Crossing Rivers

"Hey, little lady, calm down. I'll get you loose. That's right, just ease up a little. You're not caught bad."

Jacob kept talking to the mare until he could touch her bridle. Her eyes were still wild, but her ears were pricked in his direction and she'd stopped pulling on the caught rein. Jacob scratched her nose gently and the mare moved toward him a little. While trying hard not to pull on the reins and spook the mare again, he worked the knotted reins apart and then slipped them from the tree branch. He led the mare away from the tree and then scratched the side of her neck. The mare nuzzled his chest and Jacob chuckled.

"You're a friendly horse, aren't you? Think you could take me all the way to Arkansas? My father has four horses I expect you'd like. They're a lot bigger'n you, but they're friendly too."

The mare stood still while Jacob checked her to make sure she hadn't cut herself on the brush. He found nothing, so he checked the saddle bags that were tied behind the saddle.

In the left saddlebag were almost a hundred paper cartridges that would work for his Springfield along with a flask of rifle powder, a box of caps and paper for making more cartridges. Somehow, the guerillas had kept themselves well supplied when his company was getting most of their ammunition from the dead.

In the other saddle bag, Jacob found a map of Tennessee and a compass like the Confederate artillerymen used. He'd learned how to use a compass once when they were camped and waiting for the next battle. Under the map he found a flask of pistol powder, two bullet molds, a few pounds of lead and a container of grease that could be used in the Minié ball grooves as well as to seal the cylinder of a revolver.

One of the molds was for Minié balls. He knew that because of the grooves in the mold and the rounded plug to form the hollow base. It was stamped ".58" on the side. The other was for a round ball and was stamped ".44" on the side. It would cast balls for his Remingtons.

There was no bedroll tied behind the saddle. That and the fact he hadn't found any food in either saddlebag told him the guerilla camp wasn't far away. They'd probably move it now, but he needed to move on. If the Union Army didn't come back down the road, the guerillas might come looking for the two horses. Jacob stepped in the stirrup, swung up into the saddle, and urged the mare west.

Jacob called the mare "Lady" since that's what he'd first called her, and Lady took him across the rest of Tennessee in a little less than two weeks. He still stayed in the trees as much as he could, but with the map and compass, he could ride a straighter course than by following the roads. He was careful to stop for the night a good distance away from any roads or farms. He saw no other people except from a distance, and they were too busy trying to plant crops to look up and see him.

Every night, Jacob would use his flint and steel to start a small fire, then eat what he'd managed to find during the day. Sometimes it was just roots and other wild plants. He didn't like shooting game because that would tell anyone within earshot he was there, but if he saw a rabbit, he'd sight down the barrel of the Springfield and squeeze off the shot. He usually didn't miss, but the big Minié ball didn't leave much meat for him to eat unless he got lucky and made a head shot. On those nights, he ate fairly well. Some nights he didn't eat anything because there wasn't much to find.

It was the latter part of June by his reckoning when he topped a rise and saw the Tennessee River flowing slowly to the north. Jacob climbed to the highest point of the rise, pulled out his map and looked for natural landmarks to find out where he was.

As soon as he looked out over the landscape, Jacob knew exactly where he was because he'd been here before. The town along the river was Savannah, Tennessee, and was one of the spots where the Union had landed gunboats during the days of the Battle of Shiloh. There at the dock on the river was a stern-wheeler that could give him passage across the Tennessee.

Jacob didn't relish the idea of going into the town and buying passage across the river on a steamboat, but he had little choice. The Tennessee here was too wide to swim across even with a horse. It was either a steamboat or ride until he found a bridge. There were no bridges marked on his map except for Paducah, Kentucky and that was a week's ride north.

Jacob hoped the people were still friendly toward soldiers of the Confederacy, but then realized he looked more like the guerillas he'd seen than a soldier. People might mistake him for a guerilla and fear his presence would bring the wrath of the Union Army sweeping down on their little town. He'd have to have a good explanation of who he was and why he was there.

Jacob thought for a while about what he would tell anyone who asked about him because that was nearly certain to happen. Savannah was small, like his home town of Sylamore, so everybody would know everybody else. He'd be out of place and that would draw questions. His story needed to be believable and impossible to quickly verify.

His story would be that he'd been a farmer back in Tulahoma who hadn't joined up because his mother couldn't run the farm by herself. Though he was not a combatant, the Union Army had still taken everything they owned and burned his house and barn. His mother had died a few months later so he'd set out for Texas to start a new life. That story would probably satisfy people who'd been sympathetic to the Confederate cause because it wasn't all that uncommon. He didn't think he'd find any Union soldiers in town. If there were Union troops occupying the area, they'd probably be further north in Paducah or further south in Memphis.

He couldn't hide the Springfield rifle and they were not sold to civilians. His story for that was to say he'd found it on a dead Union soldier after the Battle of Tulahoma, and took it because he needed a rifle to feed himself and his mother. People might question why he wanted such a large caliber, because the.58 caliber Minié ball would damage a lot of meat. His answer would be since he'd lost everything, he couldn't afford to buy a rifle and had made do with the Springfield.

His Remingtons would definitely generate questions. Farmers didn't carry revolvers but guerillas and other law-breakers did, so he removed his pistol belt and wrapped it and the Remingtons in his bedroll. As an afterthought, he took the bowie knife and wrapped in his bedroll, and re-tied the bedroll behind his saddle. Jacob then clucked to Lady and rode towards the town.

People did stop to look as he rode down the street. Jacob looked this way and that so it wouldn't appear as if he had anything to hide, but was careful to not make eye contact with anyone. His only goal was the stern-wheeler and a ticket to the next landing on the other side of the river. As he approached the dock, he felt a chill race down his spine.

His assumption that no Union troops would be in Savannah proved false. Two men in the blue uniforms of the Union Army stood beside the dock with their rifles slung casually over their shoulders. People walking toward the stern-wheeler were careful to walk around the soldiers and Jacob could guess why. The soldier's faces and the way they were slouched told him they were very aware of the power they had over these people.

As inconspicuously as he could, Jacob turned the mare down a side street. He wasn't sure how to proceed, but until he figured that out, he didn't want to risk a confrontation. As the soldier who'd escaped from Nashville had said, the Union was out to punish anyone who'd had something to do with the Confederacy, and usually that punishment meant being ridden out of town tied to a saddle and then shot.

He hadn't noticed the young woman watching him, and he didn't see her follow him down the side street. He wasn't aware she was even there until she spoke.

"Mister, something tells me you're not who you want to look like you are. You turned off into this street as soon as you saw those Union soldiers. You're either a Confederate soldier or you're one of the raiders. Which is it?"

Jacob started his story about losing everything and going to Texas. The young woman listened until he finished, and then she smiled.

"That's a pretty good story. Now, tell me why you're really here."

The woman was starting to make Jacob nervous and also a little angry. Women weren't supposed to act like this one was acting. She shouldn't have followed him and she shouldn't be asking so many questions. He hid the anger and nervousness when he answered her.

"I just want to get across the river so I can get to Texas, that's all. Why do you care?"

She smiled again.

"You might be going to Texas. I can believe that, but that's all I believe. Most people 'round here would believe your whole story. Those Union soldiers won't. You'll be taking a short ride out of town and you won't come back, and I'll be stuck here in Savannah forever. That's why I care. I want to go with you."

"You want to go with me?"

"I want to get out of Savannah. I don't have any money and sure as my Aunt Katy's bunions I can't swim across the river. If you're going to buy a steamboat ticket, you have money. I want you to buy me a ticket too."

Jacob was affronted by the woman's gall.

"Why would I want to do that?"

The woman grinned.

"Because I can get you past those Union soldiers and onto the steam boat."

"How could you do that? You're just a woman."

Jacob thought he saw a fleeting look of anger on the woman's face before she smiled again.

"A man traveling by himself 'round here looks suspicious. A man traveling with his wife wouldn't if his wife did all the talking."

"You want me to marry you just so I can get across the river?"

She chuckled.

"Mister, I'm not that desperate. I just want to pretend to be your wife until we get across the river. After that, you can be on your way and I'll be on mine."

"What about that part about you doing all the talking? What's that for?"

"You don't talk like you're from Tennessee and they'll know you're lying. I was born and raised here, and like you said, I'm just a woman. They won't suspect me of anything."

Jacob smiled to himself. The woman had accented the word "just". There was some fire in her blue eyes too.

She did have a point, two actually, that he hadn't considered. He hadn't thought about his Arkansas accent being different, but he'd heard that before when sitting around a fire between battles. He already knew a lone man on a horse would look suspicious given the guerilla raids that were still going on. He'd hoped his story was enough, but she'd seen through it and she had little reason to be as wary of former Confederates and guerillas as would the Union Army.

Jacob looked down at the woman standing there beside him. Her dress had seen better days, but she was about his age and she had a pretty face. It would be hard for a man to look past that face and softly rounded figure to really question if she was telling the truth.

"How would you explain that you're doing all the talking? Wouldn't they suspect something was going on?"

"Not if I said you were injured in the war and couldn't talk anymore."

"They'd just want to know how I was injured. If they asked me to show them, they wouldn't see anything. I was never injured in a battle."

The woman grinned.

"Now you're starting to tell the truth. You were a Confederate soldier, weren't you?"

Jacob cursed himself for admitting to being in battle, but also realized she'd caused him to let his guard down. If she could do that with the Union soldiers he might make it onto the steamboat without incident.

"Yes, I was a Confederate soldier. I'm from Arkansas and I'm trying to get home."

"I can help you do that if you'll let me, and I'll help myself too. All you have to do is buy me a ticket. You need to make up your mind pretty quick though. The steamboat leaves right after daylight tomorrow."

"Where are you going?"

The woman smiled.

"I won't know until I get there. Right now, I'm going where you're going. A wife would usually do that, wouldn't she?"

Jacob saw laughter in her eyes and then hope as she spoke.

"There won't be another steamboat going down-river for another week. Please take me with you."

Jacob had one last question.

"I have a horse but a man and wife would usually travel in a buggy. What do you intend to do about that?"

"I'll ride behind you. It's part of the story I'm going to tell them."

"Are you going to tell them you don't have any other clothes too?"

"No, I'm going to carry my traveling case after we stop by where I live to get it."

"Well, if we're going to be man and wife, we should know each other's names. I'm Jacob Rhodes."

Jacob offered his hand, and the woman grinned as he swung her up behind him. After she had adjusted her dress to cover her legs, she put her arms around his waist to hold on.

"I'm Emily Rice, and you won't be sorry, I promise."

Jacob was shocked at where Emily lived. It was a half-burned barn on the outskirts of Savannah. He helped her off Lady and dismounted himself. When he was on the ground, Emily said she had a few potatoes and some carrots if he wanted something to eat. After they ate, Emily showed Jacob an empty stall with a scant pile of straw in the center.

"You can sleep here. I'll wake you up tomorrow morning."

The next morning, Emily shook Jacob awake. It took him a minute or so to realize where he was. Then he remembered Emily and what they were going to try to do. She grinned.

"We have about an hour, and I need to fix you, so come outside where it's not as dark."

Jacob sat on the ground while Emily opened the battered-looking traveling case she'd brought with her. He asked what she was doing. She grinned.

"I'm going to give you a scar from a neck wound."

She opened a small tin of something pink and leaned towards him.

"What's that", he asked.

"My husband was an undertaker. This is the pasty wax he used to cover up cuts and scrapes. I'm going to make you a scar."

"You have a husband?"

"I did. I don't now. Now, hold still."

Jacob felt Emily putting something on his neck and then dabbing at it. After a few minutes, she reached into her traveling bag again.

"A little face powder will blend it in and make it look real."

She finished and used her hand on his chin to turn his head from side to side, then smiled.

"In this light, as long as they don't get too close, it'll look real enough. Do you have a scarf or a handkerchief? Good. Let me tie it around your neck to cover your scar. If they ask to see it, just loosen the handkerchief and give them a quick look, then tie it back.

"Since you can't talk, I'll have to buy the tickets, so you'll have to give me the money. I don't know how much it will be, but to go all the way to Paducah is four dollars so it should be less than that."

Jacob was nervous as he rode Lady back up the side street and then turned her in the direction of the dock. He was also uneasy about Emily sitting on his bedroll behind him. She was holding on to his waist and had pressed her breasts against his back. He'd never felt anything like that before.

As they neared the small building where two different Union soldiers were leaning against the side, she whispered to Jacob.

"Where those soldiers are is the ticket office. Remember, you can't talk because you were shot in the neck. Don't show them your scar unless they ask, and stay on your horse if they do. They won't be able to see it very well that way. When we get to the ticket place, you stay on your horse and I'll go buy us two tickets."

When they stopped in front of the building, one of the soldiers stood up and walked over. Jacob recognized the stripes that designated a Union Army Sergeant.

"Where are you two going?"

Jacob didn't say anything, but Emily did.

"We're going to Paris Landing to my mother's house to live. Our house got burned down."

The soldier frowned.

"I want to hear that from your man here."

Jacob felt Emily tense a little, but her voice stayed calm.

"My husband can't talk. He got shot in the neck."

The sergeant frowned.

"So he's a Rebel then. Git down off that horse."

Emily held out her hand to stop his approach.

"No, he never joined up because he's an undertaker. Two days after the big battle at Shiloh, he was burying some of the Union soldiers who died. Those men, what do you call them, the ones that ride around killing people and robbing them and say they're part of the Confederate Army?"

"That would be the guerillas, ma'am."

"Somebody told them my husband was taking care of Union soldiers. They rode up to our house one afternoon and accused my husband of being a Unionist. They made me stand there while they shot him and then burned our house and barn to the ground.

They said they wouldn't kill me but they'd make me wish I was dead. They said I looked like what they called a fancy woman and they were going to all take a turn with me. They probably would have if four Union soldiers hadn't ridden up to the house with two more dead bodies. They left the two dead men and rode off to catch the guerillas.

"When they rode away I went to check on Jacob. I was sure he was dead, but he opened his eyes when I touched him. The bullet just went into his throat and then back out. I bandaged him up and he got well, except he can't talk now."

The Union soldier frowned.

"I remember hearing about something like that. It was in Pittsburg Landing, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Our house was just outside of town. People don't like having an undertaker next door. It's the smell, you know."

The sergeant looked up a Jacob.

"Show me your neck, and you'd better have a mark."

Jacob loosened the handkerchief and opened it briefly, then retied it. The Union soldier smiled.

"I guess you're telling me the truth, but why are you both on one horse?"

Emily sniffed a little like she was going to cry and started wiping her eyes.

"We had four horses before the war started. The Confederates let us keep two horses because Jacob was an undertaker and needed them to pull our hearse. Then one day, more Confederate soldiers rode up to our house. Our other horse, Daisy, she was out by the barn and they shot her and butchered her. Lady here was out in the trees of the pasture so they didn't see her. Daisy was my favorite. She'd come up to me whenever I went out there and put her head on my shoulder. I loved her so much and those men killed her and ate her."

The Union soldier smiled.

"You can pass. Good luck in Paris Landing."

Jacob rode around the corner of the building before Emily slid off Lady's back and went to buy their tickets. She came back a few minutes later smiling.

"Two tickets to Paris Landing on the deck cost a dollar. I figured since your horse has to ride on the deck, we would too, and it saved us almost six dollars."

It was afternoon when the stern-wheeler pulled into shore and ran out gangplanks across from Clifton, Tennessee. Only one man on foot was waiting there, but the captain said he'd wait an hour before moving on down river. Jacob had been looking at his map, and decided this landing was the closest to Randolph where he intended to cross the Mississippi. He led Lady off the deck with Emily holding onto his arm. Once they had walked out of sight of the steamboat, he stopped.

"Well, Emily, thank you for your help. You were right. Those Union soldiers would never have let me get on the boat."

Emily smiled and touched his arm.

"Thank you for buying my ticket."

"What will you do now."

She smiled again.

"You have to cross the Mississippi to get home, don't you?"

Jacob nodded.