Today's Reading
At this Henry paid attention, and both boys shook their heads.
"They were men from the British Royal Navy who took sailors and other men against their will. They would grab anyone with any amount of know-how about ships and sailing the seas. It was an underhanded way of going about it, but Great Britain was at war with France, and as it went on, they took whoever they could get. For a long time my mother and grandmother held on to the possibility he was near Canada, where fighting was going on. He was not in Canada. He died overseas. They never knew where he was buried. We never forgot how he went to work one day only to never come home. I tell you this because war is not a glorious affair."
Henry, his tone bordering on rude, said, "I know that."
The way he spoke caught Joetta by surprise, and while she was still digesting his tone, he shared a bit of news that further alarmed Joetta.
"Benjamin says if he got the chance he'd go fight."
Benjamin. Of course. His tendency to brag and make such declarations was typical. Bess and Thomas Caldwell, his parents, were friends with Joetta and Ennis. Harold, their thirteen-year-old son and their youngest, spent time with Robert. The Caldwell farm lay two miles to the east and abutted the McBride farm, and because the properties were divided by dense woods and several acres of uncultivated land, the boys often hunted in that area together.
Mr. McBride said, "By God, I'd sign up to fight too, if I won't so damn old, and didn't have this bum knee."
Henry said to no one in general, "I'd sure go."
Joetta frowned.
"Enough about this. Your grandfather is too old, and you are too young. Besides, what is going on has nothing to do with us."
Robert scrutinized his older brother.
"They wouldn't want you anyway; you're too puny."
That led to a small-scale scuffle, more of a shoving match. Henry, ever sensitive about his height because the younger Robert was already taller, shoved his brother while Mr. McBride slapped his knees and laughed, enjoying the fracas. Joetta stood, and clapped her hands.
"Stop it."
After one final shove, they obeyed, although each continued to glare at the other. She pointed at the door, and they slumped away to do their evening work, crossing the yard peacefully enough. She turned around to find Mr. McBride peering at her from over the rim of his cup. He lowered it and wiped his mouth.
"You can't keep'em from doing what they want forever."
It was the way he said it. His comment was not about this small clash; it went beyond that. She did not respond because deep down, she knew it to be true, and like any mother, she did not like having to face the fact of their autonomy one day. But they were not there yet, and though the time would come, she did not expect it for a few more years. By then, they would be more mature, able to make decisions based on facts, not the urges or notions of an old man's mind. Mr. McBride picked up his cup and slurped. She decided to set aside her sewing for now and go pull weeds. It was always a good way to vent her vexation when he was right.
That night as she and Ennis prepared for sleep, she worried out loud about Henry. Ennis sat on the bed, patting an empty space. She dropped beside him, laid her head on his shoulder, and he snugged an arm around her waist.
"He's only a boy talking big, trying to figure himself out."
Joetta could not resist.
"Your father?"
Ennis snorted in agreement, and then set her mind at ease.
"Don't fret about the boys. Henry and Robert know how their grandfather is, how he goes on and on. More important, we know our Henry, right?"
Joetta believed what her husband said was true, even while some of Henry's latest behaviors gave her reason to question this. She chose to believe Ennis was right, and that Henry was merely trying to find his way.
The next morning as Ennis read 'The Farmer's Almanac', he talked about the crops as she put breakfast on the table. Mr. McBride was already in fine form, having started in on Robert, telling him he needed to eat because he looked like a starved cat. Robert's lankiness matched Ennis, while Henry's shorter, stockier stature was more like Mr. McBride. Robert sat with a glum look, wordlessly picking at an old stain on his overalls, and Mr. McBride quickly lost interest. He snapped open a newspaper, procured on a trip to town, and within seconds began reading aloud, his derision over the latest news spilling forth.
"Lincoln won't keep his word, I'd bet on it."
...
