Jordan's War - 1861 (4 page)

Jordan rolled his
eyes and stomped outside. His first thought was to go and find Eamon or Jake
but instead he planted himself on the steps of the back stoop. He could see
Willow in the forest, just beyond the clearing, checking the sap buckets. Selie
had found her and was holding her hand.

“Oh dear Lord,”
Grandma shouted. Her shrill voice sent an icy chill down his spine.

He wanted to run
inside to see what was going on, but he didn’t want to get the strap taken to
his backside for interrupting something secret. It scared him because her voice
rarely got an octave above a hoarse whisper.

Ma barreled out
the door and hit Jordan on the back of the head with the door frame. He went
reeling to the ground. She looked a bit surprised to see him lying in the dirt
but offered no apologies.

“Get Pa, now!” she
yelled at him.

Jordan got to his
feet but his head a still reeling.

“Get up and go!”
she ordered and ran back into the house.

Jordan found Pa in
the barn, cleaning the shears. He’d been clipping the sheep off and on for two
weeks now and had a substantial pile of wool bundles stacked up in the loft. It
would be going to market in a few weeks. He hoped he didn’t have to go. They’d
probably run off again and leave him to unload everything by himself.

“Ma needs you,”
Jordan said.

“Tell her I’ll be
up in a few minutes,” Pa said and wiped a drop of sweat from the tip of his
nose.

“She said now,”
Jordan stammered. “Grandma hollered something awful. I think she was doing a
reading.”

Pa tossed Jordan
the shears.

“Put these back in
the chest and for God’s sake, be careful. I just sharpened them.”

Pa took off
running to the house. Jordan tossed the shears into the wooden box, slammed the
lid closed, and ran after him.

He was out of
breath by the time he got back to the house. Pa had left the back door wide
open and Jordan crouched down beside the stoop so he could hear what was being
said. Of course, he was gasping for air and hoped no one would hear him.

“What do you mean,
a baby?” Pa asked. “Her?”

“Yes,” Ma
answered.

“Is it Eamon’s?”
he asked.

Jordan froze.

Chapter 4

Jordan fell back
on the ground and struggled to catch his breath, wishing he hadn’t heard what
he had just heard. He shouldn’t be spying. A flood of guilt rushed through him
and he shivered, not from a chill, but from pure regret. This wasn’t the same
as swiping a cookie when no one was watching or pulling Selie’s hair to make
her cry. This was serious. He was eavesdropping on words that shouldn’t be
overheard. A voice inside his head screamed at him to run away, but his limbs
wouldn’t listen.

Sissy Mae and
Eamon?
That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? If it was true, then when
in the world did it happen? Where did they meet up? His mind was a jumble of
questions. What about Becca, Eamon’s girlfriend? She sure wasn’t going to be
happy about this. Eamon will have to marry Sissy Mae, after all. Pa would see
to it.

The back of his
breeches were wet because he happened to sit down in the very spot where Ma
poured the wash water earlier. He couldn’t lean back much because the
splintered wood sheathing kept catching his hair.

Prissy, Willow’s
old cat, sauntered up and rubbed her soft fur against his arm. Any other time
he’d have shoved her away because he didn’t care much for cats, but her quiet
purr relaxed him a bit. He picked her up and sat her on his lap.

“No, it’s not
Eamon’s child,” Ma said.

“Thank the Lord,”
Finnian said.

Jordan blew out a
deep breath and leaned in closer to the open doorway.

“Nealy is the
father,” Grandma said.

Jordan’s body
stiffened.

“Jordan!” Willow
called. “What are you doing?”

Jordan jumped.
She’d managed to get within six feet of his hiding place and he didn’t even
hear her coming. She stood with her hands on her hips and stared at him out of
the corner of her eyes, just like Ma did when she caught him doing something
wrong.

“Quiet,” he
whispered, and motioned for her to join him.

Willow left her
pails on the ground, tiptoed over, and hunkered down beside Jordan. Prissy got
up and climbed into her lap.

“What’s going on?”

“Shhh. Where’s
Selie?”

“Playing with the
kittens out front.”

“Listen. . .
.Sissy Mae’s going to have a baby.”

“No!” Willow
gasped, put her hand to her mouth and cocked her head to hear more.

The voices inside
the house were barely audible over Sissy Mae’s bawling.

“What are we going
to do?” Ma asked.

“Nothing,” Finnian
said. “This is between old man Wheeler and Tate. Feed the girl and send her
home.”

“But Finnian,”
Bess protested. “You know Wheeler’s temper. He’ll beat the daylights out of her
when he finds out.”

“Oh shoot, he
ain’t going to beat her and even if he does, he’s too old now to hurt her much.
It ain’t no good to get involved,” Finnian responded. “Ain’t no good at all.
Should’ve turned her away when she told you. No need to waste Abigail’s time,
especially when she couldn’t even pay.”

“You can’t send me
back there!” Sissy screamed. “He’ll kill me!”

“You should have
thought about that before you and Nealy got so friendly,” Finnian snapped and
stormed out the back door.

“I’m sorry!” Sissy
screamed after him, as if his opinion mattered.

Willow and Jordan
cowered in the shadows as Pa blew past them in a silent rage.

“We’d better get,”
Willow said. “We’ll get the strap if they find out we was listening.” She
crawled off, grabbed her buckets and scurried around the side of the house.

Jordan knew she
was right, but couldn’t make himself move. All he could hear was Sissy Mae
gasping for air through uncontrollable sobs. He looked around to make sure no
one was watching and started to run, but stopped when he heard clear voices.

“Miss Abigail, do
you have some medicine I can take to get rid of it?” Sissy Mae asked.

“No child,”
Abigail answered. Her voice was soft and ethereal. “We must live with our sins
and ask God daily for forgiveness. It’ll be alright. I saw nothing that told me
that your child will perish.”

“What about me?”

“Go on now,” Ma
said. “Your ma will be worried sick.”

Jordan heard
Grandma shuffle out of the room. He hoped she remembered her walking stick that
he leaned against her chair before he was asked to leave.

Sissy Mae still
sat in the chair sobbing.

“Miss Abigail’s
done with you child,” Ma said. “You can’t ask her to join you in hell for
killing that child. That abomination you carry inside you may be my husband’s
kin, but with Nealy gone now, the burden is yours and yours alone. Now, eat
your biscuit and get on home.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sissy
Mae whimpered.

Jordan peeled
himself from the side of the house and hurried to the closest outbuilding. Even
though the outhouse was just a few yards away, he peed in the daffodils
sprouts. He plopped down by a broken wheelbarrow parked beneath an oak tree and
acted like he’d been right there the whole time.

He felt sorry for
Sissy Mae. She was so distraught. He knew all about breeding and babies because
life on the farm taught him all about birthing, living, and dying at a very
young age. He’d also heard all about mortal sin from Church.

Nealy and Sissy
Mae. Who would have ever thought? Nealy had stopped by on his way to Lewisburg
two days after Uncle Tate’s visit, to say goodbye to them. He chatted, laughed,
and threw Selie around like she was a rag doll. He accepted Ma’s sack of
cornbread and sausages, as well as a few coins from Pa, and rode off in the
dust towards the main road. He must have known, but if he did, he wasn’t too
concerned about it.

“Supper’s ready,”
Ma bellowed from the kitchen.

In all his
excitement and sneaking around, he forgot how hungry he was when he first got
back from the creek. He jumped up and ran for the house. He’d have to eat fast
or he’d only get one of the apple fritters.

Willow beat him to
the wash basin. She took her own sweet time to wash her hands before she lifted
Selie up to reach the water.

“Oh, for crying
out loud!” Jordan hollered. “Hurry up!”

“You wait your
turn,” Ma said and swatted him in the ear with a damp rag.

“Ouch!”

Willow turned
around and gave him one of those smirks of superiority that she was famous for,
and then lowered Selie to the floor.

“Look, Jordan peed
his pants,” Selie squealed and pointed at Jordan’s backside.

“Where’ve you been
sitting?” Ma asked.

He ignored her
question and submerged his hands in the soapy water. The raw flesh from his
burn stung so bad it brought tears to his eyes. He got them a little wet and
then held them up out of the water and only pretended to wash, before hastily
drying them on his trousers.

Eamon and Jake
raced into the kitchen and fought each other to be next at the basin. Eamon
pushed Jake out of the way and he slid across the rug. He stood up and ran
smack into Eamon’s gut and they both tumbled to the floor.

“Get up both of
you and quit horsing around,” Ma hissed. “Your pa will be here any second.” She
reached down and pulled Jake off Eamon by his hair.

“I’ll get
Grandma,” Jordan volunteered.

“Don’t take it out
on us because Nealy’s going to be a pa!” Jake blurted out while he rubbed his
head.

Eamon scrambled to
his feet, lunged for Jake, and clamped his hand over his mouth.

“What did you
say?” Ma asked. “Were you listening?”

Jake nodded. His
eyes were bulging because not only was Eamon’s hand over his mouth, it was also
covering his nose.

Jordan tried to
make a quick exit.

“Don’t move!” Ma
ordered.

Jordan stopped
mid-step.

“Did you hear
too?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am,” he
admitted, but refused to turn around, too afraid to look in her eyes.

“Willow?”

“Yes ma’am,” she
whispered. “But Jordan made me.”

“That’s a lie!”
Jordan yelled and then thought for a second. “Well . . . maybe that’s a little
true.”

Instead of the
fury Jordan expected and the others braced for, Ma took a deep breath.

“Not a word of
this around your pa,” she said. “Jordan, yes, please go fetch Grandma for
supper.”

Jordan passed Pa
on his way out the door and heard everyone rush to act like nothing special was
going on. Pa was whistling a tune as if he didn’t have a care.

Jordan kept a slow
stride beside Grandma as she walked from the cellar over to the house and it
seemed like the hungrier he felt, the slower she walked. At last they made it
back inside.

“Did everybody
wash up already?” Pa asked.

They all said yes
at once and just a little too loud, even though it was a lie because Eamon and
Jake got into a fight before they could wash and the filth was still crusted in
their knuckles. They scrambled to their chairs and bowed their heads. Jordan
saw Willow cringe at Jake’s hand, but held it anyway.

“Lord,” Pa began,
“Thank you for this food and all your blessings. We ask that you keep us safe
during this time of war and suffering. Have mercy on the born and the unborn
who have sinned against you. Amen.”

“Amen,” Jordan
said and dug in.

It was Jordan’s
turn to take the slop down to the hogs. It always made him a little nauseous
because no matter how good the food was while it was on his plate; it always
looked like vomit as it sloshed around in the bucket. He tried to keep from
looking at it, but the more he tried not to look at it, the more he ended up
looking at it. It was crazy but he couldn’t help it.

He stood on the
bottom fence rail and watched the sows snort and slobber. The piglets were
still tiny enough to be cute. He liked to pet them but he didn’t like their
moist snouts. He caught the hind end of one of the black spotted ones, but when
it squealed like he was killing it, he let go.

Selie normally got
the runt to raise every year and was beginning to get suspicious when her pet
pig disappeared around the end of November. Last year, she kept telling
everyone they were eating her pig, Lady, whenever Ma cooked bacon or salted
ham.

Jordan strolled
down to the barn, picked up a good-sized rock, and threw it at Gus. It missed
and Gus barely gave him a second glance. He opened the door to the barn, grabbed
an armful of hay, tossed it around the corner and hoped it went over the fence
and into that devil’s pen. He took two more armfuls and opened the other door
that led to the pasture – the one nowhere near Gus.

The cows lumbered
over and ate the hay as Jordan tossed it on the ground. He walked back into the
barn and closed the door behind him. The air seemed alive as dust floated into
bands of sunlight streaming through the cracks between the wallboards.
Sprinkles of hay pieces fell on his head from the loft above.

“Anybody up
there?” he called. He pictured Eamon concealed between the wool sacks, ready to
pounce on him the moment he reached the top rung of the ladder.

No one answered.
He called again.

Against his better
judgment, he ascended the ladder and peered into the loft.

“Anybody up here?”
he called again.

He heard wings
flap, then talons ripped into his shoulders. Feathers flew everywhere. Jordan
let go of the ladder, plunged down to the hay-covered floor below, and landed
hard on his back. The rooster followed and landed talons first right on his
chest. He covered his face with one of his hands and flung the bird as far as
he could with the other. The rooster ran crowing to the other side of the barn.
Jordan jumped up and ran out the door.

Goodness. First
Gus, then I burn myself, and now this
. He dusted the hayseeds off his
trousers and ran back to the house.

He slowed down
just before he reached the outhouse and ran his fingers through his hair one
last time to get rid of any remaining hay.   

It sounded like
everyone was sitting out on the porch. He could hear Pa’s mandolin and when he
turned the corner everyone was singing some song he’d never heard. His face
turned red when he listened to the chorus and Pa nasally voice singing louder
than the others:

♫
Jordan better run ‘cause Gus is on his tail!
♫

♫
Jordan better run ‘cause Gus is on his tail!
♫

♫
Then he burned his ha-and!
♫

Even Grandma was
singing and clapping with the melody, and her skirt moved in rhythm as she
tapped her foot to the beat.

Pa stopped playing
when he saw Jordan standing there. Everyone else’s singing drifted off to
silence with the music.

“How you like my
new song?” he asked.

“Very funny,”
Jordan smirked. At least no one knew about the rooster flogging him.

 The weather was
at last warm enough for the family to gather outside in the evening. Jake sat
with his blocks of wood and his pocketknife, while Willow was teaching Selie
some sort of silly clapping game.

“Why’s your hair
all messed up?” Ma asked.

“Gus probably
roughed him up again,” Eamon laughed then spit a long stream of tobacco juice
over the rail.

“I don’t know,”
Jordan lied and sat on the floor next to Grandma’s chair. She reached down and
plucked hayseeds out of his hair while she hummed Pa’s new song. He leaned his
cheek against the old worn blanket she always kept on her lap, no matter how
hot it was.

The story is that
the blanket was made for her when she was just a wee baby and she always kept
it close because her mother had sewn it with magic – or so he was told.

“Can you tell us a
story, Grandma?” Jake asked. “One from when you were a youngin?”

“She can tell the
one about the yahoe again,” Jordan teased. “It gave you nightmares for a week.”