Jordan's War - 1861 (18 page)

Chapter 25

Jordan didn’t stop
running until he reached the clearing at the edge of the Sinclair farm and fell
on the grass, gasping for air. He wiped the dirt and sweat from his face, and
leaned back on his elbows to stare at the trees.

He heard Jim’s
rhythmic steps crashing through the underbrush and could tell each time his
walking stick hit the ground. Jordan didn’t remember Jim needing a stick on the
walk over so he must have picked one up as they made their hasty retreat.

At last he emerged
from the forest, panting and cursing. He walked over to Jordan, put his hand on
his hip and raised the stick over his head, as if to strike him. Spittle hung
from his chin and he made no attempt to wipe it off.

“Crazy wretch!”
Jim said when he caught his breath enough to speak. “I don’t which would have
been worse – taking a bullet or dying in the forest because some no good cousin
ran off and left a sick man to fend for himself.”

Jordan could feel
Jim’s evil eye cast on him but didn’t move. At last Jim lowered the stick.

“She ain’t so
bad,” Jordan said. “I just hope she ain’t hurt.”

“Well, I hope she
is,” Jim said. “I hope she’s still lying flat on her back and I wish she’d at
least grazed you with some buckshot.”

“What’d I do?”

“You ran off and
left me.”

“She ain’t coming
after you.”

“How do you know?
I wasn’t exactly skipping through the forest like a danged jack rabbit.”

“She’s going to
have a baby,” Jordan said.

Jim’s eyes got
huge and a devilish grin covered his whole face.

“That old dog!”
Jim laughed. “Who’d have thought Tate had it in him? Hell, she can’t be no more
than sixteen. I’ll bet her daddy was plenty mad.”

“You fool,” Jordan
said, and shook his head. “That’s Nealy’s girl.”

“Oh,” Jim said.
“Well, she ain’t a very good shot is she?”

“No, but neither
is Nealy.”

“Tate ain’t
either, for that matter,” Jim commented.

“We’d better get
going,” Jordan said as he looked up at the blue sky. “Pa likes to give the cows
some silage in the evening.”

“You feed them,”
Jim said. “I got to go sit down.”

“You need help
getting back to the house?”

“Nope,” Jim
replied and waved his stick. “Got all the help I need. Don’t let Gus get you
now.”

Jim limped off
back to the house.

Jordan stretched
out in the tall grass and watched the clouds roll by, His thoughts wandered to
Pa and Eamon. He hoped they’d be back at the house by now, but knew if they
were, the Home Guard would pay them another visit.

He got up and
headed off towards the barn. He grabbed the wheel-barrow and shoveled the
silage level with the edges. The aroma of decaying corn husks and molasses
smelled good at first, but became overwhelming after a few minutes.

Jordan walked to
Gus’s pen and dumped some in the trough through the slats of the fence. Gus was
inside the barn, swatting the flies with his tail and didn’t even give Jordan a
second glance as he passed. He put the rest in the trough in the other field,
took the wheel barrow back to the shed and took off towards the house.

The chickens were
pecking at the ground but scattered as Jordan got close to them. He loved
chasing and tormenting them when he was younger until Ma noticed she wasn’t
getting as many eggs as usual, and took the strap to him. He still felt the
urge every now and again but it wasn’t worth the beating.

Jake and Gunner
were crawling around the woodpile searching for the perfect block of wood to
carve their next soldier. Selie stood outside and watched them.

“Ma’s been waiting
for you,” Selie said. “Reverend Summey sent word with Manny that he’s coming
for supper. Ma said you had to take a bath.”

Darn!

“Jordan,” Ma
hollered. “Get up here and get the soap and get to the creek. We got company
coming for dinner.”

Go to the creek!
Didn’t Jim tell her Sissy Mae’s loose on the mountain with a loaded gun? Jordan
ran up the steps and into the house.

“Ma,” Jordan said.
“Sissy Mae took a shot at me.”

“I heard,” Ma
said. “I had no idea she’s staying at Tate’s. Had no idea at all.”

“Did you hear me?”
Jordan asked.

“I heard you,” Ma
said.

“Don’t anybody
care that I’ve been shot at twice in the last two weeks?” Jordan whined.

“We care,” Ma
said. “We’d care even more if they’d have hit you. Now get the soap and head
for the creek. Reverend Summey will be here soon.”

Willow sashayed
out of the back room wearing one of the dresses she made from the fabric they’d
brought back from Fairmont. It was simple – a white bodice and a plain blue
skirt, but Willow dressed it up with the fancy buttons and a lining of
bric-a-brac at the collar and the sleeves. The skirt was stiff and crisp, and
swished when she walked.

“Do you think
Emanuel will like it?” she asked.

“It’s pretty
dear,” Ma said. “The irons are hot. If you’re going to curl your hair, you need
to do it now. I need to get the potatoes to boil.”

“No,” Willow said.
“I’ve changed my mind. Emanuel likes my hair long and flowing.”

“Oh brother,”
Jordan said and rolled his eyes.

“Then get the
irons out of the fire so I can start supper,” Ma said. “Then get Selie in here
to change.”

“Has she had her
bath?” Willow asked.

“Yep,” Ma said.
“But she’s been running after those boys ever since, so she probably needs her
face washed again.”

Willow walked
away, moving her hips just right so the skirt would rustle with each step she
took.

“What’s Reverend
Summey coming here for?”

“To pray for
Henry,” Ma said.

“Where is he?”
Jordan asked. The davenport was bare.

“Me and Willow
helped him back to your bed,” Ma said. “Figured he’d be more comfortable. It’s
quieter back there too.”

“My bed? Why my
bed?”

“You weren’t here
to say no,” Ma reasoned. “You ain’t going to get all pouty because your poor
cousin needs to rest, are you?”

“No,” Jordan said
and swallowed hard. He could feel his ears burning red. The burn crept into his
cheeks and he just knew his neck was splotchy.

“Well,” Ma said.
“That’s good. Now get down to the creek. I laid out your clean clothes.”

“Do you want me to
take Jim with me?” Jordan asked.

“Nope. He’s out
back in the tub.”

He looked away
from her and hoped she wouldn’t notice his shame. He shouldn’t have left Sissy
Mae lying there but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

He scooped his
clothes and the lye under his arm and headed down to the creek. 

Chapter 26

“Hold still,”
Willow hissed at Selie. Her tiny body jerked each time Willow fastened another
one of the tiny ornate buttons on the back of her dress.

“I’m trying to,”
Selie whimpered and bit her trembling bottom lip in an attempt to hold back the
flood of tears brimming in the corners of her eyes.

“You don’t have to
be so hateful,” Jordan said as he sat in the chair and watched Selie’s torment.

“Be quiet,” Willow
snapped. “I worked for days on this dress. Am I asking too much for her to hold
still while I button the darn thing?”

“She ain’t
moving,” Jordan shot back. “You’re moving her.”

“Am not,” Willow
argued through her clenched teeth.

“You are too,”
Selie said in her softest voice.

“See!” Jordan
said.

“All done,” Willow
said. “Do you want a ribbon in your hair?”

“No!” Selie said
and ran into the kitchen.

The steady
clip-clop of horses’ hooves got louder with each passing second. The Summey
family had arrived.

“They’re here!”
Willow called. “Emanuel’s here.”

Ma came into the
living room and peered out the window.

“Take Grandma’s
plate over to the cellar,” Ma said to Jordan.

“Why can’t she
come inside to eat?” Jordan asked.

Ma shot him a
look. He went into the kitchen, picked up the plate, and headed over to the
cellar.

The door was wide
open and he could hear her whispering and smell some stinking root concoction
boiling. Grandma was sitting at the table leaning on her elbow. Her back was to
him and he couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or not, but she was mumbling
something strange.

“Grandma,” Jordan
whispered. “Ma made you a plate.”

She didn’t answer
him nor did the rhythm or volume of her words change.

“Grandma,” he
whispered again.

No answer.

He sat the plate
down on a small table beside her chair, stepped back, and put his hand on the
latch to close the door. No use for the Summey’s to see this. They already
think she’s a witch.

“Leave it open,”
she said in a monotone, yet musical, voice.

“Huh?”

“Leave it open,”
she said. “Gets too hot in here with the fire.”

Jordan put the
door back where it was and walked back to the house.

“Wash your hands,”
Ma ordered as she finished putting dishes of sumptuous food on the table. He
only heard the Reverend and peeked around to see if Lula and Manny were there.

“I do hate that
poor Lula ain’t feeling well,” Ma hollered into the kitchen. “I know that gout
can be pretty painful.”

“Well, Doc McCord
gave her some ointment,” Elijah said. “It’ll just take some time.”

“Grandma could fix
her,” Jake called out from the front porch.

“Hush up Jake,”
Willow said. “The Reverend prefers a more traditional approach to healing.”

Jordan noticed
Willow had changed the moment she stomped into the kitchen. The beautiful blue
dress was gone and now she wore one of her old plain dresses.

“Where’s Manny?”
Jordan asked.

Willow glared at
him as she re-filled the milk pitcher.

“Seems Sissy Mae
had an accident over at Tate’s house this afternoon,” the Reverend said as he
stood in the doorway. “Old Widow Sharp found her lying on the porch a few hours
ago with a gun in her hand. She wouldn’t say what she was shooting at. Manny’s
over there making sure she ain’t hurt too bad.”

Jordan’s face
turned hot and red. Ma acted like it was news to her. But when Jordan thought
about it, he only told Ma that she shot at him. He didn’t tell her that the
left her lying on the porch and ran home. That’s probably why Willow’s sulking
around in an old dress.

“Come and eat!” Ma
hollered.

To Jordan’s
surprise, Henry made his way to the table without any help at all. But instead
of dining on fried chicken, fried potatoes and all the rest of the usual
fixings, Ma placed a bowl of warm broth in front of him. He wrinkled his nose a
little but didn’t complain.

He looked a little
pale and he smelled really bad. Jordan figured Grandma put a fresh poultice on
him so the smell would remind Reverend Summey of who is really doing the
healing around here.

They all bowed
their heads and said a prayer.

Jordan flopped
down on the arm of the chair where Henry was sitting. Henry winced and held his
shoulder.

“I’m sorry,”
Jordan said and jumped up. “Did I bump it?”

“Nah,” Henry said.
“It just hurts whenever I move it. Sit back down.”

Jordan was a bit
more careful when he sat down this time.

“I’m scared,”
Henry whispered. “I don’t like all that whispering in tongues. I can’t
understand any of it.”

“Me neither,”
Jordan said. “I ain’t afraid of it though.”

“You ain’t never
had it happen to you,” Henry said. “You’d be scared if you did.”

“Yeah,” Jordan
said. “You’re probably right. I don’t think you’ll get the long session. Last
time he was here right after Jim came back, we were up late. But you ain’t that
sick.”

Why didn’t Ma get
Reverend Summey to come over and pray for him when Gus ran him over? His injury
looked just as bad as Henry’s and he had the scar on his back to prove it.

“I wish he hadn’t
come at all.”

“You don’t want the
prayer?” Jordan said and tried not to sound shocked. He never heard of such a
thing.

“Yeah,” Henry
said. “I suppose I do, but I guess I just don’t like all the attention. I’m
feeling better already.”

The sun was
resting on the treetops casting brilliant red and orange striations thin clouds
that lined the sky.

Jordan and Henry
were soon joined by the rest of the family and Reverend Summey.

He really didn’t
mind Reverend Summey’s visit too much as he carried the only news from the
outside they could get – how tall the corn crops were growing, who has the best
lambs and who has the greenest garden.

Henry was
wide-eyed and breathing hard. There were a few times Jordan thought he would
bolt from the chair and run off into the encroaching darkness.

“Well, Henry,”
Reverend Summey said and then slurped the rest of his coffee. “Are you ready to
feel the mercy of our Lord?”

Henry didn’t
answer him.

“I’ll take that,”
Willow said and took the cup from Reverend Summey.

The Reverend
leaned over and pulled Henry’s shirt away from his shoulder to expose the
bruised flesh which the poultice did not completely cover. He winced at the
unusual odor emanating from the white cloth soaked in the healing herbs and
roots that Grandma had so carefully brewed and pasted on his shoulder.

“Witchcraft!” he
shouted and ripped the bandage off the wound and tossed it on Henry’s lap.

“Ahhhhhh!” Henry
screamed and held his shoulder.

The wound began
oozing blood. Reverend Summey sopped it up with his clean, white handkerchief.

Ma brought a clean
rag and held it over the wound. She tried to hide the shock on her face, but
she wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Gather around
now,” Reverend Summey said to all of them.

“Shouldn’t we try
to get the bleeding stopped first?” Henry whimpered.

“Jesus Christ will
stop the bleeding son,” he said and rubbed the boy’s head.

Jordan saw Henry
clutching the poultice that had landed on his legs just a few moments ago.

They all knelt
down and bowed their heads. Jordan prepared for the worst, but to his surprise
and relief, the whole vigil took less than ten minutes – then the “Amens” were
whispered and everyone stood up.

The bleeding had
indeed stopped by the time the Reverend and the others looked up and Henry
pretended he was asleep. It was a convincing act and Jordan had to watch
closely to see the subtle rise and fall of Henry’s chest.