Chapter 12: Revelation

Seth licked his fingers, scooped up the last bits of his second piece of pie and gulped down his third cup of milk. Jefferson sat stiffly at the kitchen table with his frayed hat in his lap. Annie and Caroline watched the boy eat and listened to a disorganized story that seemed like the odd-shaped pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. Mrs. Williams busied herself at the stove, but Seth could tell that she was listening, too. Between bites and gulps the boy had told them, in disjointed fragments, where he had been and what had happened since Sunday's dinner. He did not say that he wished he had not called his brother a fool. And he did not say what had happened to Corporal Wainder or where he lay.

"Hardly seems possible that it was only about this time yesterday," said Mrs. Williams as she moved to stand behind Seth. Her hands tightened on the half-moon chair back. "I did get your note, son." She raked his hair with her fingers, picking out weeds and seeds. "I appreciate you sending it, and, of course, I thanked Mr. Bouve. We're real glad you're home, aren't we, Annie?"

"I've got to find some Federal soldiers, Momma, and tell them what I know, what I heard. It might be important." Seth looked up at her, hopeful.

"Aw, Seth," Annie whined, "You're always playing soldier. Can I have some more pie, Momma?"

"I declare, Annie, aren't you happy to have your brother home safe and sound even if he is all scratched up?" Seth's mother asked. "Did you know you'd torn your shirt?"

Annie made a face in reply and tried on Jefferson's broad-brimmed hat. It came down over her eyes and rested on her nose. She leaned her head back and looked around at everyone.

"That reminds me," said Seth, pulling Jefferson's hat down so it covered his sister's chin, "I need a hat. Must'a lost mine somewheres, probably..." He stopped and remembered his frightening flight up that hay-covered hill on horse-sore legs.

"It's much too dangerous for you to go to town, Seth," his mother insisted, turned back to her stove and stirring the jelly she was making. "Look at what happened to your poor uncle."

"It won't be dangerous, Momma. Jefferson's goin' to drive, and nobody knows the back roads better'n he does. Not even Robert."

"Yes'm, Miz Williams, Seth's right," Jefferson said quietly. "I believe him when he says he got som'im important to tell the sojers. That's why that man was chasing him." These were the first words Jefferson had uttered since entering the Williams's kitchen, and they seemed to carry more than ordinary weight. The hall clock ticked in the silence that followed.

"What man?" Seth's mother asked.

"Wainder, mother, you remember." Seth put his finger to his lips hoping Jefferson would not say more about the rebel soldier and how they had left him.

Seth's mother sighed. "I'm certainly glad you got away from him, but you're almost an hour from the nearest fort, and there are Confederate cavalrymen all over the place. Most of our neighbors have fled."

"I'll get us through all right," Jefferson stated. He said it in a way that did not leave room for dispute.

"I've got to try, Momma." Seth played his trump card. "Like Robert did."

After another long period of silence, Mrs. Williams gave a small nod of approval. Annie ran to get Seth a hat.

"Caroline will stay here with you, Momma, if that's all right." The girl glared at Seth. "Her father's not home. He's down in the city."

"Oh, all right, if you don't mind Mrs. Williams," said Caroline, flashing Seth a clenched-tooth smile.

"Of course not," Seth's mother said. "Don't think your daddy'll be coming out the Pike for a while yet. Annie said she heard some shooting from down toward the church."

Seth's mother held him by the arm. "I'm sure your father is safe, Caroline," she said.

"So am I," replied the girl, lifting her chin. "Come on, Annie, let's go out front and see what we can see."

Once the girls had left the kitchen, Seth's mother kissed him on the cheek and then followed him out into the back yard. Jefferson was watering Ben, the French's mule, at the Williams's well. The pump handle's squeak reminded Seth of how all this had started, and once more he fingered the bruise on his forehead.

Jefferson dipped his kerchief into the horse trough and then tied it around his head and replaced his battered hat. He clambered ponderously up to the driver's seat, and Seth and his mother moved to the other side of the wagon.

Mrs. Williams looked up at Jefferson and asked, "Does he know?"

Seth looked from his mother to Jefferson, puzzled.

"No'm, don' think so," Jefferson answered, tightlipped, shaking his head.

"He should," Seth's mother said as she turned toward him and squeezed his shoulder. "Before you go, I think it is important that you know something, son. Jefferson is not a slave. He has not been one for a long time. He is a free man who is going with you because he wants to. He'll explain it to you if he chooses. Now be off. And be careful."

"Don't you worry," said Jefferson, clucking at the mule.

Seth did not know what to say as he settled himself on the plank seat. Soon he and Jefferson were rolling slowly down the Georgetown Pike toward the capital. They followed the same route Seth had traveled with Wainder a little less than twenty-four hours before.

The boy shuddered as they passed the clump of trees where he had made a map in the dirt and the soldier had concealed his carbine. The gold piece gleamed in the boy's memory along with the man's senseless, staring eye. Seth looked carefully along the roadside, but he could not tell if the carbine was still in its hiding place.

In silence, they passed the old, wooden church and the Moores' small plantation, one of the last places to hold on to its slaves. Jefferson stopped at the blacksmith's near Darcy's store and post office, a crossroads many folks called Bethesda for the Presbyterian meeting house. The black man went to talk with his fellow smith, a white man from whom he had often purchased bar iron. He returned to the wagon in a few minutes, frowning. "We can't go much further this way. Too many Rebs. John says there was a fight near here this morning, and the other smith claims he heard shooting from down Fort Reno way."

Jefferson pulled himself back up to his seat and turned the wagon to the right, toward the river. He followed winding back roads, private lanes, and, for a short while, an almost-dry creek bed. Seth kept his silence, wishing Jefferson would hurry and looking at the random damage done by passing Rebels: shattered windows, broken gates, smoldering haystacks. He pondered the news that the man he rode with was not a slave. Finally he had to ask.

"How come I didn't know you were a free man?"

"Wondered how long 'fore you'd ast. We had to keep it a secret 'count'a the law. Weren't but a few white folks, 'cluding your momma, that knew."