mrs. Hinman said, pacing the room. “We’ll need food, of course, and an organizational leader. That will be me. Though, if your mother would like to cochair, having offered her home and all, well, that could be arranged. Tell your mother and aunties that we’ll start next week Tuesday. That will give them a couple of days to get the house in shape. We must operate a tidy ship.”

“My house?” Ike said, grasping now what Mrs. Hinman was assuming. “But . . .”

“No, never fear. My pride is not hurt, dear boy. You can tell your mother that. It’s time to set aside our differences, what with the men gone. My Horace will be back, of course, on the next packet or the one after that, if he isn’t detained for some business or other. Now, I’ve got plenty to do to get ready. Thank you for your visit.”

Mrs. Hinman waved for Ike to leave. He hesitated, then eased his way around her to the base of the steps.

“I’ll just ask Milton and Morris to teach me to . . . um . . . knit,” he said, and pounded up the steps before she could object.

Ike found Morris and Milton in the room identical to his real room. Except that they had their own beds. They were on the floor, with playing cards spread out everywhere. Two balls of red yarn sat in a corner, impaled with knitting needles.

“Button,” said Milton, jumping to his feet. He stood directly in front of Ike, blocking his view of the room. “Where’s Albirdie?”

“Home. I don’t know. Not here.”

“We were just sorting.”

“Fixing,”
said Morris. “We’re fixing the decks for a new trick. I don’t care if he knows.”

Milton went back to his cards, and Ike looked around the room. The boys had more decks of cards than he’d ever seen in one place. Also, heaps of marbles. And twine and a length of copper, leather squares, matches, a soldier’s canteen, a pile of drumsticks. A treasure trove. How had he not been here before? Wouldn’t Albirdie love to see this!

“Where did it all come from?” he asked.

“We are observers,” said Milton.

“Hunters,” Morris put in, still sorting. “Not bad, huh? So, why are you here?”

Ike drew himself up. He felt like Palmer, fording the Missouri, making his way. He reached for that knot of anger and injustice that had been festering since Leon and Jim had left him standing on the shore while the
Jeannie Deans
steamed away.

“Let’s go south,” he said.

They set down their cards and looked at Ike.

“For what? The Iowa First is already gone,” said Milton.

“Why should we be left here with the women? The men have started fighting. We could go, too.”

“We?” they said at once.

“Well, with your father being a river captain, you could get us downriver, right? Couldn’t we get passage on his packet? Or stow away? We only need to get as far as Hannibal, then get the train to wherever the war is.”

Ike took a breath. They were still paying attention, so he continued. “We bring drumsticks, see. And if anyone asks, we’re with the drum corps. Some of the boys didn’t have uniforms yet, so that won’t be a problem. And once we get there, well, some regiment will take us.”

“Huh,” said Milton. He looked at Morris.

“Albirdie won that compass off just one soldier,” Ike said. “Imagine what you could scavenge with all those soldiers together.”

The boys leaned forward.

“You don’t want to stay here with the women, do you?” Ike asked, picking up the yarn and needles. “Your mother’s going to make you use these.”

“But Pa would never let us —” said Morris.

“Quiet,” Milton interrupted. “A boat, huh?”

“That’s why I thought of you. I have weapons and other provisions. I could have done this all on my own, found a small raft, but I thought, since I had such a good plan, well, I’d let you in on it. And you’re so good at . . . problem solving that I thought you’d want to find us the transportation.”

Milton and Morris looked at each other.

“That sounds like a lot of work,” said Morris. “We have a lot going on here.”

Ike looked around the room. It was true. “You’re good at cards. You must be running out of chumps here.”

“He makes a point,” said Milton.

“We want Albirdie’s compass,” announced Morris. “Get Albirdie’s compass and we’ll find a boat.”

“I can’t,” said Ike. He walked to the window and looked across the yards to his house. “I can get us a map.”

“I’m with Milton on this one, Ike,” Morris said. “The compass. Leave the boat to us.”

“And don’t tell anyone. We can’t let any word reach our ma. She finds out she’ll have our hides,” said Milton.

“Not even Albirdie,” said Morris.

“Especially not Albirdie Woolley,” said Milton. “I don’t trust a girl who can beat Morris at checkers. Besides, her daddy being a preacher, she’d blab the whole thing.”

“Preachers have a way of dragging a story out of a fellow,” Morris agreed, shaking his head. “Remember, Milt, when you . . .”

“Never mind that,” said Milton, whapping his brother. “Just keep it quiet, Ike. Work on getting that compass, and wait for me to figure it out.”

“What if Ike can’t keep quiet?” Morris asked. “I bet he tells his girlfriend everything.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Whatever you say, Ike.” Morris and Milton made smooching sounds.

“Albirdie’s a priss,” Ike offered, feeling bold and weak at the same time.

Milton and Morris laughed.

“Scram, Ike. We’ll find you when we’re ready.”

Ike trudged across the Hinman yard and passed Barfoot without looking at him. This should feel exciting. He had made a plan. He was going to do something. Like Uncle Palmer, he had fortitude. Albirdie would understand.

Ike was shelling peas on the back step, keeping an eye out for Milton and Morris and considering how to get the compass from Albirdie, when he overheard Susannah say to her mother, “Kate from Kentucky is taking nurse’s training. She told me yesterday. She said I should, too.”

Ike stood up fast, upsetting the basket.

Kate.

Leon’s note. The peas rolled down the steps and into the dirt. Barfoot raised his head and trotted over. Ike reached into his pockets. Two pebbles, a checkers piece. No note. He shooed Barfoot away from the peas and ran into his small room. His other pair of pants was stuffed under the cot. There. In his pocket. Wrinkled but intact.

“The Keokuk Buttons have offered six sons to Lincoln, and three fathers. I am not adding you to the tally,” Aunt Sue was saying when Ike came out. He scooped peas back into the basket.

“Thomas says the Union’s going to prevail before his regiment even gets to go,” said Susannah. “
Prevail,
Mama. He’s educated. Besides, Kate says they need us here in Keokuk.”

“If the war’s over before they get called up, they won’t need you at the hospital. There are enough nurses already to take care of carousing soldiers and cranky old men. Now, go get the peas from Ike.”

Susannah stomped out the door, letting it slam behind her. “Peas,” she demanded.

Ike handed her what he had gathered, including quite a few pods and some dirt.

“Do you know where Kate is?” he said. “I have this for her.”

“Kate, Kate, Kate. That’s all anyone ever talks about around here,” Susannah said. “I suppose you’re in love with her, too.”

“No!” said Ike. “It’s Leon.” He held out the note.

Susannah grabbed it from him. She took the peas inside and came back out. “Have you read it?” she asked.

“No,” said Ike. “I forgot about it. And it’s sealed.”

Susannah pried the sealing wax loose with her fingernail. She unfolded the note, skimmed it, and refolded it, pressing the wax back in place.

“Let me see,” said Ike.

“It’s private,” said Susannah.

“But . . .”

“But we will bring it to her,” said Susannah. “Come on.” She rushed out of the yard, and Ike hurried to keep up with her.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“But I’m expecting . . .” He stopped.

“What?” Susannah stopped in the middle of the street and turned to look at him. “What are you expecting?”

“Nobody. Nothing.”

“Good.” She resumed at a clip.

“Where are we going?” Ike asked as they passed Kate’s house and turned up Eighth Street, toward downtown.

“Ellis Hotel. That’s where they do the training. Kate says it’s going to be turned into a hospital.”

“Slow down,” said Ike. “It’s hot.”

“I can’t slow down,” said Susannah. “I’m too mad. Boys. My brothers. Leon and Jim. Even Thomas. All the boys get to go to war.”

“Not me,” Ike interjected.

“Doesn’t count,” said Susannah.

“But —”

“You
could
go if you were older. If it goes on long enough, you
can
go. That’s the point. Me? What can I do? Watch Aunt Betsy’s girls. Watch your sisters. Bake pies. Scour the floor with river sand.”

“And pull lint for bandages with the ladies,” Ike offered.

Susannah grabbed Ike by the arm and spun him toward her.

“Exactly. Exactly! At least you see what I mean.” She let him go and started off again at her long-legged pace. Ike scrambled to catch up.

“Oh, to dream of pulling lint for bandages,” she said dramatically, throwing her arms out wide, “when the boys are out saving the union of these United States.”

“They’re really just riding a train so far,” said Ike.

“No,” said Susannah. “They are designing the destiny of our nation while we sit here, you and me, shelling peas and wiping noses and, and, and. Well, not me. Not me, Isaac Nathaniel Button. Not me.”

“Me neither!” said Ike. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “Because I want to —”

“Kate,” Susannah declared as if that explained everything. She held up the note triumphantly and turned left at Blondeau.

A regiment of new soldiers spilled out of the Sterns Building. Susannah and Ike watched the men form themselves into a semblance of orderly lines. A drunk staggered out of Lewis Eck’s saloon and pushed his way through the ranks.

“At least there’s this,” Susannah declared as she pulled Ike out of the road to avoid a galloping horse. “Life. Activity. Soldiers.”

They slowed as they got to Main. Susannah smoothed her hair with her hand while they waited to cross and turned to Ike. “How do I look?” she demanded.

Ike studied her. She just looked like his cousin. Tall. Stern. Bony elbows that had found him all too often. He couldn’t think what words he was supposed to say.

“Humph,” she said. “A simple compliment to boost my confidence would have done fine, Ike.” She started across the street.

“Confidence for what?”

But then they were across and standing in front of the Ellis Hotel. “Wait here,” Susannah said.