Jordan's War - 1861 (8 page)

“Let them pass,”
he hollered and the others soldiers stepped aside.

“You keep your
head down and keep praying,” Pa called back to them as the wagon rolled out.
Thunder rolled from the heavens.

Jordan didn’t
utter a sound until the soldiers were out of sight.

“Why’d you lie to
them?” Jordan hollered.

“They wouldn’t
have let us pass if they knew where we were going,” Pa said.

“Why are we going
all this way?” Jordan asked. “With the war and all, it seems a little
dangerous.”

“It’s a little
complicated,” Pa said. “I could take this wool to Lewisburg, get twelve cents
per pound and that’s a right fair price. But I can take it to Fairmont, get
sixteen cents a pound in gold and silver coin. Gold is always better than that
dang paper money.”

 “I suppose,”
Jordan said. He’d never thought about it that way before. He was full of
questions but he also had an empty stomach. A big, fat raindrop plopped on his cheek.
He’d been so preoccupied with the soldiers that he hadn’t noticed the darkening
skies.

“We need to get
out of this storm. The horses need a rest,” Pa said. “We’ll pull over at the
next watering hole and get a bite.”

“Do you think
we’ll see any more soldiers?” Jordan asked.

“A few probably,”
Pa answered. “But now I got this pass.”

Jordan climbed
back into the wagon with a full stomach and sleepy eyes, but fought his heavy
eyelids and the overwhelming urge to crawl back on the wool and take a nap.
Only children took naps. The storm only lasted long enough to give everything a
good soaking before it drifted off to the east.

He was tired of
riding. The road was bumpy, the wagons were slow, and every field, farmhouse,
and forest started to look the same.

“Uh oh,” Pa said.

Jordan saw them
just as Pa uttered his alarm. A group of five soldiers were walking north on
the road ahead of them. All fatigue left him and his heart started to pound.
They were dressed a bit different so they must have been Federal soldiers. They
stopped walking as the wagons approached.

“You fellas need a
ride?” Pa asked.

“This road is off
limits to civilians,” one of the soldiers said.

“I did hear that,”
Pa said and grinned. “Where are you headed?”

“Back to camp,”
one of them said. “It’s a few miles to Belington.”

“Hop in,” Pa said.
“Ain’t no use walking if you can ride.”

The soldiers
looked at each other, then at one of the men who Jordan believed to be their
leader.

“What the hell,”
the man said and they all hopped in the back.

“Name’s
Fitzgerald,” the leader of the men said. “From Wheeling. Where you taking all
this wool to?”

“Up to Fairmont,”
Pa replied. “There’s a jar of water back there if you’re thirsty.”

“Thanks mister,”
another one of the soldiers said.

“Why you hauling
this all the way up there?” Fitzgerald asked. “There are merchants in Philippi
who’d pay a fair price for this much.”

“Well,” Pa said.
“The way I see it is, if I can get this wool north, it’ll most likely end up in
one of them mills in Pennsylvania. I don’t believe you boys are going to be
wearing cotton anytime soon, so it’d be in everyone’s best interest if I make
it.”

“I see your
point,” Fitzgerald said.

Pa looked over at
Jordan and winked.

Chapter 8

The wagons reached
the outskirts of Fairmont just after supper time. Shadows were long and thin as
the sun neared the end of its journey west and Jordan warmed his face on the
last of the lingering rays.

There was no need
to travel into town this evening, as the markets would be closed by the time
they got there. Pa offered a local farmer a dollar to let the horses graze in
his fields and for them to camp overnight. The man wouldn’t accept any money,
but said they could help themselves to the pasture and the creek by the woods.

Jordan had just
turned the horses out when he heard it. A shrill whistle, similar to the blast
he’d heard at the mine just after they left Jim’s place. It scared him a
little, especially when he saw thick black smoke rising above the treetops
about a half a mile out, heading north towards town.

“What is it Pa?”
Jordan asked and climbed up into a crab-apple tree to get a better look.

“It’s a
locomotive,” Pa said. “I think.”

“A train?” Eamon
asked and stood up.

“Sounds like it,”
Pa said. “Ain’t never seen one though. Not one that runs on steam anyway. I saw
a horse-pulled one once.”

“Can we go see
it?” Jordan asked.

“After you get in
the creek and wash the stink off,” Pa said and threw him a satchel of clothes
and a block of lye. “Wash them clothes you have on while you’re down there.”

“Awwww,” Jordan
whined. “Can’t we do that later?”

“It’ll be dark
later,” Pa said. “Now get!”

Jordan crashed
through the weeds towards the creek, stepped onto the rocks, and stripped down.
There was only one spot on the water where the sunshine still managed to penetrate
the dense foliage and that’s where he jumped in. The freezing mountain water
took his breath away and he surfaced, gasping for air.

“Is it cold?”
Eamon hollered.

“No,” Jordan lied.

Eamon didn’t
bother to choose the sunny spot. He jumped in and came up hollering.

“Jesus, its
freezing!” he yelled.

Jordan busted out
laughing and finished rubbing the soap all over his face and hair.

“You done with the
lye yet?” Eamon called through chattering teeth.

“Almost,” Jordan
said, finished scrubbing, and tossed him the bar. He had to admit, the water
felt good, despite its chill. The smell from Jim’s house combined with his own
stink was overwhelming, even though they got drenched in the rain storm earlier
today.

He got out of the
water and shook like a wet dog to get the water off of him. He dressed, rolled
up his sleeves, and took his dirty clothes down to the creek.

“Throw me the
soap,” Jordan called and the block spiraled through the air. Eamon didn’t quite
get it all the way to the bank so Jordan waded in ankle deep to get it before
it sank.

He laid his filthy
clothes on a flat rock, scrubbed them with the bar and tossed it to Eamon, who
had just finished dressing.

“Hurry up,” Jordan
called. “I don’t want to miss the train.”

“Wait a minute,”
Eamon said and rinsed his wet clothes. Jordan waited anxiously and watched the
grease from the soap float on top on the water. He could see a rainbow when the
sun hit it just right.

They ran back to
the camp and laid their wet clothes on the grass to dry. Pa already had a fire
going and a pail of smoked meat and cornbread ready to eat.

“Eat something
before you run off,” Pa said. “Finish up that corn bread before it gets too
hard. I’m going to the creek.”

Eamon tossed him
the soap.

“Hurry up,” Jordan
said.

“Just grab some
and take it with you,” Eamon said and took a handful of beef. Jordan took what
was left and ran off after him.

It was over a half
a mile from their camp to the edge of the tracks. Gray clouds veiled the last
remaining sun rays and the darkness made it seem later than what it really was.
The air snapped with a brisk mountain chill and Jordan blew on his hands to
keep them warm. They decided they could get a better view if they climbed up
into the tall pines. They didn’t have to wait long for the next train.

Jordan’s heart
pounded when the gradual chugging of the engine reached his eager ears. The
train appeared out of the evening haze to the south. He’d never seen anything
go so fast. There was no whistle this time, but the smoke blew into the crisp
evening air. Black bits of ash and charred leaves flew into Jordan’s eyes as
the engine sped past his hiding place. He wiped his eyes and leaned out over a
limb to watch it disappear up the tracks.

“Wow!” Jordan
said. “That was the fastest thing I ever saw!”

“Don’t move,”
Eamon whispered, and pointed down.

Jordan’s elation
turned to fear when he saw two soldiers dressed in gray pants and dark shirts
creeping down the tracks south towards them, just behind the tree line. They
didn’t carry muskets, but Jordan could see revolvers strapped to their sides.
They moved swift and silent, hidden beneath a blanket of white pine.

Jordan held his
breath as the soldiers traipsed right under their roost. He prayed they
wouldn’t look up, for if they did, they’d surely see Jordan and Eamon perched
in the branches looking down at them, wide-eyed and panicked. They disappeared
into shadows as if they were never there.

“We’d better get
out of here,” Eamon said.

“But what if
there’s more of them?” Jordan whispered.

“You going to sit
here all night and see?” Eamon asked, and eased down the branches to the
ground.

Jordan followed
him as there was no way he was going to be left all alone in the strange woods.

They scurried
through the woods and didn’t slow down until they reached the open fields.
Jordan was out of breath and relieved to see Pa’s campfire glowing in the dusk.

“Well,” Pa said.
“Did you see the train?”

“Yeah,” Eamon said
and flopped down beside the fire, winded from running so far. “We saw
soldiers!”

“Well, there is a
war going on,” Pa laughed. “We’ve seen them all day.”

“But Pa,” Jordan
said. “These were the gray ones! They was running down the tracks, right after
the train passed by.”

“That ain’t good,”
Pa said. “Raiders probably. Stealing guns, ammo, or something.”

“They weren’t
carrying nothing,” Eamon said.

“I’d better go
round up the horses,” Pa said and stood up. “No use leaving them out there for
someone to steal.”

Jordan sat down by
the fire and ate a piece of cornbread.

“What do you think
they were doing?” he asked Eamon.

“Stealing . . . or
spying, I reckon,” Eamon answered and took a gulp of water out of Pa’s jar.

He heard Pa’s
distinct whistle and soon he was walking back to camp with the horses in tow.
Pa never had to lead them anywhere. All he had to do was whistle and they
followed him like a dog. So did the cattle for that matter. The sheep, however,
weren’t so easily led.

Jordan threw more
wood on the fire and laid out his bedroll. He normally complained about the
stiff itchy wool, but after spending last night on the floor, it felt like a
soft feather bed. He drifted off to the crickets evening serenade.

Fairmont was
everything Jordan thought it would be. Buildings – the tallest ones he’d ever
seen – jutted out from the river valley and cut through the layer of smoke that
covered the town. The streets were wide and filled with wagons and folks going
about their daily business. The air was full of contrasting odors – one street
would smell like horse manure while the next one would have sumptuous aromas of
sausages and bread wafting through the air. It was the busiest place Jordan had
ever seen and it was much larger than Lewisburg or Marlins Bottom.

A massive wood
structure dominated both sides of the river and there were hundreds of men
hustling about below and climbing on a maze of large beams.

“What is that?”
Jordan asked.

“Looks like a
bridge of some sort,” Pa said.

“I’ll bet it’s for
the train,” Jordan said.

Pa turned the
horses down the street towards the river. He stopped in front of the mercantile
and put down the reins. Jordan was elated when he saw the train depot just
ahead and there were two locomotives sitting on the tracks.

“You stay here,”
Pa said to Jordan. “Keep an eye on everything and don’t wander off.”

Eamon followed Pa
into the building.

Some boys, about
Jordan’s age, ran past him in a cloud of dust, hollering and laughing. Jordan
stepped out to see what they were so excited about. He wandered about twenty
feet away from the wagons and saw the boys gathered in front of an enclosed
rail car painted with bold bright colors and the words BARNUM’S AMERICAN MUSEUM
written on the side. He wanted a closer look but Pa would kill him if he went
too far.

He kicked at the
dirt as he walked back to the wagons. In the window of the mercantile, he saw
the same writing that was on the side of the rail car, written on a notice. He
ran over and read the words:
First ever and only real hippopotamus ever seen
in America and other curiosities – 25 cents.

A hippopotamus!
The drawing on the notice depicted a strange fat beast with its jaws wide open
and giant blunt teeth inside a cavernous mouth. Maybe Pa would give them some
coins to go see it. There certainly wasn’t any animal like that running wild on
the mountain.

The boys ran back
past Jordan, but stopped when they saw him at the window and stared at him.
Jordan stared back.

“Hey Bud,” one of
the boys said. “Look at the mountain trash!”

“I’ll be he can’t
even read that paper!” another one of them hollered.

“Hey trash, you
got horse shit on your shoes!” one of them teased.

Jordan’s face
turned red and he picked up his foot and looked at the sole of his boot. There
wasn’t any horse shit. The boys laughed and ran off down the street.

“Don’t mind them,”
a soft voice said. “They think they’re better than everybody else.”

Jordan whirled
around. A girl stood next to him. But this wasn’t any girl. She had a strange
appearance. She wasn’t white but she wasn’t a Negro either. Her hair grew past
her waist and was black as the bottom of the coal bucket at Jim’s. Her skin
looked like polished glass and her dress exposed a large portion of her bosom.
Jordan tried not to stare.

“Aw, they don’t
bother me,” Jordan said and puffed out his chest, hoping to look taller. “You
know them?”

“No, but I’ve seen
boys like that before,” she said. “My name’s Ester. My folks travel with
Barnum’s.” She pointed at the paper in the window.

“You’re with the
hippo . . .hip. . .hippo. . .” Jordan stammered. The word refused to form in
his mouth and he looked at the ground, embarrassed.

“The hip-po-pot-a-mus,”
Ester said. “Yes. There are two of them – Sally and Oscar. The paper makes them
look bigger than what they are.”

“My name’s
Jordan.” His ears were burning red, but he didn’t want to draw attention to
them by fiddling with his hat, so he shoved his hands into his pants pockets
and did he best to hide his nervousness.

“Who’s that other
boy with you?” she asked and smiled. “I watched you ride up earlier.”

“Eamon,” Jordan
answered. All the air left his chest. “He’s my older brother.”

“You come to the
museum tonight,” she said. “I take up the money at the door. I’ll let you in
free.”

“Really?” He
forgot all about impressing her and more of the hippopotamus.

“Yes,” she said.
“I’ve got to go but don’t forget to stop by . . . and bring your brother.”

Jordan watched her
sashay off down the street until she disappeared. He turned his attention back
to the locomotive sitting in the rail-yard belching black smoke.

Eamon came up from
behind and smacked him in the back of the head.

Jordan turned
around swinging and caught Eamon right in the cheek. Eamon fell backwards to
the street.

“What the hell are
you two doing?” Pa hollered.

“He hit me,” Eamon
yelled, still flat on his back.

“He hit me first!”
Jordan cried. He’d been so mesmerized by the trains and thoughts of Ester that
he didn’t even notice Pa and Eamon come outside.

“Well stop it,” Pa
ordered. “People will think we ain’t nothing but trash.”

“They already do,”
Jordan said, but not very loud.

“What?” Pa asked.

“Nothing,” Jordan
muttered.

“Get in,” Pa said.
“Got to take this around back to get it looked at and weighed.”

“Pa, can Eamon and
me go see that hippopotamus?” Jordan asked and pointed at the paper in the
window. Pa walked over and read the notice.

“How’d you read
such a big word?” Pa asked.

“I just did,”
Jordan said and shrugged.

“What was it
again?” Pa asked.

“Hip-po-pot-a-mus,”
Jordan said. “Can we? It’s only twenty-five cents.”

“We’ll see,” Pa
said. “Get on up there and sit still. I don’t want to be here all day.”

The line at the
scales crept along and it was well past lunchtime before their wool was
inspected and weighed - six hundred and twelve pounds of wool. It took a little
insistence with the owner, but Pa got the gold and silver coin he was after –
all ninety-seven dollars and ninety-two cents of it.

“Why don’t you
boys go walk around a bit,” Pa said. “Here’s twenty-five cents each. I’ll find
a stable for the horses and visit some of them places to sell this syrup. Be
back here in three hours. Then we’ll go get Willow’s things and head back to
the field.”

“Come on Eamon,”
Jordan said. “Let’s go see the hippopotamus!”

They ran off down
the street and fell in with a small group of people walking towards a large
canvas tent, which looked gigantic to Jordan, when he compared it to the
smaller church tents he was used to seeing. He scanned the crowd to see if any
of those mean boys were around – they weren’t.