John Lexington twitched the reins and pulled back on the brake handle. The wagon came to a stop next to a gray barn, its doors and windows the gaping, empty eyes of a skull in the long evening shadows. Moon and Saffron stamped nervously in the long grass. John climbed down from the wagon, swatted dust from his cassock, and called toward the ruined house, “Anthony? Clarissa? Hello! Is anybody here?”
All that remained of Jack’s home was a pair of chimneys and part of a wall. The place had been deserted for some time, and weeds had begun to take over the space between the chimneys where a family had once lived. John turned back toward the frightened faces in the wagon. “Jack, I don’t know what’s happened here, but we can’t stay.”
At that moment, a bearded scarecrow emerged from the dark doorway of the barn and stood defiantly, a rusty shotgun across his forearm. “You all need to leave, parson. This here is our place now, and they ain’t room for anybody else.” Two ragamuffin children, barefoot and dressed only in long shirts, peeped around his legs.
John moved between the barn and the wagon and held his arms away from his sides. “We don’t mean to stay. I’m looking for the family that lived here, the Wellingtons. Can you tell me where I might find them?”
The man gestured with his gun toward the chimneys. “Can’t say you’ll like what you see, but I reckon they’re still in there somewhere. They was all kinds of sojers through here back in the spring, and I heard tell that Wellington feller tried to keep them from stealin’ his property. Dang lot a’ good it did ‘im. Might a’ been Stonewall’s brigade, might a’ been the Yankees; they was both about equal when it come to stealin’. Anyways, we’re here now, so I’ll thank you to turn them hosses around and skedaddle.” He raised the barrel of his shotgun.
John turned back toward the wagon. He tried to meet Jack’s eyes, but the boy’s face was buried in the folds of Magdalene’s dress, his shoulders silently heaving. “We have to leave now, Jack. We’re not safe here. We will all say a prayer together for your mother and father when we stop for the night.”
McDowell, Virginia — 1862
John Lexington twitched the reins and pulled back on the brake handle. The wagon came to a stop next to a gray barn, its doors and windows the gaping, empty eyes of a skull in the long evening shadows. Moon and Saffron stamped nervously in the long grass. John climbed down from the wagon, swatted dust from his cassock, and called toward the ruined house, “Anthony? Clarissa? Hello! Is anybody here?”
All that remained of Jack’s home was a pair of chimneys and part of a wall. The place had been deserted for some time, and weeds had begun to take over the space between the chimneys where a family had once lived. John turned back toward the frightened faces in the wagon. “Jack, I don’t know what’s happened here, but we can’t stay.”
At that moment, a bearded scarecrow emerged from the dark doorway of the barn and stood defiantly, a rusty shotgun across his forearm. “You all need to leave, parson. This here is our place now, and they ain’t room for anybody else.” Two ragamuffin children, barefoot and dressed only in long shirts, peeped around his legs.
John moved between the barn and the wagon and held his arms away from his sides. “We don’t mean to stay. I’m looking for the family that lived here, the Wellingtons. Can you tell me where I might find them?”
The man gestured with his gun toward the chimneys. “Can’t say you’ll like what you see, but I reckon they’re still in there somewhere. They was all kinds of sojers through here back in the spring, and I heard tell that Wellington feller tried to keep them from stealin’ his property. Dang lot a’ good it did ‘im. Might a’ been Stonewall’s brigade, might a’ been the Yankees; they was both about equal when it come to stealin’. Anyways, we’re here now, so I’ll thank you to turn them hosses around and skedaddle.” He raised the barrel of his shotgun.
John turned back toward the wagon. He tried to meet Jack’s eyes, but the boy’s face was buried in the folds of Magdalene’s dress, his shoulders silently heaving. “We have to leave now, Jack. We’re not safe here. We will all say a prayer together for your mother and father when we stop for the night.”
Yesterday: A Novel of Reincarnation