Manassas - Chapter One

Chapter One
Bitten by the Bullet

“We’re here!” my father exclaimed as we stopped on the dirt road in front of a patch of forest with a small clearing. It was April of 1861. My family, the Suttons, decided to up and move when Abraham Lincoln entered office. It was more for our safety more than anything. We had lived in Washington D.C. since I was born, but with the sudden uprising of the southern states, my mother became worried that our nation’s capitol would soon become a scene of violence.
All too soon did rumors of southern battles begin to sweep through the northern states. Preparations for our departure were rushed. My father had moved down here to begin building our new house, a small, rustic cabin hidden by a front of trees.  Several weeks ago my mother discovered she was pregnant. My father decided that it was a good idea for us to move down early before travelling became too hard on her. So that’s what we did. We moved to a small, isolated patch of woods several miles from the Bull Run in Virginia.
Standing beside our little wagon, I surveyed the building site from afar. The cabin looked about half built.  A small shanty several yards away from the site groaned in misery with the spring breeze.
“That’s where we will be staying until the cabin gets a proper roof on it,” my father pointed out. “It’ll be cozy for a while, but I think we’ll survive. At least the winter is over.”
“Great,” I commented stoically.
“Help me start unloading, Kate,” my mother motioned to me to come over to the back of the wagon.  There was no way of getting the wagon across the road of mud that led to the clearing without getting stuck, so we had to carry what was necessary through the forest to the shanty.
We worked meticulously throughout the afternoon getting situated into our small shack.  During this time, several men from a ways down the road arrived to continue the building. The next few months instilled a quiet monotony in us.  In the mornings I would help my mother feed and dress my two younger brothers while my father and his new friends worked diligently on the cabin. Being the oldest of the children, seventeen, I was used to tutor my siblings in their schooling while my mother tried to make the shack as homey as possible.  In the afternoons my brothers would go chase each other outside while I engaged in my own studies.  In the evenings my family would sit down around a small bonfire and eat dinner.  Then we would all head to our beds, or rather the floor covered with padding and quilts, only to wake up the next morning for the same routine.
By early June we were able to move into the still unfinished house, and by early July we were the proud owners of a cozy little cottage in the Virginian woods. Our schedule didn’t seem to change with the change of surroundings. We were still the same boring family living the same boring life. Then July 21 changed everything.
***
It was early afternoon when it happened. I was sitting in front of the hearth studying a grammar book I had smuggled from my small schoolhouse in Washington D.C. My father burst through the door ushering my two brothers inside quickly.  The look of worry on his face sent chills down my spine.
“It was probably just someone hunting!” Alex, my brother of twelve, protested.
“We’re not taking any chances, now go up to your room and study,” my father replied absentmindedly.
“But we’ve already done our studying for the day!” Carson, my other brother of eight said while trying to resist my father’s rough hands pushing them towards the stairs.
“Then play with the puzzle you got for Christmas,” Father said getting irritated.
Alex saw Father’s face getting red and took that as a cue to stop arguing, so he grabbed Carson by the arm and dragged him upstairs.
Anxious, I closed my book and hurried to my father’s side who had rushed into our kitchen area where my mother was looking at him with inquisitive eyes full of concern.
“Papa, what is it? What’s going on?” I asked.
My father turned to face me then looked at my mother. With graven eyes he answered, “I was informed earlier this morning by Jack that there were rumors of movement of the southern troops towards Washington. While the boys and I were outside, we heard a loud explosion in the distance. We stopped and listened. It’s gunfire.” He hung his head and muttered a short prayer.
My mother was shocked. “Gunfire! Where? How close?”
“It sounds like it’s coming from the direction of the river. Only several miles away.”
“Papa, what are we going to do?” I asked knowing that our recent move was all for naught.
“We pray… Hope and pray they don’t come any closer,” he replied as he hugged my very pregnant mother who was now sobbing knowing her fear had brought us closer to danger rather than away from it.
I uttered a prayer myself and moved back into the den.  Standing at the window I listened hard for the sound of the distant array of gunfire.
“Papa! The horse is gone!” I observed as I surveyed the little makeshift stable at the edge of the woods.
“Is he? Shoot, must have broken that board. He couldn’t have gone too far. I’ll go have a look.”
“No!” my mother cried grabbing onto him and pulling him back. “I don’t want you to go out there!”
“I’ll go,” I offered.
“No! Not you either! It’s too dangerous!”
“Dear, you’re overreacting,” my father cooed in her ear holding her tight. “I’ll stay here. Let Kate go. They are far away right now.  She’ll be fine.”
My mother hesitated then conceded. “Be safe, Kate.”
“I will, ma,” I answered reassuringly as I went outside.
I went over to the stable hoping to spot Jasper’s hoof prints in the mud.  Sure enough there was a trail leading east into the forest. Before I stepped into the woods, I squinted to see if I could see him hidden in the trees.  No luck. Cautiously I entered the tangle of looming trees. I could hear the guns in the distance more and more clearly as I moved through the underbrush searching for our horse.
Suddenly I heard a noise behind me that made me jump. I quickly turned around, my heart racing. To my relief it was just Jasper.  I began to walk towards the steed observing his behavior to make sure he wouldn’t react violently to my approach. To my delight I had no problem. I patted him and tugged gently on his bridle to urge him to follow me.
As we were walking towards the clearing another noise nearly made both Jasper and I have heart attacks. There was a loud crunch from behind a tree right in front of us. A few seconds later, a young man stumbled around the trunk and fell to his knees grasping his left arm.
I shrieked in exclamation and drew back beside Jasper. It took me a moment to realize the man was a soldier, an injured soldier.
“Oh, no! Are you okay, sir?” I asked rhetorically as I ran to his side.
He was breathing hard. “Help…” was all he could utter.
“Stay here! I’ll be right back!”
I ran back to my house and burst through the front door. My mother ran to me in alarm.
“What’s wrong, honey? Are you okay?” she asked anxiously.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said briefly turning to face my father. “I found Jasper, and on our back to the yard a soldier fell out from behind a tree! He’s injured, Papa! You have to help him!”
“Show me where he is,” my father said.  I followed him out the door without giving my mother time to react.
My father helped the injured soldier back to our house as I quickly tied up Jasper to a post in the rustic stable.
My father looked at his wounds. He had been grazed by a bullet in his upper arm, but in his forearm, a large gash broke the skin. After cleaning and dressing his wounds the best he could, my father began to talk to him.
“Hold pressure on that,” he said first as he pointed to the man’s forearm. “Who are you and what are you doing in my woods?”
“I’m from Jackson’s 4th Virginian Infantry. My name is--” his raspy voice broke.
“Go get him some water,” Father said to me curiously inspecting the man.
I handed the man some water which he drank in three short gulps. He nodded thankfully as he looked at me with his deep eyes.
“My name is James Clemons,” the man flinching as he changed his arm position. “Thank you so much for helping me out. I really appreciate it.”
“What are you doing in the woods, Mr. Clemons?” my father asked eying him suspiciously.
“I…” James looked down at his feet as if he were embarrassed. “I got scared when the bullet grazed me and deserted my division. I ran into the woods and not long after, I tripped and a branch stuck into my arm.  I pulled it out as a reaction, bad idea, I know. I knew I couldn’t go back, so I kept moving forward. I was just about to give in when your daughter found me.”
He smiled at me making me uneasy. I could feel my face flush.
“Hm, yes, well, you best stay here for a few days while you heal, Mr. Clemons,” my father offered.
“That’s too kind of you, sir. I accept your offer, and, please, call me James,” he said turning towards my father.
“I expect only the best behavior, James.”
“I wouldn’t think of giving anything less.”
“In that case, I best introduce you to our humble family. My name is Charles Sutton, and this here is my daughter, Kate. Over there you have my lovely wife, Mary, and,” here he paused and called for my brothers who stomped vehemently down the stairs. “This is Alex and Carson,” my father finished as he pointed at my siblings respectively.
Alex and Carson crowded around James and began asking him numerous questions about war and guns and all sorts of other things. Soon my mother grabbed them both by the arm and said, “I’m sure Mr. Clemons would like some sleep. You boys stop bothering him. I’ll get you some blankets and you can take a nap over there on the couch. When you wake up I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied then looked at me. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, missy?”
I hesitated then answered him.
“Shouldn’t a pretty young lady like you be married by now?”
I glared at him. “I’ve been busy.”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Mr. Clemons,” my father said sternly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just curious,” he grinned a toothy grin.
***
I didn’t trust him.  I didn’t trust him one bit.  My parents seemed to grow fond of him though, and my brothers took a liking to him almost immediately. But I had a problem with him, and I didn’t try to hide it.
Evening of the next day, I was sitting on the porch knitting some socks in anticipation of the arrival of my newest sibling when James decided to pay me a visit. He sat down on the edge of the porch beside me. I ignored him. He was silent for a while, staring out into the yard which was covered in an early patch of evening fog. I didn’t like him sitting next to me. There was something about him that just didn’t feel right… something not genuine about him.  I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I didn’t like it at all.
“What are you knitting?” he asked casually, breaking the silence.
“Socks,” I replied.
“They are awfully tiny, even for someone of your stature.”
I glared at him. Immediately I regretted it. That’s all he wanted, my attention. I quickly turned back to my task at hand. “They are for the baby.”
“Mmm, yes, I did happen to notice your mother is pregnant.”
I stayed silent, not acknowledging his statement about something that was ostensibly obvious. Again he was silent for a while. I nearly forgot he was beside me until I felt his hand brush a strand of hair behind my ear. I jumped and scowled.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.
“Nothing, it was in your eyes.”
“I could see perfectly fine, thank you,” I said coldly still scowling at him.
“You have beautiful eyes.”
“Excuse me, I think it’s time for me to go inside,” I said trying to get up. He caught my arm and pulled me back down before I could stand up all the way. He grabbed me and pulled me close to him then kissed my lips. I slapped him. I slapped him hard. My hand print would now be engraved into his cheek. “What the heck do you think you’re doing!?” I nearly screamed in his face.
He just smiled and said, “Shh… Your mother is asleep.”
Then his smiled turned into a grin, the same toothy grin I had seen the day I found him. “Why the heck did you kiss me, you fool?” I demanded with my mouth agape.
“Eh, I figure being a soldier and all I might die any second, so might as well kiss a girl for good luck,” he replied smugly.
“You deserted your division, imbecile! You’re no soldier,” I said harshly.
He turned to me and stared me in the eyes. His grin faded into a slight snarl.  “I was injured.  If I hadn’t of gotten out of there, I would have died.”
“First off, the bullet grazed your arm, you baby. Secondly, maybe it would have been better if you had stayed and died.” With that I got up and went inside.
That night I lay in my bed wide awake. I hadn’t told my parents about him forcing his ugly mug on mine. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t told them either. Maybe I was convinced they wouldn’t believe me.  They knew I didn’t like him. Everyone did. He just seemed so fake. I wasn’t convinced about his story. What soldier runs away from a battle because of a scratch? He was a coward; that much I knew. His injuries weren’t that bad. Staying one night, sure, that’s fine, but two? He should be well enough to go back to his precious division whom he left just before they got brutally slaughtered; at least that’s what my father had said the rumors in town were.
Maybe that was it! He knew they were being beaten, so he slipped away before they could take his precious little life. That coward…
My thoughts continued to spin until I slipped into a dreamless sleep.