WHEN WE got home that afternoon, things were in chaos. No, the shelling hadn’t started again, not yet, but Mama was at the dining table, seated across from James, and both were crying.
Easter stood by, near tears herself, and Robert was in back of Easter, unable to stand on his own two feet but holding onto a kitchen cupboard and trying to soothe the lot of them.
“I can take care of it, ma’am,” he was saying to Mama.
“No, no, Robert. Landon said I was not to allow you out of the house.”
“But a snake on the roof.” Robert was saying.
I followed Landon in. He set down his pillowcase of books. “Who’s got a snake on the roof?” he asked. “Ma? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? James? Did you get hurt?”
James would not look at him.
“Well, somebody tell me what’s going on here,” Landon said irritably. “It can’t be as bad as what’s going on out there.”
“There’s a snake on one of the posts of the roof,” Robert told him. “I wanted to go out and kill it, but your mother here won’t allow me outside. Says she’s going according to your orders.”
“She is. You can scarce stand,” Landon said. “How can you battle a snake?”
“It isn’t only that,” Robert reported. “It seems that your little brother here has been playing with your matches and started a small fire.”
Sure enough, there on the table were the remnants of a small fire. The day’s copy of the Daily Citizen, which was the only newspaper now being printed in Vicksburg, and printed on the back of old wallpaper at that, was singed around the edges. It looked as if it had been on fire and then that fire hastily put out. Around it were several of Landon’s large glue and phosphorous matches, which I knew he had cautioned James never to touch.
Landon took it all in. He stepped forward, closer to James, who was still sobbing quietly. “You did this, did you?” His voice was stern, not kind.
“I didn’t . . . mean . . . to.” James hiccuped.
“What do you mean you didn’t mean to?” Landon asked.
James didn’t answer. He kept his eyes downcast. This was not his Landon talking to him now, this was someone else, someone who frightened him.
“Look,” Landon said, “I think you better go into your room and sit there and think on what you’ve done. And I’ll be in later and we’ll talk about it. You hear? Go on, now.”
James didn’t move. “But I wanted . . . I wanted to see you kill the snake,” he all but wailed.
In an instant Landon picked James up off the chair, set him firmly on the ground, and gave him a small spank on the bottom and a shove toward the hall. “Go and do as I say,” he ordered.
James ran. Landon then walked Robert back to his room, and they were in there a few minutes. I heard low talking. I supposed Robert had his fever again. But when Landon came back out into the kitchen he said nothing about Robert. All he said was, “Stop crying, Mama, everything will be all right.”
“No, there’s more, Landon, there’s more.”
“All right, have at it. Might as well, Mama.”
“Well, you know how I give Easter five dollars and send her to market every morning to see what she can find in the way of meat?”
“If you’re going to tell me there isn’t any more meat in the marketplace, Mama, I’ve already been apprised of that fact. Clothilda, at home, wants permission to kill the last turkey. Says it’s old and it’s tough, but at least it’s not mule meat. Can I tell her yes?”
Mama nodded, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. Landon leaned over her, pushing back the strands of blonde hair that had escaped from her rolled-back hairdo. “C’mon, Ma,” he said, “I need some moral support, too.”
“Easter saw that they had not only mule meat hanging there, but rats,” Mama said. “Oh, Landon, what’s my town come to?”
He sighed and said nothing. “Did you get a letter from Pa today?”
“No. The Confederate dispatch rider came through but there was nothing from your pa. Only this, from Dr. Balfour.” She gave him one piece of paper on which was scrawled a note. He read it carefully and handed it to me.
“Ma and I will discuss it,” he told me, “but you ought to have a say in it, since it concerns you. Think about it and let me know tomorrow.”
I took the note and scanned it quickly. Dr. Balfour was asking my mother’s and Landon’s permission to allow me to come to the hospital twice a week and write letters home for the brave boys who needed them written. I was good at the task, Dr. Balfour wrote, and sympathetic with the young men without being disheartening.
I looked up from my reading. They were both eyeing me.
“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” Mama advised.
“Being around the sick and dying can steal your soul right from under you,” Landon said.
I nodded and said nothing. Landon told Easter there was still some time before the shelling started, and anyway he knew the nigras knew their way around town so’s they wouldn’t get hit, so could she please go to our home and tell Clothilda to kill that turkey and bring it home so Easter could cook it for supper?
Easter left.
“Now,” Landon said, “let’s go and kill ourselves a snake.”
It was wrapped around the upright roof support post, and by now a small crowd had gathered. Landon urged them back a ways in case it attacked, for it was surely poisonous. Then he unsheathed his sword and with that terrible and beautiful instrument poked at the head of the snake to annoy it. Behind us the crowd oohed and aahed.
It was very fat must have been very long because it had itself wrapped around that support post at least four or five times.
Now it was watching Landon, fastening its yellow-green eyes upon him, opening its devil’s mouth so its tongue could flicker in and out. Landon did more poking with that sword of his and, angry at being disturbed, the snake fought back. It unwrapped itself two or three turns from that support post and slithered down the roof of the cave toward Landon.
Everyone gave a low moan.
Then Landon went at it. The snake responded with back-and-forth thrusts of about two feet of itself, finally got tired, lost balance, and slipped to the earth at Landon’s feet.
Quick as a firefly, Landon thrust his sword and cut its head off. I thought I was going to throw up. The snake was still moving. Now I was crying.
A man, a fellow cave dweller, came up to Landon, waited for him to sheath his sword, and shook his hand. “I’m Oldfield from down ways a bit. Glad you’re with us. All these people knew what to do, but they wanted to see their own major in action.”
“Won’t be with you all long,” Landon addressed them quietly, “so I’d suggest you all learn to do it yourselves. And I’m not a major. Just a captain. If you see another snake just keep the people away from it and go and fetch one of your soldiers I see wandering about. You’ll be all right.”
Back in the cave he told Mama how he’d been reassigned to the hospital at Milliken’s Bend and how, this afternoon, he wanted to take a ride down there to introduce himself to his commanding officer before he reported for duty. He’d be in late, he told her. We were to keep an eye on Robert. “Give him some more quinine if his fever persists.”
First, though, he had to clean himself up, polish his boots, and walk home to get Rosie, his horse. And he had to talk with James.
“Your father would paddle him good,” Mama said.
I followed him down the hall. “Landon.”
“Yes?”
“Pa wouldn’t. He wouldn’t paddle James. He never hit us.”
His smile now was solemn. “I know, Claire Louise. I was once a little boy in this family, too, remember? Now don’t worry yourself. I know what I’m about.”