Read Online Jordan's War - 1861 by B.K. Birch - Free Book Online Page A

either of the boys could answer.
    “We ain’t had too
much since I stopped work. Then Kate died while having the baby, God rest her
soul,” Jim said. “The company lets us stay here now that Gunner’s working at
the mines.”
    Jordan’s eyes got
huge. Gunner works? For money?
    Gunner smiled and
showed bits of fat wedged in his teeth.
    “Runs messages
mostly,” Jim explained. “He’ll go down in the mines in a few years, won’t you
son.”
    “I have to be
fifteen,” Gunner said with his mouth full.
    Pa had a disgusted
look on his face.
    “Why don’t you
just come on home?” Pa asked. “The old home place is still there, hell I have
the deed at my house. Taxes are paid. Me and the boys could help. . .”
    “Look at me
Finnian,” Jim interrupted. “My back’s gone and I can’t walk ten feet without
taking a coughing spell. How am I supposed to work a farm?”
    “A mine ain’t no
place for that youngin’,” Pa said.
    “The company’s
been real good to us,” Jim said.
    There was silence
while Finnian chewed his fat.
    “Oh hell, you’re
probably right,” Finnian said. “Ain’t no money in farming anyway. Not like you
can make here.”
    Jordan ate the
rest of his supper in silence. There was conversation about old times, but
Jordan paid them no mind. He was angry because Pa didn’t push harder to get Jim
and Gunner to come back to the mountain.
    “Gunner got out
Pa’s old fiddle,” Jim said as he picked the teeth he had left. “It’s a little
battered but I told him if anyone can play that old thing, it’d be you.”
    Gunner stopped
clearing the table and ran into the other room. He wasn’t gone more than a few
seconds and back he came, carrying the busted fiddle and the bow.
    “Let’s see what
you got here,” Finnian said and took the instrument. He didn’t hide his shock
very well. He looked up at Gunner, who waited eagerly for his response. “Let’s
give it a try.”
    Pat put the fiddle
across his shoulder and ran the bow across the two strings. If Hell ever had
music, Jordan heard it right then and there.
    Gunner laughed and
clapped. “Can you play a song, please?”
    “We’ll clean up
later,” Jim said. “I feel like singing.” He got up and danced a jig into the
other room, hunched back and all. Gunner was right behind him.
    “You boys got to
help me,” Pa whispered. “Jordan, you make sounds – like a banjo at church
singing and Eamon – you sing as loud as you can.”
    The boys nodded
and followed him into the other room.
    “Lookie what I
found,” Jim said and showed off an old dusty jug with a chip in the lip. “I
used to be pretty good at this.”
    “You go huffing
around on that thing and you’re going to kill over right here and now,” Finnian
said.
    Jim looked at the
jug. “Ah, you’re probably right.”
    The moment Pa
broke into Church in the Wildwood, Jordan started twanging just like Pa said
and Eamon sang as loud as he could without screaming. It took a while to get
used to, but after a few songs Jordan found himself enjoying the music. Gunner
was singing and clapping along even though he didn’t know all the words and Jim
swayed and grinned the whole time. They didn’t even notice Pa was making more
music with his mouth than with the fiddle. At last Pa stopped playing.
    “We’d better turn
in,” Pa said after the sixth or seventh song. “Got to get an early start
tomorrow.”
    “Just one more
Finnian, please,” Gunner begged.
    “Finnian’s right
son,” Jim said. “You got to go to work tomorrow anyhow. I beat the dust off
that old mattress in the back room as best I could. Figured ya’ll could sleep
over there.”
    “Goodnight
Finnian,” Gunner said and walked off into another dark room.
    “See you in the
morning,” Jim said and followed him.
    Jordan and Eamon
stared at the bare mattress lying in the corner of the room. There were obvious
piss stains in the middle, dark spots on the edges that could pass for either
blood or dirt, and