The Mississippi Boys

Chapter 14 Far and Away November’s end, 1861 An early snow lay deep in the valley, and from the oak tree where Ben was buried to the top of the ridge the earth was untouched by human footprints. The ice on the pines brought the boughs low to the ground. A family of deer frolicked at the top of the ridge, and the old eagle soared in the gray sky, winging her way back to the nest in the tallest tree on the ridge, flying high, dipping, soaring, vanishing out of sight in the last rays of sun, for no mere mortal must know the exact location of her wilderness home. Decembers had come and gone for over twenty years, and the southern scene was etched in Rachel’s mind, memories more poignant now because Ben was buried on that hill. And when the boys did go to war, she would no longer watch the horizon for them to appear. They would be gone—far and away—stirring yet another plethora of memories. The snow had melted and the road to the Payne cabin was dry and hard packed. Rachel worked at the wood stove in the cozy kitchen, preparing supper for her men and boys, and Cassie began setting the table when Rachel stopped her. “Cassie, let’s eat at the mahogany table tonight in front of the fire. I want this to be one of those special evenings.” “Of course, Rachel,” she said. “Should I use the good china?” “Yes, let’s do. And get that white cloth from the window seat.” Rachel brought the roasted turkey and cornbread dressing to the center of the table and surrounded it with vegetables. On the back porch, a pitcher of cold fresh cream for the stewed peaches rested in a tub of icicles Isaac had pulled from the eaves of the house. Coffee simmered in the blue speckled pot on the back burner of the stove. “What’s the occasion, Rachel?” Cassie asked. “I think every day is going to be the last before the men leave, and for some reason I’ve felt more strongly about it today. It’s in the air. We’ve been able to hold onto our men far longer than most, but now the war is getting stoked hotter every day. It won’t be long, I can assure you.” “Oh, Rachel, I can’t bear to think about it. I’ve tried to hide my feelings from Albert Henry, but I don’t know how successful I’ve been. The fact is he’ll be going off to fight in a war that I deem utterly senseless at this point.” “I know, Cassie. I couldn’t agree more, but it’s reality. We must hold up for them.” “But it’s so hard.” “Yes, but we’ll comfort one another, and God will bear us up,” she said, reminded of Benjamin. “You always know what to say. I‘m such a girl compared to you. You’re this godly woman that I long to be like, Rachel. When Henry comes back from the war, he’ll likely not be able to tell his wife from his mother, for I will watch every move you make, hoping that some of it will rub off on me.” Rachel laughed. “Don’t look at me, for I’ll disappoint you. Not meaning to. But I’ll gladly teach you what I know about being a wife and mother. Things I’ve learned the hard way. For one day you’ll be a mother. And a good one, at that.” “I hope so,” Cassie said, harboring her secret. T. G. Payne and his sons rode hard to the cabin, leaving a dusty trail. Isaac met them at the barn. “Son, I want you to let the horses cool down. Then you know what to do—only this time, make them all look like Glory. They need to shine. Feed them in their stalls and leave them in there tonight. My pride’s getting the best of me.” “Is it time, Pa?” “Yes, son. We’ll leave early in the morning.” Isaac wasted no time imploring his father in one last effort. “Pa, is there any way I can go with you and Jon and Henry?” Tears filled his deep blue eyes. Tears, yet no inkling of cowardice. No doubt this fourteen-year-old boy was a man now, having reached maturity far too soon. Boys just older than Isaac would ride off to war with their fathers. Thomas prayed Isaac would not grow bitter for being left behind and that he wouldn’t try something foolish. Rachel needed him. “Son, I know how much you want to go, but you must stay with your ma and the boys. I’ve got to know you’re here taking care of things. You’re the man, now. I’m counting on you.” “I don’t want to stay behind, but I know you need me here. I’ll gladly take care of things until you come home. You will come home, won’t you?” Isaac no longer fought the tears that streamed down his youthful face, and the suppressed sounds burst uncontrollably from his throat. He hung his head in the presence of his father. Thomas went inside, wishing he could answer Isaac’s question. Besides, he couldn’t look on his son right now. He was having trouble controlling his own emotions. Jonathan and Albert Henry had said nothing to their mother. They waited silently for their father to join them in the house; he would handle this. But they were both aware she knew this was it, and they were more concerned about leaving her behind than about going. The fire crackled and loose sparks danced on the hearth, cheerful in spite of the gloom that hung over the cabin. The family gathered and Thomas prayed the Lord’s blessing on the food and his family. He asked for a night of joy and laughter around his table, and when he said amen, forced delight and the usual chattering of the boys began to neutralize the otherwise poignant moment. Thomas followed Rachel about the cabin as she gathered up a few articles of clothing for him and the boys, some rounds of soap, combs, his Bible—she hated to part with it. She had one of her own, but they’d always used his for reading each night. Oh, how she would miss those times. Thomas walked in his wife’s footsteps, Samuel clinging to his father’s pant leg, as if he knew some singular moment in time was about to turn his little world upside down. “Rachel—” Thomas took his beloved wife in his arms and began to weep. “How can I do this? After all the talk of war, I’m ready to go and fight, but not to leave you. I never prepared myself for this. There are no words of wisdom to leave with you, for you are the wisest woman I know, and your love and compassion are unsurpassed. Knowing that you love me and are praying for me will keep me going until I come back home to you. But, Rachel, if I should nevermore return, you must remember how much I love you and our boys. You are the joy of my life.” Rachel choked, trying to suppress the desire to cry out. She clung to him for the longest and then pushed him back, tears flooding her eyes. She swallowed hard and looked at his handsome face, wanting never to forget every line, every little tired wrinkle, the gleam in his eye when she was in his presence. His slightly graying dark brown hair and the little scar on his cheek. Finally she spoke. “Thomas, we have had a full life these years. I could not have asked for more. God has been gracious to us all, and I will pray every day you’re away—for your protection from the enemy, for comfort, for food and a warm campfire. I’ll pray those angels will bear you up in their hands, lest you dash your foot against a stone. I’ll love you forever, Thomas Payne.” Morning had not yet broken, and Jonathan, Isaac, and Joab lay asleep on the floor in front of a hearth that bordered a dead heap of ashes. Rachel had piled Indian blankets on them during the night. The room was cold and Jonathan jumped up, pulled on his boots and grabbed his coat. It was still dark outside when he brought in a load of firewood from the porch, scooped out the vestiges, and started a blazing fire before taking the ashes outside. The wind blew fiercely, chilling him to the core. When he came inside, he went to his parents’ room and touched his mother’s face with a cold hand. She woke to his touch and put her arms around him. He walked out and she reluctantly awakened Thomas. He held her in his arms, wishing this moment had not come, that war had never been declared, and that he didn’t have to leave Rachel and the boys. But it was too late. Life as they had known it in the peaceful valley was coming to a close.