I Shall Be Near to You(18)

‘Good. Strong.’

‘Run for me, along there.’ He points to the path Mrs. Chalmers and I walked to get here.

‘Run?’ I ask, my throat closing.

‘Yes’—he waves his hand—‘to that tent and back.’

‘All right.’

I turn around and when my boots land on that path, I pretend it is just my toes hitting the spitting line, Sully saying, ‘Let’s see if Rosetta can spit like she talks,’ and me working up a ball of it, my back arched and ready to strike when Mama’s voice comes from around the church corner, yelling, ‘Rosetta Florence Edwards! It’s bad enough you’re always with the boys but now you’re acting like one, too!’

I take long fast steps, turn right back around and run as fast as I can to where Captain Chalmers and his wife are standing. He looks at me with his head cocked, listening to me breathe for a good long minute, long enough I start sweating under my binding.

When he sticks his hand out, I grab it firm and shake like I’ve seen Papa do. The man nods and says, ‘Pass,’ while his wife writes. I can’t read as good upside down, but I see she puts Good health. Then she turns the book to me and pushes the pen and says, ‘Make your mark.’

I let out the breath I’ve been holding and sign my new name.

‘Welcome to Company H of the Ninety-seventh Volunteers, Private Stone,’ the Captain says.





CHAPTER

8


UTICA, NEW YORK: FEBRUARY 22, 1862

Captain don’t waste any time. He leaves his wife and takes me straight away to where the Regiment is drilling across the muddy parade ground, the men shoulder to shoulder in rows of ten, moving across that field like plow horses at harvest time. With no uniforms or rifles they look more like a town militia than the Federal Army, and now I am bound to join them. My stomach knots itself to think of hiding in all these men, but then I remind myself of why I have come all this way.

Jeremiah. I can’t get a good look at any of the men because from somewhere in the ranks, a man orders, ‘Company, Right Flank!’ and they all turn away. The same voice yells, ‘Company, Extend to the Left!’ and the men fan out into long lines stretched wide across the field. He calls, ‘Company, Close March!’ and they move back together into a bunch, their backs still to us.

‘Companies G and H,’ Captain says, pointing. ‘The rest of the Regiment will join us before we leave for the Capital.’

‘How soon is that?’ I ask.

‘I expect within a month,’ Captain says.

The Companies drill until they march themselves back around, standing at attention right in front of Captain Chalmers, whose hand has slid inside his frock coat.

‘Sergeant Ames!’ Captain Chalmers calls.

A kind-looking man, not much younger than my Papa, steps from somewhere in the middle of the ranks and comes forward. He is a mite taller than me, and his brown eyes crinkle at the corners, a smile hiding behind his beard.

‘Yes, Sir?’ Sergeant Ames says.

‘I have a new recruit for Company H,’ Captain Chalmers says. ‘This is Private Ross Stone. You’ll see him settled?’

It is something odd to hear myself called him, but I keep staring past Sergeant’s shoulder, to the men lined up behind him.

‘Yes, Sir!’ Sergeant Ames says to Captain Chalmers. ‘Follow me.’

Some of the men I pass are young, just boys, and others are older than my Papa. When we have passed more than half the rows, a swarthy, thickset man with a black eye starting to go from purple to green gives a low whistle and calls, ‘Hey, Fresh Fish!’

Sergeant says something but I don’t hear a word of it because there not five yards away is Jeremiah.


HIS HAT IS pushed back, the sun bright on his straight nose and across his high cheekbones. He don’t even notice me. He is too busy watching Black Eye clap the wiry man beside him on the shoulder, the two of them laughing. To see Jeremiah all mixed in with these coarse men puts me in mind of Doc Cuck’s Thoroughbred saddle horse next to Papa’s plow horse.

I find my place in my row, doing the best I can, pulling my feet up out of the mud, following the orders of ‘Company, Forward March!’ and ‘Left, Right, Left!’ and ‘Company, Halt!’

I look straight ahead, but sometimes I can’t help myself and stray to watch Jeremiah marching just two rows ahead. I ain’t ready for him to see me. It is good just knowing he is near and safe. I don’t want to be thinking about a thing else, about what he will say as soon as he knows I am here.

‘Private Stone!’ a voice barks, and my mind flies away from Jeremiah. ‘Do you aim to stick out like a sore thumb?’ Sergeant Ames asks, and I look around to find myself marched clear out of my column.

‘No, Sir,’ I say, and move over two steps. The boys in the rows ahead are all craning their necks to see what I have done, and Jeremiah is one of them. I drop my chin, holding my breath.

When I glance up again, Jeremiah has turned away. If he even saw me, he must not have looked close enough to know it, and I let out a long sigh. Maybe he wouldn’t know me even if he did look hard.

‘Company, Forward March!’ Sergeant yells, and this time I keep my mind where it should be.

It don’t take much before I march better than most these boys. Course, that ain’t saying much when the ranks are filled with the likes of Jimmy O’Malley who can barely tell his two feet apart.