Soldier Boy's Discovery (5 page)

“Why, sure! That little girl's always got everything she wanted. When she saw you liked Leah best, she just purely couldn't take it.”

Jeff flushed and shook his head. “I dunno. Never thought of it that way.”

“Well, I did. But go on with the story.”

“Not much to it. I rode hard and got ahead of the patrol they sent out to catch Ezra.”

“Guess you had to ride pretty hard.” Silas had once said he liked the way Jeff never boasted but just considered himself an ordinary boy who did what he had to.

“Sure did. Had to ride
around
the patrol. Only got there a few minutes before they did.”

“If they'd caught Ezra, he'd have been sent back to prison camp. He surely would've died there. Where'd you hide him?”

“Oh, I just told him to take my horse on ahead. He was out of sight before the patrol pulled up.”

“You saved his bacon, Jeff—and Leah's too, if they'd found out her part in it.”

“Don't know about that, sir.”

“If they'd caught her with an escaped Federal prisoner, she'd have been in real trouble.”

“When they found out my father was an officer in the Stonewall Brigade, and that I was the drummer boy, they didn't waste any more time.”

“Things went all right the rest of the way?”

“Yes, sir. They went fine,” Jeff answered. Getting fed up with Leah and all the time she spent with Ezra didn't really count as trouble, he guessed.

“Here, have some more cornbread. I know how much you like it.”

Soon Jeff was spooning the last crumbs of cornbread soaked in rich buttermilk out of his cup—a treat he had enjoyed often at Silas's home.

“That sure was good!” He sighed with satisfaction. “You make the best cornbread I know of.”

Silas shrugged, replying with a modest grin, “Anybody can make good cornbread, if they've a mind to.” He leaned back in his cane chair, stared at the boy, and noted with pride, “Looks to me like you're kind of a hero, Jeff, the way you saved Leah and Ezra.”

Jeff shifted uneasily in his chair, reached out, and pulled the bowl containing blackberry cobbler toward him. He took a bite and shook his head. “I don't reckon I'm any kind of a hero. I didn't want Leah to get caught, is all.”

“Well, you sure saved her neck and that young fella Ezra too. I know he's grateful to you.”

“Don't know about that.” Jeff cut himself off before he said anything unkind about Ezra. He had no reason to, not really, even though he included him in his lingering anger at Leah.

Jeff's discomfort seemed to puzzle Silas. “They're all right, aren't they—the folks back in Kentucky? I sure think a lot of that nephew of mine, Dan. How's he doing? You're not keeping anything back, are you, son?”

“No, sir. There's nothing wrong with anybody. Mr. Carter's about the same—not too well but doing
well enough, like always,” Jeff answered slowly, taking another bite of cobbler. “He's going to follow the Union army as a sutler again.”

“That's pretty hard work. A sick man doesn't have any business doing a thing like that.” Silas's concern for his nephew was plain on his weather-beaten face.

“That's what Mrs. Carter says, but Mr. Carter says that God's told him to do it, so he's going to do it. When Mr. Carter gets something in his head, he doesn't change his mind just because he doesn't feel very sprightly.”

Silas chuckled. “That sounds like Dan, all right. He always was a strong Christian. Stronger than me, I think. How's the rest of the family? How's that little sister of yours?”
Jeff spent the next hour telling about life on the farm in Pineville.

Silas Carter sat back and listened. Finally when Jeff came to the end of his story, Silas said, “You're not talking much about Leah, Jeff. Time was, your best friend and your escapades with her used up almost all your talkin' time.”

“Not much to say,” Jeff replied shortly.

“You sound like you're put out with her.”

Jeff suddenly nodded. “Well, I am, to tell the truth. I don't mess in other people's business, Mr. Carter, but I think she's making a big mistake. Maybe all of them are.”

Silas leaned forward, his bright blue eyes fixed on Jeff. “This have something to do with Ezra?”
Jeff felt himself flush, but he kept his head high. In for a penny, in for a pound. He wouldn't clam up now. “Yes, it does! They've taken him in like he's family, and he's nothing but a Yankee.”

“Well, their son, Royal, he's a Yankee too. He's in the Union army.”

“Well,
Ezra
ain't their son,” Jeff snapped. “And besides—” He broke off and bit his lip angrily.

“What is it, Jeff? You don't like Ezra just because he's a Yankee? Is there something else?”
Jeff was flustered. He said finally, “I think Leah's making too much of him. She's too young to be interested in boys like that. She doesn't know how Ezra might be feeling toward her.”

“Well, they're pretty good friends, but you two have been friends a lot longer. Are you feeling a different way toward her now too?”

“I told her we went back a lot further than her and Ezra,” Jeff said eagerly. “But she wouldn't even go fishing with me. She was out hunting birds' eggs with him. That's what we always did together. If she wanted someone to go hunting birds' eggs with her, why didn't she ask me?”

“I don't know. Why didn't she? Maybe you were busy.”

Jeff remembered how he'd insisted on going off to hunt rabbits by himself, and he gnawed his lip in a worried fashion. “She could have asked me,” he said stubbornly.

Silas, perhaps figuring he'd gotten about as much out of the young man as he was going to during this conversation, merely responded, “You'll work it out, Jeff. You two always have. Now pay for your supper by chopping me some wood!”

Later, at the window, as he watched Jeff swinging the ax with a vengeance under the old oak tree, Silas said to himself,
That boy's got himself tangled up in his own harness. I don't think I can talk to him
right now. When a boy's stubborn like that, he's got to get himself out of it
.

Jeff was tired and knew he could spend the night with Silas without having to do anything else, but he also knew the old man appreciated any help he got. There were plenty of chores to be done, and he worked hard for the rest of the day.

Late that afternoon he took a break, slumped down on the dirt by the front porch, and then looked up when he heard the jingle of harness and whisper of wheels spinning down the road. A familiar buggy was approaching.

It stopped in front of the house.

He scrambled to his feet and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve as Lucy Driscoll jumped down and ran toward him.

Her voice nearly screeched his name. “Jeff! Jeff!” She launched herself toward him and grabbed him around the neck.

“Hello, Lucy,” Jeff said awkwardly as he untangled her arms and set her away from his dusty, sweat-soaked clothes. He still disliked the girl. She had always treated Leah badly. Just because Leah's family wasn't like hers—Lucy's parents were two of the most important social leaders in the Richmond area—didn't mean Lucy could treat her like trash.

Lucy Driscoll was a pretty girl, small and well-shaped, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her father was a prominent, wealthy planter.

Lucy saw Jeff's frown and bit her lip. “When the lieutenant told me you were back, I just couldn't wait to talk to you, Jeff,” she said timidly.

“About what?” he responded roughly. It was not Lucy's social snub of Leah that disturbed him the most. What seemed unforgivable was that Lucy had
informed Captain Wesley Lyons that Leah was trying to sneak away with an escaped prisoner. It had been Lucy's spite that had almost gotten Leah and Ezra captured. Jeff and Leah had talked a lot about Lucy's betrayal, and neither of them had any warm feelings for the girl. He looked at her sternly.

Lucy looked down at the ground. “You're mad at me, aren't you, Jeff?”

“Don't know why you should think that,” Jeff said shortly.

Lucy looked up, and Jeff saw how worry creased her forehead. Her eyes almost teared. Her lips were trembling. “I was wrong to do what I did,” she offered as she plucked hesitantly at his sleeve. She waited, and when he didn't speak she added, “I shouldn't have told on Leah like I did. It was wrong of me. Friends should be loyal.”

Ordinarily, Jeff would have been quick to accept the girl's apology. However, his feelings had been rubbed raw with his quarrel with Leah, and he wasn't in the mood to forgive any girl anything right now.

“You
never
were nice to Leah,” he accused. “You made fun of her clothes and the way she acted at your party. You snubbed her on the street. You turned your friends against her. You even tried to get me mad at her.”

“I know, and I was wrong. Mama told me I was. I guess that's why I was so mad. But I didn't want to see Leah get hurt—really, I didn't, Jeff! I thought it would be better if she were stopped before that bad Yankee—you know—tried to take advantage of her!”

“Ezra wouldn't be anything but a gentleman to her. And besides, you know what would've happened if that patrol had caught her with Ezra? She
could have been arrested as a spy and hanged or shot. How's that better for her?”

“Oh, no, our boys wouldn't dare hurt a Southern lady!”

“That's what they do with spies,” Jeff said roughly. “Male or female, Northern or Southern. How would you have liked that?”
Lucy's lips began to tremble again and tears formed in each eye. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I know I behave so badly sometimes. But I just don't have any worldly experience, not like you and Leah. I truly wouldn't want anything bad to happen to Leah.”

Jeff was tempted to give her some sort of assurance, but his stubborn streak won out. “Well,” he declared, “you sure have a funny way of showing it! You could get somebody killed, Lucy.”

He walked away without another word.

Lucy stared after him. Then turning slowly, she walked back to the buggy where her father's most trusted slave sat holding the reins, watching carefully for her safety.

When she got in, she motioned brusquely and commanded, “Go on, Sam.”

He spoke gently to the horses and turned them toward home. As the team plodded along, he spoke with determination. “That young man ain't got no manners, Miss Lucy. You stay away from him!”

Lucy whispered, “No, he's right, Sam.” She had hoped that Jeff would forgive her, but his harsh response had crushed her, and she huddled in the seat as the buggy rolled down the road.

After supper that night Silas said, “I saw Lucy Driscoll stop and talk to you this afternoon.”

Jeff frowned. “Yes, she did. Fool girl! I guess I told her off!”

Silas shot a quick look at him. “What did she say?”

“Oh, she said she was sorry about the way she told on Leah and Ezra. A lot of good that would have done if they had gotten caught! She's nothing but a little brat!”

Silas wrinkled his forehead and leaned back in his chair. He said mildly, “Good that you've never done anything wrong, Jeff.”

Jeff looked up suddenly, and when he saw the old man's eyes on him, he flushed. “Why, I've done my share of wrong things,” he protested.

“Nobody ever forgave you for them, I don't suppose?” Silas asked.

“Why, sure,” Jeff floundered. “I mean, of course they did!” He was nervous and uncomfortable. Making a mistake was sure different from putting someone's life in danger because you're a fool! Finally, after a long silence, he cleared his throat. “I guess you think I was too hard on Lucy?”

“The Bible says if we hold a grudge against anyone, we're wrong. Lucy was wrong to do what she did, but she was right to feel bad about it—and right to ask you to forgive her.”

Jeff shifted uneasily in his chair. “Well, I didn't think about that.”

The old man said nothing.

Jeff finally blurted out, “I guess I was wrong too, wasn't I?”

“You have to decide that, Jeff. It's not up to me. God has a way of making us feel pretty bad when we do wrong things. It's what the preachers call
‘conviction.' If I were you, I'd think about it, though. Next time it may be you that needs forgiving.”

Jeff was troubled, and as they washed the dishes, the two of them talked earnestly about everything except Lucy and the way Jeff had treated her. At last Jeff said, “Well, I was wrong, Mr. Carter—I sure was. I'll just have to swallow my pride and tell her so.”

“I know one way you can do that.”

“How's that, sir?”

“Well, it's Sunday tomorrow. We can go to church in the morning. The Driscolls are always there. It'd be a good chance for you, after the service, to make it right with her.”

Jeff nodded slowly. “All right, that's what I'll do then.” He looked at Silas and shook his head. “It sure is hard to say sorry, isn't it?”

“I guess it is. The hardest thing a person has to say is ‘I was wrong' and ‘I'm sorry'” Silas grinned at him. “But after you say it, you'll feel good, boy. Wait and see if you don't.”

Jeff knew that Silas Carter was right, but his stubborn streak still gave him problems. That night as he lay in bed, he thought a long time about the next day.

Wonder why it's so hard to say you're sorry? Ought to be easy—but it never is!

J
eff felt uncomfortable entering the large, white-frame Baptist church set back from the main road. He arrived with Silas Carter just as the service was beginning.

“I guess we're a little bit late,” Silas said as they got out of the buggy. He tied up his farm horses, curried to a shine and wearing their matching “dress up” harnesses, then joined Jeff at the top of the steps. “We're here for the preaching though, and that's my favorite part anyhow.”