by Crowe (epub)
One of the few advantages of being overlooked was that he didn’t have to try to be inconspicuous. No one noticed when he strode his way over toward the clinic where Doc and the Major were holding their conversation. It had taken an act of boldness that Johnny wouldn’t have thought himself capable of to come this far, but he didn’t feel like pressing his luck. Keeping an eye on the Doc, Johnny ducked into the stall closest to the clinic, where the Ewings always set up to sell their smoked hogs. Johnny pinched and fingered the hanging meats, pretending to be torn between purchasing the butt roast or the ribs, all the while making his way to the end of the booth. Leaning back until he could see both men around the wooden beams supporting the stall, Johnny cocked his head to one side, trying to hear better. He missed what the Doc had said, but caught the Major’s reply.
“Headed down to Richmond,” the Major said, removing his hat and wiping his shirtsleeve across his brow. “Word is that the numbers are growing, and we’re gonna need every able body that can carry a gun down there if we’re gonna stand a chance.”
“Do you really think the Federals are that big of a threat?” asked the Doc. Johnny didn’t know if he had meant to sound condescending or if that was how the Doc always sounded, even when talking to someone as important as the Major. “I mean, they’ve already been run from Virginia once…”
“Word is that McClellan’s got ‘em on the move again.” The Major hesitated in selecting his next words. “I know that we’ve got some fine generals, but that don’t mean a damn thing if we don’t get more soldiers out there for ‘em to lead. In terms of numbers, the Federals have the soldiers, but not a leader among ‘em. Not really.”
The Major kicked the muddy ground with the toe of his boot. “That fight over at Manassas last year surprised ‘em, and it might only take another victory like that to get ‘em to pull out altogether. Seems to me they ain’t got the stomach for a real fight. But, if they don’t run… if they stay and fight and push on…” the Major trailed off.
“Well,” said Doc Lawson, “Lord knows we’re all doing our part.”
The Major studied the Doc in his pressed shirt and suit coat, with his manicured nails and soft hands. The Doc shifted from foot to foot, his face reddening, uncomfortable and unwilling to meet the Major’s gaze.
“Well, much continued success, Major,” Doc blurted out. He turned and retreated up the steps and back into his clinic, slamming the door behind him.
Johnny’s stomach rumbled again. The sights and smells of the market, in particular the smoked hams dangling right in front of him, brought his hunger back to the fore and this time Johnny wasn’t the only one who had heard it.
“Whachoo want, boy?” a woman hollered, startling Johnny. He took a step away from the booth, one bare foot becoming tangled with the other, and toppled over backward. Before he even had time to brace himself for the fall, a pair of rough hands shot out and caught him.
“All right there, son?” Johnny looked up to thank whoever had grabbed him and found himself staring into a pair of fierce, blue eyes.
Should’ve knowed it was the Major, he thought.
“Uh… yeah,” Johnny stammered, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Oh no, he’s not all right,” said Mrs. Ewing, stepping from between the parted hams.
It was easy to see how Johnny had been caught off guard. The woman stood all of four feet tall and was easily that thick around the middle. Johnny, who stood a hair over six feet tall hadn’t seen her down there. Her face had gone crimson with rage and she stood huffing and puffing as she wiped her chubby hands on her apron. With her flat nose and curls of hair poking out from under her bonnet, it struck Johnny that the woman might pass for one of her own hogs. He started to chuckle at his mistake, then checked himself, afraid that someone might get the wrong impression of why he was laughing.
Indeed, someone had, and again it was Mrs. Ewing.
The woman shuffled a couple of steps forward, jabbing a fat, sausage of a finger at Johnny’s chest. “This young man ---”
“I believe,” the Major interrupted, favoring Mrs. Ewing with a smile, “that this young man was just admirin’ some of your fine hams here.”
The Major righted Johnny on his feet and the boy took a giant step to the side, hoping that by moving out of Mrs. Ewing’s line of sight that she’d forget about him. Johnny turned his head and looked around. The nearby conversations had stopped and all eyes were on the Major.
The Major surveyed the crowd, then raised his voice so he could be heard by those watching them. “And I must say,” commented the Major with all the sincerity that he could muster, “that I can see why. My dear, these are some of the finest hams that I have ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on.”
Mrs. Ewing blushed. Johnny hadn’t thought that her face could get any redder than it had been, but he had been wrong. He had been right about one thing, though; she had forgotten all about him.
The Major paused for effect, then took Mrs. Ewing’s fat hands in his calloused ones and stared into her dark brown eyes with his blue ones. “Truly, they must be the jewel of the South.”
Mrs. Ewing was entranced.
“My dear,” the Major said, shooting Johnny a quick wink, “won’t you slice up one of these fine hams for the good people assembled here? Let them taste for themselves.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Ewing whispered, her voice sounding far away to her own ears. “Yes,” she repeated, louder this time, feeling grounded once more as she faced the expectant crowd. “Come,” she gestured to them, “have a sample. How did you put it, kind sir?” she asked the Major, batting her eyes at him.
“The very jewel of the South, Ma’am,” the Major beamed.
“Oh,” she gushed, clasping her hands to her ample bosom. “The jewel of the South.” The crowd cheered as she stepped back into her stall and chose a succulent looking ham from her store. Mrs. Ewing plopped it down on the butcher block and tore into the hog, her hands dripping with grease while she doled out portions to the crowd.
“Well, son,” the Major said, inspecting Johnny’s thin frame, “you’d better step up there. Looks like you could use some meat.”
“No, sir,” Johnny said, his stomach rumbling in protest. “I mean, yes sir, that would be fine, sir… but… the thing is… I wasn’t here lookin’ at her hams.”
“No?”
“No,” Johnny said. He bowed his head and stared down at his bare feet. He seldom spoke to anyone besides Anna Lee and had never spoken to someone so important before. “I came to ask about joinin’ your army, sir.”
“My army?” the Major chuckled. Johnny felt as though he had been punched in the stomach and had the wind knocked out of him. He must have said or done something wrong. The Major would never let someone like Johnny join his army.
“This isn’t my army,” the Major laughed.
Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not?”
“No,” the Major said. “This here is just a single unit in the grand army of the Confederacy.”
Johnny considered a moment. “Well, sir… if it pleases you… I mean… I’d like to join up with your unit, sir.”
The Major rubbed his chin and sized up the boy once more. “What do you know about bein’ in the army, son?”
“Well…” Johnny started, “I know you’re fightin’ to defend Virginia.”
The Major leaned forward, all the warmth and charm he had displayed while handling Mrs. Ewing was gone. What replaced it was a somberness that made Johnny feel as though the Major wasn’t so much looking at him as he was looking through him.
“But what do you know about war, son? About fightin’?”
Johnny stood in silence. An image, standing naked on the street while the locals ignored him but the Major appraised him with that grim look, flashed through Johnny’s mind. He cleared his
throat and was about to speak when one of the Major’s aides approached them.
“Time we should be getting on, sir?” the aide asked.
The Major released Johnny from his gaze and shielded his eyes, looking up at the sun. “Yeah,” he nodded to his aide, “probably stayed longer than we should have. Get the men back in line.”
The aide saluted and strode away, barking the order at the troops. The soldiers hurried over and slung their packs over their shoulders and grabbed their firearms. The men said their thanks to the locals, who reached out and touched the soldiers as they passed. Once the men were in formation, the Major nodded to the aide, who called out to the troops and started them marching once more.
Johnny had started to think that he Major had forgotten about him when the officer turned to face him. “If you’re serious about joinin’ this army, you need to see Governor Letcher over in Richmond. You know how to get to Richmond?”
Johnny shook his head.
“How about Leesburg?”
“Ain’t never been there,” Johnny said, “but I seen the signs.” He almost added, Anna Lee taught me how to read ‘em, but held his tongue.
“That’s right.” The Major nodded. “You just follow the signs to the east of here and over the mountains and you’ll run right into Leesburg. That’s where we’re headed now. I know a fella at the train station. Name’s Ackles. You tell him I sent you and he’ll get you on a train to Richmond. Don’t wait too long. I don’t know how long we’ll be in Richmond before they order us out again.”
“Thank you,” Johnny called after the Major, who had jogged to the front of the line of soldiers. Got to remember… Leesburg… Ackles.
Anna Lee sat alone atop the hill, their hill, watching the afternoon give way to evening. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, a parting kiss from winter as it left the Valley for another year. He’d be here soon. It wasn’t something that they had talked about, but she knew it to be true just as she had known that she would be here waiting for him when he arrived. She tried to spot Johnny’s cart in the town below, wondering if he was still down there at the market. It was no use, though; the hill was too far removed from the town to allow her to make out what was going on down below. That was one of the things that had first drawn her mother to the hill, and why Anna Lee had continued to come all the way up here after her mother had died. Although now she had another reason for spending her afternoons and evenings atop the hill.
She must have been four or five years old the first time her mother brought her up to the hill. Her first memory of the times they had spent up here were from around that age, her mother smiling and laughing while the two of them laid in the cool, green grass. It was a place full of all the things they had loved: the scent of the flowers in the spring, the buzz of honeybees in the summer, and a spectacular view of the changing leaves in the fall. Once the day’s chores had been finished, but before Daddy had come back from town, the two of them would make the ten minute stroll from their farm on Green Hill to go there. She felt the work and worry from the day draining away as the sun dipped low in the west, painting the sky and the clouds with its waning light.
Anna Lee had loved her mother very much, but she had always been her father’s girl. She had her mother’s build, tall and slender, though she had never grown into the lightness and grace with which her mother had carried herself. While her mother’s eyes sparkled with delight at every new wonder, Anna Lee had inherited her father’s stern countenance and introspection. Where her mother always wore a smile on her lips, Anna Lee had the strict, thin mouth of her father, the Reverend Henderson. As different as she was from her mother, the two loved the hill and the time they spent together there.
All of that ended the summer that Anna Lee turned twelve years old. Her mother had gone down to New Orleans to visit family and had fallen ill with the yellow fever. Three days after she had returned home, Anna Lee’s mother passed away.
The Reverend immersed himself in his ministry. It had been God’s will that his wife had died; no more, no less. He did not allow himself the luxury of baring his emotions in public. How could he lead his flock of parishioners and tell them to endure the hardships that life threw at them in order to obtain their reward in Heaven if he was not up to the challenge himself? Anna Lee, on the other hand, was just a girl. Upon hearing of her mother’s death, she tore from the house, tears coursing down her face. She ran with nowhere in particular in mind, only trying to outpace her grief. She ran until her side ached and her chest heaved. When she could run no more, Anna Lee collapsed on the ground and cried until the tears no longer came. She felt her grief wash over her, rode the crest of it and came down the other side. When the worst of it had subsided, Anna Lee raised her head and looked around, recognizing at once where she was. She had run to the hill.
Only the hill was different to her now. The foundation of all that she had known and had believed had cracked and a hole had opened inside her. All that was good in her life had been stolen away. The flowers around her had lost their brilliance. The birds no longer sang hymns to God, only cried out in mourning. Even the sky had clouded over and filtered, gray light colored the world.
And yet, the hill was still a place of love. For the next five years, Anna Lee made the trek to up the hill all alone; though, sitting in the gloaming at the end of the day, she still felt her mother’s presence all around her. Memories of their time together came flooding back at the most unexpected times. Sometimes Anna Lee laughed, sometimes she cried, but she always missed her mother. Things had changed and would never be the way they were before. Still, all that she and her mother had shared was still here, she only needed to remember where to look for them. In time, colors seeped back into her life and the cracks began to heal, though she knew that the scars would always remain.
For his part, the Reverend knew that he had a choice to make after the death of his wife. He had thrown himself into his ministry with renewed vigor. It was the Lord’s work which gave him some comfort, but what’s more, immersing himself in his service gave the Reverend no time to think about the larger questions that plagued his mind in the dark of night. Why had she been made to suffer? Had his work not been enough in the Lord’s eyes to grant his wife reprieve from death? What sort of a god allows his faithful to suffer and die? The Reverend knew that he and Anna Lee couldn’t manage the farm on Green Hill by themselves, what with him gone from sunrise until dark. They had to either sell the farm and move into town or hire someone to help with the chores while he attended to his ministry.
What was more, the Reverend knew that Anna Lee needed an older woman that she could speak to and would give a woman’s advice to his daughter. Whoever it was, he knew that his girl was too head-strong to ever think of another woman as “mother”. The weight of the decision hung like a millstone around the Reverend’s neck, bowing his back and causing the hair at his temples to turn gray from worry. Every night the Reverend prayed for an answer, and just as he steeled himself to tell Anna Lee that they would have to sell the farm, his prayers were answered.
After service one Sunday, the Reverend noticed one of the church members, Mr. Faulkner, milling about. The Faulkners were a good family, always willing to lend their neighbors a hand. In fact, the Reverend had been thinking about asking Mr. Faulkner if he would be able to help with the harvest that upcoming fall, assuming that he and Anna Lee were still living on Green Hill when the summer ended. Thinking that this was as good a time as any, the Reverend made his way across the churchyard to where Mr. Faulkner stood.
“Reverend.” Mr. Faulkner nodded.
“Hello, Charlie.”
“Been meanin’ to ask you somethin’,” Mr. Faulkner began. “’Bout that farm of yours.”
“Go on.”
“Well, it’s like this… my wife’s sister has a woman that works for them over in Scottsville. She’s been there since Janey, that’s my youngest
niece, was born. They hired her to help out with the domestic stuff like washin’ and fixin’ meals, but she’s a right good hand in the field as well. Now Janey, you remember me tellin’ you she got married last summer?”
It turned out that with their children grown and moved away, Mr. Faulkner’s in-laws didn’t have much use for their hired help anymore. They had kept her on for the past year because they hadn’t wanted to turn her out with nowhere else to go, but now she was restless and looking to strike out on her own and take up with a new family. Mr. Faulkner mentioned that he had thought that Green Hill looked a little “distressed” and had wondered whether the Reverend might be able to use someone to help out around the home place.
The following month, Irma moved into the house with the Reverend and Anna Lee. She was a stout Irish woman, who made herself right at home and set to work whipping Green Hill back into shape. Since her mother had died, the home seemed to have a listless and unkempt feel to it, but with Irma there, it was a warm and welcoming place once again and Anna Lee loved her for that. She was well received by the churchgoers when she began attending the Reverend’s sermons, her deep, bass voice adding an authority that the choir didn’t even know it had been missing. After all the sorrow that the family had suffered, it looked as though the clouds had parted and the sun was shining once again.
As the years passed, the parishioners began to talk, asking the Reverend when he planned to make an honest woman of Irma. Whether they had spoken in jest or not, the Reverend was concerned about how his flock perceived the situation up on Green Hill. The truth of the matter was that while Irma would never replace the wife he had lost, she had done much for Anna Lee and for him in helping them move forward and she deserved better than just being the hired help. She was a part of the family now, and less than five years after he buried his first wife, the Reverend made Irma his second wife.
