Raintree County

by Ross Lockridge

  —Lookee there, Jack, Flash said, pointing to a distant slope south of the city.

  A river of dull blue was pouring there, and myriad flashes played on its crest. Both men knew instantly what it was.

  —There’s the Army, Johnny said. Both men looked with love and hunger.

  —Are they over the river?

  —I don’t know, Flash said. I wish to hell they were over the river.

  —I think they’re too far back, Johnny said.

  Another troop of Rebel cavalry rode along the road below them a quarter of a mile away.

  —They aren’t going to waste all those men on us.

  —Where’s our goddam calvary? Flash said through clenched teeth. I always hated those bastards.

  They stayed for an hour hiding behind the wall, taking turns at standing watch over the road and the house.

  —Pretty soon, Flash said, part of our Corps will come up and cross, and we’ll be all right.

  —No use getting alarmed, Johnny said. Let’s have a smoke.

  They both took out cigars, lit up, and lay in the wall angle smoking. This place where two walls met began to seem the best place in the world to be, except back home.

  —I thought that there calvary troop was goin’ to cut us up, Flash said. Maybe they didn’t see us after all.

  —Of course, Johnny said, the woman must have told them.

  —She may have been a Union sympathizer.

  —She didn’t sound like it.

  The two men lay and puffed on their cigars. Their loaded muskets leaned against the wall. They began to feel perfectly safe. It seemed absurd that with a big Union Army enveloping the capital of South Carolina, the Rebels would take the time to exterminate two bummers in a wall corner.

  —Let’s have something to eat, Johnny said, and wait for some of our cavalry to come up and clean these guys out.

  They opened their knapsacks and got out some food. They had meat sandwiches and apples.

  —Nice little picnic, Jack. All we need is a bottle of corn and some women.

  The meat was pork, cold and salty between hunks of moist bread. They drank a little water from their canteens, and then lay back again and lit cigars. They got to talking about the War and Raintree County. They lay for a long time smoking and talking.

  —I’m sick and tired of all this fightin’ around, Flash said. I’ll be glad to git back to the ole county. I’m goin’ to live peaceful the rest of muh life, git me a lil gal, marry her, and settle down. I been a bastard long enough, and God mus’ be a-gittin’ tard of it.

  Not long after, a sound of shooting broke out down the river to the west, a halfmile distant. Soon a band of Rebel cavalry rode up from the river. One of them had a roughly bandaged arm. They passed from sight before the farmhouse, the hoofbeats stopped, then started again, going up the road.

  A minute later, a small band of horsemen rode up the lane to the point where Johnny and Flash had crossed the railfence and run through the field.

  —Cuss it! Flash said, surely they ain’t goin’ to come up after us now.

  —They don’t even know if we’re up here, Johnny said. Can you see?

  Flash was peering through a chink he had made near the top of the wall.

  —They’re pintin’ up here, he whispered. I think one of ’em wants to ride up. They look like just kids. Now they’re goin’ to ride away. No, now they’ve turned, and one of ’em is arguin’ with ’em again. He wants ’em to come up here.

  —How many are there?

  —Six, Flash said. Prob’ly them same guys. What they been doin’ all this time? Now the others are startin’ to ride back, but this one guy—yes—he’s waitin’ and lookin’ up here. Now I think—I think he’s—yes, he’s comin’ on up alone. Here he comes.

  Flash began to run his hand up and down the stock of his musket.

  —Don’t shoot unless you have to. It’ll bring ’em all.

  —He’s comin’ straight up. We’ll have to shoot ’im. The others are out of sight. He don’t think we’re here, but he’s comin’ up to see.

  —How far is he?

  —About fifty yards. When I say so, raise up and let ’im have it.

  —Where is he?

  —He’s above us now. He’s goin’ to cross the wall up there on our side. All right, let ’im have it.

  Johnny stood up. There was a young officer on a small gray horse, approaching the wall. Looking down the barrel, Johnny saw a man’s face startled like one who has discovered danger but hasn’t yet had time to be afraid of it.

  The two rifles banged. Through the smoke, a riderless horse plunged and ran away.

  —Come on! Flash said. Let’s git to the river!

  The two men ran down the stem of the T, toward the woods. It was a long way down. The brown grass of the preceding summer was thick. There were evergreen shrubs along the wall. Sooner than seemed possible, several mounted Rebels appeared along the wall where their comrade had been shot.

  Each of the two runners rammed home a shot running.

  The horsemen fired a volley. Unhurt, Johnny bounded over a brush heap and ran into a wood thick with saplings and briars. He skirted a briar patch, looking for a place to take shelter.

  He looked back. Flash Perkins had one knee on the ground beside a tree, his rifle up and sighted. His body jumped with the shot. Someone in the field beyond the woods said in a cheery voice,

  —Dismount and spread out, boys. Don’t go straight in on ’em.

  Flash got up and started toward Johnny. He had his hand low over his left breast almost on his stomach. His face was dead white.

  Fifty feet away, he stopped to lean against a tree. There was a noise of thrashing in the underbrush.

  —Go on in deep, boys, came the cheery voice from the field, and cut ’em off. I think we hit the big bastard.

  Flash leaned heavily against the tree, loading his rifle. A dripping stain spread slowly on his shirt. His face was turned away. Johnny ran to him.

  Flash was crying. Strong sobs wrenched at his set teeth. They seemed to Johnny the most terrible sound he had ever heard.

  —Git out a here! Flash said suddenly in his high, arrogant voice. Go on, git out!

  —No, I’m staying, Johnny said.

  —Git out, goddamn you! Flash said. Run fer it! No use both of us gittin’ kilt! Git out and run! They’ll never ketch you in this woods.

  In the cool shadow of the forest, Flash took Johnny by the shoulders and shoved him.

  —Go on, git!

  He clutched his side and sat down under the tree. His eyes closed. Johnny didn’t say anything about the wound. There was nothing to be said about a wound like that. He looked around. They were close to the field where at least one Confederate had stayed to watch while the others had gone in wide around. There were a number of stones lying near at the beginning of a rocky gully that ran toward the river.

  —We can get down there in that hollow and pile up some rocks and hold ’em off, Johnny said. Can you walk, Flash?

  —Give me a hand, Flash said.

  There was a hurt, childish look in his eyes. He walked over to the gully and sat down in a depression. Johnny ringed the place with rocks. He heard the Rebels calling to each other deep in the woods.

  —Hey, Jake.

  —Yeh.

  —See anything?

  —Naw. How about you, Lester?

  —Naw, not a thing. I think they ain’t gone in fer. They’re layin’ up.

  —Hey, Fred!

  —Yeh? yelled the cheery voice from the field, about where Johnny had entered the woods.

  —Sure they ain’t stayed right there by the field?

  —I’ll see, the man said.

  Through the branches Johnny drew a bead on a man riding warily along the fringe of the woods. The man was hidden before he could get a clean shot.

  —Ever’body dismount and move up toward me, the man in the field yelled, out of sight now.

  Flash was lying full length on th
e ground.

  —In the back, he said. Clean through. Christ!

  —Listen, Flash, they got us surrounded. Think we ought to surrender?

  —They won’t leave us to, Flash said. We already got two of ’em. I wouldn’t take the chance. Try an’ hold ’em off.

  —What if they rush us?

  —They ain’t enough to do that. Only four now. I hit one on my last shot. They’s only that guy in the field out there and three others. They don’t know how bad I’m hit. Unless a lot more comes up, we kin hold ’em off.

  —Can you fire?

  —When I have to, Flash said.

  He sat up, turned over, and rested his shoulder against a rock.

  Johnny quickly tore off his own shirt, wadded it on the two holes front and back, and bound it to place with long strips tied directly around the chest. He couldn’t understand what was keeping Flash alive.

  —Hurt much?

  —Hell, yes, Flash said.

  He had a little color in his face again. Both men kept arranging rocks for rifle rests.

  —Pretty good riflepit, Flash said. They’ll have to shell us out of here.

  He sounded cheerful.

  For about five minutes, Johnny heard and saw no movement in the woods around him. Then Flash’s rifle boomed with a big sound that lasted a long time in the woods along the river.

  —Hell, missed ’im! Flash said, reloading.

  —Where?

  —Right down there in the ravine. He’s hid behind a rock there now. Next time, I’ll tear his head off. He don’t dare move.

  —Hey! said the cheery voice from the edge of the field. Was that you, Jake?

  A voice from the ravine yelled,

  —I got ’em spotted, Fred. They’re right at the head of this here cut.

  —Well, le’s go in and git ’em.

  —I cain’t.

  The voice was exasperated.

  —Why not?

  —I cain’t move fum behind this here rock.

  —Wasn’t that you that shot?

  —Hell, no. That was them.

  —What you goin’ to do?

  —Hell, I don’t know. What you goin’ to do?

  There was no reply.

  —I’ll keep this guy nailed behind that rock, Flash whispered. You watch for the others.

  Johnny searched the woods carefully. He had a view in every direction for about fifty yards, although there were many trees, rocks, and clumps of bushes behind which a man might take cover. At last he caught a flicker of movement on the right. A Rebel had just moved behind a tree.

  —Hey, Bob, yelled the man Flash had pinned down. They right in front of you. Be keerful, son!

  The Rebel behind the tree leaned out and took a quick look and was back in before Johnny could fire.

  —Behind that there little pile of rocks? he said.

  —That’s right.

  The Rebel leaned out and took a quick shot at Johnny who squeezed off at the same instant. The two rifles made one explosion. The woods shook. Johnny had hardly finished loading, when something socked him in the shoulder and knocked him flat as if someone had hit him with a spade. The report of a rifle, fired from behind him, echoed away in the woods.

  Just then Flash fired and began to reload frantically. Johnny did the same, finding that he could use his arms, although the left one felt numb all the way down. Blood spilled down on the rocks around him.

  —Got ’im! Flash said. Got ’im!

  He cursed, trying to ram home a cartridge.

  —O, hell, he crawled away. But that’s one ain’t goin’ to charge us.

  Two shots came almost together out of the woods and spanged on the rocks, burning splinters into Johnny’s face.

  —Listen, Flash said. Don’t fire unless you got a sure thing. If we’re both empty same time, they’ll rush us while we’re reloadin’.

  —I’m hit, Johnny said.

  —How bad?

  —Left shoulder. High up, I think.

  He looked cautiously out between two stones toward the quarter from which the wounding shot had come. Flash had shifted over a little to cover the man whom Johnny had first seen on his right.

  There was a crash, and dust blew into Johnny’s face as a bullet thumped the ground in front of him. He sighted at the smokecloud forming in some bushes about forty yards away. Catching the glint of a rifle barrel, he squeezed off, ducked, and an answering shot scotched the covering rock.

  From then on, it was give and take, the two wounded men firing rarely, just enough to keep the three Rebels careful. After a while, the Rebels stopped firing.

  —Hey, Jake! said the cheery voice of Fred, who had come in from the field.

  There was no answer.

  —Jake!

  Down the ravine there was no answering sound. Flash Perkins chuckled and groaned at the same time.

  —Jake’s absent, teacher, he said.

  He was sobbing again between clenched teeth. There was a silence. After a while, the cheery voice said,

  —Hey, you! Yanks!

  —What d’yuh want, you goddam Reb? Flash said.

  It was the old high, hard, nasal rasp, jabbing and crowding.

  —Jest wanted to see if you was still there, said the cheery voice.

  At this all three of the Confederates laughed. When they were through, Flash said,

  —Why don’t you sons-a-bitches go off and play somewheres else? You’re preventin’ us from gittin’ our beauty rest.

  —You a-goin’ to git a good long beauty rest, Yank, the cheery voice said.

  —Hell, yes, said one of the other Rebels.

  The firing began again. For a while the three Rebels yelled back and forth, and Fred, the cheery one, and Flash carried on a conversation.

  —Say, Yank, you shaved that one pretty close. Now that ain’t friendly.

  —Say, Reb, I heard a lot about Southern hospitality. Is this a sample?

  —Say, Yank, you got any coffee?

  —Sure. Come and git yourself some.

  —Not jest now. Little later, I’ll he’p myself freely.

  Then there was a while when no one talked. The Rebels fired savagely, but it was hard to get a good clean shot in the woods.

  Once Flash said,

  —Listen, Jack. These bastards are goin’ to git tired a this after a while. One of ’em’ll go back and git some more.

  There was obviously no answer to this remark. A long period of silence followed, during which Flash didn’t say anything and no one fired. It began to grow dark.

  —Yank!

  Johnny waited for Flash to say something, but Flash didn’t talk.

  —Listen, we got he’p comin’ up, the Rebel said. You fit a good fight. How about surrenderin’ to us?

  Johnny waited to see what Flash would say, but Flash was silent.

  —This yo’ last offer, the voice said. Hit’s a good chance. You fought brave. But with reinforcements we’ll rush yuh, and if we have to do that, we don’t aim to take no prisoners.

  —That’s right, Yank!

  Johnny waited, but Flash didn’t say anything. He was lying on his face.

  —We won’t kill yuh, Yank, the cheery voice said. Word of honor. The word of a Virginia gentleman. Captain Frederick Claymore Jackson.

  Johnny pulled himself around so as to look at Flash.

  —How about it, Flash? he said in a low voice.

  There was no answer. Flash might be dead. It was one against three, a clear case for surrender.

  Nevertheless, Johnny couldn’t get himself to surrender. It wasn’t courage. It was sheer instinct to survive. He didn’t trust the word of Frederick Claymore Jackson, a Virginia gentleman.

  He lay and listened. It was getting darker all the time. For several minutes there had been a sound of trampling horses, distant voices, an occasional shot west along the river. He waited, listening.

  —How about it, Yank? Are y’all gonna come, or are we gonna come and git yuh?

  Johnny
didn’t answer. He rubbed off his sight and waited. He could hear a sound of many horses down by the river. The voices grew louder. They were singing. For a moment the rhythm wasn’t clear. Then he knew what it was.

  —. . . rally round the flag, boys,

  Rally once again,

  Shouting the battle cry of . . .

  —Comrades! Johnny yelled at the top of his lungs. Help! Help!

  Flash Perkins stirred and started to sit up. He didn’t seem to know where he was. His head was above the parapet of stones. Johnny pushed him flat just as a shot went over.

  —All right, boys, said the cheery voice of Captain Frederick Claymore Jackson, le’s git the hell out a here. That there’s Union horse.

  The three Rebels ran off through the brush, making for their horses. The sound of hooves on the near-by road became a little louder and then began to wane. Johnny went on yelling, but apparently no one heard him.

  He stopped calling and sat up. He peered cautiously around. The Rebels were really gone. He could hear them riding off through the field.

  Flash was lying on his face as Johnny leaned over him.

  —Flash! Listen! We’re safe, boy.

  There was a strong wind blowing in high branches, but here on the forest floor the air was quiet and cool and already full of darkness. In spite of the stiff shoulder, Johnny raised Flash and managed to turn him over on his back. Flash’s eyes were closed, but his mouth was open. He was breathing. Johnny put the canteen to the open lips, but the water only spilled down Flash’s beard and over his bloody shirt. Johnny wet his hand and passed it over his comrade’s forehead. He did this for several minutes. Then he heard Flash mumbling something. He bent down. Flash’s eyes were open. They had a set glare.

  —Flash, it’s me—Johnny.

  Flash stared like a sleepwalker. He took deeper and deeper breaths as if he were on the point of saying something. At last he said,

  —Listen, they’re startin’ up. Indynaplis, Greenfield, Beardstown, Freehaven. You hear that, don’t you?

  —Sure, I hear it.

  —Hear that whistle!

  Flash was trying to get up. He had Johnny by the shirt. His powerful hands shook Johnny so hard that he cried out with the pain in his shoulder.

  —Sure, sure. Take it easy, Flash. Just lie down and take it easy.

  Waterstreaks through the powder-black on Flash’s face were dead-white. But his voice was harsh and strong.