Hosea shook off the effects of his beating just like it were another hangover. He slept until late the next afternoon and then rose groggily to stretch his cramped muscles. His left eye was still horribly swollen, and his battered ear looked red and sensitive. When he stood up, he gasped in pain, clutching at his ribs.
“Where do you think you’re going?” cried Jimmy, rushing to steady Curtis.
“Ta the latrine.”
“Not before we wrap those ribs.”
“Git away from me, Jewett. You’re too ugly ta be a gol-dang nurse.”
“Bucky, talk to him.”
“Let us wrap this piece o’ my blanket ’round yer chest,” pleaded Bucky.
“What’d ya say? Talk inta my left ear, will ya?”
“I said, ya gotta let us help ya.”
“Alright, but be gol-dang quick about it before I flood the en-tire bivouac.”
Culp and Jewett helped Hosea out of his jacket and bound his ribs. Afterward, the big man lumbered off painfully to answer nature’s call. As Bucky watched the sergeant disappear, he said, “It’s gonna be hard ta keep Hosea still e-nough fer ’im ta heal proper.”
“Maybe we should take him to the field hospital where the doctors would make him stay in bed.”
“He’d never agree ta that the way he feels ’bout them sawbones. We’ll jess have ta do the best we kin.”
“Well, the longer he’s on the sick list, the longer we get out of drills,” grinned Jewett.
“Jess like two lads playin’ hooky, eh, Jimmy?”
Curtis staggered from the woods to sink heavily back into his blanket. It didn’t take him long to see how vulnerable his watchers were to his groans of pain, and he soon had them doing all sorts of errands. First, he got Jewett to cook him a big pan of skillygalee. He then had Bucky fetch him a fresh canteen of water from the river. After breakfast he got Jewett to wash the blood from his jacket. Curtis also pretended to be deafer than he was to bilk Culp out of the rest of his blanket. That he used for a pillow. His constant requests lasted all afternoon until Zeke and Boone returned from a regimental inspection.
“Guess what,” said Crossmire as he plopped down next to the campfire to prepare his supper. “Tomorrow there’s gonna be some kind o’ big doings fer Old Snappin’ Turtle.”
“What kind o’ doings?” asked Bucky.
“I ain’t sure. All I know is that we’s ta git our e-quipment spit polished. I heared that Governor Curtin’s comin’ down fer it, too.”
“An’ I’ll bet Abe Lincoln hisself will be drivin’ the governor’s coach,” scoffed Curtis.
“Well, look who’s feelin’ better,” replied Boone.
“What do ya mean, better?”
“Ya must be yerself ag’in ta be actin’ so ornery.”
“I ain’t able ta move ’round much, but maybe I kin git Culp an’ Jewett ta walk me over ta that ceremony,” said Sergeant Curtis with an exaggerated wheeze.
“How are you feelin’ taday, Zeke?” inquired Bucky.
“I got a ringin’ in my head from the punch I took, but other than that I’m jess dandy.”
“I reckon nobody in this here regiment will give ya guff after the fightin’ ya done yestiddy,” chuckled Culp. “I’m glad ya whipped that fella, sure as shootin’.”
The Bucktails continued to discuss Powers’ boxing prowess until an orderly approached with a sack of letters. Bucky, Jimmy, and Zeke all received one, and they tore their envelopes open with happy grins on their faces. Culp’s grin was soon replaced by a shocked expression that caused Jimmy to screech, “Bucky, what in the world’s wrong? Did something happen to Sarah?”
“S-s-she’s gonna have. . .a baby!”
“Oh, no,” groaned Curtis. “Babies havin’ babies.”
“Don’t listen to him,” chimed Jimmy, wildly shaking Bucky’s hand. “Congratulations! You’re going to be a father!”
“Yes, congratulations,” said Zeke. “Ain’t no joy greater in the world ’n’ holdin’ yer newborn child.”
“How many nights was ya with Sarah?” asked Boone.
“One.”
“Well, that’s what I call sharpshootin’,” chortled Crossmire, slapping Bucky on the back.
“That’s no way to be talkin’!” snarled Culp. “Sarah’s my wife. Not a slattern er fancy lady. You show her proper respect, er I’ll flatten yer nose, Boone.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. I was jess funnin’ ya. None o’ you married fellas got a sense o’ humor.”
The next morning the camp was in an uproar preparing for General Meade’s visit. Pine boughs were cut from the surrounding woods and set up for decorations. Boots were polished, guns were oiled, and tattered uniforms mended. Anticipation ran even higher when the smell of cooking food overshadowed the usual scent of dust and sweat.
The day was sunny but not overly hot when the Pennsylvania Reserve Corps drew up in parade formation in front of an arbor of evergreens where a bevy of generals and dignitaries from Pennsylvania had gathered. Sergeant Curtis wasn’t well enough to return to the ranks, but with Bucky and Jimmy’s help, he was able to hobble into the shade of some neighboring trees to witness the spectacle.
General Crawford was the first to address the soldiers. He drew up to his full height and praised the fighting men of Pennsylvania until cheers of appreciation rumbled from the ranks. Then, he asked General Meade to step forward. Bucky would have recognized the supreme commander of the Army of the Potomac even without an introduction. He had seen him many times at Fredericksburg, although his wild beard and goggle eyes seemed less intimidating when not glaring down from the back of a foaming charger
After the ranks quit buzzing, Crawford presented his superior with an engraved sword, a sash, a belt, and a pair of golden spurs as tokens of esteem from the men and officers of the Pennsylvania Reserve Corps. Meade accepted the gifts graciously before turning to address the soldiers who held him in such favor. Wrestling with the news of Sarah’s pregnancy, Bucky had to concentrate especially hard to follow the gist of the general’s speech.
“It’s now time for me to pay tribute,” thundered Meade, “to the brave men of my old division who at Dranesville achieved the first success of the Army of the Potomac. And who can forget the valor of our brigades at Mechanicsville, New Market Crossroads, and South Mountain. I would be remiss not to mention Antietam where the Reserves boldly attacked that portion of the Confederate Army in its front without knowing its strength and continued to drive it until dark. At Fredericksburg it was no different. Again, it was the Reserves who crossed and led the advance, unaided and alone, up the heights, where had they been supported by other troops, their courage that day would have won a victory. I am as sorrowed, as you are, by the loss of General Reynolds at Gettysburg and that of the brave Bucktail colonels, McNeil and Taylor. May God be with you until victory is achieved.”
To rousing cheers, Meade returned to the line of officers behind him. He was replaced in the limelight by no other than Governor Andrew Curtin of Pennsylvania. The governor was a lean man impeccably dressed in a fashionable suit and waistcoat. He had a firm mouth and a dimple on his freshly shaven chin. Waving to the soldiers, he shouted, “It is with great pleasure that I address the Army of the Potomac’s best division. It is a division that has brought great pride to its home state, Pennsylvania, bravely defending her from Lee’s recent incursion. God bless the Pennsylvania Reserves!”
After applause for Curtin had finally died away, the ranks were dismissed to partake in a special feast prepared for the occasion. The generals and civilians filed off to a banquet hall, while the soldiers lined up in a meadow next to the parade ground where army cooks had pigs roasting on spits and mountains of potatoes prepared. There was also plenty of baked bread, boiled corn, and fresh butter. In the generals’ tent delicacies from around the world were sampled.
“Look at all this food!” exclaimed Jimmy, gorging himself on a huge hunk of pork. “Too bad Governor Curtin doesn’t visit us more often.”
“He got the fellas all stirred up, fer sure,” said Bucky.
“That’s because he’s always been the soldiers’ friend.”
“The only friend we got comes in the form o’ discharge papers,” commented Hosea, hogging down a huge portion of potatoes.
“Curtin’s always been in our corner,” insisted Jewett. “He answers our letters, listens to our concerns, and sticks up for us in Washington.”
“Is that so?” jeered Curtis.
“Yes, and now the governor is running for a second term against that state’s rights rascal, George Woodward. Woodward, you know, is the Democratic nominee. He’s now serving on the Pennsylvania Supreme Court. He’s the one who ruled against the law that allowed us soldiers to vote in the field. Now, any of us who want to support Curtin in the fall election must go home to do it. It’s too bad there wasn’t something we could do out here to help Andy’s chances for reelection.”
“Why don’t ya write a letter ta the M’Kean Miner givin’ ’im yer support,” suggested Bucky between bites of bread.
“Yes, you’re practically their poultry editor now,” laughed Hosea derisively.
“Better yet,” beamed Jimmy, “I think I’ll go around after dinner and take a straw vote of Bucktails to see how many support Curtin. You can help Hosea back to camp can’t you, Bucky?”
“I don’t need neither o’ you wet-nursin’ me,” snarled Curtis. “I might be a little deafer than be-fore, but I ain’t no gol-dang invalid.”
Jewett gobbled the rest of his meal and then rushed off to take a poll of his Bucktail brethren. Two hours later he returned to his bivouac grinning broadly. When the lad began to feverishly search his pack for writing materials, Bucky said, “It looks like ya must o’ done good, Jimmy. How did that e-lection o’ yers turn out?”
“Three hundred eight Bucktails favored Curtin. Four voted for Woodward. Just wait until the Miner prints these results for the good people of McKean County. Up in our neck of the woods, Andy Curtin will be a shoe-in for reelection once the voting public learns how overwhelmingly us soldiers back him!”
“Are ya sure you ain’t the one runnin’ fer governor?” grunted Hosea. “Ya already got down them politicians’ lingo an’ their de-sire ta manipulate any fella that’ll listen. Ya didn’t ask my opinion yet.”
“Well?” asked Jewett. “Do you favor Curtin, or not?”
“I think all them politicians, includin’ ol’ Andy, should be put in front o’ a firin’ squad fer startin’ this here war in the first place!”
A statue honoring Governor Andrew Curtin stands in front of the courthouse in Bellefonte, PA. Bellefonte was Curtin’s hometown.