The train ride turned out to be unpleasant. Hour after hour the steam locomotive chuffed along, sending black smoke high into the air. The weather was hot, and the windows were all open. This meant that cinders and soot from the wood-burning engine were sometimes swept inside, blackening the faces of the passengers.
“Ow!” Leah protested. She reached up and grabbed her face. “That hurt!”
Jeff felt tired, but it was difficult to sleep on the noisy train. He studied Leah for a moment, then said, “You’ve got soot all over your face.”
“So’ve you.” She dabbed at her face with a handkerchief that was already smeared, then looked at it with disgust. “I’ll sure be glad to get off this old train,” she complained. “I don’t think we’re ever going to get there!”
“It beats walking,” Jeff said grimly, “or even riding a wagon. It’d take us a long time to get to Kentucky that way.”
“Well, it may be faster,” Leah said, “but I don’t have to like it! I’d rather ride in a wagon!”
The train was packed. A woman with two small children sat across from them, and the children, no more than three and four, were tired and cried often.
Leah took the little girl on her lap from time to time and played simple games with her and told her stories.
Jeff, taking the hint, took the boy on his own lap so that the mother could stretch her legs and get a little relief.
“You’re very good with children,” the woman said, smiling at both of them. Her face was lined with fatigue. The journey had worn her down. “You must have brothers and sisters of your own.”
Jeff looked up. “I’ve got a little sister even younger than these two,” he said. “We’re on our way to Kentucky.”
“Are you brother and sister?” the woman asked.
“Oh, no,” Leah said quickly. She bounced the little girl upon her knee, which caused the child to utter happy cries. “We grew up together is all. Our families own neighboring farms.”
“Nice to have good friends, isn’t it?” the woman said.
Jeff thought she seemed to be rather lonely.
“Are you from the North?” Leah asked. The woman’s accent was somewhat different from that of Southern people.
“Yes, I’m from Massachusetts. I’m going down to visit my husband. He was wounded, and I’m coming to bring him home again. He’s been paroled.”
“Well, that’s good,” Jeff said. “He won’t have to fight anymore then.”
That was the custom on both sides. When a man gave his “parole,” in effect he promised never to serve again in the army.
The woman’s face grew a little sad, and she nodded. “He won’t have to fight, but he couldn’t anyway. You see, he lost a leg.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Leah said, “but at least you’ll have him back, and he’s all right otherwise.”
“Yes. He’ll have to learn a new trade, though. He was a surveyor, and now he can’t walk.”
Leah and Jeff exchanged glances. The war had wrecked so many lives and so many families.
Later, when the woman had gotten off the train, Leah murmured, “I feel sorry for them.”
“So do I, but at least he’s alive. You can always get an artificial leg, but when you’re dead, you’re dead!”
At one point the train filled up with soldiers being transported somewhere—all Union, of course. They filled the car with smoke, some of them smoking pipes, others cigars. They were loud and boisterous.
After a while, Jeff said, “You know, Leah, these fellows talk kind of funny, but they’re really just like the men in my brigade.”
“Are they, Jeff?”
He nodded. “Sure. And look how young most of ’em are. Just like us.”
“I guess there’s really no difference between those that wear blue and those that wear gray.”
“I never thought of that much before,” Jeff said, his face thoughtful. “It’s hard to feel that way when they’re shooting at you and you’re shooting back. But these fellows—why, they could have come from our hometown, couldn’t they, Leah?”
“Yes, they could.”
The journey continued for two days with the train stopping, it seemed, every five miles. Finally, however, the engine chuffed into a small station, and the conductor came through saying, “Pineville! All off for Pineville!”
“Here we are, Jeff!” Leah’s eyes shone with excitement.
She grabbed her suitcase, and he picked up the knapsack he had put his few possessions in. They stepped off and stood on the platform until the train pulled away. Only two other people got off, and the station was vacant.
Leah said, “Look! There’s Charlie Taylor. Maybe he’d know somebody that’s going out to the farm.”
They went over to the station agent, a tall, grayhaired man, who was surprised to see them. He put down the sack he was carrying and gave them a smile. “Why, Leah! And if it ain’t Jeff Majors! What in the world you doing here?”
They did not tell the agent a great deal but did discover that a neighbor—a man named Bates—was in town, one who lived close to Leah’s family.
“Thanks, Mr. Taylor,” Jeff said. “We’ll go see if we can find him. We need a ride home.”
They found the neighbor, and after telling a part of their story, Leah asked, “Are you going back home again soon, Mr. Bates?”
“Sure am!” Bates exclaimed. He was a short, chunky man with red hair. “And, yes, you can ride along. My, won’t your folks be surprised to see you! They don’t know you’re coming?”
“No, we didn’t know ourselves when we’d get here.”
“Well, ain’t that fine now! Here, Jeff, you help me get these groceries in the back of the wagon, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Sure, Mr. Bates.”
Ten minutes later they were moving along the road, the wagon wheels sending a column of dust rising in the air behind them. It was a beautiful day in May, and both Jeff and Leah were anxious to get to the farm, but it was a slow process.
Every time Mr. Bates met someone, he would stop for a moment, saying, “Look here! It’s Leah Carter and Jeff Majors come home. Ain’t that fine!”
After this had happened a half dozen times, Jeff said, “Mr. Bates, why don’t you just drive on to the farm, and we’ll have time to meet all these folks tomorrow?”
Bates blinked with surprise. “Why, sure. I guess you are anxious to see your folks. Sorry ’bout that.” He slapped the lines on the backs of the horses, saying, “Giddup, Tony! Giddup, Babe!” and the team broke into a fast trot.
The Carter farm was five miles outside of town. As they pulled within sight of it, Leah exclaimed, “Look! There’s Ma out in the yard, hanging up clothes!”
“She’ll be surprised to see you.” Mr. Bates grinned. He drove the team into the yard at a fast gallop, raising a cloud of dust. When he pulled up, he called out, “Look what I brought you! Special delivery, Miz Carter!”
Mrs. Carter had blonde hair and green eyes just like her daughter’s. She was wearing a simple brown dress, and her hair was done up in braids around her head. She took one look at the young people falling out of the wagon and cried, “Leah! Jeff! My stars above!” She ran and embraced them both and then called out, “Sarah, look who’s here!”
Then she turned back, saying, “What in the world are you two doing here?”
“It’s a long story, Ma,” Leah said, obviously very happy to be home. “I’ll tell you all about it—” She stopped as Sarah came out of the house, and she ran to greet her.
Sarah Carter, at eighteen, was one of the prettiest girls in the mountains. She had dark hair, dark blue eyes, and a lovely complexion. She threw her arms around Leah and then gave Jeff a hug. “What are you two doing, dropping out of the skies?” she exclaimed.
“We came to get something to eat.” Jeff grinned broadly.
Mrs. Carter laughed. “I never saw you when you weren’t hungry. Come on in! That baby sister of yours has grown like a weed.”
They found Leah’s sister Morena sitting on the floor playing with Esther, Jeff’s sister. Morena was blonde and green-eyed like Leah, but she had never developed mentally. Though she was nine years old now, she had never spoken, and the Carters accepted her as she was.
Leah ran and hugged her. “Why, Morena, look how pretty you are,” she said. She stroked the girl’s hair, looked down into the vacant eyes, and held her tight.
Jeff fell on his knees beside Esther, who was seated on the floor, staring up with dark brown eyes. Then he snatched her up and tossed her to the ceiling. “Look at you, Esther!” Soon he had her laughing and screaming with joy as she always did when he threw her in the air.
Then Jeff held her tightly and said, “I wish Pa and Tom could see you! They’d think you’re something!”
Mrs. Carter stood back, watching Jeff hold the baby. “Yes, it’s sad for a family to be apart like this,” she said. “But come now. It’s too early for dinner, but we’ve got some biscuits, and I can fix some eggs.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jeff said. “You got any of that good sausage—the hot kind you always make, Mrs. Carter? You know I’m real partial to that!”
“I think I can find some! You sit down now and tell us what all’s been going on.”
They had just sat down at the table when steps sounded on the porch.
The door opened, and a tall young man wearing a straw hat and overalls came in. Then he stopped abruptly. “Why, Leah!” he exclaimed, and his face broke into a smile.
Leah jumped up and ran to him. She took his hands. “I bet you didn’t expect to have company for dinner, did you, Ezra?” she teased.
“Sure didn’t. Where’d you spring from?” Ezra turned to Jeff, and his face lit up again. He walked over and stuck his hand out. “Jeff! By jingo, it’s good to see you again.”
“Good to see you, Ezra,” Jeff mumbled. “How you been?”
“Real good. Real good. Learning how to be a farmer.”
“Don’t let him tell you that,” Sarah said quickly. “He’s already a better farmer than most men that’ve been at it for forty years around here.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Carter said. She gave the young man an affectionate look and added, “Sit down, Ezra. You might as well eat too.”
Ezra took his seat, his eyes fastened on Leah. “You sure look good,” he said simply.
“Oh, I’m all over soot from that old train. I can’t wait to take a bath,” she protested.
“Well, you look good to me,” he said. “You too, Jeff.”
Jeff had mixed feelings about Ezra Payne. He had learned to like the young man as they helped him make his escape from Virginia. But the truth was, he was somewhat jealous because of Leah’s feelings for him.
Ezra ate hungrily as Leah told the story of the blockade-running expedition and the capture of Belle Boyd.
“You really met Belle Boyd?” Sarah said. “What was she like?”
“Oh, you’d like her, Sarah,” Leah said quickly. “She’s real nice.”
“And you say she’s going to marry that Yankee officer?”
“Yes, isn’t that romantic?”
Jeff stared at Leah and shook his head. He was still doubtful about the whole business of Belle’s marriage to young Hardinge. “I think it’s a mistake,” he said. He talked around a huge mouthful of eggs. “I think they’re both crazy. It’ll never work.”
“Why do you say that, Jeff?” Ezra said. “If they love each other, it’ll be all right.”
“No, it won’t,” Jeff argued. “He’s a Yankee, and she’s a Confederate. How you gonna put those two things together?”
Then he saw the pain that came into Sarah’s face. She’s so in love with Tom—and she sees that she probably will never get him. I wonder what she thinks about Belle marrying a Yankee.
It was Ezra who brought the matter up. He looked at Sarah and said, “Well, I guess if Belle Boyd can marry a Yankee, Tom can marry you, can’t he, Miss Sarah?”
Sarah grew pale. She probably wished that the subject had not come up, for she had struggled with this problem ever since Jeff’s brother joined the Confederate army.
“I don’t think it would work for me. Belle’s different.”
“I don’t see how she’s any different,” Ezra said, puzzled. “Seems to me, when people love each other—why, that’s a whole lot more important than politics.”
“You just don’t know what you’re talking about, Ezra,” Jeff said sharply.
Ezra flinched at Jeff’s sudden attack. “Well, I probably don’t,” he said and looked down and began eating slowly.
“Oh, let’s have a good time,” Leah said quickly. “We don’t have to talk about the war, do we?”
“That’s a good idea, Leah. Let’s talk about going to church tomorrow. My, won’t Brother Jenkins be surprised to see you! And all the neighbors will be stopping by!”
“Oh, I’ve missed my church,” Leah said.
“Didn’t you have a good church there in Richmond?”
“Oh, yes,” Leah said, “but not like here.” She had grown up in the little white frame church building, had become a believer there, and almost every day thought about that part of her life.
“Well, it’s mostly women there now, with the men gone off to war,” her mother said.
They talked about the church, and Jeff ate silently, feeling somewhat out of place.
Later that afternoon, Jeff was just walking around the farm aimlessly when Leah caught up with him.
“Let’s go down to the creek, Jeff. We can catch some fish for supper.”
Jeff looked at her. He wanted to go, but there was a stubbornness in him. Somehow he still resented Ezra Payne, although he would have died rather than say so.
“Why don’t you and Ezra go?” he said.
“Ezra? Why, Ezra can fish anytime. Besides, I want to go with you.”
Jeff brightened. “All right,” he said, and they ran to the barn to get the poles. Then they dug a canful of worms and soon were sitting on the riverbank. The fish were biting, and before long they had a string of nice punkin-seed perch.
“Maybe later we can go down to the bridge and see if Old Napoleon’s still there.”
Old Napoleon was the tremendous bass that Jeff had spent a great deal of time trying to catch. He had actually landed him once.
“You remember when you caught Old Napoleon the last time we went there?”
“Sure, I remember.”
Leah turned to him. “You turned him loose, Jeff. Why’d you do that?”
Jeff found it hard to put into words what he was thinking. “Well, someday I’d like to come back here, and I’d like for things to be like they were. I guess I thought if I could just leave Napoleon there, that’d make it like old times.”
“That’s nice, Jeff,” Leah whispered. She was sitting very close, and she leaned over and touched his shoulder. “We can do all the things we used to do: go fishing, hunt birds’ eggs, go coon hunting …”
The sun was setting in the west, throwing red gleams over the water in the creek. A school of minnows flashed down at their feet, silver arrows that darted and stirred up the sand in the creek bottom.
Jeff sat silently for a while, then shook his head. “I don’t know if we can ever go back to being what we were.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, things change, Leah. We were just kids then. We can’t go back to being ten years old again.”
“Why, no … I wouldn’t want that!”
Jeff waited till his cork disappeared with a plop, then quickly jerked a wiggling perch out of the water. He removed the hook carefully and put the fish on the stringer. Only then did he turn to her and say, “I don’t know. Those were good days—no war, nobody gettin’ killed. All we did was have fun, seems like. Can’t go back and do that again.”
“Don’t be sad, Jeff.” Leah put her hand on his. “We can’t be ten years old again, but it’s pretty nice being fifteen.”
He looked down at her hand. It was strong and tan. Then he looked over at her, saying quietly, “Maybe you’re right. I sure hope so.”
The two went back to the house, Jeff carrying the stringer of fish. They said no more about the way things used to be, but Leah knew that Jeff was not happy. Once again she felt that wall between them building and didn’t know why. As they walked along, she wanted to break through it, but his face was set, and she didn’t know what to say.