Jordan's War - 1861 by B.K. Birch Read Free Book Online

mad because he had planned to
go fishing this morning and even spent part of yesterday pulling only the
plumpest worms out of the manure pile. He was up and dressed before dawn so he
could get to the fishing hole just as the sun came up. But Pa had other plans
and now Jake had the fishing hole all to himself.
    Tuffs of the itchy
white fiber clung to his neck and hair, and some had even made their way down
inside his shirt. He was so sweaty even the occasional morning breeze wasn’t
powerful enough to rid him of it and his skin was streaked red from his
relentless scratching.
    Eamon wasn’t the
friendliest of company either. They’d been bickering at each other ever since
Pa told them to load the wagons because neither of them wanted to do it. The
sacks were heavy and cumbersome and there were just too many. They’d be there
until after noontime.
    Eamon flung the
sacks out of the loft as hard as he could, just to clobber Jordan as he worked
in the wagon below. He was so angry his ears burned red and his insides were
quivering. One of the sacks hit him in the head with such force, it knocked him
to his knees, dizzy and confused. Enough was enough. Jordan threw his hat on
the ground, stormed into the barn and up the ladder.
    Eamon must not
have seen him go inside, because he was about to hurl another sack and stood at
the edge of the loft to get a better aim at his target. Jordan jumped off the
ladder and knocked Eamon’s feet out from under him. He went tumbling to the
floor. Jordan pounced on him, like a wildcat on a bloodied deer, and commenced
to pounding any part of Eamon he could find with his fists.
    “Get off!” Eamon
yelled and thrashed on the floor to escape the blows. He twisted and turned,
but couldn’t knock Jordan off. He was too heavy.
    “Make me!” Jordan
hollered.
    Eamon socked
Jordan as hard as he could, right in the gut. Jordan felt a burn in his stomach
and tasted the bile that erupted out of his stomach and up his throat, but
ignored it in favor of the satisfaction he felt at getting the best of Eamon.
    Blaaarrrghhh!
Jordan vomited most of his breakfast right on Eamon’s chest. Eamon covered his
face with his hands.
    “You ignorant
little . . .!” Eamon yelled and shoved Jordan off his chest.
    Jordan slid across
the loft floor. Eamon jerked his shirt over his head and threw it down. Jordan
got to his feet. Eamon tackled him and they became a tangled mass of limbs.
    Jordan felt
Eamon’s weight being lifted off him. He looked up and saw Pa, standing behind
Eamon, holding his arms. Eamon was fighting to break free, but Pa seemed to
have a pretty good grip on him. Jordan got up, wiped the spittle from his chin
and dusted off his trousers.
    “The little
bastard got sick on me!” Eamon yelled. He was so mad he was spitting and Pa was
struggling to hold onto him.
    “He was throwing
the sacks at me!” Jordan screamed. He didn’t bother holding back the tears,
which by now were streaming down his flushed cheeks.
    “You boys better
figure out how to load that wagon without killing each other,” Pa ordered. “Or
neither one of you are going to Fairmont with me.”
    Jordan looked at
Eamon. Eamon shrugged and stood still. Jordan took a couple of steps backward
when he saw Pa let go of him.
    “Where’s
Fairmont?” they asked, almost in unison.
    “Up north.”
    “Why are we going
there?” Jordan asked. He’d never heard of the place and they normally took the
wool either to Lewisburg or Marlins Bottom.
    “I can get a
better price for the wool if I take it up there myself,” Pa explained. “It’s
closer to the mills.”
    “How far is it?”
Eamon asked.
    “Three days ride,
with the wagons.” Pa answered. “We’ll ride to Elkins and stay with Jim. Ma sent
word a few days back.”
    “When are we
leaving?” Eamon asked.
    “Tomorrow morning
if you two can quit fighting long enough to get these wagons loaded,” Pa said.
“Now, get moving and don’t forget to leave space in front for