Free Jordan's War - 1861 by B.K. Birch Page B

he’s
sold any of them fake legs?” Pa laughed.
    “I hope not,”
Jordan replied.
    The wagons rolled
across the bridge and up a hill. Jordan’s smile dropped. Soldiers – hundreds of
them. Rows of white tents covered the fields. Smoke billowed from countless
campfires. His heart raced and he glanced at as many faces as he could, just to
make sure none of them was a Vander.
    Pa slowed down as
two of the soldiers stepped out onto the road. They were both armed and carried
themselves in a stiff, soldier-like manner. Another one scurried up the bank
and stood in front of Eamon’s wagon.
    “Afternoon,” Pa
said.
    “The road is
closed,” the soldier said. “There is Union activity in Philippi and the pass
isn’t safe for civilians.”
    “I sure ain’t
going that far,” Pa laughed. “I’m just heading to my brothers place up yonder
about two miles.” Pa looked back and smiled at Eamon.
    “What for?”
    “Headed up to my
brother’s place and drop off this load,” Pa lied. “Ran out of room at my
place.”
    “Where’s your
place?”
    “Back there in the
valley. Before you get to the mines. Ain’t much, but it’s home.”
    The soldier didn’t
seem to believe him. Large raindrops began falling from the sky and lightning
flashed.
    “Is that a Sharps
Breechloader?” Pa asked the soldier and adjusted his hat to keep the rain out
of his eyes. “That’s a right nice gun.”
    “Yes sir,” he
answered and held it up just a little.
    “Did the army give
you that?”
    “No sir,” the
soldier said. “It’s my daddy’s.”
    “Can’t tell you
how proud I am of you brave boys,” Pa said. “My son Eamon back there can’t wait
to join in. But I told him – I said Eamon, you got to wait till you’re
eighteen. That’s what I told him.”
    The soldier looked
back at Eamon and waved to him. Eamon waved back. Jordan chuckled at the
befuddled look on his brother’s face.
    “Jordan, give
these brave men a few jars of that fine maple syrup,” Pa said.
    “What!”
    “Just do as I say,”
Pa said and turned back to the soldiers. “I ain’t got much, but I am willing to
share what I do have.”
    Jordan pulled out
two jars and handed them to Pa. The rain was now pouring.
    “Here you go
boys,” Pa said and gave the jars to the men. “Made by the prettiest girl this
side of Elkins.”
    One of the
soldiers scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Pa.
    “Let them pass,”
he hollered and the others soldiers stepped aside.
    “You keep your
head down and keep praying,” Pa called back to them as the wagon rolled out.
Thunder rolled from the heavens.
    Jordan didn’t
utter a sound until the soldiers were out of sight.
    “Why’d you lie to
them?” Jordan hollered.
    “They wouldn’t
have let us pass if they knew where we were going,” Pa said.
    “Why are we going
all this way?” Jordan asked. “With the war and all, it seems a little
dangerous.”
    “It’s a little
complicated,” Pa said. “I could take this wool to Lewisburg, get twelve cents
per pound and that’s a right fair price. But I can take it to Fairmont, get
sixteen cents a pound in gold and silver coin. Gold is always better than that
dang paper money.”
     “I suppose,”
Jordan said. He’d never thought about it that way before. He was full of
questions but he also had an empty stomach. A big, fat raindrop plopped on his cheek.
He’d been so preoccupied with the soldiers that he hadn’t noticed the darkening
skies.
    “We need to get
out of this storm. The horses need a rest,” Pa said. “We’ll pull over at the
next watering hole and get a bite.”
    “Do you think
we’ll see any more soldiers?” Jordan asked.
    “A few probably,”
Pa answered. “But now I got this pass.”
     
    Jordan climbed
back into the wagon with a full stomach and sleepy eyes, but fought his heavy
eyelids and the overwhelming urge to crawl back on the wool and take a nap.
Only children took naps. The storm only lasted long enough to give