Joey Mills

by Crowe (epub)

  Sandy rolled his eyes, took hold of one end of the envelope while Johnny held onto the other. Together, they walked into the shadows.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” Colonel Morris said, marching over to Johnny. Johnny let go of the envelope and nodded at Sandy, who walked away, opening the notice. Colonel Morris watched the exchange, then fumed. “I thought I told you not to deliver those letters. You going to take his place on the line, too?”

  “That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about, sir,” said Johnny. “I think ---”

  “Morris,” said a voice over the Colonel’s shoulder. The Colonel snapped to attention, spun on his heels, and saluted. Another ghost walked over to them, this one outranking the Colonel. Johnny hadn’t considered that Colonel Morris wasn’t the highest ranking officer and leader of the camp.

  “What’s this young man doing here?” asked the commander. “Don’t you know this is no place for the living?”

  “I was just about to toss him out,” said the Colonel.

  “Sir, you need to call a meetin’ with your officers,” Johnny said.

  The commander looked from Johnny to Colonel Morris and back. “And why would I need to do that?”

  “Because,” said Johnny, “I know how to end this battle.”

  Johnny and the officers met in the commander’s tent and spent the entire night going over the plan. It was a tough sell. The ghosts had a hard time trusting the living, who saw them as a nuisance and wanted rid of them. Also, they could not verify the information he was giving them about the army across the field from them, nor about the army of the living, which was key to the success of the plan. Perhaps most important, they were not sure this plan would work. It was easy for Johnny to tell them that everything would turn out all right, but he wasn’t dead, now was he? What would happen to them if the plan failed? Would they disappear into nothingness? Worse? And what would happen to the Union army if the plan was successful? They might have been on opposite sides when they were alive, but they had been bound together in death. No one wanted to see the other guy forced into the great unknown. There was an unspoken agreement between the two side: if you don’t press us then we won’t press you. That’s why the battle raged on day after day. Johnny listened to their concerns and answered their questions. It took everything that he had learned over the past three days to convince the officers that his plan was sound.

  The sun rose and the bugle sounded. New orders were carried throughout the camp. If everything went according to plan, by the end of the day the battle would be over.

  Irma watched the strange coach rumble up the lane. She had sent Anna Lee to go fetch her father from the church; it wasn’t often that the family had guests up on Green Hill, something which Mrs. Henderson had been working hard to remedy, much less such a spectacle as the approaching coach. With the girl away, Irma tidied up as best she could, then walked out to greet the stranger as the coach came to a stop in front of the house.

  The driver was a stout fellow, wearing a tuxedo suit and top hat. He climbed down from the coach, pulled what looked like a small whisk broom from his pocket, and dusted himself off. He replaced the broom, then bowed low before Irma.

  “Greetings, ma’am,” the gentleman said, taking Irma’s hand in his own. “My name is Saul Samuels, and I have traveled a long way to be here today.”

  “Oh.” Irma blushed. “Won’t you come in?”

  The Reverend leaned against the door frame, watching the two of them. The stranger’s back was to him. He was a heavyset man and though he was wearing some kind of suit coat, the Reverend noticed that it looked thin and frayed in places. It was the kind of thing you notice when you see people dressed in their Sunday best every week; a barometer that told how well folks were doing. Clothes that were neat and mended signaled that a family was managing to keep things together well, even when the crops were drying up from lack of rain or the cattle weren’t fetching what they used to. Clothes that were frayed usually meant that the family was a little strained as well and might need looking in on. Folks in the Valley were too proud to ask for charity, but knew when they needed to take it to get through a rough patch.

  Something about this stranger made the Reverend think that he’d have no problem at all taking charity, even if it was ill-gotten.

  The Reverend’s wife was caught up in whatever story the stranger was telling, so much so that she hadn’t even noticed her husband’s return. He watched his wife’s face as she listened to the stranger’s tale and responded appropriately in all the right spots.

  If she thinks he’s all right, then why does he make me so uneasy? The Reverend thought it had to do with that coach sitting out front, it’s peeling red paint and outlandishness had offended his conservative sensibilities.

  “Stephen,” Irma said, rising from the table and taking her husband by the hand. “This is Mr. Saul Samuels.”

  The stranger rose and gave the Reverend a smile that did not reach his eyes. Placing his top hat on his chair, Mr. Samuels shook the Reverend’s hand in both of his own. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Reverend,” he said, still smiling that phony-looking smile.

  “He was just telling me of his trips to Persia,” Irma said, pulling her chair around so that her husband could sit next Mr. Samuels.

  “Persia?” asked the Reverend.

  “Yes, sir,” said Saul, as they all took their seats. “I’m a business man, from Atlanta. Made most of my fortune across the sea, in Persia.”

  “What kind of business are you in?”

  “Same as yours,” Saul said, flashing his smile again. “Healin’. Salvation.”

  “Are you a member of the clergy, then?”

  “No, sir,” said Saul. “That is where we differ. While the health of the spirit is your domain, mine is concerned with the health of the mind and body.”

  “So you’re a doctor, then?”

  “Yes and no, you might say. You see, it was in my travels among the savage Persians that I discovered a medicinal elixir guaranteed to focus the mind and cleanse the body. And,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “you know what they say. Cleanliness…”

  “…is next to Godliness,” the Reverend finished.

  Saul boomed with laughter, slapped his thick hand across his knee. “That’s right!”

  Reverend Henderson saw that his wife was laughing along with Mr. Samuels. It was clear that she seemed to think he was all right, so why didn’t he trust this man?

  “What brings you out here to the Valley?” asked the Reverend. “Business?”

  “In a way,” Saul said, regaining his composure. “In a way. A while back, I was travelin’ to check in with one of my warehouses in Istanbul when I was struck by a sign from the Lord. You see, I’ve always been a serious man, always had my mind on my work. Never had time for things like religion, faith,” he leaned toward the Reverend and fixed him in his gaze, “family. No, I’ve always pursued the earthly riches, haven’t set much stock in the riches of the soul.”

  “Well, the good Lord spoke to me right there in the streets of Istanbul, dropped me to my knees and blinded my sight and said to me ‘Saul, getest thou back home and takest thou a wife. Startest thou a family’. Well, I was dumbfounded, as you might imagine. I cried out, ‘My God, I have strayed from Thine path. I have built mine empire on earth and forsaken Thine empire in Heaven. Who would have me for a husband?’ ”

  Reverend Henderson looked over at his wife again. Tears streamed down her cheeks, a look of rapturous joy on her face.

  “And what did he say?” asked the Reverend.

  “He told me of a fine young woman. The daughter of one of His most devoted followers. A beautiful, Christian woman, who would set me on the right path. He told me where I could find her… right here in the Valley. And he told me her name. In fact, the last thing the good Lord said to me was
her name. I’ll never forget it. He said to me, ‘Go and find her and make her your wife. Her name is Anna Lee’.”

  Irma reached over and caught the Reverend in a bear hug, bouncing him up and down in his chair. “Isn’t it a miracle?” she asked. “Our prayers have been answered.”

  The Reverend freed himself, straightened his hair, and looked over at Saul. “Is that why you’ve come here? To marry my daughter?”

  Saul shook his head. “Not at first. You see, what seems a miracle one minute is easily forgotten the next. No, I was out here on business, making a delivery for a client. I’d all but put the Lord’s message from my mind when I realized that he had brought me to this very spot. Well, as soon as my business was concluded, I hurried my way right here to your doorstep. You see, Reverend, it is the will of the Lord.”

  “Yes,” whispered Irma. “The will of the Lord.”

  “And have you met my daughter?”

  “No,” said Irma. “I sent her to town to fetch ya when I saw Mr. Samuels here pulling up the driveway.”

  “Don’t you think she ought to have a say in this?” the Reverend asked.

  “Yes,” said Saul. “I would very much like to meet your daughter.”

  The Reverend and Mrs. Henderson led Saul around the house to the stable. Anna Lee’s back was to them as they entered; she was busy brushing down the family’s horse. Not at all what I expected, he thought, looking around. They must have their fortune stored away. Don’t want to flaunt it in front of the other townsfolk. Wouldn’t be proper for the Reverend to pass the plate on Sundays askin’ for money when he lives in the finest mansion in town. A snort of laughter escaped, which Saul played off as a sneeze. “Must be the dust,” he said. “Or the straw.”

  Anna Lee heard them and turned around. What Saul saw took his breath away. The girl before was the most homely looking creature he had ever seen. Her plain, straight, straw-colored hair hung about her shoulders. Her eyes were clear, yet dull. Her nose was too big. She looked nothing at all like the beauty the boy had described.

  There must be another daughter.

  “Mr. Samuels,” said the Reverend. “This is my daughter, Anna Lee.”

  “Uh… uh huh,” stammered Saul, taking Anna Lee’s hand. He bent down and kissed it, then held that position while he tried to think of something to say. That boy lied to me, he thought. Why, she ain’t pretty at all. He was about to call off the whole charade, when another thought struck him; But at least she’s rich.

  “My dear,” said Saul, straightening. “Forgive me for lingerin’ too long at your hand, but I have traveled far to meet you. You are every bit the vision the good Lord sent me.”

  “That’s right,” said the Reverend. “Mr. Samuels here says that the good Lord told him to find you and marry you.”

  “Marry me?” Anna Lee said, jerking her hand back. She looked from her father to her stepmother and back to the stranger before her. “But… I don’t want to marry him.”

  “Child!” Irma scolded.

  “No one’s saying you have to marry him,” said the Reverend. “Not now. But, if he really was sent here by the Lord, then I think it is our responsibility to get to know him and find out what we can about what the Lord intends to do with the two of you.”

  Anna Lee looked at Mr. Samuels. She didn’t like the greedy, hungry look of him one bit.

  “We don’t have much room ---” the Reverend began.

  “No!” Saul blurted out. “I mean, I would not put you fine people out. Bein’ accustomed to travel in my line of work, I am comfortable enough living out of my coach for a time. Until the good Lord reveals Himself.”

  “Thy will be done,” Irma said, her eyes lifted toward heaven.

  “Yes,” agreed Saul. “Thy will be done.”

  No sooner than Saul had set up camp and watched the family turn in for the night, he pulled the map from his pocket and unrolled it against the side of the coach. He looked around, orienting himself in relation to the lines of stone fence marking the border of the property, then gave the map a slight turn. The markings appeared to line up perfectly with the features of Green Hill. Sure enough, what looked like a town on the map corresponded with Fiddler’s Picket below. Saul peeked around his coach and looked to the north, saw the flat, bare top of the Knob in the distance, just where the map showed it would be.

  “Very nice,” said Saul. He looked down at the map and saw where the nearest “X” was marked. Grabbing a pickaxe and shovel from inside the coach, he took off across the field into the night.

  As the sun rose in the East, the ghosts of the Union soldiers made their way to their positions along the firing line. They hunkered down for another day of holding back the rebels that would not advance. The officer had chosen a gnarled old oak on the eastern rise, and when the sun topped it’s twisted branches, he gave the command to fire at will. The Union soldiers raised, fired, and dropped down to reload, listening for return fire that never came.

  Colonel Johns strolled through the Union camp, taking time to say a prayer for his family back home in Massachusetts. He didn’t know whether or not God heard the prayers of the dead, but he had continued the tradition of saying his morning prayers even after he shed his mortal trappings. Drifting among the rows of tents, Johns longed to feel the warmth of the sunlight on his face one more time, but it was not to be. I didn’t know death would be so cold, he thought.

  A sound coming from the east caught the Colonel’s attention. A courier was running toward the camp along the edge of the woods, his feet leaving no trace on the dew-speckled grass. The Colonel grew unsettled; the couriers weren’t scheduled to come in from the front and give their reports until around noontime. The Colonel finished his prayer with an “Amen” and stepped forward to meet the runner. Judging by the way the courier ran and by the look on his face, Johns knew that something had gone wrong along the eastern front. Could the rebels be pushing forward on that side? The idea seemed preposterous. There had been an understanding between the two, what would cause the opposition to break the fragile balance they had established?

  “Sir,” the courier said, he would be panting for want of air had he been alive, the Colonel thought, “the men report that the enemy is no longer in front of them.”

  Johns considered this was unexpected bit of news. “You sure?”

  “Positive, sir. Our men fired into their line, only the rebels weren’t there.”

  “Who’s in charge of those men?”

  “Hampton, sir.”

  “Did Lieutenant Hampton send out a scouting party to confirm that the rebels are gone?’

  “Yes, sir. There’s no sign of them.”

  Colonel Johns was so caught up in digesting this new information and puzzling over what it might mean that he never heard the second courier approach, this one from the west.

  “Sir,” the second courier reported, startling Johns and causing him to jump, “the men report that the enemy is no longer in front of them.”

  “Now see here,” the Colonel said, growing flustered. “If the enemy is not in front of us to the east nor in front of us to the west ---”

  “Sir,” interrupted a third courier, who had come unnoticed by the Colonel, “the men report that the enemy is on the move. A small unit is all that is left to cover the retreat. The men request permission to advance and squash the opposition, sir.”

  Colonel Johns took a step back and sat down on an overturned tree, which served as a makeshift bench. Like his Confederate counterparts, he had no desire to send these fighting men into the great unknown, even if they were on opposite sides of the war. What are they thinking? Why would they force my hand? They know I can’t just sit back and let them go without a fight. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but the rebels had put him in an uneasy situation. Whatever the outcome, the Colonel knew there was only one thing he coul
d do, and he cursed the rebels for it.

  “Gentlemen,” Colonel Johns instructed, “please order all troops to converge upon the remaining rebels directly to our front. Tell them I will meet them there.”

  The couriers saluted, then each left in the direction he had come from.

  Johnny crouched down and watched the Federal troops advance toward the hill. Everything had gone according to plan thus far. The Federals had been surprised to find no resistance in front of them and had sent out scouts to find the enemy’s position. Johnny had made a show of trampling and marking the ground on both fronts, hoping to make it look as though the men had been called back in a hurry. That was the only part of the plan that he had been unsure of; he needed the Union scouts to think that they were in full retreat and needed to lead them toward the hill where he was stationed. He was counting on the scouts, in their eagerness to find out where the rebels had gone, forgetting one simple fact: the dead don’t leave trails. The ruse had worked. The bulk of the Confederate forces seemed to have vanished into the night and the entire force of the Union army was making its way along the old Orange and Alexandria railroad tracks toward the hill. Bein’ sucked in, Johnny thought, a smile forming on his lips. They didn’t know about the two lines of Confederate soldiers hiding in the woods on either side of the tracks, forming a “V”, with Johnny and his men at the center.

  When the first of the Union soldiers were about thirty yards away, Johnny stood, removed his hat, and waved it above his head. He heard the Federal musket fire explode around him. He might even have felt a gentle breeze while the insubstantial musket balls flew past him, though he doubted the breeze had anything to do with their firing. Johnny turned and looked at the men crouched low behind the hill and smiled.

  “See, they can’t hurt you,” Johnny said to the Confederate soldiers. “It’s like I’ve been sayin’… you’re already dead and so are they.”