Books: The Red Acorn
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John McElroy >> The Red Acorn
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He listened awhile to the mournful whinny of the mules; to the
sound of artillery rolling up the resonant pike; to the crashing of
newly-arrived regiments through the cedars as they made their camps
in line-of-battle; to little spurts of firing between the nervous
pickets, and at last fell asleep to dream that he was returning to
Sardis, maimed but honor-crowned, to claim Rachel as his exultant
bride.
---
The Christmas forenoon was quite well-advanced before the fatigue
of Rachel Bond's long ride was sufficiently abated to allow her to
awaken. Then a soft hum of voices impressed itself upon her drowsy
senses, and she opened her eyes with the idea that there were
several persons in the room engaged in conversation. But she saw
that there was only Aunt Debby, seated in a low rocking-chair by
the lazily burning fire, and reading aloud from a large Bible that
lay open upon her knees. The reading was slow and difficult, as
of one but little used to it, and many of the longer words were
patiently spelled out. But this labored picking the way along the
rugged path of knowledge, stumbling and halting at the nouns, and
verbs, and surmounting the polysyllables a letter at a time, seemed
to give the reader a deeper feeling of the value and meaning of
each word, than is usually gained by the more facile scholar. As
Rachel listened she became aware that Aunt Debby was reading that
wonderful twelfth chapter of St. Luke, richest of all chapters in
hopes and promises and loving counsel for the lowly and oppressed.
She had reached the thirty-fifth verse, and read onward with a
passionate earnestness and understanding that made every word have
a new revelation to Rachel:
"Let your loins be girded up, and your lights burning;
"And ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their Lord when he
will return from the wedding; that when he cometh and knocketh they
may open unto him immediately.
"Blessed are those servants whom the Lord when he cometh shall find
watching; verily I say unto you that he shall gird himself and make
them to sit down to meat, and will come forth and serve them.
"And if ye shall come in the second watch, or come in the third
watch, and shall find them so, blessed are those servants.
"And this now that if the good man of the house had known what the
hour the thief would come he would have watched, and not suffered
his house to be broken through.
"Be ye therefore ready also, for the Son of Man cometh at an hour
when ye think not."
Rachel stirred a little, and Aunt Debby looked up and closed the
book.
"I'm afeared I've roused ye up too soon," she said, coming toward
the bed with a look of real concern upon her sad, sweet face. "I
raylly didn't intend ter. I jest opened the book ter read teh
promise 'bout our Father heedin' even a sparrer's fall, an' forgot
'bout our Father heedin' even a sparrer's fall, an' forgot, an'
read on; an' when I read, I must read out loud, ter git the good
of hit. Some folks pretend they kin understand jest ez well when
they read ter themselves. Mebbe they kin."
"O, no," replied Rachel cheerfully, "you didn't disturb me in the
least. It was time that I got up, and I was glad to hear you read.
I'm only troubled with the fear that I've overslept myself, and
missed the duty that I was intended for."
"Make yourself easy on that 'ere score. Ye'll not be needed
to-day, nor likely to-morrow. Some things hev come up ter change
Jim's plans."
"I am very sorry," said Rachel, sitting up in the bed and tossing
back her long, silken mane with a single quick, masterful motion.
"I wished to go immediately about what I am expected to do. I can
do anything better than wait."
Aunt Debby came impulsively to the bedside, threw an arm around
Rachel's neck, and kissed her on the forehead. "I love ye, honey,"
she said with admiring tenderness. "Ye' 're sich ez all women
orter be. Ye 'll make heroes of yer husband and sons. Ye 've yit
ter l'arn though, thet the most of a woman's life, an' the hardest
part of hit, is ter wait."
In her fervid state of mind Rachel responded electrically to this
loving advance, made at the moment of all others when she felt most
in need of sympathy and love. She put her strong arms around Aunt
Debby, and held her for a moment close to her heart. From that
moment the two women became of one accord. Womanlike, they sought
relief from their high tension in light, irrelevant talk and
care for the trifling details of their surroundings. Aunt Debby
brought water and towels for Rachel's toilet, and fluttered around
her, solicitous, helpful and motherly, and Rachel, weary of long
companionship with men, delighted in the restfulness of association
once more with a gentle, sweet-minded woman.
The heavy riding-habit was entirely too cumbersome for indoor wear,
and Rachel put on instead one of Aunt Debby's "linsey" gowns, that
hung from a peg, and laughed at the prim, demure mountain girl she
saw in the glass. After a good breakfast had still farther raised
her spirits she ventured upon a little pleasantry about the dramatic
possibilities of a young lady who couls assume different characters
with such facility.
The day passed quietly, with Rachel studying such of the Christmas
festivities as were visible from the window, and from time to time
exchanging personal history with Aunt Debby. She learned that the
latter had left her home in Rockcastle Mountains with the Union
Army in the previous Spring, and gone on to Chattanooga, to assist
her nephew, Fortner, in obtaining the required information when
Mitchell's army advanced against that place in the Summer. When
the army retreated to the Ohio, in September, she had come as far
back as Murfreesboro, and there stopped to await the army's return,
which she was confident would not be long delayed.
"How brave and devoted you have been," said Rachel warmly, as Aunt
Debby concluded her modestly-told story. "No man could have done
better."
"No, honey," replied the elder woman, with her wan face coloring
faintly, "I've done nothin' but my plain duty, ez I seed hit. I've
done nothin' ter what THEY would've done had n't they been taken
from me afore they had a chance. Like one who speaks ter us in
the Book, I've been in journeyin's often, in peril of robbers, in
perils of mine own countrymen, in perils in the city, in perils in
the wilderness, in weariness an' painfulness, in watchings often,
in hunger an' thirst, in fastings often, in cold an' nakedness,
but he warns us not ter glory in these things, but in those which
consarn our infirmities."
"How great should be your reward!"
"Don't speak of reward. I only want my freedom when I've 'arned
hit--the freedom ter leave an 'arth on which I've been left behind,
an' go whar my husband an' son are waitin' fur me."
She rose and paced the floor, with her face and eyes shining.
"Have you no fear of death whatever?" asked Rachel in amazement.
"Fear of death! Child, why should I fear death? Why should I
fear death, more than the unborn child fears birth? Both are the
same. Hit can't be fur ter thet other world whar THEY wait fur
me. Hit is not even ez a journey ter the next town--hit's only
one little step though the curtain o' green grass an' violets on
a sunny hillside--only one little step."
She turned abruptly, and going back to her chair by the fireside,
seated herself in it, and clasping her knees with her hands, rocked
back and forth, and sang in a low, sweet croon:
"Oh, the rapturous, transporting scene,
That rises ter my sight;
Sweet fields arrayed in livin' green,
An' rivers of delight.
"All o'er those wide, extended plains
Shines one eternal day;
Thar God, the Son, forever reigns,
An scatters night away.
"No chillin' winds or poisonous breath
Kin reach thet healthful shore;
Sickness an' sorrow, pain an' death,
Are felt an' feared no more."
After dark Fortner came in. Both women studied his face eagerly
as he walked up to the fire.
"Nothin' yet, honey," he said to Aunt Debby, and "Nothin' yet,
Miss," to Rachel, and after a little stay went out.
When Rachel awoke the next morning the sky was lowering darkly. On
going to the window she found a most depressing change from the
scene of bright merriment she had studied the night before. A chill
Winter rain was falling with dreary persistence, pattering on the
dead leaves that covered the ground, and soaking into the sodden
earth. A few forlorn little birds hopped wearily about, searching
in vain in the dry husks and empty insect shells for the food that
had once been so plentiful there. Up and down the streets, as
far as she could see, men in squads or singly, under officers or
without organization, plodded along dejectedly, taking the cold
drench from above, and the clinging mud around their feet, with
the dumb, stolid discontent characteristic of seasoned veterans.
When mules and horses went by they seemed poor and shrunken. They
drew their limbs and bodies together, as if to present the least
surface to the inclement showers, and their labored, toilsome motion
contrasted painfully with their strong, free movement on brighter
days. Everything and everybody in sight added something to increase
the dismalness of the view, and as Rachel continued to gaze upon it
the "horrors" took possession of her. She began to brood wretchedly
over her position as a spy inside the enemy's lines, and upon all
the consequences of that position.
It was late that night when Fortner came in. As he entered the
two expectant women saw, by the ruddy light of the fire, that his
face was set and his eyes flashing. He hung his dripping hat on a
peg in the chimney, and kicked the blazing logs with his wet boots
until a flood of meteor sparks flew up the throat of the fireplace.
Turning, he said, without waiting to be questioned:
"Well, the hunt's begun at last. Our folks came out'n Nashville
this morning in three big armies, marchin' on different roads, an
they begun slashin' at the Rebels wherever they could find 'em.
Thar's been fouten at Triune an' Lavergne, an' all along the line.
They histed the Rebels out'n ther holes everywhar, an' druv' em
back on the jump. Wagon load arter wagon load o' wounded's comin'
back. I come in ahead of a long train agwine ter the hospital.
Hark! ye kin heah 'em now."
The women listened.
They heard the ceaseless patter and swish of the gloomy rain--the
gusty sighs of the wind through the shade-trees' naked branches--louder
still the rolling of heavy wheels over the rough streets; and all
these were torn and rent by the shrieks of men in agony.
"Poor fellows," said Rachel, "how they are suffering!"
"Think ruther," said Aunt Debby calmly, "of how they've made others
suffer. Hit's God's judgement on 'em."
Rachel turned to Fortner. "What will come next? Will this end
it? Will the Rebels fall back and leave this place?"
"Hardly. This's on'y like the fust slap in the face in a fight
atween two big savage men, who've locked horns ter see which is the
best man. Hit's on'y a sorter limberin' the jints fur the death
rassel."
"Yes; and what next?"
"Well, Rosy's started fur this 'ere place, an' he's bound ter come
heah. Bragg's bound he sha'n't come heah, an' is gittin' his men
back to defend the town."
"What am I--what are we to do in the meanwhile?"
"Ye're ter do nothin', on'y stay in the house ez close ez ye kin,
an' wait tell the chance comes ter use ye. Hit may be ter-morrer,
an' hit mayn't be fur some days. These army moves are mouty
unsartin. Aunt Debby 'll take keer on ye, an' ye 'll not be in a
mite o' danger."
"But we'll see you frequently?"
"Ez offen ez I kin arrange hit. I'm actin' ez orderly an'
messenger 'bout headquarters, but I'll come ter ye whenever I kin
git a chance, an' keep ye posted."
This was Friday night. All day Saturday, as long as the light
lasted, Rachel stood at the window and watched with sinking heart
the steady inflow of the Rebels from the north. That night she and
Aunt Debby waited till midnight for Fortner, but he did not come.
All day Sunday she stood at her post, and watched the unabated
pouring-in on the Nashville pike. Fortner did not come that
night. She was downcast, but no shade disturbed the serenity of
Aunt Debby's sweet hymning. So it was again on Monday and Tuesday.
The continually-swarming multitudes weighed down her spirits like
a millstone. She seemed to be encompassed by millions of armed enemies.
They appeared more plentiful than the trees, or the rocks, or the
leaves even. They filled the streets of the little town until it
seemed impossible for another one to find standing room. Their
cavalry blackened the faces of the long ranges of hills. Their
artillery and wagons streamed along the roads in a never-ending
train. Their camp-fires lighted up the country at night for miles,
in all directions.
Just at dusk Tuesday night Fortner came in, and was warmly welcomed.
"There are such countless hosts of the Rebels," Rachel said to him
after the first greetings were over, "that I quite despair of our
men being able to do anything with them. It seems impossible that
there can be gathered together anywhere else in the world as many
men as they have."
"I don't wonder ye think so, but ef ye'd been whar I wuz to-day
ye'd think thet all the world wuz marchin' round in blue uniforms.
Over heah hit seems ez ef all the cedars on the hills hed suddintly
turned inter Rebel soldiers. Three miles from heah the blue-coats
are swarmin' thicker'n bees in a field o' buckwheat."
"Three miles from here! Is our army within three miles of here?"
"Hit sartinly is, an' the Lord-awfullest crowd o' men an' guns an'
hosses thet ever tromped down the grass o' this ere airth. Why,
hit jest dazed my eyes ter look at 'em. Come ter this other winder.
D' ye see thet furtherest line o' campfires, 'way on yander hill?
Well, them's Union. Ef ye could see far enuf ye'd see they're
'bout five miles long, an' they look purtier'n the stars in heaven."
"But if they are so close the battle will begin immediately, will
it not?"
"Hit ain't likely ter be put off very long, but thar's no tellin'
what'll happen in war, or when."
"When is my time to come?"
"Thet's what I've come furt ter tell ye. Ef we're agwine ter be of
sarvice ter the Guv'MENT, we must do hit to-night, fur most likely
the battle'll begin in the mornin'. Hit's not jest the way I
intended ter make use of ye, but hit can't be helped now. I hev
information thet must reach Gineral Rosencrans afore daybreak.
The vict'ry may depend on hit. Ter make sure all on us must start
with hit, fur gittin' through the lines is now mouty dangersome,
an' somebody--mebbe several--is bound to git cotcht, mebbe wuss.
The men I expected ter help me are all gone. I hain't nobody now
but ye an Aunt Debby. D'ye dar try an' make yer way through the
lines to-night?"
Rachel thought a minute upon the dreadful possibilities of the
venture, and then replied firmly:
"Yes I dare. I will try anything that the rest of you will attempt."
"Good. I knowed ye'd talk thet-a-way. Now we must waste no time
in gittin' started, fur God on'y knows what diffikilties we'll
meet on the way, an' Rosencrans can't hev the information enny too
soon. Ev'ry minute hit's kep' away from him'll cost many vallerable
lives--mebbe help defeat the army."
"Tell me quickly, then, what I must do, that I may lose no time in
undertaking it."
"Well, heah's a plan of the position at sundown of the Rebels.
Hit's drawed out moughty roughly but hit'll show jest whar they
all are, an' about the number there is at each place. Hit begins
on the right, which is south of Stone River, with Breckenridge's
men; then across the river is Withers, an' Cheatham, an' Cleburne,
with McCown's division on the left, an' Wharton's cavalry on
the flank. But the thing o' most importance is thet all day long
they've been movin' men round ter ther left, ter fall on our right
an' crush hit. They're hid in the cedar thickets over thar, an'
they'll come out to-morrow mornin' like a million yellin' devils,
an' try ter sweep our right wing offen the face o' the arth. D'ye
understand what I've tole ye?"
"Yes. Breckenridge's division is on their right, and south of
Stone River. Withers, Cheatham, and Cleburne come next, on the
north of the river, with McCown's division and Wharton's cavalry
on the left, as shown in the sketch, and they are moving heavy
forces around to their left, with the evident intention of falling
overwhelmingly on our right early in the morning."
"Thet's hit. Thet's hit. But lay all the stres ye kin on the
movin' around ter ther left. Thar's mo' mischief in thet than
all the rest. Say thet thar's 20,000 men gwine round thar this
arternoon an' evening'. Say thet thar's the biggest thunder-cloud
o' danger thet enny one ever seed. Say hit over an' over, tell
everybody understands hit an' gits ready ter meet hit. Tell hit
till ye've made ev'ry one on 'em understand thet thar can't be no
mistake about hit, an' they must look out fur heeps o' trouble on
ther right. Tell hit ez ye never tole anything afore in yer life.
Tell hit ez ye'd pray God Almighty fur the life o' the one thet
ye love better then all the world beside. An' GIT THAR ter tell
hit--git thru the Rebel lines--ef ye love yer God an' yer country,
an' ye want ter see the brave men who are ter die tomorrer make
their deaths count somethin' to'ard savin' this Union. Hit may
be thet yore information'll save the army from defeat. Hit may
be--hit's most likely--thet hit'll save the lives o' thousands o'
brave men who love ther lives even ez yo an' me loves ourn."
"Trust me to do all that a devoted woman can. I will get through
before daybreak or die in the attempt. But how am I to go?"
"Hide this paper somewhar. Aunt Debby'll fix ye up ez a country
gal, while I'm gittin' yer mar saddled an' bridled with some common
harness, instid o' the fancy fixin's ye hed when ye rode out heah.
Ef ye're stopt, ez ye likely will be, say that ye've been ter town
fur the doctor, an' some medicine fur yer sick mammy, an' are tryin'
ter git back ter yer home on the south fork o' Overall's Creek.
Now, go an' git ready ez quick ez the Lord'll let ye."
As she heard the mare's hoofs in front of the door, Rachel came
out with a "slat-sun-bonnet" on her head, and a long, black calico
riding-skirt over her linsey dress. Fortner gave her attire an
approving nod. Aunt Debby followed her with a bottle. "This is
the medicine ye've bin ter git from Dr. Thacker heah in town," she
said, handing the vial. "Remember the name, fur fear ye mout meet
some one who knows the town. Dr. Thacker, who lives a little piece
offen the square, an' gives big doses of epecac fur everything,
from brakebone fever ter the itch."
"Dr. Thacker, who lives just off the square," said Rachel. "I'll
be certain to remember."
"Take this, too," said Fortner, handing her a finely-finished
revolver, of rather large caliber. "Don't pull hit onless ye can't
git along without hit, an' then make sho o' yer man. Salt him."
"Good-by--God bless ye," said Aunt Debby, taking Rachel to her
heart in a passionate embrace, and kissing her repeatedly. "God
bless ye agin. No one ever hed more need o' His blessin' then
we'uns will fur the next few hours. Ef He does bless us an' our
work we'll all be safe an' sound in Gineral Rosencrans' tent afore
noon. But ef His will's different we'll be by thet time whar the
Rebels cease from troublin', and the weary are at rest. I'm sure
thet ef I thot the Rebels war gwine ter whip our men I'd never want
ter see the sun rise ter-morrer. Good-by; we're all in the hands
o' Him who seeth even the sparrer's fall."
Fortner led the mare a little ways, to where he could get a good
view, and then said:
"Thet second line o' fires which ye see over thar is our lines--them
fires I mean which run up inter the woods. The fust line is the
Rebels. Ye'll go right out this road heah tell ye git outside the
town, an' then turn ter yer right an' make fur the Stone River.
Ford hit or swim your mar' acrost, an' make yer way thru or round
the Rebel line. Ef ye find a good road, an' everything favorable
ye mout try ter make yer way strait thru ef ye kin fool the gyards
with yer story. Ef ye're fearful ye can't then ride beyond the
lines, an' come inter ours thet-a-way Aunt Deby'll go ter the other
flank, an' try ter git a-past Breckinridge's pickets, an' I'll
'tempt ter make my way thru the center. We may all or none o'
us git thru. I can't gin ye much advice, ez ye'll hev ter trust
mainly ter yerself. But remember all the time what hangs upon yer
gittin' the news ter Rosy afore daybreak. Think all the time thet
mebbe ye kin save the hull army, mebbe win the vict'ry, sartinly
save heeps o' Union lives an' fool the pizen Rebels. This is the
greatest chance ye'll ever hev ter do good in all yer life, or
a hundred more, ef ye could live 'em. Good-by. Ef God Almighty
smiles on us we'll meet ter-morrer on yon side o' Stone River. Ef
He frowns we'll meet on yon side o' the Shinin' River. Good-by."
He released her hand and her horse, and she rode forward into
the darkness. Her course took her first up a main street, which
was crowded with wagons, ambulances and artillery. Groups of men
mingled with these, and crowded upon the sidewalks. When she passed
the light of a window the men stared at her, and some few presumed
upon her homely garb so far as to venture upon facetious and
complimentary remarks, aimed at securing a better acquaintance.
She made no reply, but hurried her mare onward, as fast as she
could pick her way. She soon passed out of the limits of the town
and was in the country, though she was yet in the midst of camps,
and still had to thread her way through masses of men, horses and
wagons moving along the road.
The first flutter of perturbation at going out into the darkness
and the midst of armed men had given way to a more composed feeling.
No one had stopped her, or offered to, no one had shown any symptom
of surprise at her presence there at that hour. She began to
hope that this immunity would continue until she had made her way
to the Union lines. she had left the thick of the crowd behind
some distance, and was going along at a fair pace, over a clear
road, studying all the while the line of fires far to her right,
in an attempt to discover a promising dark gap in their extent.
She was startled by a hand laid upon her bridle, and a voice saying:
"Say, Sis, who mout ye be, an' whar mout ye be a-mosyin' ter this
time o' night?"
She saw a squad of brigandish-looking stragglers at her mare's
head.
"My name's Polly Briggs. I live on the South Fork o' Overall's
Creek. I've done been ter Dr. Thacker's in Murfreesboro, fur some
medicine fur my sick mammy, an' I'm on my way back home, an' I'd
be much obleeged ter ye, gentlemen, ef ye'd 'low me ter go on, kase
mammy's powerful sick, an' she's in great hurry fur her medicine."
She said this with a coolness and a perfect imitation of the speech
and manner of the section that surprised herself. As she ended
she looked directly at the squad, and inspected them. She saw she
had reason to be alarmed. They were those prowling wolves found
about all armies, to whom war meant only wider opportunities for
all manner of villainy and outrage. An unprotected girl was a
welcome prize to them. It was not death as a spy she had to fear,
but worse. Now, if ever, she must act decisively. The leader took
his hand from her bridle, as if to place it on her.
"Yer a powerful peart sort of a gal, an' ez purty ez a fawn. yer
mammy kin git 'long without the medicine a little while, an'---"
He did not finish the sentence, for before his hand could touch her
Rachel's whip cut a deep wale across his face, and then it fell so
savagely upon the mare's flank that the high-spirited animal sprung
forward as if shot from a catapult, and was a hundred yards away
before the rascals really comprehended what had happened.
Onward sped the mettled brute, so maddened by the first cruel blow
she had ever received that she refused to obey the rein, but made
her own way by and through such objects as she encountered. When
she at last calmed down the road was clear and lonely, and Rachel
began searching for indications of a favorable point of approach
to the river, that hinted at a bridge or a ford. While engaged
in this she heard voices approaching. A moment's listening to
teh mingling of tones convinced her that it was another crowd of
stragglers, and she obeyed her first impulse, which was to leap her
horse over a low stone wall to her right. Taking her head again,
the mare did not stop until she galloped down to the water's edge.
"I'll accept this as lucky," said Rachel to herself. "The ancients
trusted more to their horses' instincts than their own perceptions
in times of danger, and I'll do the same. I'll cross here."
She urged the mare into the water. The beast picked her way among
the boulders on the bottom successfully for a few minutes. The
water rose to Rachel's feet, but that seemed its greatest depth,
and in a few more yards she would gain the opposite bank, when
suddenly the mare stepped upon a slippery steep, her feet went from
under her instantly, and steed and rider rolled in the sweeping
flood of ice-cold water. Rachel's first thought was that she should
surely drown, but hope came back as she caught a limb swinging
from a tree on the bank. With this she held her head above water
until she could collect herself a little, and then with great
difficulty pulled herself up the muddy, slippery bank. The weight
of her soaked clothes added greatly to the difficulty and the
fatigue, and she lay for some little time prone upon her face across
the furrows of a cotton field, before she could stand erect. At
last she was able to stand up, and she relieved herself somewhat
by taking off her calico riding skirt and wringing the water from
it. Her mare had also gained the bank near the same point she
had, and stood looking at her with a world of wonder at the whole
night's experience in her great brown eyes.
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