Chapter 4: Dragooned

Disbelieving, shocked, frightened, Seth watched as his mother faced this angry soldier holding a gun. He felt frozen to his chair as if time had stopped. Unconnected images and sounds flashed in his memory: Mr. Willoughby, his skinny teacher yelling there was no school because a war had started; his Aunt Hope screaming in anguish when he told her that the soldiers had taken Uncle Luke away; the blue-clad men whistling as they smashed down his father's fence; his mother reading and rereading Robert's few letters and folding them away into the drawer of the washstand by her high-backed bed. He heard the ring of iron-clad wheels mix with the teamsters' hoarse cries as they fled down the pike to destruction or capture by Jeb Stuart's men. And then he heard his mother as she had never sounded before - frightened and angry. All that had taken less than a second.

"I am stunned, sir." It was a kind of strangled voice, caught in her throat. She placed her hand on her trembling daughter's shoulder. "Please leave my home at once."

"Yes'm, I'm leavin', but I'm takin' Seth here with me. He'll be safe enough. I'll fetch him home right after dark, promise. You and the girl jes' stay here, mind yer P's and Q's an' don't go runnin' off looking for help. Bes' thing y'all can do is wait. Maybe pray if'n you're the prayin' kind."

"Seth," he turned toward the boy, "I dunno if you want'a help me or not, but get some shoes and a hat. We're leavin'. Feller who should know says I can travel most anyplace hereabouts with you, account'a folks know you. Sentries on the road know you an' know your brother's down in a Georgia prison camp."

"No!" cried Mrs. Williams, jumping up and throwing herself at the soldier as Seth and Annie watched, amazed. She grabbed at his rifle and beat on his chest. "This war has taken one of my sons; you'll not take the other!"

Wainder pushed her back with his carbine, firmly but not harshly. He looks more annoyed than angry, thought Seth. I ought to do something. He felt his heart thumping. Something stuck in his throat. Southern soldiers aren't suppose to act like this. They're the gallant ones with the feathers in their hats who dance with the prettiest girls in their fluffy dresses. I've seen the pictures.

His mother charged the soldier again, and he pushed her back against the china cupboard. The dishes rattled and glasses clinked. Seth stood up but still just watched. He could feel his stomach churn and tasted something sour in his throat.

"Damn it, Miz Williams, you've got to stop this here foolishness. I've got a job to do an' no time to waste." The trooper pointed his carbine at the boy, and Seth wondered if it was loaded. "Come on. We're going." he said. "Right now!" It was the first time he had raised his voice.

Mrs. Williams collapsed to the floor by Annie's chair, on her knees, crying, and when Wainder turned to look at her, Seth launched himself at the man. Unthinking, he ducked under the rifle and drove his head and shoulder into the trooper's stomach. Wainder fell back against the door jamb with a surprised look. He pushed Seth away and then cuffed him across the face with the back of his hand. Seth swung wildly, tasting blood. "Leave my mother alone," he yelled. I won't cry, please. He gritted his teeth and tasted bile in his mouth.

Wainder blocked the boy's blows and pushed him away with his weapon. "Miz Williams, tell this here boy to behave before he gits hisself hurt."

Seth's mother sat on the floor with Annie beside her, her arms about her mother's neck. Both were sobbing. Seth stood by the fallen chair on the other side of the table and wiped the blood from his cut lip. I won't cry, won't. If I don't cry, he'll leave.

"How d'you know about my brother? You've made my mother cry. Get out; dang it, you heard her, you get out!" Tears of anger and frustration rolled down the boy's cheeks, embarrassing him. Seth pushed at the soldier with both hands, angry with himself. Ashamed and fearful.