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CHAPTER ONE

Joetta McBride could not stomach conflict. What was transpiring in the country was certainly troubling; however, the growing discord within her own family was most concerning to her. Like her evening primrose, it had bloomed swiftly overnight, and what had been merely a nuisance grew into a matter of significance. Her father-in-law, Rudean McBride, was who she blamed. The topic occupying Mr. McBride's mind of late was war. He spent a good deal of time nattering on about the shoddy job Lincoln was doing now that he had been voted in. Lincoln was to hold resolute to his word and not interfere with the institution of slavery. Despite this, he was distrusted by many, including Mr. McBride. These issues would only have been a distraction to Joetta except for the effect it had on fifteen-year-old Henry. To her dismay, Mr. McBride reveled in the details of Northern and Southern dispositions, while Henry's questions began to fixate with uncanny interest on the possibilities of a war.

Only the other day a sunbeam cast light across her eldest son's face, highlighting the dark hair sprouting on his upper lip and along his jawline. He was becoming a young man, and with that, Joetta supposed, came a desire to think for himself. Henry was not the only one Mr. McBride captivated with his talk. Eleven-year-old Robert paid attention too, although Henry was the one who plied his grandfather with questions. Mr. McBride, enthused by his rapt audience, went on about heroic deeds and a soldier's bravery, describing how they ran full tilt toward their adversary and engaged in mortal battle in the name of honor. What he never brought up was no matter how virtuous he made it, winning should never be assumed. Men were not invincible. War was anything but how he depicted it with his elaborations on the cause and seeking justice, the grandeur of a righteous struggle. He left out the misery of exposure to extreme temperatures, hunger, thirst, disease, horrific injuries, and the ultimate price, death. He treated it like some fanciful fairytale life.

Mr. McBride expounded on the chance to see new places, meet new people, as if war were a social event. Henry's eyes glowed, his imagination ignited by what could be discovered beyond this patch of land where he had grown up. This troubled her immensely. They were yeoman farmers. They raised pigs and chickens, owned a beautiful golden milk cow named Honey, and a cooperative plow mule named Pal. They sold white corn and sorghum in order to purchase sugar, flour, salt, and coffee. They wanted for nothing and they owed no one.

One cool evening on the cusp of spring, the boys and their grandfather were gathered in the sitting room while Ennis worked in the barn repairing a harness. The boys took turns using a whetstone to sharpen their jackknives. Mr. McBride, his hands draped over his small paunch, spoke softly, like he was picking up where he had left off from some previous conversation.

"No sir. If you can't own lots of land, life on this farm and what you see here is your future. You might be all right with that, what do I know? Now here's something I often thought I should do. I believe I'd have made a fine soldier. Point is, there will come a time when you'll have to make up your minds about what you'll do in life. Don't look to this. This ain't your future." 

The boys stopped what they were doing and looked at her, expecting a response. Joetta flushed with irritation at her father-in-law's statement, and yet, she said nothing. He would love nothing better than to spar with her, so she kept her head down and hummed as if she had not heard a thing while she stirred a pan of gravy. Robert rubbed the edge of the blade with his thumb. 

"But, I like it here."

Joetta smiled inwardly. Mr. McBride leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.

"Take Mr. Poole down the road yonder with his thousands of acres, and hundreds of slaves at his beck and call. He's living high on the hog over there. Making enough money to travel and go places worth seeing. He recently come back from Europe. You got to have acreage along with slaves to handle that kind of work and to have that sort of life. He's able to travel 'cause he can afford it, but he'll go flat broke if Lincoln has his way. He's got that new carriage with them horses to pull it. Why wouldn't anyone want the finer things in life?"

Henry said, "If there's a war, Mr. Poole won't be rich anymore?"

"It's about money, more 'n anything. The South's too successful according to some. He's successful, wouldn't you say?"

The boys nodded. Mr. McBride appeared to ponder his own question.