Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862

by Linda Pendleton

  The way I can describe the camps to you is to look at a piece of timber after a hurricane goes through it. The tents were blown down and strewed in every direction. It reminded me of a deserted “secessionist” town. I wished then I was at home. We have had several of these Northerners but none as hard as this last one was. Whenever we have one of those fellows, the sand runs like snow in Iowa and we have to dig in these sand banks to get fresh water. The higher the bank is the better the water is and we have to dig from three to six feet deep. If we dig too deep we get salt water and sometimes if we dig a rod from the springs we get salt water. These sand banks are on the beach.

  Well Janie, we are still guarding this fort and I understand the colonel is going to try to stay here until our time out if there is any possible chance. It is a very disagreeable place to stay at but it is better than marching. The 23rd can’t expect to get a better place than this. I am satisfied to stay here.

  I got a letter from your mother the other day. She said they are well, and she mentioned James. I expect he was in that fight General Grant had. The news here is that a part of the 5th Iowan was taken prisoner. If you know anything about the 5th I want you to let me know.

  Janie, you need not bother yourself about that piece of land as land will be a great deal cheaper after this war ends than what it is now.

  I want you to send me some stamps for it is impossible to get them here. Oh, yes, I don’t want to forget to tell you I brought your likeness safe across the waters with me and it was dipped under more than once. The case got split, of course.

  Tell Denny that his likeness crossed the waters with his Pa.

  Yours as ever, Silas

  Chapter Thirty-four: Crossings

  It was late morning and dark rain clouds were beginning to thin and clear away revealing blue sky here and there as the wagon was nearing the town of Wheeling, now the capitol of the recently formed West Virginia. In 1861, the Wheeling Convention was held and the western counties of Virginia seceded from the state, which established the new state of West Virginia.

  Madeline was thrilled to see civilization ahead a short distance. It meant they could get clean dry clothing and freshen up, and maybe rest a bit before going on. At least she hoped they could.

  She asked William, “Is it possible we can rest awhile in this town?”

  He smiled. “You mean you want a hot meal, dry clothes, and a soft bed?”

  “I hadn’t thought about a bed, but that might feel very good.”

  He laughed. “Well leave it to a man to think about a bed.”

  Madeline smiled. “You’re as soaked as Sadie and me. Maybe we can buy something to wear. Maybe if we put our dollars together?”

  “I think we can manage, and even get a room for some rest.”

  “Will we be safe there?” she asked, a bit of a frown on her face.

  “We’ll be fine. We won’t stay long. I want to cross the river into Ohio before dark. Then as we head on northwest I will feel comfortable. We’ve got to give the horses some rest, too. We’ll find the stable and a hotel.”

  The town was busy, people on the streets, and in and out of the businesses. The roadway to the bridge had wagons and horses coming and going across the Ohio River, and on the waterfront was a stable and feed store. Not far on down the street was a hotel.

  William went into the stable and came out with a young man following. The young man tipped his hat to Madeline, “Morning Ma’am.”

  William helped Madeline and Sadie from the wagon. The young man took the reins of the horse and led the wagon, with the second horse, through the large doors of the stable.

  William said, “Okay ladies, the man inside told me the hotel right over there,” pointing a short distance across the street, “cooks a great meal, and right next door is the dry goods store. Let’s head over that way.”

  They stopped into the dry goods store and picked up a few needed items. As they entered the hotel all eyes turned their way with most locking their focus on Sadie. For a moment, Madeline thought they were going to have a problem but William, apparently also noticing the reaction, moved into an assertive posture. In moments they had a room, with a promise of hot water coming right up, and a hot meal assured in half an hour.

  After fresh dry clothes, a good meal, and naps, they were ready to move on. William had decided it best to cross over the river and be in the Ohio Valley before darkness fell.

  But when Madeline and Sadie saw the Wheeling Suspension Bridge, the route to Ohio, they wanted to stay right where they were.

  “Don’t be silly, Madeline. It’s just a bridge. It won’t take long to cross over,” William told her.

  As they neared the high towers of heavy masonry sandstone, she looked up 100 feet, and could also see how far below the river was and how far it seemed across to the other side.

  “It’s not very wide, William,” she said.

  He pulled the wagon to a stop. “It’s nearly fifteen feet wide, plenty wide enough. You’re being silly.” He glanced at Sadie and saw her eyes were wide as she looked ahead. “Both of you are being silly,” he added.

  “Well, it looks scary, and a long way down to the river.”

  He laughed. “If we fall, if the bridge falls, just hang on to one of those cables and ride it down.”

  “That’s not funny, William,” Madeline responded.

  He moved the wagon ahead as he said, “Here we go, ladies, and here we come Ohio.”

  Chapter Thirty-five: A Change of Heart

  The new year of 1864 opened with a fierce snow storm in parts of northern Iowa. A furious wind blew in gale force from the northwest. Snow drifts from two to ten feet deep were pounded hard with the continuous winds. The howling, biting, whirling snow was so dense in the air that one could not see the length of a wagon and team. Such a blizzard had not been known for some time. The storm moved out within two days but left freezing temperatures. Newspaper reports over the following days indicated there had been several deaths from the storm.

  On this day blue skies and moderate temperatures had returned, at least as far as weather was concerned.

  But Lucinda Garrison was hot, bothered, distressed, and dark, and she could not hide it as she said, “I don’t understand him, Elizabeth Jane. Why doesn’t he understand that I was attacked and had nothing to do with causing it? James sounds as if he thinks I had something to do with encouraging Thomas Karns.”

  “I don’t think he means that, Lucinda,” Elisabeth Jane replied hoping to calm her sister-in-law.

  Lucinda’s voice raised in anger, “He doesn’t huh? Then why?” She shoved her chair back and stood for a moment before she began pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “Then why have his letters changed since I told him! It does not make sense except if he thinks—”

  Elizabeth Jane kept her voice calm as she said, “But in his first letter to you when he heard about it, he was very kind and loving and concerned.”

  “Well, that was at first,” Lucinda’s voice crackled with sharpness. “Then he had time to think about it. It was bad enough that he heard it from the other men before I wrote him.”

  “I’m sure James is still very concerned for you.”

  “Is he?” She taunted. “How can he be?” She threw up her arms. “I don’t know. Now it seems he is even questioning why Benjamin was even there at our school. Or why Benjamin even felt so moved to go after the boy.”

  “He is?”

  “Yes. More than once. I mean several times he has brought it up in his letters. Janie, I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Maybe you’re reading too much into what he says, Lucinda. He’s upset by what happened to you and that he was not here to protect you.”

  “God, he even—” She moved back to the table and grabbed the letter laying open beside the envelope. “Listen to this,” she said. “Lucinda, it is so hard for me to believe that the young Karns boy would do something as horrible as attacking you, and also that young girl. Thomas was always very mu
ch a gentlemen, even when he was twelve-years-old. He respected his elders, and he respected his classmates. He was always helpful in the schoolroom with the younger children.

  I remember some years back when the little Cabot girl fell and injured her head and cut her face. He was right there to take charge of her before the other children got me.

  I can’t help but wonder what went wrong, what put him on such a destructive and evil path. I feel sorry for his parents, having lost their only son, and in such a horrible way, beaten to death by Benjamin. I heard from Blair Bridges and others that the town was pretty upset at what Benjamin did, kill a young man like that.

  I wish I were home to be able to know about it all. I am sorry that you had to be in court over this.”

  Elizabeth Jane could not hide her surprise at James’s comments. “Oh, Lucinda, I don’t know what to say, he uh, he seems to be overly concerned about that kid.”

  “I told you. That is why I don’t understand. What about me, what about his wife! He’s concerned I had to sit in a court room! What about my emotions, my pain, my hurt, my violation! Dammit, what is wrong with him!”

  Elizabeth was beginning to feel helpless in comforting Lucinda, and even more helpless in defining James’s words in a positive way. “Maybe he doesn’t know what to say to you,” she said.

  “Damn, he has said plenty. And he hates Benjamin!” Those words brought tears to her eyes and she threw the letter onto the table as she sat again. “How do I defend Benjamin, Janie? How can I let James think that way about Benjamin.”

  Elizabeth Jane was silent and allowed Lucinda her tears.

  Before long, Lucinda said, “There’s more, Janie. There’s more.”

  “What do you mean? What else did he say?”

  “He said I should stay away from Benjamin. Not see him, even at family get-togethers, like picnics and suppers. He is even accusing Benjamin of ‘hitting the bottle’ again and brought up when Benjamin left years ago, and all the talk of the pregnant girl. Janie, he just goes on and on about Benjamin. What do I do? How can I defend Benjamin? It would only make matters worse. James doesn’t trust him now, and no way would he trust me if I started defending Benjamin more than I have.”

  “Leave it alone for now. When my brother comes home from war he will be just fine.”

  “I don’t think so. He’s changed. I hate this damn war! Why are we all having to go through this awful time? The war has changed my husband, and I don’t like this change in him!”

  “As Pap has told us, war changes men, gives them maturity but also at times a coldness, a hardness, because they see so much of the awful things. Death all around them. And they kill. Yes, it is for a cause they feel strongly about, but it can’t be easy to endure that, day in and day out. Silas tells me not to worry about him but I can’t help it. He tells me worry causes disease.” She sighed and said, “Sometimes I think the man I married is so smart, so wise.”

  Lucinda shrugged. “I used to think James was smart and wise. Now I don’t know.”

  “Well, remember the strain and stress he is under. That could account for a lot of this thinking right now.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I think so. And if you want to know, I think it best you just forget about all he said about Benjamin. Don’t defend Benjamin anymore than you have. It will only cause more problems.”

  “I know. But I sure want to.”

  “I know you do.”

  “I would like more tea if you don’t mind. Maybe it will clear my mind,” Lucinda said.

  “Sure,” Elizabeth Jane said. She rose from the table and went to the stove for the tea kettle. “You know when James comes home I’m sure you can set all this straight with him.”

  Lucinda gave a sarcastic laugh. “Yes, when he comes home. He also wrote in this letter that he will not come home on furlough next month as he had told me he would. He changed his mind and wants to stay. Can you believe that? His wife is attacked and raped, is an emotional wreck, has to go to court and testify, and worry that Benjamin may never be out of jail, and James does not want to come home. He’d rather fight some damn war than comfort his wife? Tell me Janie, what is wrong with that picture? Don’t answer that. I can tell you a lot is wrong with it.”

  Elizabeth Jane poured hot tea into their cups and returned the kettle to the stove. She opened a cookie jar and put several oatmeal cookies onto a plate and returned to the table with the cookies.

  As she sat down she asked, “Are you going to not see Benjamin?”

  Lucinda was silent for a moment as she sipped tea. She set the teacup down and looked directly at Elizabeth Jane. “I can’t do that,” she said softly.

  “You can’t?”

  “Janie, it is so difficult being in love. I love James, but I’m afraid I’m still in love with Benjamin. He was my first love, and I admit I am not over him. The trouble is, I don’t know what to do about it.” She picked up the letter from James and stared at it a moment. “The one thing that is happening right under my nose is that the written words of my husband are making me love him less. And with that happening my first love is growing greater again in my heart.”

  She set the letter on the table. Her left hand lay across it and the sunlight coming in from the window touched the gold wedding band on her finger giving it a glimmer.

  Elizabeth Jane could not help but notice the gold glimmer. She looked down at her own wedding ring, realizing how much things had changed since Silas slipped it onto her finger.

  Chapter Thirty-six: Night Shadows

  Elizabeth Jane put her children to bed and had settled in her chair in front of the fire. Katrina had been a little fussy all day due to sore gums. Two of her teeth were about to break through and she was uncomfortable and had been hard to please. Finally, she calmed and fell asleep.

  As Elizabeth Jane relaxed she thought about her visit with Lucinda the afternoon before. It was sad to see how upset Lucinda had been about James’s letter. But, actually, she could not blame her for that. Her brother James was not being very thoughtful and Lucinda had a right to be angry. But that was not like James at all. He had always been a thoughtful person, as a boy and as a man.

  It’s the war, she thought. As Pap has said it changes them. She recalled the words of her son Denny not long ago when he said, “I want Daddy to be the same.”

  The reality of the thought that Silas wouldn’t be the same brought tears to her eyes. And James, she didn’t want him to be any different, either.

  Damn this war. When is it going to end?

  She thought about Silas’s last letter, a short one he wrote on the 8th of January. Christmas had come and gone, with little celebration. And now a new year, but nothing had changed. In fact the letter had even upset her as he spoke of two friends who had died. He called them brave soldiers and how they made a charge and were repulsed by a flank movement the Rebs made on the right, and they had to fall back to the support or be gobbled as Silas put it. And they were gobbled. Dead. And then the fight went on all night and by morning the Rebels had even taken the shoes off the dead boys. Silas’s troops had gone after the Rebels, while a brother of one of the dead men stayed behind to bury the men. Silas had written that it broke his heart to think of it, and that the rest of the dead men’s division were said not to be fit for field duty and were in Camp at Bridgeport, Alabama.

  She picked up the letter and read: the reason I do not write oftener is I am cooking for the company and it keeps me busy. And we have had no chance to send out mail until lately. I will try and write oftener if I can. We was paid two months pay and we settled for our clothing and Uncle Sam owed me two dollars and ninety-five cents and he paid that in cash so I got twenty-eight dollars and ninety-five cents. And the boys paid me for cooking which amounted to thirty-eight dollars. That is my wages for cooking. I will not send any home at this time. But I am sending twenty-five cents of new money for Denny, and five cents for the babe’s piggy bank.

  She put the letter on the side table
and picked up the framed photograph sitting beside it.

  Colonel William Kingsman.

  Silas had sent the photograph and asked her to take care of it and put it in a frame. He wrote the colonel was their “Gallant Leader” and had died at Black River Bridge, May 17, 1863, while leading a charge. It was a battle not long before the victory at Vicksburg and actually a part of General Grant’s Vicksburg Campaign. That had been months ago. Did that mean that Silas had carried the man’s photograph all this time?

  She didn’t want to think about death. It came too often, and too soon for many.

  Silas had asked about the neighborhood deaths. The storm at New Year’s had brought some tragedy not too far north and across town the fever had killed two young children. She did not know the family but had seen them occasionally at church. It was a sad week for the community when two young ones pass on. And it always brought up fear.

  Fear, she thought. Seems that was what her days, or actually her quiet nights, brought up. Too much fear. Every night when Denny said his prayers at bedtime he asked for God to bring his daddy home. So every night when she tucked her son into bed, she was reminded that Silas may never come home to them.

  And her brother, James. He may not come home either, and it is possible when and if he does, it may be too late for his marriage.

  Her heart ached for Lucinda and the dilemma she was apparently in. But her heart also ached for her brother. She knew how happy James had been when Lucinda came into his life. She could still hear his words, “She’s the most exquisite woman in the world, with beautiful blue eyes and golden hair, and I’m going to marry her.”

  “Oh, James,” she said, almost in a whisper.