Jordan's War - 1861 Page 16

  “You all right?” Jordan asked. He asked the same question about every ten minutes. He was exhausted and he was afraid if Henry slid off the horse, he’d never notice.

  “Uh huh,” Henry muttered through his dry, cracked lips, just as he did for the last fifty times Jordan had asked him.

  Jordan felt a surge of relief wash through him as the sun’s first amber rays illuminated the south pasture. Soon he could see the barn, and at last the farmhouse. He quickened his pace and hoped Henry hung on. Otter announced his return with his usual barking and soon Rusty joined in.

  Jim walked down the path as fast as he could. At first Jordan thought was either Jake or Gunner but realized his mistake as Jim got closer. He clutched one of Pa’s rifles as he walked.

  “Jim!” Jordan hollered. “Get Grandma! Henry’s hurt.” He knew not to say shot as the Home Guard could be anywhere.

  “She knows,” Jim said. “Let me take the horse.”

  Grandma was on the porch, pacing back and forth with her hands clasped in prayer. Selie was in the rocking chair. Willow poked her head out the door then ran back inside. Gunner and Jake raced out to Jim and Jordan. He didn’t see Ma anywhere. Henry leaned out of the saddle but Jordan steadied him.

  “I’ve smelled Grandma’s poultice all night long,” Jake said. “Did you find Eamon?”

  “Yep,” Jordan said, his voice croaked from exhaustion and walking all night in the mountain air.

  “Where’s Finnian?” Gunner asked. “Is that Henry?”

  Just when Jordan thought he couldn’t walk another step, he stopped staring at the top of his boots and looked up. The house was only few yards away.

  “You boys take the horse and get the saddle off,” Jim said. “Then run along and stay out of the way. Take Selie with you. Henry’s going to need a lot of attention.”

  Jim did his best to get Henry off the horse by himself, but ended up needing Jordan’s help. Together they carried Henry inside and lay him down on Jim’s temporary bed the front room. Henry groaned in agony.

  Grandma followed Jordan and Jim inside and walked uncomfortably close to Jordan.

  “Where’s Finnian?” Ma asked the moment Jordan walked inside. “Did you find Eamon?”

  “Yes,” Jordan said. “Uncle Tate and Henry met us on the turnpike. They rode off in another direction after the soldiers started shooting.”

  “Where any of them shot?” Ma asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Jordan answered. He didn’t mention the shot he heard when they were at the spring.

  “Oh, praise Jesus,” Ma said and walked back into the kitchen.

  “What is it Grandma?” Jordan asked when she took his arm and sniffed his shirt.

  “Death,” she muttered.

  “Me?” Jordan asked, his eyes wide.

  “No,” Grandma said and rolled her eyes.

  “How close were you to camp last night?”

  “Pretty close I reckon,” Jordan said. “Henry was too. Does he stink?”

  “He smells of his own wounds,” Grandma said. “You’re not hurt.”

  “I did smell something funny last night,” Jordan admitted. “No one else seemed to notice it.”

  “It’s sickness,” Grandma said. “Just like I told that Sergeant. It’s already taken hold.”

  “What sickness?” Jordan asked and sniffed his shirt. “Am I going to get sick?”

  “It’s ready,” Ma said and removed a pail of boiling water from the fireplace. Willow carried a tray with some rags, a few knives, witch hazel, and a tin cup of whiskey.

  Grandma leaned over Henry and cut his shirt away from his shoulder carefully with one of the knives. Jordan winced when he saw the mangled flesh still oozing watery blood. He’d seen injuries like this many times on deer, turkeys and such, but never on a human.

  “Has he drunk any water?” Grandma asked.

  “No,” Jordan answered.

  “Has he vomited?” Grandma asked.

  “No,” Jordan answered.

  “He’s lost quite a bit of blood,” Grandma said and rubbed his limp hand. “No time to waste.”

  Willow set the tray down on a small table Jim had scooted over to the davenport. Grandma picked up the cup of whiskey.

  “You ain’t going to make him drink that are you?” Jordan asked.

  “Hush up or I’ll make you sit outside,” Ma warned.

  “Oh, he’ll be wanting this soon enough,” Grandma said. “But the first drink is for me.”

  Willow dipped one of the rags in the bucket of hot water, wrung it out as best she could and handed it to Grandma.

  “Ahhhh!” Henry said and sucked air through his clenched teeth.

  “I’m sorry son,” Grandma whispered and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “But that bullet has got to come out. Here, drink this.”

  Jim helped Henry sit up a bit and Grandma held the cup to his lips. Jordan was sure he’d spit it out, but to his surprise, Henry kept drinking until Grandma pulled the whiskey away from his lips.

  “Give me the first wrap,” Grandma said. “It’s not deep at all. Ain’t nothing broken.”

  Willow handed her the wrap of cold water and salt. Grandma held it to the wound and Henry screamed in agony.

  “I’m sorry baby,” she whispered.

  Henry’s eyes rolled back in his head and his breathing was fast and forced.

  “You’ve got to do it now,” Ma said. “Or he’s going to die.”

  Grandma handed the salt wrap back to Willow and grabbed the longest knife off the tray. Ma moved around to Henry’s head and placed a leather strap between his teeth. Grandma dug the blade into the wound and pulled back flesh with her free hand.

  Henry screamed and spit out the leather strap.

  “Hold him,” Ma yelled at Jordan.

  He rushed over and grabbed Henry’s right arm and held it still but turned his head away, too sickened to watch anymore. Henry’s screams got louder and more tortured as Grandma got closer to the bullet.

  “I got it,” she said. “Damn mini-balls. Well, here’s one man it didn’t cripple.” She tossed the metal ball onto the tray. “Willow, give me the poultice.”

  Willow handed her the wrap. It smelled worse than the one Jordan had to wear after Gus ran over him.

  Jordan softened his grip on Henry’s arm and Henry stopped fighting him.

  “Go get him a shirt, Jordan,” Ma said. “All we can do now is wait.”

  “And pray,” Willow added.

  Chapter 22

  Henry whimpered for a few minutes before he drifted off to sleep. At least Jordan hoped he was sleeping. He’d stopped thrashing and crying a while ago, but Jordan kept hold of his wrist and focused on each pulse. The morning breeze was dissipating with each refreshing gust. The poultice was overpowering with the wind and would soon be unbearable in the stagnant mid-day air.

  “What happened down there?” Jim asked when they were alone.

  “Pa and Uncle Tate went into the camp to get Eamon,” Jordan said. “I suppose one of the soldiers saw them and started shooting.”

  “How many soldiers where there?”

  “I don’t know,” Jordan answered. “It was dark.”

  Jim leaned forward in the chair, picked up the cup and drank the rest of the whiskey.

  “You didn’t want any of this did you?” he asked when he saw Jordan staring at him.

  Jordan shook his head, stood up and stretched his back. He would love to open the door but one never knew who was watching the place. His whole body ached and he could only walk for a few minutes before he had to sit back down on the edge of the bed at Henry’s feet. His eyes burned from exhaustion, but he didn’t want to sleep.

  “Did Willow leave?” Ma asked as she came back into the room.

  “Yes,” Jordan answered.

  She picked up the tray and stared suspiciously at the empty tin cup.

  Jordan pointed at Jim when Jim wasn’t looking.

  “She said something about praying,�
�� he added. “God’s got to be tired of hearing from her by now.”

  “God never gets tired of hearing from his children,” Ma reasoned. “I never get tired of hearing from you, do I?”

  “Sometimes,” Jordan said. “Why doesn’t God do something about the war?”

  “Well,” Ma said. “I suppose he’s just like any other Pa. Sometimes you just have to let your children work out their problems on their own.”

  It made sense to Jordan, but this war wasn’t a fist-fight. Folks were dying.

  “Take Henry’s boots off,” Ma said. “Jim, here’s another blanket if he starts to shiver.”

  Jordan bent over and struggled with the countless knots holding Henry’s boots on. It took him a few minutes but he finally pried the last one off and put them in the corner. His feet smelled almost as foul as the poultice.

  “You two stay here and look after him,” she said. “Someone’s got to tend to these fields or we won’t last the winter.”

  “Don’t you want me to help?” Jordan asked. He never got out of chores, not even when he was sick with the fever.

  “No,” Ma said. “We have enough hands. Get Grandma if anything happens.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Jordan said. “Where is Grandma?”

  “Out and about, gathering some ginger,” Ma said. “She’ll be back in a bit. If she doesn’t come back to the house, then she’ll probably be her store room.”

  Jordan leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He listened to Jake and Gunner hollering outside, but soon their voices faded and he was left in the silence of a late spring morning. It was pleasant despite the smell. Jim would cough every now and then but even that didn’t bother him. He wasn’t ready to sleep yet.

  “Why’d you leave the mountain?” Jordan asked, without even opening his eyes.

  It was silent in the room and Jordan opened one eye just to make sure Jim was still in the room.

  “Stupidity I reckon,” Jim said. “I was young and itching to do for myself.”

  “Why work in the mines?”

  “That’s where all the money was being made,” Jim said and shook his head. “Or so I was told.”

  “What’d your pa say when you left?”

  “Nothing. Abe was a man of few words. Had a firm hand though. ”

  “He had to say something.”

  “Nope, not one word.”

  “Didn’t you ever want to come home?”

  “Sometimes,” Jim answered. “Especially when times got tough, like right after Kate and the baby died.”

  Jim’s blue eyes glazed over and a distant smile came across his face.

  “Why didn’t you just come home?” Jordan asked. “You have a perfectly good house right here. And there’s plenty of land. . . . and family.”

  “It’s not that easy,” Jim said. “I’m stubborn, my pa was more stubborn. and the years just slipped away.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Jordan said. “Gunner don’t need to be working in the mines.”

  “Amen to that,” Jim said.

  Jordan leaned over and curled up next to Henry. Soon he was sound asleep.

  Jordan was awakened by a light tapping at the door. He sat up and looked around. He was alone. Henry was still sleeping and there was no sign of Jim or Grandma anywhere.

  His heart stopped when he peered out the door and saw Sergeant Hummel and another soldier standing just outside. He couldn’t hide because they were looking right at him. He rubbed his eyes and stood up and motioned for them to come on in. He was too dizzy and weak to stand up.

  “Is your Pa home?” Sergeant Hummel asked. “I checked at the barn on my way in, but only that one man was there and he didn’t know anything . . . or so he said.”

  “No . . . Pa’s not here,” Jordan said, wondering how Jim got all the way to the barn and what exactly he was doing down there.

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “No.” Jordan couldn’t think of a lie, so he resorted to vagueness.

  “Is your ma or grandma home?”

  “Yes . . . I think so. I was sleeping.”

  “Can you get them for me?”

  “I suppose.”

  “What happened to him?” Sergeant Hummel asked and pointed at Henry.

  “Pitchfork,” Jordan lied. “We were messing around. He called Eamon a bad name and I got a little carried away. It’s alright now though. I feel real bad about it.” Jordan put forth his most remorseful look and hoped it would fool them.

  Sergeant Hummel walked over and pulled down the blanket. The poultice covered the wound so he couldn’t see too much – just a little caked blood on his skin.

  “Are you sure it’s not a gunshot wound?”

  “Sergeant,” the other soldier interrupted. “That’s Tate Sinclair’s boy. I hardly think. . . “

  “I’m not asking you to think,” the sergeant snapped. “But doesn’t it seem odd that a prisoner escapes, this boy’s cousin so I am told, and he just happens to be lying inside the house of the escaped prisoner with a suspicious injury?”

  “Yes sir,” the soldier said.

  Jordan looked past them for any signs of Luke Vander. He didn’t see any other men and there were only two horses outside.

  “It’s from a pitchfork. I’m not lying. Grandma’s the closest thing around here to a doctor,” Jordan explained. “Everyone comes by here when they need fixing. It doesn’t matter if they like us or not. It’s a lot closer than riding to Hillsboro.”

  “Run and get your Grandma boy,” Sergeant Hummel said.

  “I can’t leave him,” Jordan said. “Grandma told me not to.”

  “Then we’ll find her,” Sergeant Hummel said and walked back outside and slammed the door just a little too hard. Dust flew around the room and sparkled in the stream of sunlight from the window.

  “Everybody’s out in the fields,” Jordan hollered.

  He should go warn everyone, but they’d surely see him and besides, they could lie just as well as he could.

  Chapter 23

  Jordan didn’t move and listened for any voices outside. Ma probably had Willow and Selie with her in the garden while Jake and Gunner were off doing other chores. He thought about Gus and which one of the boys he’d be chasing today and was glad it wasn’t him. He felt worthless just sitting there, but he needed to stay with Henry.

  Henry was not thrashing as much as he was earlier and he was no longer shivering. Jordan watched the poultice on his shoulder as it moved up and down with each labored breathed. It was not as pungent as it was earlier and Grandma always said that’s when the medicine was working. He leaned over and lifted up the bandage just a bit and even though the wound looked better than it did when he first saw it, but it was still gaping and bloody.

  He jumped when he heard voices coming from outside. He peered out the door and saw Grandma and Jim outside with the soldiers. Jim was with her, standing with a straight back and even though he looked taller than usual, he still seemed small compared to the other men.

  Jordan crouched down just inside the door so he could listen to their conversation.

  “Did you see us coming in one of your visions?” Sergeant Hummel asked, in a patronizing voice.

  “Don’t take a seer to know when you boys will come snooping around,” Grandma said and sniffed at his shirt sleeve. “All you got to do is take a good deep breath. Your stench arrives at least an hour before you do.”

  Sergeant Hummel took a step backwards. Grandma stepped forward, grabbed his arm and continued to sniff.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, and threw her hand from his shirt while he took a step backwards, careful not to take his eyes off her as he brushed at his sleeve where she had held it.

  “Get your hands off her,” Jim said. “I swear you folks just don’t quit. They ain’t here and no one knows where they are.”

  “You smell of sickness,” Grandma hissed. “I told you this would come to pass. Are any of your men sick yet?”

  “N
o, but one was shot during the escape last night,” Sergeant Hummel said.

  “And you think Finnian had something to do with it?” Jim asked.

  “It is most suspicious.”

  “Maybe folks is just getting tired of you and your boys,” Jim fired back.

  “What happened to the boy inside?” Sergeant Hummel asked, ignoring Jim.

  Jordan held his breath.

  “It was an accident,” Grandma said. “We’re farmers. Accidents happen.”

  “That’s what the boy said,” Sergeant Hummel said. “And I don’t believe either one of you.”

  “Did you just come over here to harass innocent folks?” Jim asked. “Or are you needing something?”

  “We came to get our prisoner,” another soldier said. “And if you’re hiding him, we can arrest you and seize your land.”

  “Those are army lies,” Grandma said to him and took a step forward. Her tone was scathing and Jordan was scared for the soldier.

  “You’ve had to been told that cause you don’t look smart enough to read.” She turned her piercing gaze to the sergeant. “Well, you’ve seen everyone that is here.”

  “We’ll be posting someone here,” Sergeant Hummel said. “Just in case they return.”

  “You do that,” Jim said. “You ain’t going to find nothing.”

  “Private, you stand post on the turnpike,” Sergeant Hummel said. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Yes sir,” the soldier said and hurried off to get his horse.

  “Miss Abigail,” Sergeant Hummel said. “I need to have a word with you.”

  “Go ahead,” she said, and motioned for Sergeant Hummel to come inside through the front door to where Henry lay on the davenport.

  “Alone.”

  Grandma gave Jim the shoo-eye and he limped off around the side of the house and towards the back door into the kitchen, where Jordan had gone to hide and listen. Jordan opened the door when he saw Jim coming and helped him up the crooked steps.

  “Have a seat,” Grandma said, and offered Sergeant Hummel Finnian’s usual chair by the fireplace. She took another seat directly across from him.