Watcher in the Piney Woods by Elizabeth McDavid Jones

Author:Elizabeth McDavid Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781497646575
Publisher: Open Road Media

CHAPTER 8

YANKEE!

Face-to-face with a Yankee, Cassie thought. Just like the one who put a bullet into Jacob. She could feel Philip beside her, shaking, and knew he was thinking the same thing she was.

Her throat felt tight with anger, but she forced herself to speak. “Appears that way, Philip. Yankee soldier, no less.”

Philip stuck the musket’s muzzle into the Yankee’s chest. “How’d you get here, Yank?”

“You got no need for that gun,” the Yankee said. “You see me. I got no weapon.” He held out his skinny crow-wing arms. “It’s the two of you agin’ the one of me. And you’re armed. I ain’t going nowhere. ’Sides, I ain’t eaten in days. I’m about as strong as a newborn possum. Wouldn’t be no match for you nohow.”

“You’re lying,” Cassie said, for she knew now who had taken the things that had vanished. “You been eating real well. You took my mama’s ash cake off the window-sill a few days back and stole our hen just yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Philip said. “You got some nerve stealing from us, then coming back to bed down in our barn. What was you going to take from us tomorrow?”

“You think I’d come out and steal from Rebs in broad daylight?” the boy said. “I was only passing by a while ago and saw your barn. Thought I’d come in out of the wind and rest a spell. Didn’t mean no harm, believe me.”

Philip snorted. Cassie didn’t swallow the Yankee’s story, either, not for a minute. The boy was the thief; she was sure of it. It made her mad that he wouldn’t own up to it. “Reckon we wouldn’t never believe no Yankee,” she spit out.

Philip was still eyeing the boy up and down. “You come on out here, Yank, where we can see you good,” he said.

The Yankee obeyed but kept talking. “Listen, I know you don’t trust me, but all I’m trying to do is get back home. No more soldiering for me, I swear.”

“You ain’t only a Yank,” Cassie burst out. “You’re yellow. A deserter. A skunk.”

“No,” the boy insisted. “You got me wrong. I didn’t run away. Wouldn’t do that. Rebs took me prisoner at Winchester. Sent me down here to prison in Danville. I rotted there for I don’t know how long, till some of us managed to tunnel out. Now I just want to get along home and see my pa and sisters.”

“Where’s that? Home?” Philip asked. Cassie noticed he had lowered the musket slightly.

“A farm, like this one, in Ohio,” said the boy. “Can I sit? I’m a mite weak.”

Philip gestured toward an overturned washtub in the corner. “Yeah. Sit.”

The boy eased down on the tub like he was sore just to move. Cassie’s anger began to seep away. She had to admit the Yank did look pitiful. His ribs stuck out; his cheeks were hollow. She couldn’t blame him too much, she guessed, for taking the ash cake or even Maybelle. “When was the last time you ate?” she asked him.

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