Soldier Boy's Discovery (3 page)

This raised Leah's temper another notch, and she shot back, tears in her eyes, “Well, if I'm a Yankee, then you're nothing but a ragtag Rebel!” She turned and ran down the road toward the house.

He stood watching her go, feeling about as miserable as he ever had in his life, but he was too stubborn to admit it. “Well, if that's the way she wants to be, she can just have Ezra Payne and the whole Union army!”

J
eff took his seat at the breakfast table, his face red and flushed from the vigorous washing he'd given it on the back porch. He didn't glance at Leah but bowed his head while Mr. Carter asked the blessing. As soon as the Amen was said, he allowed Mrs. Carter to fill his plate with eggs, ham, and fried potatoes. He began to eat at once, stubbornly keeping his eyes down.

Dan Carter didn't miss this and glanced at Leah, whose face was rather pale. Then he glanced at Ezra, who was eating more slowly than usual. “I sure am glad you've come to help,” he said cheerfully. “This place was going down quick. It needs a strong young man like you to keep it up.”

Ezra glanced up. “Why, I haven't gotten started yet, Mr. Carter. You just wait—I'll make this farm hum!”

Mary Carter smiled at the young man. “You're a good hand, Ezra. Never saw anyone work harder.”

“Well, I like to work on a farm.” Ezra smiled shyly. “Never was on such a nice place as this one.”

“I think you know every foot of it, Ezra,” Sarah said. She had said she liked Ezra from the start, and now added, “It makes a big difference having a man on the place.”

Leah glanced at Jeff and saw that he was looking down at his plate. They had ignored each other since their argument, and she was finally willing to
take the first step toward making up. “Jeff knows the farm as well as anybody,” she offered, but Jeff didn't lift his eyes.

Her mother, always very observant, said, “Have some more pancakes, Jeff.”

“No, ma'am, I've got plenty.”

“Why, you
never
have enough of my pancakes! Are you feeling sick?”

“No, Mrs. Carter,” Jeff mumbled. “Just not very hungry, I guess. They're real good—like always.”

Dan Carter studied the boy, then let his eyes run around the table. “Ed Rayburn came by last night,” he said. “He brought the paper from Lexington. A couple of days old now, but I've been studying it.”

Mary Carter seemed to catch a note in her husband's voice and looked at him quickly. “What does it say about the war, Dan?”

“It says here that General Pope didn't do so well against the Confederates. He got whipped pretty bad. He claimed he was going to go down and win the war right off. But he didn't do it.”

Jeff's face flushed, and he flared out, “We'll see about that! He'll have to settle it with Marse Robert first.” General Robert E. Lee was commander of the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia. “There have been other generals who have tried to whip him and Stonewall.”

“That may be so,” Dan said agreeably. With so many neighbors on both sides of the war issue, it was hard to keep a balance. There had been no better neighbors than Nelson Majors and his family, and Dan was determined now to avoid an argument with Jeff. “One thing I know is that I've got to get on down the road. Those boys will be needing all kinds of things when they head South again.”

“You're not fit to go. You're not well, Dan.”

Dan Carter shook his head slowly in response to his wife's plea, “A man has to do what he thinks is right. I think God's told me to be all that I can to our soldier boys, and we have to obey God. That's what the Bible says.”

Jeff looked up quickly. He loved Dan Carter and respected him as much as a boy could. Still, the war had somehow divided them. He said little during the talk that followed and tried to slip away as soon as he could.

Sarah caught him at the door. “Are you and Leah going fishing today, Jeff?”

“Not today.”

“Why, Jeff, I never knew you to turn down a chance to go fishing!”

“Just not in the mood, I reckon.”

Sarah stared at him strangely. “You sure you're feeling all right, Jeff?”

“I'm all right. Don't fuss over me!” He turned and left the house, his back stiff and his face set.

As Leah and Sarah were washing the dishes, Sarah mentioned Jeff. “I guess he's sad to have to go back. He was real short with me just now.”

“He's not feeling well.”

“I think he's angry, Leah. Did you two have a fight?”
Leah kept her eyes down. “He was mad because I went hunting for birds' eggs with Ezra.”

“Oh, I see.”

Leah looked up with grief in her eyes. “I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, Sarah,” she protested. “I didn't think he'd be back in time to go, so I just went with Ezra.”

“I see.”

Catching an odd note in her sister's voice, Leah glanced at her. “Was I wrong?”

“No, Leah, but you ought to see Jeff's side of things. Boys are funny sometimes.”

“They sure are!”

Sarah smiled and washed another dish. “But so are girls,” she added quietly.

Leah looked miserable. She dried the plate in her hand, put it on the shelf without speaking, then complained, “I don't want to be quarreling with Jeff. He's my best friend.”

“Try to make up with him,” Sarah urged gently. “He might be gone for a long time. You never know what's going to happen when there's war.” Her voice caught at the end, and Leah knew she was thinking,
Will I ever see Tom again?
Leah glanced at her sister. “You're thinking about Tom, aren't you?” Her entire family knew how Sarah felt about Tom, even though she didn't talk much about him.

“I guess I was—a little,” Sarah admitted. “I get so afraid for him sometimes, Leah!”

“I know, Sarah. But he'll come back when the war's over.” She saw her sister's somber expression, quickly returned the last cup to the shelf, and gave her a quick hug. Then she turned and left the house for her outdoor chores, which included feeding the chickens.

She scooped a small sackful of feed from the barrel just inside the barn, crossed to the hen yard, and began to scatter it in a wide arc as she walked, calling, “Chick, chick, chick!”

The chickens came running from all directions, clucking loudly and gathering around her feet. They pecked vigorously at the feed.

Leah was startled when a voice said, “You look like you're floating in a sea of chickens, Leah.”

Looking up, she saw that Ezra had come to watch. He stood there with an ax in his hand, his face wet with sweat from chopping wood.

“Seems a shame to have to chop wood, seeing it's as hot as it is,” she said.

“I always say wood heats you up twice. Once when you chop it, then again when you burn it. You'll like it pretty well when winter comes.”

Leah giggled. “I never thought of it that way before.”

Ezra waded carefully through the sea of chickens that scolded at him. A big rooster lunged at his feet, pecking and squawking angrily. Ezra hooked its plump body under one boot toe and tossed it harmlessly into the crowd of hens. “Go take care of your women, rooster!”

He stopped in front of Leah and looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “I've been wanting to talk to you.”

“About what, Ezra?”

“About Jeff.”

“I don't want to talk about him. He's an old sorehead!” She flung a handful of seed hard against the henhouse.

Ezra shook his head. “That's no way for you to talk. How many times have you told me that you two have been best friends since you were kids?”

“Well, we were. But why does he have to be so … so …”

Ezra reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of feed. He began scattering it, watching as the multicolored chickens scrambled in the dust, fighting each other. Turning to her, he said, “I guess
all of us act a little bad sometimes, Leah. I know I do. Don't hold it against Jeff.”

Ezra's honesty brought a flush to Leah's face, but it didn't erase her hurt feelings. She shook her head stubbornly. “He's got to learn how to behave around young ladies. He's behaving like a child.”

He said suddenly, “If it hadn't been for you, I'd probably be back in a prison camp or maybe even dead. I was pretty sick.”

“It wasn't much, Ezra.”

“Yes, it was. I'll never forget that, Leah.”

She looked at him swiftly. She had wondered at times if she had done the right thing—helping a Union soldier to escape and then involving a Confederate drummer boy, Jeff, in the plot. But now, looking at Ezra and seeing the happy contentment on his face and seeing how much he had already recovered from his devastating illness, she knew she had. “I didn't do all that much,” she said.

“Yes, you did.” Ezra nodded. “I owe you a lot, but I still think you ought to be a little more understanding about Jeff. A best friend is hard to find— or replace.”

“He doesn't have to be so mean!”

“Jeff's got a hard row to hoe.”

“So do Royal and Tom. But they don't act like soreheads! Jeff could be nice, at least.”

“He's not happy, Leah, and being here he doesn't even have the war to keep his mind off what's troubling him.” Ezra took some more feed and scattered it. “He's got to go back to the war. All he sees is that I'll be here enjoying the farm and being with you.”

“He doesn't care about that.”

“You're wrong there, Leah,” Ezra said mildly. “He's jealous.”

“Jealous?” Leah shot him an astonished glance. “Why, he doesn't like me that much!”

Ezra shook his head. “He sure does. I think you ought to be a little nicer to him, Leah. He's leaving tomorrow, isn't he?”

“Yes, but he's got to apologize before I give in to him,” she said firmly. She finished feeding the chickens, shook the last few kernels out of the sack, left the hen yard, and waved the sack in a bright farewell to Ezra, who hefted his ax and headed back to the woodlot.

All day she thought about what Ezra had said. Finally she was all set to forgive and forget, just as soon as Jeff came and apologized, as any reasonable, civilized boy should. The day wore on, however, with no sign of Jeff. Leah watched the sun dip below the tree line and sighed.
Men!
Matthew Henderson came for supper. He was a short, round young man whose earnest face clearly showed the crush he had on Sarah. He never would have been so bold as to try for Sarah before the war; but when Tom left, he figured he wouldn't get a better chance. Not every man went off to war—people such as Matt, who ran his father's sawmill, had to stay at home to keep up supplies.

Leah whispered to Ezra, “He's trying to court Sarah. He's been sweet on her for a long time.”

“Does she like him?” Ezra whispered back.

“No, not really. All she can think about is Tom Majors.” Leah shook her head. “He better go on back home. Matt Henderson's wasting his time with Sarah.”

After supper, Henderson managed to persuade Sarah to go for a walk. Leah watched the two step off the porch and into the evening shadows and
scoffed to Ezra, “Sarah's too polite. You wouldn't catch me walking in the moonlight with some boy I wasn't sweet on. Sarah may call me rude, but at least I don't let my manners lead some fool boy on!”

Sarah soon regretted her kindness, for Matt paused halfway down the path to the creek, quickly grasped both her hands, and pulled her toward him for a kiss.

She drew back and pushed him away. “Don't do that, Matthew Henderson!”

“Why not? You know how I feel about you,” Matt protested. “I want to marry you.”

“No, Matt, that's out of the question. I just don't care for you like that.”

Matt argued, “My ma and pa didn't hardly know each other before they were hitched, and they learned to care for each other. We can too. You just gotta put your mind to it. You know I'll be good to you.” He stared at her accusingly. “I know what's wrong with you. You're in love with that Tom Majors.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Sarah, that won't do any good.” Matt shook his head. “Look at it like this—if the North loses, which it won't, that would be a whole new country in Virginia, and Tom would want to live there, not back here in Kentucky. But Kentucky—this is your home. You can't go chasing off after him and leave your whole family and friends. The South is going to lose eventually. Then what would it be like if you were married to Tom? You think any Confederate veteran's going to get fair treatment? Besides that, you've got a brother in the Union army. What if something happens to Royal? You'd blame Tom for it.”

“I don't want to talk about it, Matt!” Sarah said abruptly. She didn't need Matthew Henderson telling her what she had already agonized over many nights.

Sarah whirled around on the path and almost ran back to the house.

Matt followed more slowly, and she heard him talking with her parents for a few minutes on the porch before he bade them good night and set off for home.

Later, as Sarah and Leah cleaned the kitchen and filled the wood box for early morning baking, apparently Leah couldn't resist asking about Matt. “I guess he wanted to come courting, didn't he?”

“Oh, I suppose so, but I'm not interested in that.” Sarah deliberately turned away and began to vigorously scrub the already spotless counter.

“I sure wish I had one boy I was sweet on and another sweet on me. You sure are lucky, Sarah. Are you going to hold out and marry Tom when the war's over?”
Sarah grew flustered. “It's too soon to talk about things like that. I don't know—the war may go on for another five years.”

“It can't last that long,” Leah protested with the innocence of youth.

“I just don't know. Don't pester me about it, Leah.”