Upon seeing the rays of the rising sun and listening to the calm bird songs of the morning, I realized the sounds of war had been entirely in my own mind. What a way to wake up!
Something haunting and menacing was embedded in the old fallen trees, the rolling hills clothed in their pine needled rainements, and the misty air left over from of night's light rain. This place was hallowed, and should be left to men who died here 152 years ago.
With great respect and in honor of this forest's memory, I packed up and found my way to the trail that led directly back out next to the historic markers I showed in my last post. I then headed up to the Starbucks of Hypermall to work for several hours. It had rained the night before and I had planned to stay indoors all day if necessary to catch my writing up and avoid any further rain...
Yet, when consulting the weather forecast I saw that the clouds would soon clear away and the sun would come out, I decided to go in search of my package. It had been bounced around to different post offices. I knew there was a branch along Route 1 where I'd come into town. So, I ventured out when I saw a blue patch in the sky, to go there and have them track it. Then I could walk to wherever it was and pick it up...
High end condominiums along Cowan Boulevard.
When I got to the post office about a mile and a half from the Hypermall, I waited to be helped by a nice gentleman who immediately took my tracking number and located the package where it had been meant to go: 600 Princess Anne Street in the downtown. Great! This would give me the opportunity to pick it up and photograph the downtown area.
As I walked, I thought about my war time alarm in the morning. Then as if filling in blanks in my imagination, a story arrived, with the first part being downloaded (as it were) during the 40 minutes it took to get to the post office, and the second part being similarly delivered on the way back to the Hypermall. I will do my best to write it out below...
The turn onto College Avenue. I had the pleasure of walking along the edge
of the University of Mary Washington. It was a beautifully updated campus,
with lovely brick architecture.
I always love being in college towns. The sight of students walking to classes and hanging out in groups talking made me long for my own college days. How I wish I could be back there again, with all I know now. I turned left onto William Street...
The first blooming lilac bush I'd seen in 17 months.
A flowering cherry tree.
William Street.
The Fredericksburg Court House.
An intermission in my story occurred while I went in and picked up the package. A funny guy at the post office window went out back and found it (a dietary supplement that I've taken for this entire Journey). He tossed and caught the box in the air as he returned to the window, joking, "Not anything fragile I hope!" He examined my ID and then looked at me, squinting his eyes. Beside being an out of state Maine license, and expired, my photo shows a much chubbier Alex. He said, "This is you?" I told him it was about 40 pounds ago. He laughed and handed me the box. As soon as I was back on the road, the story picked up again...
Nice house along William Street.
This is the kind of detailed molding not seen in today's McMansions.
Dogwood flowers flying in the afternoon breeze.
There were series of small similarly built houses leading up to college Avenue.
Upon heading up Cowan toward the McDonald's at the edge of the Hypermall, I examined the side of the road I hadn't slept at (directly across from my sleep spot the night before). Obviously, folks had spent some relaxing time here...
Set up for the lone nature lover.
Although the spot was quite nice, it was well-worn with foot traffic. I could tell by the many paths. So, I slipped over a ridge, following the edge of the road as it rose higher above me. Further into the woods a blue spot caught my attention and I went to investigate it...
A blue tarp very much like the one I found in Athens, along with a really dirty tent.
I still may take the blue tarp...
The sleeping bag of this former camper. What made him leave all of this?
Returning back, closer to the hill that led up to the road, I found my spot--shown i the video above. Mentally noting the landmarks around it, I climbed to the bridge and continued on to McDonald's, there, to work until sunset...
Tent caterpillar (Malacosoma americanum) nests.
In the spring they retreat into the thermal protection of their tent during the cold nights.
After publishing my last post (finally catching up from the 100 mile walk), I went back to the new area I'd chosen for a campsite. The soaked green tarp from the morning had been stuffed into a plastic bag to keep it from getting all the other parts of the tent wet. So, it needed to be dried...
It only took about 10 minutes to dry.
The ground was relatively hard, but I was able to excavate a spot
and free it of branches and pine cones.
I was now able to put the two sections of the story together. It was an emotional composition, when I first worked my way through it. I relate it now, and in this place, to memorialize the events of the great battle that took place here and the lives of those whom it touched. It seems to be a combination of fact and fiction, though it could be completely one or the other. I don't know, and it doesn't matter. What I took away from it, was a glimpse of the drama from America's past along with some lessons for our present. With love and hope, I offer the following...
* * * * * * *
GHOSTS IN GRAY AND BLUE
The year was 1842. In a seaside city situated on Chesapeake Bay, Caleb Webster walked along the waterfront. He was meandering slowly around the carts and horse hitch posts, as he watched Irish passengers deboard and wait for their suitcases to be lowered to the pier. The ship had sailed out of Liverpool some seven and a half weeks earlier.
As he approached the ramp, two young women walked up trying carry their large cases while holding a trunk between them. They looked utterly exhausted from their voyage as they dropped the trunk by a fence and sat together on it discussing where to go next. One was a brunet, the other a blonde. Both had beautiful thin-featured faces, but their clothes were a mess--dirty and smelly.
Being a thoughtful and well-cultured, middle aged gentleman, Caleb stopped in front of them, introducing himself and asked for their names. They just stared at first. He smiled warmly and offered to help carry their belongs to whichever local inn they were planning to board.
The brunet, who called herself, Christine, with more than a touch of sarcasm and suspicion said, "Oh, help us will you? Two sisters from Adare to be played with, are we? Well Mr. Webster, I think we will manage!"
Caleb laughed heartily and peered out at the blue waves for a moment, then back again. Christine narrowed her eyes staring at him and pursed her lips tightly. Her younger sister couldn't help breaking into a smile, and reached out her hand, "My name is Mary Ellen, and we would be mighty grateful for your assistance, Mr. Webster. Except..." Christine shot a look of wide-eyed disapproval at Mary Ellen. But, the younger sister continued to look at Caleb. "...we still need to find adequate lodging."
"Grand then! I can help you with that. I know the hotels here quite well. Let me treat you to some tea and a bite first." Caleb reached out and grabbed the two large cases, leaving the sisters with only the trunk to carry. Christine huffed and stood up, surrendering, as nothing better seemed to be materializing at that moment.
He led the ladies to a small but respectable restaurant. In the late afternoon it was nearly empty while dinner was being prepared. The owner was busy in the kitchen but offered them a table in the bay window and placed their belongings along the wall.
He led the ladies to a small but respectable restaurant. In the late afternoon it was nearly empty while dinner was being prepared. The owner was busy in the kitchen but offered them a table in the bay window and placed their belongings along the wall.
As they talked, Christine warmed up considerably. They all got along quite well.
Christine explained that she was a teacher. Caleb raised his eyebrows and said his town was looking for a new teacher. Mary Ellen was quiet but kept looking at him. He couldn't help noticing, and smiled occasionally at her. She blushed easily and looked down at her tea cup each time. Not missing a beat, Christine said that she hoped her sister might want a teaching career as well, but for now she seemed to be looking for a YOUNG man to court her, and asked if he might know any. He chuckled a bit, and said his brother lived with him at their father's farm but was engaged to be married. Caleb caught Mary Ellen's smile. Christine implied that surely a fine man like Caleb must have a wife waiting for him at home.
Caleb said nothing for a minute and held a blank expression, then looked down at the table, fingering his spoon. "I did... She, uh, she drown while trying to cross our pond a few years ago on the winter ice. She broke through. I was here on business and our neighbor didn't notice the hole until the next morning."
"God bless you and have mercy, sir...I'm so very sorry." Said Christine.
He smiled and nodded a thank you. Then said, "Her name was Daisy, my flower... I have since come to believe that our dear Lord is a gardener. He needed a beautiful flower to complete his collection."
Mary Ellen had a tear in her eye, "That is one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard, Mr. Webster."
Caleb fought off his inclination to get lost again in a sadness he was just getting over. "We tried for years to have children. I wish she had left me with a son or daughter, that I might see her face in theirs."
"Oh, kind sir, there is still time for you," Christine said reassuringly.
"Yes, still time, sir..." said Mary Ellen.
Drinking the last of his tea, then clearing his throat, Caleb's jovial spirit returned, "I think you should come back to my town, ladies. It is a good place, with honest and God loving people. We are a small but happy community. You will like it, I promise!"
The women looked at each other. "Well, it's still only our first day here..." said Christine.
"We would be honored, Mr. Webster!" Mary Ellen interrupted.
"It's settled then!" he smiled widely. "I will buy you a room where I am staying, and you can ride in my coach tomorrow morning." Seeing Christine's reluctance, he took her hand in his and looked her in the eyes, I will give you a landing present - enough to hold onto - that you and your sister may use to flee our little town, should evil befall my invitation. I insist! I look at in as an investment for both your well-being and our town's joy in having you among us. Is that fair?"
Christine couldn't refuse his generosity, and agreed to accept it. She knew that she and her sister had less than a month's savings left, and recalled their worries as they'd sailed into the harbor the night before. There was nothing left for them to return to in the Old World. They had been orphans and she had taken care of them both for all of their young lives. She had wanted nothing more than to leave the stinking streets of Adare and move to America. Now that they were here, they needed to take advantage of every offer, even if it meant risking their security a bit.
Three months later Christine was hired as the new teacher in town. She and Mary Ellen lived in the little house next to the school. Much had changed in this short time. Christine had met one of Caleb's brother's friends--a young man who had just returned from Harvard University with a degree in Law. He had asked her to marry him, but she was waiting to say yes; though she fully intended to. It was just her style.
Mary Ellen had charmed her way into Caleb's life, having fallen completely for this gentle and strong man. She aimed for nothing more than being his partner, giving him the children she thought he deserved, and helping run the business of his farm. He was smitten with the young Irish lass, and admitted to her that he had wanted her as his wife since that first meal together by the seaside. He proposed, she accepted and they were married two weeks later, in a beautiful fall wedding, under blue September skies, with the town being invited to the reception feast in a field on Caleb's land.
Things were so settled and peaceful for all concerned. Thanksgiving came and the two couples, along with their families all met at Caleb's for a wonderful meal cooked by his maid, Tish. Tish was a freed slave from Georgia, a large and sweet older woman who loved Caleb dearly, pampering him every chance she got. She also served with another woman in town as the local midwife. Occasionally, she would receive a desperate messenger at the door and leave in haste to help deliver a baby.
She was beyond thrilled that he had recovered from the loss of Daisy and was given a new start, even if now in the middle of life. And, she adored Mary Ellen, calling her, "Elly" (a nickname that everyone quickly adopted); giving her the motherly advice she had never had growing up. Elly went to Tish for it too. The two of them often cooked together in the kitchen, joking and gossiping about the people in town. Tish taught Elly her best recipes, and Elly would frequently give Tish the night off to spend with the other elderly ladies of the church, socializing and gossiping together, while she (Elly) prepared Caleb's favorite meals.
Around Easter, Elly's doctor told her that she was pregnant. The winter had passed, then the spring with this good news, and then summer. Elly became bigger and bigger. While still possessing a petite frame, she could hardly walk by the end of November. By Christmas time she was in bed expecting to deliver any day. Tish spent time sitting with her for long period, reading the paper to her and joking around.
Caleb had been at the coast on business when labor set in. He'd hated to leave his young wife and was rushing home, with the strange sense that his child was coming on the very night his carriage rolled into town.
The streets were muddy and rain mixed with snow poured down as the carriage pulled up to the house. He jumped out and nearly tripped over the hedge on his way to the door. Looking up at the second floor he saw bright lamp light in the master bedroom and several shadows moving back and forth. He entered and was immediately met by the church pastor, who stopped him.
Caleb was surprised. "I've got to see Elly! I want to see my wife!"
The pastor held Caleb's arms tightly. "Not right now, Caleb. There's...there's been a problem..."
Just then they heard the tiny voice of a baby crying...and...then...another. "Twins?" Caleb asked.
"Yes, Caleb! Our Father has blessed you on this night, but..."
"WHAT? For heaven sake, man, talk."
"Please sit down, Caleb." The pastor was pale and tearing up. "I'm afraid, Elly...she could not handle the birth...she left us just before your carriage pulled in."
"NO!" Caleb stood and ran upstairs. He opened the door of the bedroom and was met by Christine, who had two little boy babies, one in each arm--a brunet and a blonde. Tish's eyes were red with tears, as she walked over to him and took his hand, guiding him to the edge of the bed. There under newly changed sheets and bedding was Elly. She looked so small, like a little girl. Her frail form barely lifted the covers off the mattress. She looked peaceful. She looked like she was still alive.
Caleb sobbed uncontrollably, burying his head in her soft hair and gently stroking her still-warm face. "No, no... not my Elly, not my love...not again. Sweet Jesus. Please, not again..."
Everyone left the room and allowed Caleb to spend himself out in his grief. When they had all gone down stairs, they heard him wailing, moaning, crying with more emotion than any of them had ever seen come out a grown man.
It was 3:45 a.m. when Caleb extinguished the lantern and emerged, stooped over with heartache. Tish hadn't been able to sleep and sat at the kitchen table, rising when she saw him. He walked into the kitchen and she went to hug him, he did not put his arms around her. "I want to see the babies," he said.
"Yes, ye of core," said Tish, and led him to the guest room where Christine lay on her back with a boy on either side; all three sleeping quietly.
"Tish...?" Caleb whispered.
"Yeth, Caleb."
"Which one was born first?"
"The dark hair one, sah."
Caleb reached out slowly and cupped the tiny head in his hand. "Samuel."
"Oh, I like dat, Caleb--yah father name." Tish said, softly.
He then walked around the foot of the bed, his hard heels clunking on the floor. Reaching out to cup the tiny blonde haired boy's head, he said, "Thomas." When he spoke, the infant's little blue eyes opened and looked at his father. Caleb saw Elly's expression in the boy's face.
"Yah brodah..." Tish smiled at Caleb.
He didn't smile back. "Tish, I'd like you to leave within three days. I will make sure you have enough money to live for the rest of your life." Then he turned and walked out.
"But, sah! Caleb..." She followed him out and through the kitchen. But he walked quickly into his study and locked the door. She slapped her palm on the door. "Plee... Caleb, plee! I love you. You like a son to me." She wept pathetically outside the door, scratching at it with her nails. "Doan kill me, Caleb, doan kill me." She heard the liquor cabinet open and close behind the door. She knew that sound well. Caleb had forsaken whiskey after recovering from the death of Daisy... But, now...
It was an overcast sky that hid the sunrise on that third morning. Caleb had not left the study except to check in on the babies the day before. Christine had temporarily moved into the guest room. She cared for the babies as if they were her own, sleeping with them, sitting close to them while the wet nurse fed them. She had become their mother; something that no one questioned.
Caleb heard activity in the kitchen and front hall. Then there was a knock on the door. It was Christine. "Caleb? Caleb! Your faithful and loving friend, Tish is about to leave. Will you not come out of your hiding place to wish her peace?" He lay on the couch with a smudged and empty glass on his chest. He closed his eyes. "Caleb!!!"
He heard her walk away. There were voices. He could have listened to what they were saying, but chose to ignore them, lest they echo in his head later.
The front door opened and then closed. Suddenly, he sat and walked to the window. Watching as Tish's stout little legs negotiated each of the porch steps, he looked down at his glass, then back up. She was dressed in her finest flowered dress, the one she would wear on Easter for church service. The driver helped her up and into that carriage, then closed the door.
Caleb stepped back from the window a bit. In the carriage, he saw Tish wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, then she looked toward the house, then directly at him. He stepped further back into the study. As the driver snapped the whip, Tish put her white-gloved hand against the glass. He turned his face away.
She'd saved so many mothers and babies over the years, he thought, but she let his Elly die. He looked back over his shoulder as the carriage disappeared behind the pine trees at the edge of driveway. The whiskey was gone and he needed to go down to the cellar to get more. Unlocking the door, he found Christine sitting at the dining room table. The boys were sleeping in a crib beside her.
He walked down into the cellar and then came back up with a crate. Christine stormed into the kitchen and stopped him in his tracks. "You listen to me, you selfish and evil man! You didn't only lose your wife! I lost my baby sister. She was my whole world for all of my life! She was my only family!!" She kicked the wooden case and it broke open, with bottles falling to the floor. "So then! THIS is the solution to your problems?"
Caleb, bent down to pick up each bottle and place it on the nearby shelf. "I can't take it, Christine. I'm not strong like you."
"You're right!" She yelled. "So, you took it out on the most innocent person, TISH!" One of the babies woke and began to cry. This, of course, got the other one going. With her Irish temper flaring like blast furnace, she pulled the whiskey bottle out of his hand and threw it down the steps of the cellar, where it smashed to pieces on the stone floor below. Then she grabbed his wrist, digging her nails into it, and pulled him into the dining room, pushing him against the crib. "These are YOUR children. Look at them!" They stopped crying and looked up at their father.
She began to weep softly, then sighed, and in a trembling voice said, "They...they...need you. I need you too."
Caleb stepped back against her. She wouldn't move. He turned around and faced her. "I...I..."
"You... You..." she said, with her lips turned down. Her green eyes were stained red. She looked tired, older, but very beautiful in a way he had never noticed before--the glow...of a new mother.
"Christine... I need you too." He put hand on each of her shoulders and gently pushed her back a few feet, then fell to his knees. "Please don't ever leave me!" She rolled her eyes, and half-smiled, then walked forward and pulled his head against her stomach, running her fingers through his graying hair.
Tish's carriage rumbled along the rough road. She was out of tears. She had everything she could have ever wanted, and then lost it all in one week. She'd done her very best to serve those around her and truly loved everyone in her life. Why was God punishing her. Why was Caleb blaming her? She looked up at the only patch of light she could find in the clouds and said, "Lawd Jesus, why do you fahsake me when I follow yah will--without queshion, Lawd? I've tried be a good woman. Mah sweet, sweet Jesus..."
A deer came into sight in a meadow just ahead, and the driver slowed in case this doe might dart out into the road. It approached the road, then stopped. Tish and the driver watched it. It seemed to not know what to do. As the driver was just about to snap the whip, a tiny newborn fawn appeared on the other side of the road, stumbling out of the bushes. The doe quickly ran across the road and joined the fawn, licking it and nuzzling it. Just then the patch of sky Tish had been staring at, parted and the azure blue sky behind it appeared. A shaft of light fell upon the doe. A calm, but strong, voice that sounded like trickling water in Tish's head said, "My beautiful daughter, you have brought my sons and daughters into the world. You too are my child. I don't abandon my children. I will not forsake you."
The driver snapped the whip once the deer and her baby were well out of the way, but then halted the horse again. He stood up and looked behind him. Tish turned around and saw a rider approaching on a very familiar looking horse. It was Caleb! He slowed and trotted up beside them, and said, looking at Tish but speaking to the driver, "Sir I believe there has been a terrible mistake. It was MY mistake, and I'm going to fix it!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a new $20 bill, handing it to the driver. "Please bring Miss Tish back to where you received her. She would be missed too dearly, were she not where she belongs."
"Understood, Sir!" said the driver. Then Caleb dismounted and tied his horse to the back of the carriage, climbing in and onto the seat beside Tish. Putting his arm around her, he kissed her forehead. They looked at each other, and he said, "My deepest apologies, Tish. I could never let you go." They rode back to the house together.
It didn't take long for things to settle down. Within a year, Christine told the lawyer who had once sought her hand in marriage that her responsibilities now precluded any relationship they could have. He was secretly relieved, as he had no desire to have another man's children in his life and they stayed friends.
Caleb found himself deeply in love with her within the next year. She had the same feelings for him, and they were married the year after. The next few years passed by in peace.
Christine was a wonderful adoptive mother to the boys; strict enough to keep them in line, but quick to get them laughing when they were feeling sad. And as they grew they never knew that she wasn't their real mother. They adored her.
Being rambunctious little guys, they got into all kinds of innocent trouble. They were also inseparable. They did everything together. And, they had very favorable traits for the time, being hard workers and good students in school. Christine returned to teaching. With their own mother as a teacher, the boys learned to respect her in the classroom and listen to her guidance at home. She thought nothing of punishing them when they talked in school, sometimes more harshly than even the rudest children. To her credit though, she recognized the value of leaving school at school. She was a warm presence in their lives, and a very loving mother.
She and Caleb tried many times to have another child, without success, and gave up--simply enjoying what they had. Then suddenly when the boys (Samuel--now Sammy, and Thomas--now Tommy) were twelve years old Christine found herself pregnant. They were thrilled! Eight months later their baby sister, May, was born. Tish was still around but now well into her eighties. She assisted with the successful birth, and a secret circle within Caleb's heart - one that had been broken and had once held Tish partly responsible for Mary Ellen's death - was finally complete. He finally knew for sure, that Tish had tried her best.
May had fiery red hair and the family doted on her excessively. At the age of four, May was even more of a handful than both the boys had been. She had tomboy proclivities, but was an exceedingly beautiful child. The boys would bring her with them to the pond when they fished. And they kept her nearby them, each in turn, as they went about their chores. She loved to help out, and had an amazing dexterity for tying rope and making little animals out of silk scraps.
Her favorite activity though was harvest time. She sat at the little table that Sammy had made for her and faithfully pulled the husks off of the corn and rinsed the vegetables. She never tired of working. She didn't quite have the boys' interest in books, laughing and tossing them to the ground when people tried to read with her, but her spirit was a living light in the household.
She was tough and wise in the ways of nature; as if she had been taught about it before coming to earth. When their dog, Gypsy, was no longer able to stand up on his own, stopped eating and whimpered at night, Tommy explained to May that sometimes the most merciful thing for an animal was to be "sent to heaven where he would be young again forever," so he wouldn't be in misery anymore. She cried bitterly at this thought and ran to her room. But later that evening, just before dinner, she came back out and sat on Tommy's lap. She pointed to Gypsy and said, "heaven needs good doggies too." He looked over at his father. Caleb looked back and nodded.
The next day after the unpleasant, but necessary task had been done, May led the prayer at Gypsy's small funeral, then used her little shovel to help the boys dig Gypsy's grave. She did not cry. And, looking up at the puffy clouds in the sky, said, "I see him! I see Gypsy! He's happy now." The next day she gave Tommy a little red dog she had made out of silk with Tish's help.
At about this time in the family's life together, the boys began to have minor disagreements. The politics of the country was becoming very heated and it spared not this home. Very serious divisions between the North and the South were developing.
Family discussions around the dinner table would sometimes become quite contentious. Where Caleb and Tommy were Republicans and supported ending slavery, Sammy tended to think the Southern landholders should be able to decide for themselves how to run their farms and society. He had visited his Uncle Thomas - who had moved to South Carolina after things didn't work out with his fiancee - each summer to work as a foreman-in-training at his farm.
As the next few years passed, Sammy's views evolved and hardened. He had no love for slavery. He believed that blacks were human beings. His uncle felt the same way and only had freemen working for him. Yet, Sammy understood well just how indelibly tied to the economy slavery had become. He believed the South would free the slaves over time. He began to go to political rallies with his uncle. Though he objected to slavery in an ideal world, he fully decided that abruptly ending it would cause anarchy and ruin the economy, not just of the South but nationwide.
When back in his Mid Atlantic home town and almost 18 years old, he was not popular for his views. Though other towns in Maryland were more sympathetic to the South, his father's was not. And, as much as he would try to reason with his friends and relatives, he met with only a growing distain.
The family's peace was disappearing over the polarizing issues that the nation was facing. In one especially nasty argument, he accused his father of loving Tommy more. He directly asked if there was a reason.
Caleb knew in his mind that Tommy was more like his birth mother. He had certain mannerisms that reminded his father of her cheerful disposition. But, he would never tell Sammy this. He did love both boys equally and tried never to show favoritism. Christine, knowing of Caleb's unconscious predisposition for Tommy--the first of the boys to look at him. She often tried to make up for this by being just a bit more attentive to Sammy. She even sat with him late into the nights, carefully listening to his arguments for "keeping the South free." In a way, she was slightly swayed by him. He was an excellent debater. She admired his passion, and told him so.
But, this evening was different. The day before, November 6, Abraham Lincoln had been elected. While most people around him felt a new optimism, Sammy was quite distraught. He felt betrayed by his father and brother; by his whole town.
He had never been so direct with his father. Tommy stood up and got in Sammy's face, saying, "Papa doesn't love me more, he just understands you less." Although, Tommy meant this as a way to calm things down, it backfired. The boys were about the same size, with Sammy being just a tad bit more robust. When he pushed his brother back and then slapped him, Caleb stepped up between the boys and held them apart. Tommy had had enough of his disrespectful brother, brushed by his father and leaped on Sammy, punching him as hard as he could in the stomach, causing him to fall to his knees.
Reeling in pain from the blow, and unable to breath for a moment, Sammy looked up red faced, with tears in his eyes. Feeling that the whole family was against him, he rose to his feet, pulled his shirt down tightly over his pants in as dignified a way as he could, and walked by his brother and father. His mother stood in the hall with a very elderly Tish. Christine tried to take his hand. And Tish said, "It okay babeh, God work in his own tam." Sammy, pulled away from his mother's grasp and looked down at Tish. He said, "Tish, sometimes man must remind God what time it is." Then, he opened the door and walked out. Taking his favorite horse from the barn, he decided to ride all the way to South Carolina, intending to live with his sympathetic uncle.
He stopped in town and woke up the general store owner's son--his good friend, David. David, let him into the store, where he bought a small canvas tarp, two thick blankets, a canteen, bread and dried beef, then looked at the guns in the case behind the counter. One in particular caught his eye. It was a Colt 1860 Army 40 caliber revolver. Practically brand new--only used once by a colonel who was accidentally shot and killed by another soldier that same year. David's father had bought it only two weeks earlier. It had a fluted cylinder, was engraved, fitted with ivory grips, and small enough to fit under his coat with it's 5 1/2" barrel. David told him the pistol was created on custom order. It was expensive though, $25. Sammy decided that he needed it. He also picked up a box of 50 rounds, for $1. Sammy had an account at the store. He charged it all. He also had no cash on him and asked David for an advance of $50 cash--charged to his father's account. David had no problem doing this, since Caleb was quite wealthy.
David was concerned about his friend. "Sammy, you are coming back here?"
"I love you like a brother, David, and I can not lie to you. I may not be back for many years."
Somehow David knew he would never see Sammy again. "May the Lord watch over you, Sammy." The two friends hugged, and Sammy left with his supplies.
It took three days to reach South Carolina. He rode most of each day and stopped along the road at night to camp. Uncle Thomas met Sammy at the door, gave him a big hug and welcomed him in. He listened carefully to Sammy's account of the fight with his brother. His nephew complained bitterly about how blind the people in his town were, and that "...now Lincoln is going to destroy the nation!"
The two went to bed, Sammy sleeping in the guest room--what would become his room. And, in the morning he felt much better. He was promoted to foreman at Thomas' farm. He was a good foreman too. The men under him - some much older than he - grew to respect his fairness in the coming months. He also got to know the few freeman and respected their keen abilities both physical and mental. Some were direct descendants of the volunteer militia of color who had defended New Orleans during the War of 1812.
One day he was riding back to the farm and passed his neighbor's house. There was a lot of yelling going on. Curious, he rode up to the barn and saw his neighbor and three other white men standing in front of a black man who was kneeling next to a stump. He dismounted and walked over to them. "Afternoon, Jeb!"
His neighbor smiled, "Afternoon, Sammy!"
"What's going on here?" the naive young man asked.
"Well, Sammy, we just discovered that old Abe here, been stealing hens and fryin up!"
"Is that so?" Sammy looked down at Abe, who looked ashamed, and nodded.
"Trying to decide what to steal from him!" Jeb said, tapping his boot on the ground. "I was just tellin' the boys that Abe got nothin' of value, besides his big-ole hands."
Abe shook uncontrollably, "I...I...gots deez hans to be helpin' ya Massa. I...I... gonna gives ya some a dat money I done saved fo my little girl wedding, sah..."
Sammy was uncomfortable watching what was going on."Pardon me for asking, Jeb, but how many hens did ole Abe take?"
"Three." Jeb said, looking down at Abe.
"It wah ownee two, sah..." said Abe, sweating profusely.
"Now, Abe, we seen another missin' on this very morin'. What ah the chances, she just climbed out ah that locked hen house an run away? Or, maybe the local fox got hold ah the key?" The other three men laughed.
Abe just looked down and closed his eyes. Hi lips were quivering in prayer. "Jeeza, Jeeza, have mercy on ya son, Jeeza..."
Sammy, paced around a bit looking behind the barn, hoping to see the lost hen. Jeb, was not in such a bad mood anymore. "Well, I had you many yees now, Abe. You been a good niggah; aint caused me much trouble. I think we gonna let you keep those big-ole hands ah yours."
"Tank ya so much, Massa. I'd beed so gratefo to ya, sah!"
"But I can't let ya go without sendin a message to the othahs, ya know..."
"Massa, I beed good now on! I tell dem myself, how Massa been so mercifo on this bright day; sah! How he spayed me my hands; ya, how stealin' is so wrong."
"Well... I appreciate that, Abe," said Jeb, and Abe smiled up the men.
Jeb put his work gloves back on and turned to go, then stopped. He looked at one of the men, and said, "Just take the pinkah off each hand."
"Yes, sah." the man replied.
Jeb, put his arm over Sammy's shoulders, and turned him around guiding him up toward the house. Behind them, they heard "No!! NO! Plee, no! AAAAAggg!!"
Jeb felt Sammy shudder. "It's the way things must be done, son. Were it my daddy, ole Abe be hangin from that big oak over there. He didn't stand for a single infraction from his niggahs." Sammy said nothing. Even, if his old dog Gypsy had killed three hens, his father wouldn't have punished him. He felt so sick. Jeb offered a lemonade. "Gert makes is real sweet. We just got five pouns ah brown sugah, Sammy! Best around!" Sammy politely declined, tipped his hat and walked back to his horse.
As Sammy started back down the driveway to the road, Jeb walked out onto the porch and sat down. He called out to his young neighbor, "The things ya saw today, son? No need for Thomas to hee this story."
"No sir, of course not... Afternoon, Jeb!"
"Afternoon, Sammy!"
Just then two hens ran out from under the porch. Sammy ran over and grabbed them. He looked at the hens and then at Jeb. With serious expression on his face, he walked back to the porch handing the birds to Jeb, who looked as pale as a bedsheet. "Well," Jeb said, "I be damned."
Sammy looked him in the eyes, and just said, ".......maybe....."
It was a slow and contemplative ride back to the farm. Sammy turned the events of the day over and over in his mind. Why were some men so cruel? Did they not fear that God would never condone one man torturing another? He loved the Southland, and he loved the slow informal culture, the kindness of folks to each other, but he hated slavery.
A freeman might receive a fine or do a month in jail for theft. Slaveholders decided their own forms of justice, aside from what the law might deal out. This seemed wrong to him. But, the law itself allowed for this. Colored people weren't free. They were property. And under Southern laws a man had the right to do anything he wanted with his property. As Sammy sat alone in his room, he vowed that after the South got laws passed in Washington to determine its own future, he would work to put an end to slavery, at least in South Carolina.
More weeks passed and he and his uncle began attending larger and larger rallies and speeches in favor of secession. South Carolina was leading the way. Where Sammy had once thought a unified nation was a self-evident requirement, he now fully supported the idea that a second nation could bring a balance to America in these turbulent times.
On December 15th, Sammy and his uncle traveled to Columbia, South Carolina when they learned there would be a Secession Convention on the 17th. There was revolution in the air. It was exciting. Sammy imagined that this must have been what it was like 84 years earlier, when the founding fathers of the United States met in Philadelphia. There was a particularly festive atmosphere as the day approached. Sammy was proud to be in the first state to take action against the aggressive rule of the North--a region completely foreign to most Southerners. Besides manufactured goods, the South really had no need for the North. They could build their own factories and warehouses. The South could become the flower of American culture!
On December 20, three days before Sammy's 18th birthday, South Carolina official announced secession. It truly did lead the way. It had extensive and well-maintained railroads, 46% of the households in the state owned at least one slave. Everyone knew war was coming. In another month South Carolina troops fired upon Star of the West in Charleston harbor and then shortly after, six more states seceded. It had begun.
The men of South Carolina were mobbing the recruitment offices to enlist in what they thought would be a great and romantic struggle between the good South and the evil North, and Sammy made sure he was among the first in line.
Back in Maryland the folks of Tommy's town were not as enthusiastic about war. Caleb was dead-set against it. He thought that slavery would eventually be abolished anyway in the South. Kansas had just joined the US, and specifically prohibited slavery. He thought that as the west was settled, the idea of men owning other men would become unthinkable in one more generation.
Tommy, on the other hand, was a very idealistic and energetic young man. He convinced David and several other friends to join the Federal Army along with him. After enlisting, he told his father what he had done. Caleb was not pleased, and told Tommy that what he was about to face would be a bloodbath. Caleb had never been a soldier but he had many friends in town who had fought the Mexicans only a few years earlier and their accounts of the butchery and horror of the battlefield frightened him. Late in night after Tommy's revelation, the young man heard his father weep under the muted comforts of his mother in their bedroom. He was not deterred by this though.
In his mind, Tommy meant to find his brother and persuade him to join the Northern effort to preserve the Union. He didn't know just how devoted Sammy had become to the Confederate cause.
When the day came for Tommy to leave, the family gathered on the front porch of the farm. Everyone was being strong for him. But, little May - usually a fearless little child - cried and ran up throwing her arms around his legs. He bent down and picked her up, saying, "Baby girl! Don't you cry. I'm coming back real soon, and I'm bringing Sammy with me!"
She stopped crying for a moment and her green eyes met his blue eyes. "You promise, Tommy?"
"I promise, May. And look..." he pulled out the little red dog she'd made for him. "I'll have Gypsy to keep me company..." He lightly shook it, "...ruff, ruff, ruff!" May smiled and hugged him around the neck. He pinned the dog right over his heart.
Caleb gave him $100, and hugged him, then stepped back. Christine stepped up, her eyes soaked and red, "DO bring your brother back." He nodded and kissed her forehead.
Then, he walked over to Tish who broke down, in her special flowered dress. "Tommah, you be ma hero, ya know?"
He bent down and kissed her forehead. "No Tish, you have always been my hero. You take good care of these folks. Change is coming to this land. Your brothers and sisters are going to be free soon."
He stepped down off of the porch and mounted his horse. He sat grandly in his uniform--handsome, and stately, the image of a true man, going off to fight for the most righteous cause in history. They watched him gallop away down the road. And, Caleb whispered to Christine, "Now fear I have lost them both."
Tommy was assigned to the Union Army of the Potomac, commanded by Major General Ambrose Burnside. They were already marching through Virginia, where forward positions were being established along the Rappahannock River, near Fredericksburg.
For a few months before, Sammy had been with General Robert E. Lee's Confederate Army of Northern Virginia. They knew Burnside would be coming and were very strongly established behind massive defensive lines along the river and in the nearby hills. Burnside had little idea just what he was getting himself into.
When the Union troops had gathered in Falmouth, Tommy arrived. Sammy had been camped out near the town center of Fredericksburg, but was ordered to the plain just below Marye's Heights. His intuition was told him that his brother was nearby. He felt it in heart and not just in his mind.
By December 11, Burnside was well established along the eastern side of the river and finally prepared to assemble the pontoon bridge needed to cross it--which he did under considerable fire before sunrise. Many Union soldiers were lost building it and then crossing it.
It was a half-baked plan from the start. Sharpshooters in the cellars of buildings downtown picked off blue shirts, and were very hard to get to. When the Union army finally washed into town, they faced desperate street to street fighting. It was the first urban combat of the war. Once the Union had successfully occupied the town, the soldiers went crazy looting and pillaging, setting fire and destroying everything they could.
General Lee and the confederate soldiers in other parts of the town and the hillsbeyond were mortified. Even the Union soldiers around Tommy at Marye's Heights were appalled at the actions of their fellows in town when they heard the news.
After Sammy had been sent into the town earlier in the day and fought bravely, killing two Union soldiers and discovering he was an excellent shot, he left with the others, falling back. His commanding officer, realizing he had a potential sharpshooter in his midst, assigned him to a hidden spot on a hill in Marye's Heights, where he and a small platoon of other shooters camped for two days, under Longstreet, but specifically with McMillan.
On December 13th, Tommy joined a column under Nagle. When the battle to take the Heights began, he watched wave after wave of Union troops storm the hills only to be cut down before the Confederate entrenchment.
Sammy himself had been responsible for four more Union deaths, but his position was discovered and he had to fall back around and nearer the middle of the hill, where he was now assembled with other men to repel the next Union charge. He felt odd, somehow. He was good at this. He hated the carnage but was high on adrenaline and inspired by the momentum of relative Confederate success with defending these hills.
Tommy was not feeling as hopeful. He'd not even been in battle yet. Dozens of wounded men passed him by. He knew he would soon be called to charge. While feeling terror, he also was still driven by his ideals. The stories of the sacking of the city by his own fellow soldiers, and this forced butchery by his commanders was wearing on him. He just wanted to get in there and do what he could to end the carnage and show the true moral fortitude of the Union's cause.
Eventually, the call came to line up. The men around him were shaking. Some looked around as if they intended to run away. But, they were packed in too tightly. There was no escape. This was going to be done, no matter what. When the inevitability of it all sank into Tommy's mind, he felt oddly calm. He was resigned to his duty--whatever the cost. He reached up and touched the little red dog over his heart. The order to load came, and he kept repeating the list of procedures he'd learned over and over again, so that he could reload without thinking once the shooting began. Then came the word: "CHARGE!"
His column began to march and then ran up the hill. Immediately, the man to his left fell, then the one to his right. Before long he was in a greatly thinned out group, pressed up against a short wall. He could not even see the rebels. How could he fire when he had no one to fire at?
A shot blew off a chunk of the wall, spraying his face with bits of hot stone. He couldn't stay there. Peering around the edge of the wall, he saw a clear way to move up the hill through a small ravine. Two other men from his division ran up to the shelter of the wall just next to him. He pointed to the ravine and they nodded. The three ran out from the back of the wall and settled at the base of the ravine. When they thought they hadn't been seen, they began climbing.
Just above them, two of the men standing with Sammy saw a blue blur just off to their right. Fearing that they were about to be flanked, they tapped Sammy's shoulder and pointed. Then they charged down and over into the ravine. They had the high ground, but one of Tommy's fellows shot Sammy's rifle right out of his hands. Thinking quickly, Sammy reached into his holster and drew his Colt pistol, returning fire and killing the one who had shot at him.
One of the guys beside Sammy opened fire killing Tommy's other companion. Now it was left to Tommy to choose which of the three men above him he would aim at. He shot one of them in the thigh and then rolled over behind a tree. A shell exploded about 15 feet away, leaving a large cloud of smoke between him and the opposing men in the ravine.
Sammy looked over and saw that the his one remaining support was now lying face down with half of his head missing, hit by shrapnel.
Tommy propped himself up on his elbows, but became aware that a warm liquid was pouring down his stomach. Shrapnel had ripped into his belly. He rolled over onto his back pulling his coat open and then his shirt up. Pain didn't hit him until he saw the deep hole just above his navel.
Now alone and not being able to see below him, Sammy just decided to run down into the ravine and shoot anyone he found there. He ran passed the tree where Tommy lay, then stopped, looking up.
The very first thing his eyes fell upon was the little red dog May had made, pinned onto Tommy's uniform. The coat was open, but a fold in the pocket clearly revealed the dog. A chill passed over Sammy. "Tommy?" He cautiously approached, "Tommy, man, is that you?"
Recognizing his brother's voice immediately, Tommy raised his head, "S..Sammy?"
Sammy fell down beside Tommy and saw his stomach. "Jesus, no!" He pulled off his pack and located a spare shirt, pressing it against Tommy's wound. "You're gonna be fine, Tommy! Hold on brother! How can this be? How did you? I do not understand. Jesus, Jesus!!"
"I can't feel my feet, Sammy. Help me!"
They heard voices on the ridge above. Confederates. "Shhhh! Tommy, be quiet!"
Tommy reached out and put a bloody hand on Sammy's neck. "Help me!"
"Hey!" came a voice above. It got louder, "Hey, hey!!"
When the soldier above then reached the tree, he thought he saw two men wrestling. The blue coated man looked to be choking the gray coat. He drew his sidearm and pointed it at Tommy. By instinct alone, Sammy immediately raised his pistol and shot his own compatriot straight through the chest. As the man dropped to his knees with a puzzled look on his face, he raised the gun again, pulling the trigger, sending a bullet into Sammy's neck, right above Tommy's hand.
Sammy fell on top of Tommy, who rolled him off. "No! No! Sammy!" Apparently, no one else was aware of what was going on in the ravine, as Tommy's cries were not heard. He held his palm over the hole in Sammy's neck. Sammy, gurgled as they looked at each other.
Tommy was feeling the life drain out of himself; his sight grew dim and dizziness overtook him. The two lay there soaked in each other's blood. They had once shared the same womb--the same day of birth. And, now they were dying together. They looked at each other, neither able to speak.
The cool winter breeze blew up around the hill, chasing the smoke up into the sky. The sounds of guns and bombs faded away, and golden light scintillated off every leaf. The sun shown through the bare hardwoods above them, illuminating the place where they lay.
There was no more pain. They both heard a voice in front of them. It sounded like the wind filtering through water... A beautiful woman with glowing yellow hair stood over them, "My boys. I've watched you through all of these years. Look how strong and handsome you became! So brave, so daring. You're about to give your lives for your friends. Yes, my sister raised you well."
They could no longer see anything but this woman before them. But, they could suddenly hear each other's voices in their heads. "Mother?" Tommy said.
"Yes," the woman answered, smiling widely. They suddenly knew the entire story, and were beginning to understand everything about the world they'd in which they'd lived for only two decades. "I've come to bring you back to the place where your spirits came from."
"Heaven?" Sammy asked.
"Ha, ha! Much better than any heaven you were taught about, Sammy. So much better. We will leave your shadows behind to indwell this place where so many were lost in your world, and gained in ours. In this way--through the addition of your energy today, the country you fought for will not forget the devotion of your generation. In the future, another soldier of a different sort will stay near this place for a very short time. He will rediscover the story of our lives. But, for us, It is time to go..."
I grew tired, but looked forward to writing the above the next day. Climbing into the tent, I went to zip the flap shut, and something caught my eye. Above, on the roadside and facing me, I thought I saw the silhouettes of two men standing. I rubbed my eyes and when I looked again they were gone...
Christine explained that she was a teacher. Caleb raised his eyebrows and said his town was looking for a new teacher. Mary Ellen was quiet but kept looking at him. He couldn't help noticing, and smiled occasionally at her. She blushed easily and looked down at her tea cup each time. Not missing a beat, Christine said that she hoped her sister might want a teaching career as well, but for now she seemed to be looking for a YOUNG man to court her, and asked if he might know any. He chuckled a bit, and said his brother lived with him at their father's farm but was engaged to be married. Caleb caught Mary Ellen's smile. Christine implied that surely a fine man like Caleb must have a wife waiting for him at home.
Caleb said nothing for a minute and held a blank expression, then looked down at the table, fingering his spoon. "I did... She, uh, she drown while trying to cross our pond a few years ago on the winter ice. She broke through. I was here on business and our neighbor didn't notice the hole until the next morning."
"God bless you and have mercy, sir...I'm so very sorry." Said Christine.
He smiled and nodded a thank you. Then said, "Her name was Daisy, my flower... I have since come to believe that our dear Lord is a gardener. He needed a beautiful flower to complete his collection."
Mary Ellen had a tear in her eye, "That is one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard, Mr. Webster."
Caleb fought off his inclination to get lost again in a sadness he was just getting over. "We tried for years to have children. I wish she had left me with a son or daughter, that I might see her face in theirs."
"Oh, kind sir, there is still time for you," Christine said reassuringly.
"Yes, still time, sir..." said Mary Ellen.
Drinking the last of his tea, then clearing his throat, Caleb's jovial spirit returned, "I think you should come back to my town, ladies. It is a good place, with honest and God loving people. We are a small but happy community. You will like it, I promise!"
The women looked at each other. "Well, it's still only our first day here..." said Christine.
"We would be honored, Mr. Webster!" Mary Ellen interrupted.
"It's settled then!" he smiled widely. "I will buy you a room where I am staying, and you can ride in my coach tomorrow morning." Seeing Christine's reluctance, he took her hand in his and looked her in the eyes, I will give you a landing present - enough to hold onto - that you and your sister may use to flee our little town, should evil befall my invitation. I insist! I look at in as an investment for both your well-being and our town's joy in having you among us. Is that fair?"
Christine couldn't refuse his generosity, and agreed to accept it. She knew that she and her sister had less than a month's savings left, and recalled their worries as they'd sailed into the harbor the night before. There was nothing left for them to return to in the Old World. They had been orphans and she had taken care of them both for all of their young lives. She had wanted nothing more than to leave the stinking streets of Adare and move to America. Now that they were here, they needed to take advantage of every offer, even if it meant risking their security a bit.
* * *
Three months later Christine was hired as the new teacher in town. She and Mary Ellen lived in the little house next to the school. Much had changed in this short time. Christine had met one of Caleb's brother's friends--a young man who had just returned from Harvard University with a degree in Law. He had asked her to marry him, but she was waiting to say yes; though she fully intended to. It was just her style.
Mary Ellen had charmed her way into Caleb's life, having fallen completely for this gentle and strong man. She aimed for nothing more than being his partner, giving him the children she thought he deserved, and helping run the business of his farm. He was smitten with the young Irish lass, and admitted to her that he had wanted her as his wife since that first meal together by the seaside. He proposed, she accepted and they were married two weeks later, in a beautiful fall wedding, under blue September skies, with the town being invited to the reception feast in a field on Caleb's land.
Things were so settled and peaceful for all concerned. Thanksgiving came and the two couples, along with their families all met at Caleb's for a wonderful meal cooked by his maid, Tish. Tish was a freed slave from Georgia, a large and sweet older woman who loved Caleb dearly, pampering him every chance she got. She also served with another woman in town as the local midwife. Occasionally, she would receive a desperate messenger at the door and leave in haste to help deliver a baby.
She was beyond thrilled that he had recovered from the loss of Daisy and was given a new start, even if now in the middle of life. And, she adored Mary Ellen, calling her, "Elly" (a nickname that everyone quickly adopted); giving her the motherly advice she had never had growing up. Elly went to Tish for it too. The two of them often cooked together in the kitchen, joking and gossiping about the people in town. Tish taught Elly her best recipes, and Elly would frequently give Tish the night off to spend with the other elderly ladies of the church, socializing and gossiping together, while she (Elly) prepared Caleb's favorite meals.
Around Easter, Elly's doctor told her that she was pregnant. The winter had passed, then the spring with this good news, and then summer. Elly became bigger and bigger. While still possessing a petite frame, she could hardly walk by the end of November. By Christmas time she was in bed expecting to deliver any day. Tish spent time sitting with her for long period, reading the paper to her and joking around.
Caleb had been at the coast on business when labor set in. He'd hated to leave his young wife and was rushing home, with the strange sense that his child was coming on the very night his carriage rolled into town.
The streets were muddy and rain mixed with snow poured down as the carriage pulled up to the house. He jumped out and nearly tripped over the hedge on his way to the door. Looking up at the second floor he saw bright lamp light in the master bedroom and several shadows moving back and forth. He entered and was immediately met by the church pastor, who stopped him.
Caleb was surprised. "I've got to see Elly! I want to see my wife!"
The pastor held Caleb's arms tightly. "Not right now, Caleb. There's...there's been a problem..."
Just then they heard the tiny voice of a baby crying...and...then...another. "Twins?" Caleb asked.
"Yes, Caleb! Our Father has blessed you on this night, but..."
"WHAT? For heaven sake, man, talk."
"Please sit down, Caleb." The pastor was pale and tearing up. "I'm afraid, Elly...she could not handle the birth...she left us just before your carriage pulled in."
"NO!" Caleb stood and ran upstairs. He opened the door of the bedroom and was met by Christine, who had two little boy babies, one in each arm--a brunet and a blonde. Tish's eyes were red with tears, as she walked over to him and took his hand, guiding him to the edge of the bed. There under newly changed sheets and bedding was Elly. She looked so small, like a little girl. Her frail form barely lifted the covers off the mattress. She looked peaceful. She looked like she was still alive.
Caleb sobbed uncontrollably, burying his head in her soft hair and gently stroking her still-warm face. "No, no... not my Elly, not my love...not again. Sweet Jesus. Please, not again..."
Everyone left the room and allowed Caleb to spend himself out in his grief. When they had all gone down stairs, they heard him wailing, moaning, crying with more emotion than any of them had ever seen come out a grown man.
It was 3:45 a.m. when Caleb extinguished the lantern and emerged, stooped over with heartache. Tish hadn't been able to sleep and sat at the kitchen table, rising when she saw him. He walked into the kitchen and she went to hug him, he did not put his arms around her. "I want to see the babies," he said.
"Yes, ye of core," said Tish, and led him to the guest room where Christine lay on her back with a boy on either side; all three sleeping quietly.
"Tish...?" Caleb whispered.
"Yeth, Caleb."
"Which one was born first?"
"The dark hair one, sah."
Caleb reached out slowly and cupped the tiny head in his hand. "Samuel."
"Oh, I like dat, Caleb--yah father name." Tish said, softly.
He then walked around the foot of the bed, his hard heels clunking on the floor. Reaching out to cup the tiny blonde haired boy's head, he said, "Thomas." When he spoke, the infant's little blue eyes opened and looked at his father. Caleb saw Elly's expression in the boy's face.
"Yah brodah..." Tish smiled at Caleb.
He didn't smile back. "Tish, I'd like you to leave within three days. I will make sure you have enough money to live for the rest of your life." Then he turned and walked out.
"But, sah! Caleb..." She followed him out and through the kitchen. But he walked quickly into his study and locked the door. She slapped her palm on the door. "Plee... Caleb, plee! I love you. You like a son to me." She wept pathetically outside the door, scratching at it with her nails. "Doan kill me, Caleb, doan kill me." She heard the liquor cabinet open and close behind the door. She knew that sound well. Caleb had forsaken whiskey after recovering from the death of Daisy... But, now...
It was an overcast sky that hid the sunrise on that third morning. Caleb had not left the study except to check in on the babies the day before. Christine had temporarily moved into the guest room. She cared for the babies as if they were her own, sleeping with them, sitting close to them while the wet nurse fed them. She had become their mother; something that no one questioned.
Caleb heard activity in the kitchen and front hall. Then there was a knock on the door. It was Christine. "Caleb? Caleb! Your faithful and loving friend, Tish is about to leave. Will you not come out of your hiding place to wish her peace?" He lay on the couch with a smudged and empty glass on his chest. He closed his eyes. "Caleb!!!"
He heard her walk away. There were voices. He could have listened to what they were saying, but chose to ignore them, lest they echo in his head later.
The front door opened and then closed. Suddenly, he sat and walked to the window. Watching as Tish's stout little legs negotiated each of the porch steps, he looked down at his glass, then back up. She was dressed in her finest flowered dress, the one she would wear on Easter for church service. The driver helped her up and into that carriage, then closed the door.
Caleb stepped back from the window a bit. In the carriage, he saw Tish wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, then she looked toward the house, then directly at him. He stepped further back into the study. As the driver snapped the whip, Tish put her white-gloved hand against the glass. He turned his face away.
She'd saved so many mothers and babies over the years, he thought, but she let his Elly die. He looked back over his shoulder as the carriage disappeared behind the pine trees at the edge of driveway. The whiskey was gone and he needed to go down to the cellar to get more. Unlocking the door, he found Christine sitting at the dining room table. The boys were sleeping in a crib beside her.
He walked down into the cellar and then came back up with a crate. Christine stormed into the kitchen and stopped him in his tracks. "You listen to me, you selfish and evil man! You didn't only lose your wife! I lost my baby sister. She was my whole world for all of my life! She was my only family!!" She kicked the wooden case and it broke open, with bottles falling to the floor. "So then! THIS is the solution to your problems?"
Caleb, bent down to pick up each bottle and place it on the nearby shelf. "I can't take it, Christine. I'm not strong like you."
"You're right!" She yelled. "So, you took it out on the most innocent person, TISH!" One of the babies woke and began to cry. This, of course, got the other one going. With her Irish temper flaring like blast furnace, she pulled the whiskey bottle out of his hand and threw it down the steps of the cellar, where it smashed to pieces on the stone floor below. Then she grabbed his wrist, digging her nails into it, and pulled him into the dining room, pushing him against the crib. "These are YOUR children. Look at them!" They stopped crying and looked up at their father.
She began to weep softly, then sighed, and in a trembling voice said, "They...they...need you. I need you too."
Caleb stepped back against her. She wouldn't move. He turned around and faced her. "I...I..."
"You... You..." she said, with her lips turned down. Her green eyes were stained red. She looked tired, older, but very beautiful in a way he had never noticed before--the glow...of a new mother.
"Christine... I need you too." He put hand on each of her shoulders and gently pushed her back a few feet, then fell to his knees. "Please don't ever leave me!" She rolled her eyes, and half-smiled, then walked forward and pulled his head against her stomach, running her fingers through his graying hair.
Tish's carriage rumbled along the rough road. She was out of tears. She had everything she could have ever wanted, and then lost it all in one week. She'd done her very best to serve those around her and truly loved everyone in her life. Why was God punishing her. Why was Caleb blaming her? She looked up at the only patch of light she could find in the clouds and said, "Lawd Jesus, why do you fahsake me when I follow yah will--without queshion, Lawd? I've tried be a good woman. Mah sweet, sweet Jesus..."
A deer came into sight in a meadow just ahead, and the driver slowed in case this doe might dart out into the road. It approached the road, then stopped. Tish and the driver watched it. It seemed to not know what to do. As the driver was just about to snap the whip, a tiny newborn fawn appeared on the other side of the road, stumbling out of the bushes. The doe quickly ran across the road and joined the fawn, licking it and nuzzling it. Just then the patch of sky Tish had been staring at, parted and the azure blue sky behind it appeared. A shaft of light fell upon the doe. A calm, but strong, voice that sounded like trickling water in Tish's head said, "My beautiful daughter, you have brought my sons and daughters into the world. You too are my child. I don't abandon my children. I will not forsake you."
The driver snapped the whip once the deer and her baby were well out of the way, but then halted the horse again. He stood up and looked behind him. Tish turned around and saw a rider approaching on a very familiar looking horse. It was Caleb! He slowed and trotted up beside them, and said, looking at Tish but speaking to the driver, "Sir I believe there has been a terrible mistake. It was MY mistake, and I'm going to fix it!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a new $20 bill, handing it to the driver. "Please bring Miss Tish back to where you received her. She would be missed too dearly, were she not where she belongs."
"Understood, Sir!" said the driver. Then Caleb dismounted and tied his horse to the back of the carriage, climbing in and onto the seat beside Tish. Putting his arm around her, he kissed her forehead. They looked at each other, and he said, "My deepest apologies, Tish. I could never let you go." They rode back to the house together.
* * *
Caleb found himself deeply in love with her within the next year. She had the same feelings for him, and they were married the year after. The next few years passed by in peace.
Christine was a wonderful adoptive mother to the boys; strict enough to keep them in line, but quick to get them laughing when they were feeling sad. And as they grew they never knew that she wasn't their real mother. They adored her.
Being rambunctious little guys, they got into all kinds of innocent trouble. They were also inseparable. They did everything together. And, they had very favorable traits for the time, being hard workers and good students in school. Christine returned to teaching. With their own mother as a teacher, the boys learned to respect her in the classroom and listen to her guidance at home. She thought nothing of punishing them when they talked in school, sometimes more harshly than even the rudest children. To her credit though, she recognized the value of leaving school at school. She was a warm presence in their lives, and a very loving mother.
She and Caleb tried many times to have another child, without success, and gave up--simply enjoying what they had. Then suddenly when the boys (Samuel--now Sammy, and Thomas--now Tommy) were twelve years old Christine found herself pregnant. They were thrilled! Eight months later their baby sister, May, was born. Tish was still around but now well into her eighties. She assisted with the successful birth, and a secret circle within Caleb's heart - one that had been broken and had once held Tish partly responsible for Mary Ellen's death - was finally complete. He finally knew for sure, that Tish had tried her best.
May had fiery red hair and the family doted on her excessively. At the age of four, May was even more of a handful than both the boys had been. She had tomboy proclivities, but was an exceedingly beautiful child. The boys would bring her with them to the pond when they fished. And they kept her nearby them, each in turn, as they went about their chores. She loved to help out, and had an amazing dexterity for tying rope and making little animals out of silk scraps.
Her favorite activity though was harvest time. She sat at the little table that Sammy had made for her and faithfully pulled the husks off of the corn and rinsed the vegetables. She never tired of working. She didn't quite have the boys' interest in books, laughing and tossing them to the ground when people tried to read with her, but her spirit was a living light in the household.
She was tough and wise in the ways of nature; as if she had been taught about it before coming to earth. When their dog, Gypsy, was no longer able to stand up on his own, stopped eating and whimpered at night, Tommy explained to May that sometimes the most merciful thing for an animal was to be "sent to heaven where he would be young again forever," so he wouldn't be in misery anymore. She cried bitterly at this thought and ran to her room. But later that evening, just before dinner, she came back out and sat on Tommy's lap. She pointed to Gypsy and said, "heaven needs good doggies too." He looked over at his father. Caleb looked back and nodded.
The next day after the unpleasant, but necessary task had been done, May led the prayer at Gypsy's small funeral, then used her little shovel to help the boys dig Gypsy's grave. She did not cry. And, looking up at the puffy clouds in the sky, said, "I see him! I see Gypsy! He's happy now." The next day she gave Tommy a little red dog she had made out of silk with Tish's help.
At about this time in the family's life together, the boys began to have minor disagreements. The politics of the country was becoming very heated and it spared not this home. Very serious divisions between the North and the South were developing.
Family discussions around the dinner table would sometimes become quite contentious. Where Caleb and Tommy were Republicans and supported ending slavery, Sammy tended to think the Southern landholders should be able to decide for themselves how to run their farms and society. He had visited his Uncle Thomas - who had moved to South Carolina after things didn't work out with his fiancee - each summer to work as a foreman-in-training at his farm.
* * *
As the next few years passed, Sammy's views evolved and hardened. He had no love for slavery. He believed that blacks were human beings. His uncle felt the same way and only had freemen working for him. Yet, Sammy understood well just how indelibly tied to the economy slavery had become. He believed the South would free the slaves over time. He began to go to political rallies with his uncle. Though he objected to slavery in an ideal world, he fully decided that abruptly ending it would cause anarchy and ruin the economy, not just of the South but nationwide.
When back in his Mid Atlantic home town and almost 18 years old, he was not popular for his views. Though other towns in Maryland were more sympathetic to the South, his father's was not. And, as much as he would try to reason with his friends and relatives, he met with only a growing distain.
The family's peace was disappearing over the polarizing issues that the nation was facing. In one especially nasty argument, he accused his father of loving Tommy more. He directly asked if there was a reason.
Caleb knew in his mind that Tommy was more like his birth mother. He had certain mannerisms that reminded his father of her cheerful disposition. But, he would never tell Sammy this. He did love both boys equally and tried never to show favoritism. Christine, knowing of Caleb's unconscious predisposition for Tommy--the first of the boys to look at him. She often tried to make up for this by being just a bit more attentive to Sammy. She even sat with him late into the nights, carefully listening to his arguments for "keeping the South free." In a way, she was slightly swayed by him. He was an excellent debater. She admired his passion, and told him so.
But, this evening was different. The day before, November 6, Abraham Lincoln had been elected. While most people around him felt a new optimism, Sammy was quite distraught. He felt betrayed by his father and brother; by his whole town.
He had never been so direct with his father. Tommy stood up and got in Sammy's face, saying, "Papa doesn't love me more, he just understands you less." Although, Tommy meant this as a way to calm things down, it backfired. The boys were about the same size, with Sammy being just a tad bit more robust. When he pushed his brother back and then slapped him, Caleb stepped up between the boys and held them apart. Tommy had had enough of his disrespectful brother, brushed by his father and leaped on Sammy, punching him as hard as he could in the stomach, causing him to fall to his knees.
Reeling in pain from the blow, and unable to breath for a moment, Sammy looked up red faced, with tears in his eyes. Feeling that the whole family was against him, he rose to his feet, pulled his shirt down tightly over his pants in as dignified a way as he could, and walked by his brother and father. His mother stood in the hall with a very elderly Tish. Christine tried to take his hand. And Tish said, "It okay babeh, God work in his own tam." Sammy, pulled away from his mother's grasp and looked down at Tish. He said, "Tish, sometimes man must remind God what time it is." Then, he opened the door and walked out. Taking his favorite horse from the barn, he decided to ride all the way to South Carolina, intending to live with his sympathetic uncle.
He stopped in town and woke up the general store owner's son--his good friend, David. David, let him into the store, where he bought a small canvas tarp, two thick blankets, a canteen, bread and dried beef, then looked at the guns in the case behind the counter. One in particular caught his eye. It was a Colt 1860 Army 40 caliber revolver. Practically brand new--only used once by a colonel who was accidentally shot and killed by another soldier that same year. David's father had bought it only two weeks earlier. It had a fluted cylinder, was engraved, fitted with ivory grips, and small enough to fit under his coat with it's 5 1/2" barrel. David told him the pistol was created on custom order. It was expensive though, $25. Sammy decided that he needed it. He also picked up a box of 50 rounds, for $1. Sammy had an account at the store. He charged it all. He also had no cash on him and asked David for an advance of $50 cash--charged to his father's account. David had no problem doing this, since Caleb was quite wealthy.
David was concerned about his friend. "Sammy, you are coming back here?"
"I love you like a brother, David, and I can not lie to you. I may not be back for many years."
Somehow David knew he would never see Sammy again. "May the Lord watch over you, Sammy." The two friends hugged, and Sammy left with his supplies.
It took three days to reach South Carolina. He rode most of each day and stopped along the road at night to camp. Uncle Thomas met Sammy at the door, gave him a big hug and welcomed him in. He listened carefully to Sammy's account of the fight with his brother. His nephew complained bitterly about how blind the people in his town were, and that "...now Lincoln is going to destroy the nation!"
The two went to bed, Sammy sleeping in the guest room--what would become his room. And, in the morning he felt much better. He was promoted to foreman at Thomas' farm. He was a good foreman too. The men under him - some much older than he - grew to respect his fairness in the coming months. He also got to know the few freeman and respected their keen abilities both physical and mental. Some were direct descendants of the volunteer militia of color who had defended New Orleans during the War of 1812.
One day he was riding back to the farm and passed his neighbor's house. There was a lot of yelling going on. Curious, he rode up to the barn and saw his neighbor and three other white men standing in front of a black man who was kneeling next to a stump. He dismounted and walked over to them. "Afternoon, Jeb!"
His neighbor smiled, "Afternoon, Sammy!"
"What's going on here?" the naive young man asked.
"Well, Sammy, we just discovered that old Abe here, been stealing hens and fryin up!"
"Is that so?" Sammy looked down at Abe, who looked ashamed, and nodded.
"Trying to decide what to steal from him!" Jeb said, tapping his boot on the ground. "I was just tellin' the boys that Abe got nothin' of value, besides his big-ole hands."
Abe shook uncontrollably, "I...I...gots deez hans to be helpin' ya Massa. I...I... gonna gives ya some a dat money I done saved fo my little girl wedding, sah..."
Sammy was uncomfortable watching what was going on."Pardon me for asking, Jeb, but how many hens did ole Abe take?"
"Three." Jeb said, looking down at Abe.
"It wah ownee two, sah..." said Abe, sweating profusely.
"Now, Abe, we seen another missin' on this very morin'. What ah the chances, she just climbed out ah that locked hen house an run away? Or, maybe the local fox got hold ah the key?" The other three men laughed.
Abe just looked down and closed his eyes. Hi lips were quivering in prayer. "Jeeza, Jeeza, have mercy on ya son, Jeeza..."
Sammy, paced around a bit looking behind the barn, hoping to see the lost hen. Jeb, was not in such a bad mood anymore. "Well, I had you many yees now, Abe. You been a good niggah; aint caused me much trouble. I think we gonna let you keep those big-ole hands ah yours."
"Tank ya so much, Massa. I'd beed so gratefo to ya, sah!"
"But I can't let ya go without sendin a message to the othahs, ya know..."
"Massa, I beed good now on! I tell dem myself, how Massa been so mercifo on this bright day; sah! How he spayed me my hands; ya, how stealin' is so wrong."
"Well... I appreciate that, Abe," said Jeb, and Abe smiled up the men.
Jeb put his work gloves back on and turned to go, then stopped. He looked at one of the men, and said, "Just take the pinkah off each hand."
"Yes, sah." the man replied.
Jeb, put his arm over Sammy's shoulders, and turned him around guiding him up toward the house. Behind them, they heard "No!! NO! Plee, no! AAAAAggg!!"
Jeb felt Sammy shudder. "It's the way things must be done, son. Were it my daddy, ole Abe be hangin from that big oak over there. He didn't stand for a single infraction from his niggahs." Sammy said nothing. Even, if his old dog Gypsy had killed three hens, his father wouldn't have punished him. He felt so sick. Jeb offered a lemonade. "Gert makes is real sweet. We just got five pouns ah brown sugah, Sammy! Best around!" Sammy politely declined, tipped his hat and walked back to his horse.
As Sammy started back down the driveway to the road, Jeb walked out onto the porch and sat down. He called out to his young neighbor, "The things ya saw today, son? No need for Thomas to hee this story."
"No sir, of course not... Afternoon, Jeb!"
"Afternoon, Sammy!"
Just then two hens ran out from under the porch. Sammy ran over and grabbed them. He looked at the hens and then at Jeb. With serious expression on his face, he walked back to the porch handing the birds to Jeb, who looked as pale as a bedsheet. "Well," Jeb said, "I be damned."
Sammy looked him in the eyes, and just said, ".......maybe....."
It was a slow and contemplative ride back to the farm. Sammy turned the events of the day over and over in his mind. Why were some men so cruel? Did they not fear that God would never condone one man torturing another? He loved the Southland, and he loved the slow informal culture, the kindness of folks to each other, but he hated slavery.
A freeman might receive a fine or do a month in jail for theft. Slaveholders decided their own forms of justice, aside from what the law might deal out. This seemed wrong to him. But, the law itself allowed for this. Colored people weren't free. They were property. And under Southern laws a man had the right to do anything he wanted with his property. As Sammy sat alone in his room, he vowed that after the South got laws passed in Washington to determine its own future, he would work to put an end to slavery, at least in South Carolina.
More weeks passed and he and his uncle began attending larger and larger rallies and speeches in favor of secession. South Carolina was leading the way. Where Sammy had once thought a unified nation was a self-evident requirement, he now fully supported the idea that a second nation could bring a balance to America in these turbulent times.
On December 15th, Sammy and his uncle traveled to Columbia, South Carolina when they learned there would be a Secession Convention on the 17th. There was revolution in the air. It was exciting. Sammy imagined that this must have been what it was like 84 years earlier, when the founding fathers of the United States met in Philadelphia. There was a particularly festive atmosphere as the day approached. Sammy was proud to be in the first state to take action against the aggressive rule of the North--a region completely foreign to most Southerners. Besides manufactured goods, the South really had no need for the North. They could build their own factories and warehouses. The South could become the flower of American culture!
On December 20, three days before Sammy's 18th birthday, South Carolina official announced secession. It truly did lead the way. It had extensive and well-maintained railroads, 46% of the households in the state owned at least one slave. Everyone knew war was coming. In another month South Carolina troops fired upon Star of the West in Charleston harbor and then shortly after, six more states seceded. It had begun.
The men of South Carolina were mobbing the recruitment offices to enlist in what they thought would be a great and romantic struggle between the good South and the evil North, and Sammy made sure he was among the first in line.
Back in Maryland the folks of Tommy's town were not as enthusiastic about war. Caleb was dead-set against it. He thought that slavery would eventually be abolished anyway in the South. Kansas had just joined the US, and specifically prohibited slavery. He thought that as the west was settled, the idea of men owning other men would become unthinkable in one more generation.
Tommy, on the other hand, was a very idealistic and energetic young man. He convinced David and several other friends to join the Federal Army along with him. After enlisting, he told his father what he had done. Caleb was not pleased, and told Tommy that what he was about to face would be a bloodbath. Caleb had never been a soldier but he had many friends in town who had fought the Mexicans only a few years earlier and their accounts of the butchery and horror of the battlefield frightened him. Late in night after Tommy's revelation, the young man heard his father weep under the muted comforts of his mother in their bedroom. He was not deterred by this though.
In his mind, Tommy meant to find his brother and persuade him to join the Northern effort to preserve the Union. He didn't know just how devoted Sammy had become to the Confederate cause.
When the day came for Tommy to leave, the family gathered on the front porch of the farm. Everyone was being strong for him. But, little May - usually a fearless little child - cried and ran up throwing her arms around his legs. He bent down and picked her up, saying, "Baby girl! Don't you cry. I'm coming back real soon, and I'm bringing Sammy with me!"
She stopped crying for a moment and her green eyes met his blue eyes. "You promise, Tommy?"
"I promise, May. And look..." he pulled out the little red dog she'd made for him. "I'll have Gypsy to keep me company..." He lightly shook it, "...ruff, ruff, ruff!" May smiled and hugged him around the neck. He pinned the dog right over his heart.
Caleb gave him $100, and hugged him, then stepped back. Christine stepped up, her eyes soaked and red, "DO bring your brother back." He nodded and kissed her forehead.
Then, he walked over to Tish who broke down, in her special flowered dress. "Tommah, you be ma hero, ya know?"
He bent down and kissed her forehead. "No Tish, you have always been my hero. You take good care of these folks. Change is coming to this land. Your brothers and sisters are going to be free soon."
He stepped down off of the porch and mounted his horse. He sat grandly in his uniform--handsome, and stately, the image of a true man, going off to fight for the most righteous cause in history. They watched him gallop away down the road. And, Caleb whispered to Christine, "Now fear I have lost them both."
Tommy was assigned to the Union Army of the Potomac, commanded by Major General Ambrose Burnside. They were already marching through Virginia, where forward positions were being established along the Rappahannock River, near Fredericksburg.
For a few months before, Sammy had been with General Robert E. Lee's Confederate Army of Northern Virginia. They knew Burnside would be coming and were very strongly established behind massive defensive lines along the river and in the nearby hills. Burnside had little idea just what he was getting himself into.
When the Union troops had gathered in Falmouth, Tommy arrived. Sammy had been camped out near the town center of Fredericksburg, but was ordered to the plain just below Marye's Heights. His intuition was told him that his brother was nearby. He felt it in heart and not just in his mind.
By December 11, Burnside was well established along the eastern side of the river and finally prepared to assemble the pontoon bridge needed to cross it--which he did under considerable fire before sunrise. Many Union soldiers were lost building it and then crossing it.
It was a half-baked plan from the start. Sharpshooters in the cellars of buildings downtown picked off blue shirts, and were very hard to get to. When the Union army finally washed into town, they faced desperate street to street fighting. It was the first urban combat of the war. Once the Union had successfully occupied the town, the soldiers went crazy looting and pillaging, setting fire and destroying everything they could.
General Lee and the confederate soldiers in other parts of the town and the hillsbeyond were mortified. Even the Union soldiers around Tommy at Marye's Heights were appalled at the actions of their fellows in town when they heard the news.
After Sammy had been sent into the town earlier in the day and fought bravely, killing two Union soldiers and discovering he was an excellent shot, he left with the others, falling back. His commanding officer, realizing he had a potential sharpshooter in his midst, assigned him to a hidden spot on a hill in Marye's Heights, where he and a small platoon of other shooters camped for two days, under Longstreet, but specifically with McMillan.
On December 13th, Tommy joined a column under Nagle. When the battle to take the Heights began, he watched wave after wave of Union troops storm the hills only to be cut down before the Confederate entrenchment.
Sammy himself had been responsible for four more Union deaths, but his position was discovered and he had to fall back around and nearer the middle of the hill, where he was now assembled with other men to repel the next Union charge. He felt odd, somehow. He was good at this. He hated the carnage but was high on adrenaline and inspired by the momentum of relative Confederate success with defending these hills.
Tommy was not feeling as hopeful. He'd not even been in battle yet. Dozens of wounded men passed him by. He knew he would soon be called to charge. While feeling terror, he also was still driven by his ideals. The stories of the sacking of the city by his own fellow soldiers, and this forced butchery by his commanders was wearing on him. He just wanted to get in there and do what he could to end the carnage and show the true moral fortitude of the Union's cause.
Eventually, the call came to line up. The men around him were shaking. Some looked around as if they intended to run away. But, they were packed in too tightly. There was no escape. This was going to be done, no matter what. When the inevitability of it all sank into Tommy's mind, he felt oddly calm. He was resigned to his duty--whatever the cost. He reached up and touched the little red dog over his heart. The order to load came, and he kept repeating the list of procedures he'd learned over and over again, so that he could reload without thinking once the shooting began. Then came the word: "CHARGE!"
His column began to march and then ran up the hill. Immediately, the man to his left fell, then the one to his right. Before long he was in a greatly thinned out group, pressed up against a short wall. He could not even see the rebels. How could he fire when he had no one to fire at?
A shot blew off a chunk of the wall, spraying his face with bits of hot stone. He couldn't stay there. Peering around the edge of the wall, he saw a clear way to move up the hill through a small ravine. Two other men from his division ran up to the shelter of the wall just next to him. He pointed to the ravine and they nodded. The three ran out from the back of the wall and settled at the base of the ravine. When they thought they hadn't been seen, they began climbing.
Just above them, two of the men standing with Sammy saw a blue blur just off to their right. Fearing that they were about to be flanked, they tapped Sammy's shoulder and pointed. Then they charged down and over into the ravine. They had the high ground, but one of Tommy's fellows shot Sammy's rifle right out of his hands. Thinking quickly, Sammy reached into his holster and drew his Colt pistol, returning fire and killing the one who had shot at him.
One of the guys beside Sammy opened fire killing Tommy's other companion. Now it was left to Tommy to choose which of the three men above him he would aim at. He shot one of them in the thigh and then rolled over behind a tree. A shell exploded about 15 feet away, leaving a large cloud of smoke between him and the opposing men in the ravine.
Sammy looked over and saw that the his one remaining support was now lying face down with half of his head missing, hit by shrapnel.
Tommy propped himself up on his elbows, but became aware that a warm liquid was pouring down his stomach. Shrapnel had ripped into his belly. He rolled over onto his back pulling his coat open and then his shirt up. Pain didn't hit him until he saw the deep hole just above his navel.
Now alone and not being able to see below him, Sammy just decided to run down into the ravine and shoot anyone he found there. He ran passed the tree where Tommy lay, then stopped, looking up.
The very first thing his eyes fell upon was the little red dog May had made, pinned onto Tommy's uniform. The coat was open, but a fold in the pocket clearly revealed the dog. A chill passed over Sammy. "Tommy?" He cautiously approached, "Tommy, man, is that you?"
Recognizing his brother's voice immediately, Tommy raised his head, "S..Sammy?"
Sammy fell down beside Tommy and saw his stomach. "Jesus, no!" He pulled off his pack and located a spare shirt, pressing it against Tommy's wound. "You're gonna be fine, Tommy! Hold on brother! How can this be? How did you? I do not understand. Jesus, Jesus!!"
"I can't feel my feet, Sammy. Help me!"
They heard voices on the ridge above. Confederates. "Shhhh! Tommy, be quiet!"
Tommy reached out and put a bloody hand on Sammy's neck. "Help me!"
"Hey!" came a voice above. It got louder, "Hey, hey!!"
When the soldier above then reached the tree, he thought he saw two men wrestling. The blue coated man looked to be choking the gray coat. He drew his sidearm and pointed it at Tommy. By instinct alone, Sammy immediately raised his pistol and shot his own compatriot straight through the chest. As the man dropped to his knees with a puzzled look on his face, he raised the gun again, pulling the trigger, sending a bullet into Sammy's neck, right above Tommy's hand.
Sammy fell on top of Tommy, who rolled him off. "No! No! Sammy!" Apparently, no one else was aware of what was going on in the ravine, as Tommy's cries were not heard. He held his palm over the hole in Sammy's neck. Sammy, gurgled as they looked at each other.
Tommy was feeling the life drain out of himself; his sight grew dim and dizziness overtook him. The two lay there soaked in each other's blood. They had once shared the same womb--the same day of birth. And, now they were dying together. They looked at each other, neither able to speak.
The cool winter breeze blew up around the hill, chasing the smoke up into the sky. The sounds of guns and bombs faded away, and golden light scintillated off every leaf. The sun shown through the bare hardwoods above them, illuminating the place where they lay.
There was no more pain. They both heard a voice in front of them. It sounded like the wind filtering through water... A beautiful woman with glowing yellow hair stood over them, "My boys. I've watched you through all of these years. Look how strong and handsome you became! So brave, so daring. You're about to give your lives for your friends. Yes, my sister raised you well."
They could no longer see anything but this woman before them. But, they could suddenly hear each other's voices in their heads. "Mother?" Tommy said.
"Yes," the woman answered, smiling widely. They suddenly knew the entire story, and were beginning to understand everything about the world they'd in which they'd lived for only two decades. "I've come to bring you back to the place where your spirits came from."
"Heaven?" Sammy asked.
"Ha, ha! Much better than any heaven you were taught about, Sammy. So much better. We will leave your shadows behind to indwell this place where so many were lost in your world, and gained in ours. In this way--through the addition of your energy today, the country you fought for will not forget the devotion of your generation. In the future, another soldier of a different sort will stay near this place for a very short time. He will rediscover the story of our lives. But, for us, It is time to go..."
* * * * * * *
I grew tired, but looked forward to writing the above the next day. Climbing into the tent, I went to zip the flap shut, and something caught my eye. Above, on the roadside and facing me, I thought I saw the silhouettes of two men standing. I rubbed my eyes and when I looked again they were gone...
Fredericksburg Sleep Spot 2
Reading along and not far, so now little way through looking up "Mary Washington" . . . finding various origins . . SEE: http://knox.libguides.com/c.php?g=50308&p=322036 . . . leads me to "use of quotations" for some reason
ReplyDeleteHmmm , HERE IS QUOTE from that site . . .
"Generally, when you use the ideas of another person you can either provide a direct quote or paraphrase those ideas in your own words. Either way, you still need to cite them.
"In literary studies the exact language used by the author - especially for complex critical or theoretical ideas is often key to getting the idea across. In some cases, when you paraphrase something complex, you may be watering down or loosing the essence of what the writer is saying.
"If that is the case - then quote the 1st time you refer to the idea. If you refer to it again, you can paraphrase or summarize.
"But, when the language isn't all that complex, then paraphrasing often works the information more smoothly into your argument.
"Either way, you don't want your paper to be a patchwork of quotations or paraphrases! So, make sure you work both quotations and paraphrases carefully into the text of your argument.
"Also, always remember that this assignment is not meant to just be a regurgitation of other critics ideas.
"You need to use your sources as you make your own argument or analysis."
ell: . . . so looking for other clues, reading YOUR POST further ...:
"Set up for the lone nature lover" ( --Alex titled picture and i love it!! --ell)
. . . reminds me of being a kid and have not one, but TWO outhouses, one close, the other far. Very pleasant! ..clean, fresh, quiet, ORGANIC, both well-cared-for, one close but the other a PLACE of contemplation ..and.. "Set up for the lone nature lover" for a very good reason, besides! Oh, those were the days . .
..skimming your "story" and need to go read it through. Thanks for great stuff, Alex --ell
Whoa, ALEX!! GREAT story, can picture it on Netflix as a series, actually. Your mind?? ..or who's? TERRIFIC! Even as a radio show - can "hear" it play out over installments. END could be voices "over drinks" on the first next place, maybe? --ell
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Ellen! I'm a bit fuzzy on the recitation of the use of quotes? Was there a place I should have used them and didn't or maybe used them incorrectly? Either way, glad you enjoyed the story! I keep going through and finding typos to fix. Ha!
ReplyDeleteOh no, not about you Alex, but for all we literary buffs who follow you and may even quote you or other authors. It came up while investigating "Mary Washington" --ell
ReplyDeleteOh, I get it! :-)
Delete