When Johnny Came Marching Home (11 page)

"It was jus' a little tipple." Johnny started to chuckle.

"Is it all gone or is there more?" I asked.

"Oh, it's all gone," Bobby said, laughing around his words. "We woulda brought ya some,
corporal
, but there jus' wasn't enough."

"Get some sleep," I said, and returned to the fire.

 

* * *

 

I don't know what awakened me. Perhaps it was Jemma's scream. But before I even knew I was awake I was on my feet, pistol in hand, and headed toward her tent.

Bobby Suggs was on top of her, one hand covering her mouth, the other holding a knife to her throat. Jemma's eyes were wide and she was using her hands to unbutton Bobby's trousers.

"Jus' get it out and stick it in," he growled. "Ya do it, or I'll cut ya. An' ever'body'll think some Rebs came in an' cut the throat of a runaway slave."

Jemma was sobbing beneath the hand that covered her mouth and between that and Bobby's threats and his grunting, he hadn't heard me slide into the tent.

I grabbed a handful of his greasy hair and yanked his head back, shoving the barrel of my pistol in his ear at the same time. "You cut that girl," I hissed, "and you're gonna hear one big boom and then you're not gonna hear anything ever again." I cocked the pistol to let him know I meant what I said.

"All right, all right, let me get offen her," he said.

"Drop the knife alongside of you."

He did so, and I picked it up and shoved it into my belt. Then I grabbed him by the back of his belt, dragged him off her, and out of the tent.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Suggs snarled. "I was only givin' that nigger what they all want. I was jus'—"

Suggs never finished the sentence. The toe of my right boot caught him in the center of his chest and drove all the breath from his body. He fell onto his back gasping for air.

Abel and Johnny and a few other men came rushing up, wanting to know what had happened. Jemma came crawling out of her tent, her face streaked with tears. "He was gonna kill me, Massah Jubal. He was gonna do it fo' sure."

I turned to Johnny and Abel as Suggs continued to gasp for air. "I heard Jemma scream, and when I got to her tent I found that son of a bitch trying to rape her."

Johnny spun around in a circle. "Goddamn, Jubal, it weren't no rape. Them colored girls, they all lookin' for it all the time. Ya look at all the little kids runnin' aroun' these plantations an' most of 'em is half white. Ya think tha's cause they don't like spreadin' their legs fer a white man?"

I stared at Johnny in disbelief, wondering what had happened to the man I'd grown up with, the minister's son who might have been annoyingly mischievous, but who was never really mean.

"She's fifteen years old," I snapped. "She's a little kid who's trying to save herself from the Rebs."

"It don' matter with them," he shot back. "An' it don' matter how old they is. It's the way they was raised. Their own daddies give 'em a poke."

I stared at Johnny, then drew a deep breath. "Take Suggs back to his tent," I said. I glared down at the man, who had finally gotten his breath back. "You go near that child again and I'll put your sorry ass in front of a firing squad. You understand me, Suggs?"

"I understand you, Mr. Bigshot Corporal. An' you understan' this: I ain't gonna forget what you done. Kickin' me like a dog over some goddamn nigger bitch."

Chapter Nine

Jerusalem's Landing, Vermont, 1865

Walter Johnson was behind the counter when I got back to the store at six o'clock.

"Hello, Jubal," he called as I entered. "Rebecca tol' me ya might be stoppin' by. She said it had somethin' ta do with a friend a Johnny's."

"Yes sir, a man named Bobby Suggs who was with us in the war. Edgar Billingsley said he stopped by his farm about a week before Johnny died, asking where he could find him."

"Was he a tall fella—scruffy beard, kinda rough-lookin' all over?"

"That pretty much nails him down," I said.

"Yeah, I seen him then. He was standin' outside the store with Johnny, few days afore Johnny died. They looked like they was disagreein' about somethin' at first. Then Johnny started laughin' so's I figured it weren't nothin' serious. This Suggs fella, he came in later that day fer a plug a tobacco, but he din' say much, just paid his money an' left. I figured maybe he worked at the mill. They get a rough-lookin' group pickin' up jobs there from time ta time. Lot of 'em wear Union caps, so's I figure they're mostly war veterans." He shook his head. "I gotta tell ya, Jubal, a lot a strange boys come home from that war, some of 'em pretty scary. Makes me wonder what my Abel woulda been like if he made it home."

"Abel was the same boy you knew," I assured him. "The war never changed him."

Walter Johnson drew a deep breath. "Tha's good ta hear. He was always such a good boy. God, I loved him."

"He was the best of all of us," I said. "Always was."

The storekeeper drew another long breath and a smile passed over his face. It reminded me of the last time I saw Abel smile. "Ya been home yet?" he asked.

"No, I haven't."

"Well, Rebecca went down ta yer house a bit ago. Took ya a fresh baked apple pie, she did." His smile had widened. "She's a mighty good cook, that girl."

"I better get on home then, or my father will eat it all. Thanks for your help."

"Any time, Jubal. Any time at all."

 

* * *

 

Rebecca was seated at the kitchen table with my father. He had already cut himself a big slice of apple pie and was chewing happily.

"Dang," he said. "Thought I'd be able to finish off this whole pie afore ya got home. I guess ya better sit down an' have yerself a piece."

I thanked Rebecca for the pie, then went to the water pump and washed up before returning to sit between my father and her. She had already cut me a large slice of pie and, hungry as I was, I went straight to it.

"It's delicious," I said.

"Thank you." She lowered her eyes demurely. "We got two big barrels of apples in today, so I cooked up two pies before they were all gone. My father already ate the other one at dinner, and he was eyeing this one as well. Doc Pierce says he's not supposed to eat the way he does, says he's too heavy."

"So you brung it to us. God save Doc Pierce," my father said with a laugh.

"No, I was going to bring it to you anyway." Rebecca looked up at me and then turned her eyes away. "Well, I should get back to the store."

I pushed myself away from the table. "Let me give my horse some oats and I'll walk you on back," I said.

Out in the barn Rebecca stood beside me as I gave Jezebel a bucket of oats and fresh water. When I turned back to Rebecca, she slipped her arms around my neck and brought her lips to mine. "I'm sorry to be so forward, Jubal, but you know I was always a willful girl. I loved you before you went off to that awful war, and I still love you now, and I'm tired of waiting for you to tell me you love
me
."

I began to stammer a reply, but she wouldn't let me.

"And I don't want to hear anything about your arm and that it makes some difference between us." Her eyes were glittering, and in the dim light of the barn I couldn't tell if she was about to cry or if she was angry.

"I . . . I—"

Again, she cut me off. "I didn't grow up loving your arm, Jubal. I grew up loving you, and you grew up loving me too. I know you did."

 

* * *

 

My father was still seated at the table when I got back. "I couldn't come up with much on that Suggs fella," he said. "Railroad clerk says a fella fits his description asked directions ta Jerusalem's Landing, but he couldn't swear fer sure it was him. I checked some of the roomin' houses but they never seen him, so I don't think he's stayin' up in Richmond."

"I found him up on Lucie's woodlot," I told him. "Lucie took him on to take the place of a man who broke a leg."

"Ya seen him?"

"I tried to today, but he dodged me by slipping off into the woods."

"Ya think he took off fer good?"

"Can't be sure, but I don't think so. Anyway, I plan to be back there at sun-up just to make sure he doesn't. If he did I'll start running him down."

"I'll go with ya," my father said. "We have ta start chasin' him it'll be best there's two of us." He raised his chin toward the pie. "Cut yerself another slice," he said, grinning across the table at me. "Ya know, you'd be a pretty big fool not ta marry that girl. Iffen she'll have ya."

 

* * *

 

Jerusalem's Landing, Vermont, 1861

Johnny waved the newspaper about his head as he entered the Johnsons' store. "We got ourselves a war!" he shouted.

I was at the rear of the store with Abel, helping him stock some shelves for his father. I was home from school for the Easter observance and everywhere there was only one topic of conversation—the election of Mr. Lincoln as our new president, followed by the immediate secession of seven Southern states, making war seem inevitable.

Johnny brought the newspaper back to us and we were quickly joined by Abel's father and several other men in the store. "Those damn Rebels fired on Fort Sumter two weeks ago," Johnny said, holding the paper out for us to see.

"Where's Fort Sumter?" Abel asked.

"Says here it's in South Carolina, on the coast in Charleston harbor," Johnny said.

"Well, what's that mean ta us here in Vermont?" Abel asked.

"It's a challenge ta the Union," Johnny said. "All them fools seceded even afore Mr. Lincoln took office, now they's attakin' our forts, tryin' ta drive us outta what they claim is their country, the Confederate States of America. Oh, it's war fer sure, jus' like the newspaper says."

"Ya mean we have ta go down there an' fight?" Abel asked. He looked bewildered by the prospect.

"Could be," I said. "We'll have to wait and see what Mr. Lincoln can work out. But it sure doesn't look good."

Abel turned to me. "Are ya gonna go an' fight, Jubal?"

"I sure don't want to. But I don't know if I'll have a choice, if any of us will."

"You have a choice." It was Doc Pierce, who had come up to join us as we were talking. "You stay in school, Jubal Foster. Don't you let yourself become cannon fodder for a bunch of goddamn politicians." Doc's face had become beet-red as he spoke. Now he turned to Abel and Johnny. "You boys stay put too. This town don't need to lose its future to this madness."

 

* * *

 

Later, we went over to Johnny's barn to talk it over. We were all a bit grimmer now, after listening to Doc.

"Says in the paper that the army's gonna be sendin' out officers ta sign people up, that they'll even be comin' ta small towns like ours." There was still a bit of excitement in Johnny's voice. "Course we could go on up ta Richmond ta hear what they have ta say."

"I ain't in no hurry," Abel said. "I kin wait till they git here."

"You ain't anxious ta go off an' fight?" Johnny asked.

"What fer?" Abel countered. "So I kin go off an' kill some boy no older'n me over stuff I don' even understand?"

"Yer country's been attacked," Johnny said. "Don't that mean nothin' to ya?"

"I don' know what it means, 'cept that people I don' even know are gonna want me ta go off an' kill other people I don' even know." He shrugged at me. "Whaddaya think, Jubal?"

"I think what you're saying makes a lot of sense, Abel. But I also think we may not have a choice. Our country would end up pretty weak if it was split in two, and England would love to step in and take it back, one piece at a time. They already tried that about fifty years ago."

"So yer fer war," Johnny said, much more emphatically than I felt.

"No . . . I don't know what I am," I said.

"Well, ya better make up yer mind," Johnny responded. "Things are gonna start movin' awful fast."

"I guess we all better make up our minds," Abel said. "I jus' wish these damn politicians would leave us be."

 

* * *

 

Manassas, Virginia, 1862

We were sent out to probe the area north of Manassas, to make sure Lee's army wasn't planning to turn north and strike at Washington. We were only a single squad—ten privates, a sergeant, and a corporal—so we weren't looking for a fight with the Rebs. We just wanted to spy on them.

The sergeant was named Jim Lacey, a slender, bookish man who had been a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania, and who had left a wife and two small children behind when he'd joined up.

Lying behind a high embankment we could see the glow of fires and hear the faint murmur of voices coming from a Reb encampment about a hundred yards to the south.

Lacey explained that he had divided the squad between himself and me. "We're gonna move up on them on both flanks," he said. "Corporal Foster will take five men on the right flank and I'll take the remainder on the left. No shooting unless you have no other choice." He took out his knife. "Use your knives and make sure you hide any bodies. We want their officers to think those men deserted, so make sure you take their weapons with you. If you do have to open fire, beat it back here as quick as you can. The ten of us won't stand much of a chance against that many Rebs. So keep in mind that fighting's not what we're here for. We're here to gather information, not to engage the enemy." He leaned over to me. "Try to see if they have any siege cannons. If they're going to move on the capital they'll have those with them."

We had decent cover as we moved down the slope toward the Reb encampment. The night was overcast and there was no moon to contend with, and the men had left their canteens and mess kits back at our camp to eliminate the clattering noises common to troop movements. We were carrying Spencer rifles, along with sidearms and knives. But we were no match for the thousand or so men camped ahead of us.

We crawled within fifty yards of the Reb camp and could make out sentries twenty yards farther in. They were spaced about fifty yards apart and as I studied them through a glass, they seemed unconcerned and a few appeared to be dozing. After beating us so badly they seemed to have few worries about a counterattack.