Chapter 2: 1865

Robert weighed barely a hundred pounds when he came home. His yellowish skin looked like old parchment, his joints seemed only tenuously connected and his cloudy eyes hid deep in dingy hollows. His lank body bore a multitude of sores, some of which had scabbed over but many remained open and running for a long time, seeping a greenish pus.

Seth, along with his mother and young sister, made the morning-long trip into Washington City to retrieve him from the crowded hospital near the Capitol. Seth's mother had warned both of her children not to be surprised by their brother's appearance and to be nice to him and not ask a lot of foolish questions.

Seth felt sick at his stomach when he saw Robert. His brother stuck out a bony hand, a hand with a misshapen thumb, and the boy held it and shook it briefly, accepting the weak smile that went with the claw-like grip and trying to smile back. He recalled the last time he had seen his brother, seen him striding down the Pike in his blue uniform. Seth had screamed and cried and called him a fool. The boy noticed that Robert had lost some teeth and that his lips appeared to be deeply cracked in several places.

The long, white wooden building smelled of corruption and chemicals. All of them were happy to leave it. Annie hid behind her mother's skirts as Robert limped out into the dappled sunshine, shielding his eyes with his free hand, his other firmly in his mother's grip as he shuffled along the boardwalk to the busy street. All around them in the sparse shade lay silent men on stretchers and the stained debris of the overtaxed hospital.

Mrs. Williams, tight lipped and unusually tense, helped her older son up to the driver's seat and then lifted her long skirt and stepped on the spokes of the off wheel to get up beside him. The younger boy and his sister clambered to the worn board behind them.

Fifteen-year-old Seth looked about and shook his head. He had never seen so many men with a missing arm or leg, some completely legless, their stumps stuck out before them like balks of firewood. Even worse were the soldiers with head or face wounds. They peered out at the world from stained bandages like prisoners in a dungeon. He glanced up at the gleaming capitol building with its new dome and shaded his eyes to peer at the tall statue with its crested helmet.

The city was thick with uniforms in the summer of 1865, and the air was heavy with the stink of sewage in the fetid canal. People scurried along the streets and in and out of the stores and taverns. Hordes of flies and mosquitoes swarmed everywhere, and the ghastly color of sluggish Tiber Creek reflected its foulness.

Mrs. Williams clucked to her trusty mules and began the nearly ten-mile trip to the family home that stood along the old turnpike which had long joined Georgetown and Frederick. Bareheaded, his hair lank and roughly cut, Robert sat stiffly beside her, his talon-like hands clasped on his bony knees.

"Two mules?" he said to his mother, trying to get his mind off himself and his churning belly.

"Big one's your uncle Luke's," she said, forearms raised and stiff, feet firmly placed, soft reins firmly held by her thumbs and fingers.

Robert nodded and swallowed, afraid he might vomit.

When they crossed the bridge into Georgetown, Annie finally exploded with a series of questions she had bottled up as long as she was able.

"What happened to your thumb? Why are you so skinny? Are those covered-up people dead? What's that awful smell back there?"

"Annie, enough," said her mother over her shoulder.

"How long before we're home, momma? Can I get some candy? Please?"

Seth tugged at his sister's pigtail, and she swatted his hand aside.

"Did you meet General Grant?" Annie asked, leaning forward to put her chin on her older brother's thin shoulder.

He turned his cadaverous face toward her, producing the best smile he could, briefly forgetting his missing teeth.

"Yep," he croaked out in a voice that seemed to come from a dry well, "he stomped through last Sunday. Some politicians too, like a pack of hounds."

"Tell me, tell me," his unsatisfied sister demanded, hopping on the edge of her seat. "What did he say to you?"

"Well, not much. He was wearing a regular uniform, pretty much like mine, but he had good boots on and shoulder straps. And he was puffing a fat cigar." Robert seemed to sag, having surprised himself with such a long speech after weeks of little but monosyllables and grunts.

"Is he tall?" Annie demanded, raising her hand.

"Enough, enough for now," said her mother over her shoulder, coaxing the mules to more effort as the road rose. "Save some questions for supper."

"Can I get some candy?" the girl whined. "You promised."

"When we get home," her mother said, flicking the reins without much effect as the lead mule avoided a muddy pothole.

It was fully two hours later when the Williams family crested the last hill. At the top of the gentle rise, Mrs. Williams stopped to give the team a rest and let her older son look at the slumbering countryside. Long shadows hid their farmhouse and reached across both tracks of the worn and rutted road.

"Looks the same, Ma, pretty much," Robert said.

"Been some changes," his mother said with a sigh, digging out a coin for the toll gate keeper. "Most of the fences are gone, some of the outbuildings, too."

Seth held his tongue, tempted to tell his brother about the Rebel scout who had buried his weapon right at this spot, the Sharps carbine that now rested deep in a corner closet. He took a deep breath as his mother released the wooden brake and clucked at the mules. At the toll gate, the smiling man waved them through but scowled when he recognized the faded Federal uniform.

Up the deeply-worn drive they went, past the hillside of blackberries, and Robert climbed down without help, a bit unsteady, knees wobbling. He led the way in the back door while Seth got the rig into the shed and took care of the animals. The ex-soldier, hardly feeling the part of returning hero, went directly to his old room and flopped on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, hands clasped on his shrunken belly. His mother said, "I'll call when the food is ready," and silently closed the door. Joy, relief and sorrow battled for her mind. Relief won and she wiped away the tear.