CHAPTER SIX

A Rebel at the Supper Table

Want to stay for supper?

The words were hanging in the air, and I half hoped Abel would say no. That he had to get back to his unit.

“Much obliged,” he said. There was a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

I took him through the side yard to the back of the house. Not the thing to do with company, but I didn’t think Mother or Grace would look too kindly on the dirt we’d trek through the parlor. We washed up a bit at the well, but even I could see it would take a lot more than cold well water to get that boy clean. I only hoped Mother wouldn’t insist he take a bath.

I opened the back door. Mother and Grace were in the kitchen preparing the meal. The twins were nowhere in sight, probably still glued to the front window watching the spectacle in the street.

“I’m home, and I’ve brought a guest,” I said.

Abel stepped up beside me. He seemed suddenly shy now that there were womenfolk around.

“This is Abel Hoke. A drummer from Tennessee.”

Grace stared at him openmouthed. I almost busted out laughing at the sight. If only Mrs. Eyster could have seen her.

Mother covered her surprise by smoothing her apron.

Abel snatched the hat off his head. I had thought his hair was dirt brown, but I could see that under the cap it was blond like mine. It took a powerful lot of dirt to change a man’s hair color.

“Welcome, Abel,” Mother said. “I hope you don’t mind a simple supper tonight. We’ve been in quite the uproar today.”

“No, ma’am,” Abel told her turning his cap around and around. “It’s been some time since I’ve had more than camp cooking. I’m sure everything will be delicious.”

“Please take your things off and sit,” Mother said, waving toward the table. “You must be tired from marching.”

Abel looked even skinnier without his drum and haversack. He skirted the room so that the women wouldn’t get a look at him from behind, and sat at the table. A Rebel. At our supper table.

The twins were all googly-eyed and giggly, as if Abel were a circus freak.

He smiled at them and told them they could play his drum. Soon they were all good friends.

Grace, after her initial shock, was quiet. She clamped her lips together when she got a look at Abel’s feet. Her eyes kept darting to the giant hole in his shirt, hidden at first by the drum, and the dirt-covered skin underneath.

Mother set another place and put the meal on the table. Cold ham, bread with apple butter, and boiled beans. Mother said grace, and we passed the food. Abel reminded me of a horse at a Fourth of July race, straining for the starter gun to go off. He picked up a piece of ham in one hand and a slice of bread in the other and rammed them into his mouth. He kept his head down and shoveled it in like he hadn’t seen food in a week. He didn’t look up until his plate was empty.

Suddenly he noticed the rest of us were using forks. His face turned a deep shade of red.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I’ve been among soldiers too long.”

Mother patted his hand. “I’m glad to see a boy with such a healthy appetite,” she said calmly, filling his plate with seconds of everything.

This time, Abel used his fork.

“Did you say you were from Tennessee?” Mother asked.

“Yes, ma’am, from the western part of the state.”

“Your mother must be missing you,” Mother said.

“I miss her, too,” Abel answered. “Especially now.” He eyed the twins. “I’ve got sisters and a little brother at home.”

I didn’t want to hear about that all over again, and there was no telling what Mother would do when she heard about Abel’s daddy. I changed the subject. “Abel joined up when he was ten,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Abel nodded. “With my daddy.”

“You been in many battles?” I asked.

Abel shrugged. “Enough.”

“You ever drummed the order to charge?”

“I’ll not have battle talk at the table,” Mother said.

Grace smiled at me in that satisfied way of hers. “When did you see your family last?” she asked.

“Ain’t been home for about a year,” Abel told her.

Grace’s lips twitched with the desire to correct his English. But he was a guest, so she couldn’t. Ha! Suddenly I realized she couldn’t correct my English, either—not without embarrassing Abel.

“Abel’s been marching for days and days, ain’t that right, Abel?” I said.

Grace’s lips twitched even more.

He nodded.

I imagined life on the march. Sleeping under the stars, eating with my hands, saying ain’t whenever I had a mind to.

“I ain’t never been outside of Pennsylvania,” I said, drawing a kick from Grace. I tried to kick her back but she moved her legs.

“The country around here sure is pretty, but it doesn’t come close to home in my eyes.”

Mother kept Abel talking about his home and family for quite some time, making it impossible for me to ask him everything I wanted to know about life on the march.

Abel said he had to find his unit before it got too dark. And I never did get to try out my drumming.

I eyeballed those dirty feet of his, and I couldn’t let him leave just yet.

“Wait!” I bolted up the stairs and dove under my bed, locating my second pair of shoes—my best. I had been turning over this idea in my mind ever since I saw that my feet and Abel’s were about the same size. Even though he was the enemy, he was just a boy like me and I didn’t want to send him away shoeless. I had two pairs, and he had none. Then I grabbed some trousers. He couldn’t march around with his backside hanging out like that. It wasn’t proper.

I pushed the shoes and the trousers into his hands before Mother or Grace could stop me.

I half expected Mother to scold me, but her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand on my shoulder. “I think we can find a clean shirt for Abel, too, can’t we?” she asked me.

Abel stared at my things as if they were gold. Then he gave the trousers back. “I’ll likely get myself shot if I wear these,” he said. “But I sure do appreciate the shoes.”

He was right. The trousers were blue. His own unit might shoot him for a Union man in blue.

The next thing I knew mother was tearing apart a pair of Jacob’s old trousers, gray ones, and making them Abel-sized on her Singer sewing machine while Grace wrapped some food for his haversack. I got a clean shirt for him and some under things.

Finally, we had him fully outfitted.

Abel grinned proudly. “My captain won’t recognize me,” he said. He lifted his drum and slipped the strap over his shoulders before stepping out the front door.

“I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me,” he said to all of us. Then he turned to me. “I hope you’ll visit me in Tennessee when the war’s over. I sure would be proud to introduce you to my mama.”

“I will,” I said quietly. I wanted to. I suddenly wanted the war to end. For Abel to stay alive and see his mama again.

He stepped into the street. Mother called him back.

“Stay with us,” she said, her eyes filling with tears again. “Stay with us. We’ll hide you here until the army’s gone. Then we’ll find a way to get you home to your mama.”

“Much obliged, ma’am,” Abel said, nodding in that way he had. “I’ve got my duty.” Then he turned around again and marched down Baltimore Street looking for his unit.

 

That night the sky was a fiery red. We learned that the Rebels had set fire to the railroad bridge over Rock Creek, along with all our railroad cars and the engine house. We had no railroad anymore. We were completely cut off from Harrisburg and Philadelphia.

Mother made us all stay in her room. The girls slept sideways on Mother’s bed, and I had a pile of blankets on the floor.

The events of the day ran through my head when I closed my eyes. I had watched the enemy thunder down the street right in front of me. I nearly got killed by one Rebel and then made friends with another one.

Joe had said I cost him three Negroes. I wondered who got away. I think Father would have been proud of me for what I had done, even though it almost got me killed.

As I drifted off to sleep I wished he was here.

The Rebels were already stirring when I woke up the next morning. By eight o’clock, the prisoners in the Courthouse were paroled and the Rebels marched away. They were headed east, toward York. Before they left, they lowered their Confederate flag and cut down the flagpole, preventing us from raising the Stars and Stripes again.

Folks ventured out into the street, blinking as if the sun had come out after days and days of rain. The town was ours again, and we didn’t quite know what to do with it. Then four Union scouts rode into town practically on the heels of the Rebs.

We gathered around them. Folks shouted over one another, telling the scouts all they knew about the size of the Rebel forces and the direction they were headed in.

“They told me they plan to be in this part of the state all summer,” Mrs. Buehler said.

“They aim to take Harrisburg,” Mr. Pierce added.

“Is the Union army headed this way?” I asked.

The scouts didn’t know—or wouldn’t say. But they did know the Confederates were on the move. “More of Lee’s army is headed into this part of the state,” one of them told me.

It seemed clear that there would be a battle sometime soon. I watched the scouts ride out of town and wondered if Abel and his drum would survive.