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

Willow’s syrup.”
    Jordan hoped Eamon
forgot about their feud, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He kept a close eye
on the sacks as they sailed from the loft to the wagon. It took them longer to
move the full wagon than to load it. Jordan begged Eamon to hitch up the horse,
but Eamon insisted it would take too long and they could do it faster
themselves.
    They pushed,
pulled, grunted, and cursed a bit, but at last managed to move the wagon out of
the way to make room for the next one. This time around, the boys worked like a
team.
    They were done in
no time and headed back to the house, just in time to eat. Jordan was greeted
by the sweet smell of cornbread, butter beans, and fried ham right when he stepped
on the porch. Pa was already done with the afternoon feeding and was sitting in
his chair whispering to Grandma.
    “Why can’t I go?”
Jake pouted to Ma.
    “I need you here,”
Ma said.
    “What about
Jordan? He can stay.”
    “I said no. Eamon
has to take one of the wagons and Jordan’s a little more responsible. There’re
too many people in the city and Pa would lose you for sure.”
    “I’d stay right
with him, I promise.”
    “No.”
    “You can have the
worms I dug,” Jordan said to Jake. He’d say just about anything to get him to
stop pleading with Ma and besides, they’d probably be dead before he could use
them.        
    “I already used
them,” Jake said.
    “There’s more.”
    “Where?”
    “Under the front
porch,” Jordan said. “In the old can  . . . by the lilac bush.”
    Jake took off.
Jordan wondered if he was really that excited about the worms or just
regrouping to nag Ma some more after supper. He felt sorry for him, but he
wasn’t about to volunteer to stay behind. Not this time. They were going north.
    Everything was
bigger and more exciting up there. Roads were wider, buildings were taller, and
folks did other jobs besides farming. The women wore big ornate hats and fancy
dresses, while the men wore ties and preferred those silly-looking round topped
derby hats to the wide brimmed hats like Pa and Uncle Tate wore. He’d heard
many stories, but this would be the first time he’d get to see it himself.
    “Why does Eamon
have to take one of the wagons?” Jordan asked. “Ain’t Uncle Tate going?”
    “Not this time,”
Ma said.
    He looked over at
Pa for an explanation. Pa looked him in the eyes but offered no words. The icy
stare was all Jordan needed. He understood he must never ask about Uncle Tate
until they talked about him again. This was the longest they’d gone without
visiting each other. A chill ran through him.
    Willow blew into
the room with her usual grace and fury.
    “Ma, I’d like to
go with Pa,” Willow announced. “I need some new cloth for Sunday dresses. You
even said they were getting too tight and I’d like to see what the other girls
are wearing up north, just to get a few ideas.”
    “I did say that,”
Ma agreed.
    “Then can I go?”
    Willow knew there
would be a store somewhere in town filled with reams of cloth – every color,
texture, and print imaginable. Every large town had one. Her eyes sparkled. Although
Jordan admired her approach he doubted she’d be successful.
    “No,” Ma said.
“Not this time. Perhaps when things calm down.”
    “You mean the
war?”
    “Yes. That place
is going to be crawling with strangers.”
    “But please mom,”
she begged. “I’ll have some money from selling the syrup. I always sell it
all.”
    “Tell Pa what you
want and he’ll pick it up for you,” she said. “It’s just not safe. Finnian, can
you help me here?”
    “It’s not safe,”
Pa said. “And you’ll have to tell Jordan what you want though. I won’t
remember.”
    “Ohhhh,” Willow
said through clenched teeth, grabbed Jordan’s arm, and pulled him into the
kitchen.
     
    They were up and
dressed before daybreak. Jordan stuffed his face with as much food as he could
during breakfast. He didn’t know when Pa would stop