“Pshaw!” Joe whacked the salt as if he were mad at it.
“Helena has its swampy places to be sure,” Peter said, “but mainly because there were too many Union soldiers crowded into a small area.” Peter turned over a pork shoulder and layered it with salt. “In the spring, you will be hard pressed to find something as pretty as the hills and ravines when the dogwoods and redbuds are in full bloom.”
Joe thought about it, and Peter had a good point. The hills around Helena were beautiful with the red and white blossoms.
“And where did you ever see and hear prettier birds than up and down Crowley’s Ridge in the spring?” Peter blew at the cut. “I think we see good where we want and bad where we want.”
Peter may be right. Joe remembered the sun peeking over the Mississippi River, and he often thought it was as if God himself was peeking out of Mississippi and into Arkansas. The mighty river was a marvel, too. It seemed a mile wide at Helena. You would have to go to the ocean to see more water at one time.
“I know what Helena is like,” Peter said. “Tell me more about the Shenandoah Valley again. I like hearing it.”
Joe rubbed his hands together, knocking off the salt and leaned on the wooden table. “The Valley is about a hundred miles long.”
“That big?” Peter said. “I figured it to be smaller.”
“In places it is over twenty miles wide. There are mountains to the east and west. The whole valley is gentle rolling hills, and there are streams and small rivers throughout, including the Shenandoah River.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Oh, it is Peter. The farms are well kept, and there are mills everywhere, and beautiful barns.” Joe fell silent. He longed for home even more now that he talked about it. He wanted to splash in the millstreams. He wanted to see the sun climb over the mountains in the mornings.
“What do they grow there?”
“Mostly corn and wheat, but they grow a little of everything. It’s some of the prettiest farmland you will see anywhere.”
“I reckon they have many slaves there with all of that farmland,” Peter said, salting the last ham.
“Some.” Joe wiped his hands on his pants, getting the last of the salt off. “Our neighbor, Mr. Karl Stein and his boys were against slavery. They said they would never fight for the Confederacy.”
“They were abolitionists?”
“I don’t know about that, but they were Mennonites.”
“What are Mennonites?” Peter asked.
“They are church people.” Joe tried to remember more about them, but now it seemed so long ago. “I believe they were Germans.”
Joe and Peter placed the last of the meat in wooden boxes and covered it with a big blanket.
“Did your pa have slaves?”
“Naw. Pa said there wasn’t any work that a Negro could do that he couldn’t.” But Joe remembered his father did hire a slave one time named Jack from his owner, Mr. Culler. Jack helped with planting sometimes. But that wasn’t like owning a slave. Mr. Culler owned him. It was more like a hired hand.
A rider came pounding down the lane. Joe and Peter ran outside. It was a Confederate soldier. He dismounted and Washington took his horse—that was one thing Washington could do. The soldier slid his cap off and went to the front door. Lillie invited him in.
Joe looked toward the house. “What do you reckon?”
Peter rinsed his hands in a bucket and looked past Joe to see the man’s horse. “I’m sure I don’t know, but he has ridden that horse hard.”
“I’m going to slip through the backdoor and see what’s about,” Joe said.
When he opened the door, he heard crying. He looked around the doorway into the parlor. Fanny was on the sofa with her face in her hands, sobbing. Zuey and Lillie were sitting on both sides of her, and Charlie was in the rocker.
“How did it happen, Tom?” Lillie asked.
“We was up around Nonconnah, gonna skirt below Memphis when they jumped us. We thought we had got away clean, but one of them made a long rifle shot. Robert never felt no pain. But Fanny, I’m afraid we couldn’t get him. I’m sure them Yankees saw to his burying.”
Fanny dropped her head on Lillie’s shoulder.
“I shall fetch him home, Fanny,” Charlie said. “Me and the boys will fetch him right home—I declare it.”
Joe was so involved in the story, he hadn’t noticed that Zeke had come up behind him, until he walked by into the parlor.
“Hello Tom,” Zeke said.
Tom stood and shook Zeke’s hand. “Hello, Mr. Taylor. I was telling—”
“I heard.”
Tom turned his cap absently in his hands. “I sure am sorry.”
Tears welled in Zeke’s eyes; he nodded, went to Fanny and stroked her hair as she sobbed on Lillie’s shoulder.
“Mr. Taylor, there is more bad news. The Yankees are on their way back down from Memphis. They are coming from Holly Springs way. The captain believes they will come through New Albany. Sir, you better get ready for them.”
“How many?”
“We reckon six or seven thousand.”
“Oh, my God!” Lillie said, moving her hand to her mouth. “What shall we do?”
“Will Forrest stop them?” Zeke asked.
“We will make a stand I’m sure, but it will probably be south of here. I’m sorry, sir.”
Zeke nodded.
“I must catch my outfit,” Tom said, as he turned for the door. He turned back. “Mr. Taylor, the Yankees will be here within hours I believe.” He crammed his cap back on and bolted through the door.
“Lillie, we must be ready,” Zeke said. He touched her cheek, then went out the door.
Joe wanted to say something comforting to Fanny, but he didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.
“Zuey, get someone to help you dig a hole behind the springhouse,” Lillie said. “We must hide our valuables. When you cover it up, it must not be recognizable. Do you understand?”
“Yessum.” Zuey stood, waiting for further orders.
“Go now, Zuey!” Lillie said.
Zuey fled though the backdoor.
Charlie kissed Fanny and exited through the front door.
Lillie held Fanny’s face in her hands. “Honey, we must prepare for the Yankees.”
Fanny wiped her eyes and put on the strongest face that she could. “I will be ready, Ma.”
Lillie hugged Fanny one last time before they went to work.
When Joe went to the backyard, it was all activity. Mules and cows were being led toward the woods down by the river. The salted meat was being placed in a wagon. It was almost like Mrs. Donner’s Plantation back in Mississippi.
“Now my people, we must be orderly,” Charlie said. “We must have the Yankees believing this here is a poor farm.” He strolled back and forth like a real overseer seeing to every detail. Joe had never seen Charlie do anything with such a purpose.
Peter ran to Joe. “The Yankees are coming!” Peter looked around. “We must help hide the stock.”
Joe grabbed Peter’s arm. “Fanny’s husband, Robert, was killed by the Yankees.”
Peter looked toward the house. “Poor Mrs. Fanny. And now the Yankees are bearing down on us. Never got to meet him.”
Charlie called to Joe. “Fetch as many chickens as you can, boy. Get the children to help you.”
Joe saw Zeke pulling the white mare from behind the barn. He said something to Stepto, and Stepto mounted the mare and galloped up the lane toward the main road.
Joe and the children chased the chickens, but it was no use. The birds squawked and darted about, then flew up on the buildings or up in the trees. They only caught a few and had to give up on the rest.
The slave women helped hide the valuables from the big house. They labored along side Lillie and Fanny. Men had dug a hole behind the springhouse and what would fit was deposited there. They piled hay over the hole.
Negroes were coming back from the woods after another round o
f livestock when they started pointing toward the northwest. It looked like smoke just above the trees. Zeke studied it as he pulled on one of the milk cows.
“What is it, Uncle Zeke?” Joe asked.
“Dust.”
“Dust? From what—”
“Hush!” Zeke cupped his hand to his ear.
Joe listened. He heard it—the rumbling from horses’ hooves from the main road over a mile away. Now he remembered the Iowa Cavalry back at LaGrange. How could he have forgotten that.
Stepto came tearing back down the lane. He reined the mare just short of Zeke and Joe. “Marse—Marse!” Stepto was almost out of breath as if he had done the running instead of the horse. “Marse Johnson’s nigger, Lue, fetched me up at the end of the lane. He say the Yankees done went and killed Marse Johnson and his boy Phillip. He say they was tearing up the house, and Marse Johnson tried to stop ‘em, and they shot him dead. He say Young Massuh Phillip pulled a gun and they shot him, too. He say it a million of them blue bellies. Lue say they ain’t ten minutes behind me.”
Joe looked around and the women were on the back porch; they had heard it all. Lillie ran down to Zeke and threw her arms around him. “Zeke, you go to the woods with the livestock and hide there,” she said.
“I’ll stay right here.”
The dust cloud was at the end of the lane now.
“Take the mare and go now,” Charlie said.
“If they are going to kill someone, they will kill you just as well as me,” Zeke said.
“I’m an old man. I’m harmless for heaven’s sake.” Charlie took the reins from Stepto and handed it to Zeke. “They see me, they may take pity, but your temper will get us all killed.”
“Please Ezekiel,” Lillie said.
He looked down at Lillie, then looked up and saw the dust getting close; he jumped on the mare. “Do what the Yankees say and maybe it will come out right.” He sawed the horse around. “Heah!” He galloped through the field toward the river.
“Everyone, try to appear as normal as possible,” Lillie said. “Please don’t let on that our stock is down by the river. Please, I pray you.” She lifted her dress slightly and ran to the house, ushered Fanny and Zuey inside.
“All right my people, it will be fine, just fine,” Charlie said. “The Yankees ain’t here to bother us. They are after Forrest—not us. We will not give them cause to cross with us.”
Soon about twenty-five horses galloped down the lane. Charlie moved to the front of the house. Dust rolled through the yard as the soldiers dismounted.
A fat sergeant, looking the place over, walked up to Charlie. “This your place?”
“I reckon it is. Is there something I can do for you, Sergeant?”
“I see you have a lot of slaves on the place.” The man moved past Charlie and looked at one of the young women. “Lots of slaves means lots of wealth.”
“The well is around here, if you men need water.” Charlie pointed in the direction of the well.
The man grinned. Joe thought he looked like a smiling fat egg. The sergeant gestured to the other soldiers, and they scattered like a covey of quails. They had the routine well rehearsed. Some went into the house, others went to the barn, and outbuildings, while others raided the slave quarters.
“Sergeant, I have nothing to hide,” Charlie said, stepping between the man and the Negro woman.
“Well now, that’s fine, just fine.” The man shoved past Charlie and went to the house.
Joe ran around to the backdoor. The soldiers were rummaging through the kitchen. They hardly noticed Joe when he came in. The women were sitting in the parlor, comforting each other. The soldiers stomped the floor and poked at the ceiling with their rifles, looking for loose boards and hiding places. Joe could see they had plenty of experience at this type of soldiering. He heard some of them knocking around upstairs; then one man came down with a armload of Fanny’s dresses.
“Oh, Ma!” Fanny said and buried her face on Lillie’s shoulder.
“You ain’t going to take those are you?” Joe said. He grabbed at the dresses, and the soldier pushed him down.
“Don’t hurt him!” Lillie said and helped Joe to his feet.
“What you got that kepi on for, boy?” the soldier said. “You want to be a Union man?” He laughed and snorted like a pig.
Another man came down the stairs with some of Zeke’s clothes. Another followed with shirts and Joe’s carpetbag.
“Rotten, stinking thieves,” Joe said, pulling at Lillie’s grip.
Zuey stood. “You is not soldiers. You is cowards and robbers.”
“Shut up, nigger,” the sergeant said as he came from the kitchen. “We came here to free your black ass.” He squeezed Zuey’s cheek. “You is a handsome gal, I tell you.” He turned toward the soldiers at the foot of the stairs. “What say, boys? I think I’ll take this wench for mine.”
They laughed.
Fanny leaped from the couch and swung a lamp at the sergeant. He moved to the side and grabbed her arm. “You stinking murderers! Y’all killed my Robert.”
The man shoved her back down on the couch. “I’ll burn this house down if you try a shine like that again.”
Zuey and Lillie went to Fanny. The babies began to cry, so Zuey went to them.
A gunshot cracked outside. The men dropped the loot, grabbed their guns, and ran out the doors. Joe followed one out the backdoor. Two of the slave cabins were on fire, and soldiers were coming out of others like rats. They are even robbing the Negroes, Joe thought. The goat was dead—they had speared a sword through his neck.
Joe saw Seth kneeling beside Floy at the front of their cabin. Charlie was sitting flat on his butt holding one of her big hands in his. Her eyes were closed.
“This damn big fat-ass nigger hit me with that big stick,” a little skinny soldier told the sergeant. He turned toward Floy. “You won’t hit nobody else with it, will you, Aunt?” He laughed.
Seth placed Floy’s head in his lap and wept. Lillie ran past Joe and moved Charlie out of the way so she could tend Floy.
“What sort of men are y’all?” Charlie asked. Crying, he staggered to his feet and started toward the skinny man. The man raised his revolver and Charlie stopped as if he had been struck.
“I’ll give you what that fat-ass woman got.”
Joe saw Zeke coming across the field on the mare. A shot rang out. Zeke and horse tumbled. The Negroes shrieked as they ran toward him. Lillie screamed and put her face in her hands.
Joe ran to the house. This was a nightmare. He stormed into the kitchen.
Zuey was holding both babies. “What’s happening Joe?”
He ignored her. Where was Fanny he wondered, but he didn’t have time for that. Joe pulled his revolver from the bag the soldier had dropped. He ran around to the back of the house and stopped at the corner. All of the soldiers were either looking in the direction of Floy or Zeke. Joe ran to the barn and climbed to the hayloft. He scurried to the opened door and slid under the hay. Now he would pick off the one that needed shot the most.
Before Joe could draw a bead, he heard a loud whop. Fanny had popped one of the soldiers over the head with a shovel. She went after another, but the egg-shaped sergeant came up behind her and punched her in the head with his fist. She fell instantly. The sergeant kicked her for good measure.
Peter ran screaming and hit the sergeant like a train. Before they were on the ground good, he straddled the man and pounded him in the face with his fist. Joe had never seen Peter in such a state. Joe wished he was down there helping Peter. Joe felt surprise and pride.
A corporal hit Peter in the face with the butt of his rifle. Peter fell over slowly like a falling tree. The man turned the rifle around and pointed the muzzle at Peter.
Lillie screamed at the man as she ran toward Fanny and Peter. They were lying side by side like corpses.
Joe couldn’t get a clear shot. He was afraid he would miss and hit one of his friends on the ground.
The c
orporal turned and yelled at Lillie. Joe saw his chance as the man moved. He fired. The revolver sounded like a cannon inside the loft. The man dropped the gun and grabbed his shoulder as he twisted to the ground and fell over the sergeant, who was trying to get to his feet. All the soldiers were looking for the shooter, but Joe was buried in the hay like a flea.
The sergeant wallowed on the ground like a hog trying to get up. “I think it came from the barn.”
The men started for the barn with their rifles at ready.
“Just burn the damn thing!” the sergeant yelled.
The corporal scrambled to his feet and ran into Floy’s cabin. He came back with a stick of firewood.
Soon Joe saw the smoke rising in the barn, but he stayed buried in the hay. He would take another as soon as he got a clear shot.
More Yankees galloped up. A lieutenant jumped from his horse. “What is going on here?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Sergeant, get this bunch of sorry excuses for soldiers on their damn animals and get back in the column.”
“Sir, they attacked one of my men, and—”
“They should have killed him. Get his ass across a saddle and let’s move out.”
Charlie ran to the lieutenant. “These here men have shot two people, and my barns afire.”
The lieutenant looked around, then spat on Charlie’s shoes. “I’ve seen a good many of my men killed by you damn Southerners. So I don’t give a damn.” He watched the flames climbing in the barn. “You’ve got all of these slaves. Get them to put it out.” He yelled out to the Negroes, “If any of you darkies want your freedom, follow us. If not, keep your black asses here.” He climbed on his horse. When he saw none of the Negroes were coming, he muttered, “What the hell are we doing down here?” He spurred his horse, and the troops left up the lane like a long snake.
The Negroes were throwing water on the fire when Joe lowered himself down with the hoist rope, but it was no use. The barn was full of hay, and the flames were overwhelming.
Chickens that had taken refuge in barn were squawking in the barn, but nothing could be done.
Zeke came into the yard, stopped and stared at the burning barn. He made no effort to put it out. Joe knew as Zeke did: it was too late. At least Zeke was alive—thank God for that.
Chase The Wild Pigeons Page 19
