The Sound of Distant Thunder Page 16

  She let him take her hand and lead her down the lane. Water ran along the gravel, running toward the creek. When they reached the road, Jonas continued until they were hidden from the house by a grove of sumac. They were at the opening to the lane leading to the clearing and their house.

  Katie stopped when he did. She closed her eyes, hoping that somehow she would wake from this nightmare. Jonas kissed her then, his lips soft and warm against hers. Kissing her longer, deeper, and more desperately than he ever had before. Kissing her as if he would never get the chance again.

  11

  OCTOBER 7

  Jonas woke to the sound of low, rolling thunder and a steady rain on the roof above his head. The thunder had echoed his dreams. Confused dreams of Katie, their half-built house, and the sound of hunting rifles in the woods.

  Sitting up, he reached for his shoes. He hadn’t meant to sleep at all, but only wait until the house was quiet. He had written a note for Mamm and Datt, and as he passed through the kitchen on his way to the back porch, he laid the note on the table. He hoped that would keep them from worrying too much until he could send his first letter to them.

  He took his hat and coat from the hook by the back door and let himself out onto the covered porch. The rain had stopped, but the wind had picked up, moving the rolling thunder off to the east. The full moon drifted between the broken clouds, sending a cold light shining on the farm buildings and the road. Even though he had slept, the moon showed that the time was still early. Pulling his jacket close, Jonas started toward the stone bridge. When he reached the end of the lane, he turned back for one last look. The clouds had moved on, and the white house stood out against the dark fields behind it. The creek splashed, swollen from the autumn rains, and he turned back toward the road.

  There was no use in being sentimental. Like he told Katie, it wouldn’t be long before he would be home. The president had issued a proclamation saying that all slaves would be freed by January 1 unless the Confederate states ceased their rebellion. Once the South realized the impact of that proclamation, the war would be over for sure. He would be home soon, maybe even by Christmas.

  He paused again at the top of the valley and looked back. All was dark and quiet. He could see all the houses along Weaver’s Creek from here, except his own half-finished house in the woods. He turned and left the valley behind.

  Reaching Millersburg before dawn, Jonas stopped for a rest in the courthouse square while he ate the apple and bread he had brought with him. The moon had set, and the eastern sky was turning from gray to pale blue. He had forty miles to go to Mansfield. First though, he needed to stop at the draft office and inform them that he was taking Samuel’s place.

  From his seat in the square, Jonas could see the draft office. As the morning light grew stronger, the door swung open and a man walked to the edge of the boardwalk and nodded at the crowd. Jonas adjusted his pack and went across the street. Other folks were gathering, including men who were heading toward the draft office, the same as he was. Jonas walked in, taking his place at the end of the line. When it was his turn, he stepped up to the counter.

  “Good morning,” said the man behind the counter. “The draftees are meeting in front of the office. We leave for Mansfield in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m not on the list.” The man looked at him for the first time. “I’m here to take someone else’s place.”

  The man drew a pen from an inkwell. “The name of the other man?”

  “Samuel Weaver.”

  “Township?”

  “German.”

  He shuffled some papers, then drew a line through Samuel’s name. “And your name?”

  “Jonas Weaver.”

  The man paused, looking at him over wire-rimmed spectacles. “Related?”

  “Ja, I’m his brother.”

  After writing Jonas’s name in the blank space next to Samuel’s, the man indicated where Jonas should sign his name. “The train will be leaving shortly.” He pointed to the door. “That way and wait for the captain.”

  The group waiting in front of the draft office had swelled to fifty or more, with men coming by twos and threes, and even wagonloads. Jonas took his place next to another man who stood alone, looking ill at ease. He nodded to Jonas.

  “You’re goin’ to Mansfield too?” The fellow looked to be about Jonas’s age, with red hair that reminded him of Ruby.

  “Ja, with all these others also, I expect.”

  “Are you Mennonite?”

  “Amish.”

  The redhead nodded. “I thought you must be, the way you talked. My neighbor back in Mechanicsburg is Mennonite. He was called up, but he paid a fee.” He looked Jonas up and down. “It must be nice to be rich enough to be able to buy your way out of fighting.”

  Before Jonas could think of an answer to that, the rat-a-tat of a drum sounded from the direction of the railroad station. The crowd, now numbering at least a hundred, turned and looked toward the sound. A group of men in uniform marched toward them, led by an officer on a horse. A boy kept time on the drum. When they reached the waiting crowd, they stopped at a signal from the leader.

  “I am Captain Wentworth of the 261st Ohio Regiment. You men have been assigned to my command, and I’m here to escort you to Camp Mansfield.”

  A voice shouted from the middle of the crowd. “When do we get our guns and uniforms? I want to go kill some Rebs.”

  Captain Wentworth gazed into the crowd, searching for the man who had called out. “You’ll get your chance. Although if you are this eager, I thought you would have volunteered instead of being conscripted into the army.”

  Without waiting for further comments, the captain stood in his stirrups. “We are going to march from here to the railroad station, where we will board the waiting train. We will arrive in Mansfield this afternoon.” He nodded to the man beside him. “The sergeant will form you into ranks.”

  Jonas took a place on the end of a row, behind the redheaded man and next to a friendly boy who grinned at him.

  At the sound of the drum, the column walked down the street, past the newspaper office and the courthouse, and on to the railroad station. When they passed the grain mill, the memory of the day he and Samuel had bought the seed corn flashed into his mind. His stride broke and he lost step with the boy beside him until someone from the rear shoved him back in line.

  He tightened his sweaty grip on his sack. The monstrous locomotive hissed and puffed as they marched along the train to the cars behind. Another train stood on a track just feet away, enclosing them all in a darkened, steaming canyon. The somber idea came to him that they were marching through the gates of hell.

  OCTOBER 8

  Lydia came into the kitchen, following her usual routine, lighting the lamp on this chilly October morning. She urged the stove into life, expertly stirring the hot coals and tossing some wood shavings and kindling on them before laying some split pine logs on top. Then she turned back to the table and saw a note. She picked it up and her hands began to tremble.

  October 7, 1862

  To my dear parents,

  I know this will be a grievous thing for you, but I have gone to join the army in Samuel’s stead. Do not think that I am chasing after whatever glory War may hold, or that I wish to do this. But it is the only sensible thing to do. Samuel is a family man, and a man of principles that he will not ignore. This is the only way I can prevent him from having to make the terrible choice between two tightly held beliefs.

  Your loving son,

  Jonas

  Sinking into the chair, she clasped her hand over her mouth. It couldn’t be true. She set the page back on the table and nearly laughed with relief. Of course it couldn’t be true. Jonas was out in the barn with Abraham doing chores. She had heard her husband calling him from his bed before going out to the barn.

  Abraham and Jonas would be wanting their breakfast when they came in. Lydia’s hands trembled as she took the frying pan from its shelf. She set it on the s
tove, then glanced at the note again. It was still there.

  When she came back into the kitchen after fetching a ball of sausage from the cellar, the paper still lay there. Right where she had left it. In the center of the circle of lantern light.

  Turning her back to the table, she dumped the sausage into the skillet and smashed it with her spoon, stirring the bits of crumbled meat until the aroma of frying herbs and pork filled the room. She cracked eggs into a bowl, scrambling them until they were a solid mass of yellow while the sky outside the window slowly lightened.

  Stirring the sausage again, she looked out the window. Chores should be done by now. Abraham and Jonas were late. But Abraham would take longer doing the chores alone if Jonas had really gone. She pushed the thought out of her head, peeling the potatoes with quick, hard strokes. Jonas hadn’t gone anywhere. The note from him was a practical joke.

  Lydia removed the crumbled, browned sausage from the skillet, then added the potatoes. Hot grease spattered and popped. She stirred them, then covered the pan and moved it to the back of the stove, where the lower heat would cook the potatoes slowly. Just before serving them, she’d move the pan to the higher heat again and brown the potatoes to a satisfying crunch, just the way Jonas liked them.

  The spatula dropped from her fingers, clattering on the floor. Lydia leaned against the kitchen counter. She closed her eyes as Abraham emerged from the barn. Alone.

  Her voice was little more than a moan. “Jonas, what have you done?” She rubbed her throbbing forehead.

  Abraham came in the kitchen door without a word. The muted sizzle of the potatoes cooking echoed in the comforting thump as her husband shut the door tightly against the autumn chill.

  “Jonas didn’t get up in time to do the chores this morning.” Abraham hung his hat and coat on the hook by the door. “Did you wake him?”

  Lydia set a cup at Abraham’s place and poured him some coffee, not spilling a drop, in spite of her trembling hands. “Jonas isn’t here.”

  She slid the note across the table and stirred the potatoes while Abraham sat in his chair. He read the note, then read it again.

  “What is the boy thinking?” Abraham’s voice rose as he dropped the paper onto the table. “He can’t be serious about doing this.”

  After dishing the potatoes and sausage mixture into a bowl, Lydia poured the beaten eggs into the hot pan. Her stomach turned.

  “It appears he is.”

  “He left without saying anything to us.”

  “Maybe he talked with Samuel.”

  “Ja, ja, ja. Maybe.” Abraham took a sip of his coffee as Lydia set the bowl of potatoes on the table. “He couldn’t have gotten all the way to Millersburg already. I’ll go to Samuel’s after breakfast and we’ll go after him.”

  Lydia set the plates on the table with two sharp thuds. “And then what?” Her voice had risen also, and she took a deep breath. “Then what, Abraham? You bring Jonas home, but Samuel goes on to report for duty? The state will claim one of our boys, won’t it?”

  “I’ll take the money along with me to pay for Samuel.”

  “He’s already decided that he won’t let you do that.”

  Abraham watched her for a long minute, then took her hand. “Let’s pray for our meal and then talk.”

  Lydia bowed her head and ran through a short, perfunctory prayer in her head, one she had memorized as a child, but Abraham’s head remained bowed. She brought her thoughts back and centered on God. Her Lord. The Provider of all blessings. Her heart filled with thanksgiving as Abraham squeezed her hand to signal the end of his prayer.

  Abraham served her and then himself. “This is what we should have expected of our Jonas.”

  Lydia nodded, staring at the steaming food on her plate. What was Jonas eating this morning? Was he still on the road, or had he already arrived in Millersburg?

  “Samuel sits back, hoping for a solution to his predicament.” Abraham took a bite of his eggs, his expression thoughtful. “But Jonas has always been the one to take a problem head-on, not worrying about the outcome of his actions until afterward.”

  “What do you think will happen to him?”

  “He’ll make his way, but it will be hard.” Abraham took her hand again. “But it would be harder for Samuel. He would have to be away from his wife and family. And then to come back and repent of his actions before the church would be the most difficult of all.”

  They ate in silence. Abraham’s frown told Lydia that he was deep in thought. Her own thoughts went back into her memories of Jonas as a little boy. Back to the time when he was still hers, before he entered the world of men. She saw the bright spring sunshine on his hair, his grin turned toward her, his apple-red cheeks. He was always getting into mischief and always able to find a way out of it again.

  “What if . . .” Lydia stopped. She hadn’t meant to let the thought escape, but Abraham waited for her to continue. “What if he isn’t able to get himself out of this scrape? What if . . . he doesn’t come home?”

  Her husband sighed deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. “We must leave him to the Lord.”

  Lydia stood, dumping her breakfast into the hog’s bucket. She hadn’t eaten a bite and couldn’t with her stomach turning in on itself. Men died in battle, and that thought frightened her. But the most dreadful thought was that he would fall into the company of men who would lead him astray, onto paths that would steer him away from the church.

  She could trust the Good Lord with his life, and always had. But this? Lydia trembled at the thought of the snares that might be waiting for their boy.

  Katie did her morning chores, but her mind was on Jonas. She had to know if he had really gone to Millersburg last night, but how could she find out?

  Mama thumped furniture, muttering to herself as she dusted the front room and then moved into the downstairs bedroom. Katie swept the kitchen floor and took the dish towels out to hang on the line. The morning was breezy, but the rain had moved on. The sky was filled with wisps of white clouds. Looking up the valley, she could see the roof of the Weavers’ home, with a steady stream of gray smoke caught by the wind as it came from the chimney.

  She chewed on her bottom lip, watching the light gray line. She could pay a visit to Lydia. A good excuse could be that she wanted to copy a recipe. Lydia made the best cream pie, better than Mama’s, and no one would think twice about Katie asking about it. And while she was there, she would find out if Jonas followed through with his plans.

  Katie found Mama in her bedroom, making the bed after letting it air all morning.

  “May I go visit Lydia?”

  Mama didn’t look at her but ran her hand over the woven coverlet she had brought from Germany so many years ago. “Why would you do that?”

  “I want to ask if I can copy her recipe for cream pie. It’s different than yours, and I want to see why.”

  “Your chores are finished?”

  “Ja, for sure. I have some sewing to do, but I can do that this afternoon.”

  “It’s all right with me. But be home in plenty of time to help with dinner.”

  Katie didn’t give Mama an opportunity to change her mind but threw her shawl over her shoulders and hurried down the road. When she reached the lane leading to Lydia’s house, she saw Samuel going into the barn. How much did he know of Jonas’s plans to be his substitute?

  Lydia had seen her coming and opened the kitchen door for her. The room was warm and smelled of onions and sausage. Katie took a deep breath of the homey fragrance and smiled at Jonas’s mother.

  “I hoped you were at home this morning.” She stopped as she noticed Lydia’s eyes, red and watery as if she had been crying. On the table was a note in Jonas’s handwriting. “I . . . I wanted to borrow . . .” She couldn’t go on with the excuse she had given Mama. Katie followed Lydia farther into the kitchen and stroked the paper that Jonas had touched so recently. “So he’s gone? He said he would leave a note for you.”

  Lydia poured a cup of
coffee for herself and one for Katie and they sat at the table. “I should have guessed he would have told you.”

  “He came and talked to me about it last night, but I couldn’t believe he would leave. I hoped he hadn’t.”

  The older woman rubbed one finger along a crease in the paper. “He must have left sometime during the night.”

  “Are you going to go after him? You can’t let him join the army.”

  Lydia shook her head. “Abraham and I talked about it, but we know that once Jonas has made up his mind, nothing can dissuade him. And the alternative is exactly what Jonas wanted to avoid. Samuel would have to go or break the law.” She rubbed the crease again. “In a way, I’m glad Jonas acted. I wouldn’t have been able to decide between the two.”

  Katie leaned on the table, her coffee forgotten. “It was never our choice anyway.”

  Lydia’s smile was sad. “That’s the way it is for women. The men make the decisions and we make do with the results.”

  Staring at the stiff, straight letters that formed Jonas’s words, Katie felt the despair in Lydia’s voice. He had made his decision, and there was nothing they could do but wait for the news that he had been killed.

  Then Lydia straightened her back, taking Katie’s hand in hers. “Now listen to me going on. Don’t mind me. I’m just an old woman who’s feeling sorry for herself. We’ll leave Jonas in the Good Lord’s care. He’ll be safe there.”

  Katie shook her head, her temples throbbing. “He won’t be safe. He’s going to die.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Biting her lip, Katie looked at Jonas’s mother. She had known Lydia since she was born, and could trust her, but she had never told anyone about the curse Teacher Robinson had laid on her.

  “It’s what happens to men who are around me.”

  Lydia pushed her coffee cup to the side and leaned toward Katie. “What do you mean? There are men all around you who haven’t died. Your father, your brothers. The church is full of men. Why do you think that?”