The Kunkle Farm
Rush, Pennsylvania
Spring of ’63
Thank goodness there is this spring cleaning to do, Rebecca grumbled to herself. This place seems so empty with the Hickoks gone and my brothers still off fighting this awful war. She’d managed to haul the carpets out-doors and pin them to the clothes line that morning and now she swung the wire beater without much enthusiasm. Only small puffs of dust were emanating from the braided ovals and her arm ached already. She lifted her long hair from her neck and attempted to twist it back up into its usual knot.
The trees were leafing out and the birds were chirping as they darted about snatching at the swarms of insects rising from the damp ground. She lifted the carpet beater again. “I hate this job!” she muttered aloud. “Why do we need rugs on the floors anyway? They just keep on getting dirty and then I have to whack away at them again. The boys used to do this and managed to make it look like fun. It’s just a dirty job, if you ask me, and my sisters are no help.”
She paused, hearing the rattle of the shopkeeper’s wagon coming up the road. “Oh, please,” she prayed, “let there be some news today. It’s been months since any of them have written.”
She waved as the rig trundled by without a word from the driver. Usually he would wave to let her know if there was mail for them. She frowned and went disconsolately back to plying the beater with very little result. She wasn’t sure any more where her brothers were and Thomas Hickok hadn’t sent even a line in ever so long. She smiled, thinking of Thomas and the fun they’d had together. The letters he’d sent at first were so earnest and most always full of information…too bad he can’t spell very well she chuckled while wiping away a tear. “At least he writes,” she muttered giving the dirty rug another whack or two. “That Asa promised he would keep in touch too but has never even put pen to paper so far as I can tell.” The thought that he might be writing to someone else crossed her mind and she whacked the innocent rug again and headed for the house.
“What’s got you all in a snit?” her mother asked looking up from the washtub full of bed linens and pillow cases.
“Oh, nothing that matters, I guess. The postman went by again with no word from any of the boys at all. You’d think one of them would take the time to send us something, wouldn’t you?”
Sarah Spragle Kunkle smiled wearily and attempted to straighten her back. Rebecca quickly went to her side and helped her to the nearby rocker.
“Rest yourself, Ma,” she begged. “I told you I would do that. All that lifting is too much for you these days.” Worried, she went to the stove hoping the kettle still held some hot tea. “Here, drink this now and have a biscuit,” she urged her mother, handing her the delicate piece of china that she knew was the older woman’s favorite cup. “I know we should be more patient, but we get so little news from anywhere out here that I do believe the world could come to an end and we’d never know it until sometime next month.”
Smiling indulgently, Sarah sipped and peered at her distressed daughter over the rim while savoring the fragrant liquid. “Sit,” she said, motioning with her other hand. “Now that Catherine and Martha have taken work away from home, you’re trying to do too much. You’ve tired yourself out with all those heavy rugs. I told you to just leave them for later.”
“Later will not be any easier, be just like it to rain while they’re all hanging out there. I’ll get it done; maybe not so well as George and Jacob used to but good enough. It’s just that I can’t help wondering what they all are up to. We haven’t heard a thing about George, you’d think the Army would tell us if he has been paroled and I haven’t had word from Wesley or the Hickok boys lately either. Ever since Miss Betsey and the others took off I feel as if we’re the only ones left in this part of the world. Absolutely nothing happens around here any more.”
Pulling the pins from her hair she let it down and ran her fingers through the twisted locks with impatience. “All we ever hear about is this war!” She bit back the rest of her complaint realizing talk like this just upset her mother even more. I can’t imagine what it must be like for them she thought and rose to pump more water into the kettle. She added a little to the beans that were simmering on the back of the stove and looked around for a bit of the fat back they always added for flavor.
Counting back Rebecca was startled to realize the last letter she’d received from Thomas Hickok had been quite some time ago. He’d said then that they were comfortable in their camp outside of the Capitol and that he’d seen Wesley who looked well, but he’d also mentioned their newest commander, General Hooker or somebody was getting ready to take the field and he hoped the whole business would be over soon. “Taking the field,” scared her. That was sure to mean more battles. A shiver ran down her back and she set her tea cup aside. Twisting her hair back into its knot she tied a kerchief around her head. “I’ll try to finish those rugs, Ma,” she said and added, “leave the rest of that wash until I can come back and help you. It’s getting too late to hang it outside anyway. Why don’t you just sit and peel some potatoes for supper. Mary Frances and Ella will be back from school in just a bit and Pa will be hungry when he comes in.” She forced a smile and motioned to the toddler playing on the floor. “Want to come with me, Sarah? I’m going to check the cold frames while I’m out back, we might have a few greens coming up by now.” The three-year-old jumped up clutching the rag doll she’d been pretending to feed but shook her head “No!” She announced in no uncertain terms. “I stay here wiv Mama.”
Rebecca sighed, fetched her sweater and returned to the task she was determined to finish. A few more swats at the carpets satisfied her and she left them hanging until her father or older sisters could help her take them down and roll them up. Frustrated by her inability to comprehend where her brothers were and what they might be doing, she wandered down to the as yet unplowed fields and allowed the tears to flow. As if it isn’t bad enough that I have to worry about our boys, she moaned. Poor Ma is worried sick and there’s nothing I can do to help. I still can’t quite understand why the Hickoks took off for who knows where when Tom and Asa are still off to war. Whatever will those two think when they come home to find them gone?
She scuffed her toe at the clods of earth waiting for the plow and grimaced. “What am I thinking? Of course David would have let them know. But,” she murmured,” I still can’t imagine how they must feel… everyone going off like that and leaving them behind. Of course, they don’t have much choice do they? Maybe they will just go west too when the Army lets them leave. I never thought about that.
Staring at the surrounding hillsides just beginning to show signs of renewed life, Rebecca sighed. Oh, she breathed and asked herself silently, what will I do if they decide to do that? We’ve grown up together. I can’t imagine never seeing them again. She dashed the threatening tears from her eyes and uncovered a dried up potato that had been overlooked last fall. Picking it up she turned it over and over in her hand than threw it with all her might into the rocks that lined the field. “I’m beginning to feel just like that potato,” she muttered, “all shriveled up and of no use to anyone.”
News of the terrible bloody battle at Chickamauga had slowly seeped across the mountains into their little town of Rush. The men still at home gathered at the mill and spoke of nothing else for days. Rebecca thought only of Asa whose face as he rode away that morning so long ago now seemed to be hovering in the corners of her mind more and more often these days.