The Last Three SoldiersShelton, W. H. (William Henry)
History
The Last Three Soldiers
Shelton, W. H. (William Henry)
North Carolina -- Fiction; Soldiers -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
The major only grunted as if the matter were of no consequence, and
then both relapse into silence as the creaking wheels jolt over the
rocks and grind down the mountain behind the bracing cattle. The form
of the steer grows whiter in the gathering darkness. The men are
evidently familiar with the country, for presently they turn off the
big road into a cart-track, the sides of the wagon brushing against the
dripping bushes as they push through the darkness with the fewest
possible words. Now and then they see a light in the settlement,
glimmering damply through the trees, and dancing and disappearing
before them, as the wagon lurches and rolls upon the weary animals
struggling for a foothold on the shelving rocks. At last they trot out
on a sandy level and pass a log barn, where a group of men are playing
cards by a fire. A little farther on a low line of lights becomes a
row of windows casting a ruddy glow under the dripping trees, and
shining out upon the very wood-pile where, according to Philip, the man
he had named "Shifless" was wont to sit and watch the milking.
"Hello, inside!" cried the major, hailing the house. "Is Elder Long to
home?"
"Well, he ain't fur off," replied a tall woman in a calico sunbonnet
and a homespun gown, who came out on the side porch, shading her eyes
with her hand. "Jest light out o' yer hack an' come in to the fire,
an' I'll carry the critters round to the stable."
Sandy and the major clambered out of the wagon upon the chip dirt, with
a polite inquiry after the news, to which the woman, as she seated
herself on the bedquilt and gathered up the reins, replied that "the
best news she knowed of was that the war was done ended."
The travelers walked stiffly into the house, carrying their guns,
besides which the major held a cow-skin knapsack by the straps, which
he dropped on the floor inside the door. Both men said "Howdy" as they
stalked over to the fireplace, peering from under their hats at the
shadowy forms of a number of women sitting in the uncertain light, who
answered "Howdy" in return; and then, while the men took off their
rubber coats, one woman, bolder than the others, stirred the fire and
thrust a pine-knot behind the backlog.
Presently the ruddy flames leaped up in the stone chimney and picked
out the brass buttons on two butternut-and-gray uniforms, and revealed
the faces of the women, evidently not over-pleased at what they saw.
There was an awkward silence in the room for a moment, and then a tall
man entered, followed by two others, and then a party of three. Each
man carried his gun, and each said "Howdy," to which the strangers
responded; but the conversation showed no signs of being general until
the elder came in, unarmed, as became his peaceful calling.
His gun and powder-horn, however, were handy in a rack over the door,
and as soon as his benevolent face appeared in the firelight the man
Sandy advanced from the corner behind the chimney and held out his hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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