Leigh Ann's Civil War (22 page)

What was it then, if not just his need to know I was safe?

My head spun with the idea of it. How old was McCoy? Younger than Teddy, who was twenty-seven, to be sure. How old did you have to be to be a major?

I would ask Viola. She would know. She knew everything. The wagon continued to rock and I fell asleep.

The ride was bumpy. When I woke, the rest of the women were still sleeping. Carol was leaning on my shoulder, and the thought hit me like a wet towel in the face:
Carol is pregnant.

At first I thought I'd dreamed it. But no, it went with the whole ritual of the journey, part of it now, like the great indigo bird that just then went screaming over our heads, warning us to beware.

I had been to Marietta before, with Viola and Louis and Teddy, but none of this landscape was familiar to me. We had to be on a different route. Most likely, in case any of us thought to escape. We would never find our way back along this off-the-beaten-path route.

Or it could be because some of our own people might take it in their head to pursue us, and they would never find us through this floundering way.

But it was pretty. We passed through some very wild country with a rolling surface. It was pleasantly wooded and filled with azaleas, andromedas, stalmins, and other flowering shrubs I could not name.

Then of a sudden we passed fields and fields of cotton, where negroes chopped incessantly at the weeds in the hot sun, and we heard them singing. Some of the smaller ones ran over to the fence along the road to stare at us as we went by.

"I'd like to know who's the slave here and who's free," said the woman who hated Teddy, startling me. I'd learned that her name was Sadie Moline.

The women were all waking up now, stretching and moaning about needing water. We'd all been given canteens when we left Roswell, but they were empty now, and the July sun was nearing its highest time of day.

Coming into view to the right of us was a tributary of the Chattahoochee River. You could smell the water. And when they saw it the women all started yelling out at once for water and banging their canteens on the side of the wagon and hanging out the back of it, so that the Yankee soldier who rode alongside of us did not know what all to do and had to ride up to the front of the caravan and speak to his commanding officer.

In short order he came back, telling us he'd gotten permission for the wagons to stop. We were to be allowed to get out, under guard, and in an orderly manner fill our canteens with water, then in like manner come back immediately to the wagon. All up and down the line, women were being allowed to do the same thing.

One by one we got out and made our way down the grassy slope to the water. As I stepped carefully down, guiding Carol, with Viola on the other side of me, I saw Sadie Moline eyeing me hatefully.

This woman means trouble for me,
I told myself.
I must never turn my back on this woman.

If Teddy had taught me anything it was to recognize an enemy when I saw one.

But oh, the water looked so delicious and inviting! I longed to strip down to my chemise and pantalets as I did at home, or in this case, my skivvies, and plunge in. I looked at Viola and she at me, and she knew what I was thinking.

She smiled wistfully. "Those days are gone, Sam," she said. "At least for now, anyway."

We hugged briefly, and then the three of us filled our canteens and started back up the slope.

Halfway up, I was so busy helping Carol and worrying that Viola should not slip and fall that I did not see Sadie coming at me.

She came so fast, like a noxious reptile, and grabbed for my canteen. Before I knew it she had it in her hands, had undone the cover, and poured the contents on the ground.

I reached out to grab it. Too late. There went my precious water, all over the place. I reached out to grab her, but Viola held me back.

"Don't, Sam, don't." She grabbed my arm as Teddy would have done. "You'll only make more trouble. We have a ways to go with her yet."

"But she had no right."

"None of us has any rights at the moment," Viola reminded me.

We were almost at the top of the slope. Our Yankee guard had seen the whole thing and was waiting for us at the top.

"Is there trouble?" he asked.

I knew better than to tell. Did I ever tell Teddy what the matter was when Viola and I had been fighting?

"I dropped my canteen and spilled my water," I said. "May I please get more, sir?"

"No," he answered. "You had one shot and you blew it. You'll just have to make do."

Back in the wagon, however, I looked Sadie Moline right in the eye. "Why did you do that?" I asked her.

She eyed me viciously. "Just settling some scores, is all," she said.

***

The food they gave us for lunch was not to be borne. At home I would not give such food to Cicero. It consisted of hardtack and stale corn bread. The only redeeming factor was the coffee. The Yankees had real coffee. And plenty of it.

Carol tried to eat the food but became nauseated and had to throw up over the back of the wagon.

Sadie Moline enjoyed this spectacle immensely. "What's wrong? She miss her creamed chicken?"

"Leave her alone," I snapped. "She's pregnant."

This I will not abide,
I told myself,
this rattlesnake harping on Carol or Viola. She can torment me all she wants, but I will not tolerate her picking on my sisters.

"You don't want to tangle with my little brother," Viola advised her. "He can be a terror when he sets his mind to it."

"I see you're pregnant, too," Sadie commented. "What kind of water do they have up in that big plantation house?"

"I said
shut up!"
I stood now and shouted it at her. "Don't you just know how to shut up?"

Everybody got quiet of a sudden and the ride plodded on.

Now I concentrated again on the scenery. We passed sandy patches on the side of the road where I saw some giant tortoises basking in the sun. Then came cornfields and plantation houses. They were not like ours, but two-and three-story clapboard with dormers and porches in front, lots of wings stretching out on the sides, and board fences all around.

This was more like the "Gothic Georgia" Louis sometimes talked about, the Georgia without culture, grace, the arts, and elegance. Louis had traveled through much of it and said it had its own charm.

About one o'clock the wagons came to a halt. Our Yankee guard came along with none other than the esteemed Sergeant Mulholland.

"I want my bummer," he said.

I stood up and went to the back of the wagon and got out.

"This is wild turkey country," he said. "I want you to get out there and shoot us one." He gestured to the right side of the road where there was a spread of thick woods. "They're all over the place."

He handed me an Enfield rifle. "Go on now. Show us what you're made of. We want a big fat one for supper. As for you ladies, get on out here and gather some kindling and the makings for a fire. There's a small brook across the road. We've got a tripod here. Set things up so you can cook the turkey he brings back."

At first I stared dumbly at Mulholland, then the rifle, then the woods. Could I do it? Of course I could, I decided. How many times had I gone hunting with Teddy? The thought generated confidence in me.

I felt tolerably well about the whole thing as I stepped into the thick woods and disappeared into them to find my wild turkey.

An odd thing happened to me as soon as I plunged into the thicket of trees. I lost any trace of fear I should rightly have had in the strange forest in which I found myself.

I suppose I was too busy trying to sort it all out. At first I was on a narrow dirt footpath obviously made by humans, which led through what consisted mostly of pinewoods. Deer bounded through the trees and across my path in front of me. Rabbits and squirrels went about their business. But I saw no wild turkeys.

Then, of a sudden, there were some magnificent evergreen oak trees and a small wooden bridge that crossed a spring of pure water.

I stopped to fill my canteen and in the distance saw what appeared to be a peach orchard. Beyond that I could have sworn I saw some wigwams.

I stood up to better focus my vision. I was right! Just on the other side of the peach orchard were at least six wigwams that seemed to be built out of bark and evergreen boughs.

I felt a curious attraction inside, a drawing of myself toward them.

Were they really there? Or did I just fancy they were?

I had to find out.

I picked up my Enfield and walked on through the peach orchard and toward the small settlement. Never had I expected to come upon human habitation in this wilderness. As for Indians, I thought they had been driven out ages ago.

As I came closer to them I counted, indeed, six wigwams, and each had a tripod in front from which hung a kettle. There were also frying pans and all the other accouterments that Indians used.

There were only women present, no men.

In the ashes of the fires some cakes were cooking.

On one tripod hung a huge kettle in which something was cooking, and the smell was so fragrant, it made me realize how hungry I was. But it not only did that. It near hypnotized me. It brought me into their world. It made me unafraid.

Was it all real? Or was I dreaming? I thought of Louis. Had he guided me here? Did he have something to do with this? Was he helping me, even now? Would these women know where I could find a turkey?

Had I entered his world?

The women looked up as I approached and smiled. And what I had feared, that they would be afraid of my rifle, did not happen.

Though they were all busy, either sewing beads on moccasins or ornamenting deerskin pouches or frying bacon, they looked up and smiled as I approached. They nodded their heads.

"You've come at last," one said.

At last?
Had they been waiting for me? Known of me?

"Yes," I said. "I suppose I lost my way. But now I have found you. Have you been waiting for me a long time?"

"Long enough," another said. "We were told by the owl that a little girl of our people would soon come and she would be in trouble and we were to help her. From where do you come, little one?"

So they knew I was a girl, in spite of my boys' clothes. "Roswell," I said.

They nodded to one another. They said something in Indian language. What language.
Cherokee?
Oh, why had I never asked Louis to teach me Cherokee?

And then, in the middle of the Indian language I caught his name.
Louis.

So I was right. He had guided me here. They knew of him.

"Do you travel with the Yankees?" the one who was beading the moccasins asked me.

I told them yes, I traveled with the Yankees. I was being sent to Marietta with the other women who had been arrested.

"Well, you are not to worry," the one who was frying bacon said. "Your Father in heaven will protect you. And the two who travel with you. Last evening we saw it in the smoke of our fire. Now, how can we help you today?"

I told them about the turkey.

They laughed. "No wild turkeys around," said the one who was stirring the fragrant soup in the pot. "Mulholland Bad Face fooled you. He waits for you to return with no turkey so he can whip you. But we tell you now, that if you go to the other side of the bridge that goes over the stream that is pure, you will see one standing there and waiting for you. Shoot him. Then kneel over him and tell him you are sorry. And thank him for his life. And bring him back to Mulholland Bad Face."

"Oh, thank you," I said.

One by one, I went to them and embraced them. Before I took my leave they said some Indian prayers over me. Then out of the ashes, they gave me a cake wrapped in a cabbage leaf. I did not really want to leave, there was such a sense of peace here, but I knew that I had to. So I picked up my Enfield and walked slowly away.

When I got to the other side of the peach orchard, I turned to look back.

They were no more.

They were gone.

But the ash cake wrapped in the cabbage leaf was very real in my hand. And I unwrapped it and ate it. Oh, it was delicious! I did not question its origin or what had just happened to me. There are some things in life that you just do not question, Louis had once told me. You just accept them for what they are.

And when I came to the small wooden bridge that went over the water that was pure and saw the large fat turkey that was just standing there waiting for me on the other side, I did not question that, either.

I aimed my rifle as Teddy had taught me. I fired it. The sound echoed and reechoed in the silent forest and the turkey fell to the ground.

I set down my gun and went over to kneel beside the turkey. I told it how sorry I was that I had to shoot it. I thanked it for its life. Then I picked it up, retrieved my rifle, and started back along the path to Mulholland Bad Face.

When I got back to the wagon they were waiting for me. The women had the fire going and were sitting around it.

I handed the turkey to Mulholland Bad Face. He looked down at me with a mixture of surprise and disdain.

"Where'd you get it?"

"In the forest. It was there, waiting for me. Like you said it would be."

He took it and handed it over to the women, with orders to pluck it and cook it, right off. Then he took my Enfield from me and gave it to our Yankee guard. At this juncture, as I was about to help the women, he grabbed me by the wrist and took me back into the thicket of pine trees, dragging me a good ways in from the others.

"Where are you taking him?" It was Viola's voice.

"To see if we can find any more turkeys," he yelled back.

But I knew it was not so, and fear overtook me. He was handling me roughly. As soon as we were covered by a goodly number of pine trees, he let my wrist go.

"You lie," he said. "There are no turkeys about. This part of the country has been without them for two years. Now, where did you get that turkey?"