The Biscuit Run, Page 2
Darrel Bird
turned his horse and cantered down toward the barn, and the others got antsy and started fidgeting with their long rifles.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jacob saw a rifle barrel slowly raised until it pointed toward him, and he knew he was in trouble. He prayed silently that his brother Ben and sister Rose, who were only eight and five, wouldn’t wake up and come to see what the racket was all about.
He saw his mother sidling toward the door. The big man saw it too, and he said in a gravelly voice, “Mum, you just stay away from that squirrel gun. We ain’t taken to killin’ women yit, but we jest might.” His eyes were hard as flint.
“Ma, don’t do it; they mean it!” Jacob said to his mother, and his mother stopped.
Then the man who had gone to the barn rode up with Fred in tow. He had found Jacob’s old saddle in the dog run. Old Fred didn’t look any too happy, and Jacob thought, I can’t rightly say as I blame him. He knew with a sinking feeling that they aimed to take him, willing or not.
“Git on thet mule, boy!” the big man scowled, swinging his rifle barrel toward Jacob. The barrel of that 50-caliber looked big as a horseshoe to Jacob as he stared down it.
He turned to his mother and said he would go with them. He was afraid for them all. He saw the tears forming in his mother’s eyes as he put his foot in the stirrup and climbed on his mule.
One of the men dismounted and stepped through the door of the house. He came out with Jacob’s squirrel gun, and remounted his horse. He turned his horse east toward Sugar Loaf Mountain, and the others fell in.
Another man picked up old Fred’s reins and started leading the mule with Jacob on it. This man was short and squat, and wore an old floppy hat. His teeth were tobacco-stained, and he had a scar over his left temple, which made his bushy black eyebrow droop. He leered at Jacob and jerked on old Fred’s reins. Fred was not used to that kind of treatment, and he jumped.
A few minutes later, they rounded the last bend as they followed the old wagon track toward the Little Red. Jacob’s heart sank as he watched his home disappear behind a stand of trees. That’s when he started praying as he had never prayed before, and he wished he had prayed harder with his mother.
He wondered if maybe the Lord was mad at him for cussing at the mules the day before. The turning plough had hit a rock, and the plough handles had almost broken his rib. He had regretted cussing after and had asked forgiveness for his slip, even though his rib still hurt like the dickens. He thought about it a little while and decided that weren’t serious enough to bring this kind of trouble down on them.
The old wagon track led down through what was known to Jacob as Bailey Hollow. The Little Red River snaked through the hills of that part of Arkansas like a blue serpent through the emerald-green forests.
Jacob came out of his reverie and realized the seriousness of his plight. He began trying to think about how he might free himself. He figured the man would hand off old Fred’s reins to him after awhile. He knew nobody would want to drag around a mule all day, and sure enough the man tossed him the reins about fifteen minutes later and told him to behave himself. He thought briefly about making a run for it, but he knew old Fred could never outrun the horses, so he gave up on that idea.
A few hours later, they were nearing the wagon ford on the Little Red River. They crossed over and headed toward the foot of Sugar Loaf Mountain. He knew they would circle the mountain and keep heading northeast from there.
He continued to pray after they forded the river. He felt like his only hope was to sneak out of camp that night, but as soon as they made camp, they tied his hands behind him with rein leather, and then tied him to a tree.
He was miserable with worry all that night. They threw old Fred’s saddle blanket over him, and he drew comfort from the mule’s familiar smell. He finally slept during the late-night hours and awoke at dawn to the sounds of the men stirring around camp.
He earnestly prayed again for his deliverance, and for the safety of his mother, brother, and sister. He asked the Lord to comfort them. He prayed for Pap, too, but with uncertainty as to whether his father was still living or not. He found himself praying with earnestness that he didn’t know he had, and he felt sure the Father had heard his prayer.
They untied him and fed him some foul-tasting meat and a hard tack biscuit, but he was so hungry he felt like he could eat the south end of old Fred going north. Moreover, that was one tough mule.
Tears welled up Jacob’s eyes as he sat there and ate. He thought about the farm and that newly turned field and his family, but he knew better than to show emotion around these hard men. He rubbed his eyes as if he was sleepy and brushed the tears away. He got up and stretched as if he had not a care in the world, but all the time he was thinking, furiously trying to figure a way out.
They had camped about ten miles north of the Little Red, and they didn’t seem in too much of a hurry. But Jacob knew they were just saving their horses. He knew by the talk that they wanted to get to Pea Ridge as quickly as possible. He had overheard them say the Yanks were heading towards Pea Ridge, and he knew there was going to be a fight.
As he rode, he thought desperately of getting away from these men; he wanted no part of killing. After he had accepted the Lord, he had started having twinges of guilt even when he shot a squirrel or a rabbit, though he only did it because the family had to eat.
Later that day a possum crossed in front of them, and the big man pinned it with his big skinning knife. They each had a piece of meat while the horses rested. Jacob was grateful to get his portion of the possum and another hard tack biscuit. He prayed silently and asked the Lord to bless the possum and hard tack. He offered up another prayer for his mother, brother Ben, and little sister Rose, and it made him miss them all over again.
His younger brother always wanted to follow him around, whether it was working, fishing, or hunting. It made no difference to Ben. He would follow the plough in his bare feet as Jacob turned the rich dark soil. He drank water when Jacob drank water, and was careful to see that he drank an equal amount. He looked up to Jacob for his approval about everything. His little sister Rose would run to the barn to meet him when he came in from the fields, her yellow hair flying in the wind. Jacob worried for them, and his heart ached at the turn of events.
As they rode on toward Pea Ridge, he remembered the scripture he had read of the Lord’s love and care. The promise brought comfort to his worried soul, and the words kept coming to him: “Fear not, for I am with thee.”
As the days passed, the men became more watchful than ever as they neared Pea Ridge. “You better start keeping a watch out, boy,” the big man said. “Them Yanks’ll shoot your tail off.”
One of the other men laughed softly, but you could tell he didn’t find the idea of getting hit by a minié ball tantalizing. They rode slower and grew even more watchful, stopping to listen every so often. They stopped at a creek to fill their canteens, and one of the men tossed one to Jacob. He drank deeply of the clear water as he sweated in the heat that clamped the Arkansas forest in an iron grip.
They shuffled along a couple more hours, and suddenly the big man yanked on his horse’s reins and held up his hand. They sat there real quiet and listened. After a minute, the big man motioned them to get down and lead the horses into the trees. Finally, Jacob caught a faint tinkling sound approaching them from directly in front. The big man whispered to one of the men, and the man slipped away up the trail toward the sound.
A little bit later, he and another man appeared through the trees. The new man introduced himself as Zack Jenkins. Jenkins looked to be around thirty years old, with a scruffy beard and a flop hat, southern uniform pants, and worn out shoes on his feet. He led the men another two hundred yards toward the creek, to where a rag-tag group of about twenty men waited.
There was a cap
tain and a sergeant, and they were the only men wearing what would pass for a full uniform. The captain explained that they were setting up an ambush along the edge of Little Sugar Creek. He quietly ordered them to hide themselves the best they could, and to remain quiet until he gave the order to fire.
The creek was just ahead of them. Jacob quietly prayed, but his nerves were on edge as he lay behind a log. His squirrel gun was primed and loaded. They lay there in the heat for quite some time before they heard the rattling of a troop of soldiers coming toward them.
When the approaching soldiers were immediately in front of them, the captain gave the order to “Fire!” Pandemonium broke loose as a volley of shots rang out on each side of him. Jacob couldn’t see much through the trees except an occasional flash of color. Smoke from the black powder soon filled the air, and he strained to see what was coming at him. He did his best to stay low as bullets came whizzing through the trees. The noise of the gunfire was deafening. He heard a horse scream pitifully as it took the full blast of a cannon.
Suddenly, through the haze of smoke, he saw a blue uniform stand up. Jacob pulled the trigger, and
Out of the corner of his eye, Jacob saw a rifle barrel slowly raised until it pointed toward him, and he knew he was in trouble. He prayed silently that his brother Ben and sister Rose, who were only eight and five, wouldn’t wake up and come to see what the racket was all about.
He saw his mother sidling toward the door. The big man saw it too, and he said in a gravelly voice, “Mum, you just stay away from that squirrel gun. We ain’t taken to killin’ women yit, but we jest might.” His eyes were hard as flint.
“Ma, don’t do it; they mean it!” Jacob said to his mother, and his mother stopped.
Then the man who had gone to the barn rode up with Fred in tow. He had found Jacob’s old saddle in the dog run. Old Fred didn’t look any too happy, and Jacob thought, I can’t rightly say as I blame him. He knew with a sinking feeling that they aimed to take him, willing or not.
“Git on thet mule, boy!” the big man scowled, swinging his rifle barrel toward Jacob. The barrel of that 50-caliber looked big as a horseshoe to Jacob as he stared down it.
He turned to his mother and said he would go with them. He was afraid for them all. He saw the tears forming in his mother’s eyes as he put his foot in the stirrup and climbed on his mule.
One of the men dismounted and stepped through the door of the house. He came out with Jacob’s squirrel gun, and remounted his horse. He turned his horse east toward Sugar Loaf Mountain, and the others fell in.
Another man picked up old Fred’s reins and started leading the mule with Jacob on it. This man was short and squat, and wore an old floppy hat. His teeth were tobacco-stained, and he had a scar over his left temple, which made his bushy black eyebrow droop. He leered at Jacob and jerked on old Fred’s reins. Fred was not used to that kind of treatment, and he jumped.
A few minutes later, they rounded the last bend as they followed the old wagon track toward the Little Red. Jacob’s heart sank as he watched his home disappear behind a stand of trees. That’s when he started praying as he had never prayed before, and he wished he had prayed harder with his mother.
He wondered if maybe the Lord was mad at him for cussing at the mules the day before. The turning plough had hit a rock, and the plough handles had almost broken his rib. He had regretted cussing after and had asked forgiveness for his slip, even though his rib still hurt like the dickens. He thought about it a little while and decided that weren’t serious enough to bring this kind of trouble down on them.
The old wagon track led down through what was known to Jacob as Bailey Hollow. The Little Red River snaked through the hills of that part of Arkansas like a blue serpent through the emerald-green forests.
Jacob came out of his reverie and realized the seriousness of his plight. He began trying to think about how he might free himself. He figured the man would hand off old Fred’s reins to him after awhile. He knew nobody would want to drag around a mule all day, and sure enough the man tossed him the reins about fifteen minutes later and told him to behave himself. He thought briefly about making a run for it, but he knew old Fred could never outrun the horses, so he gave up on that idea.
A few hours later, they were nearing the wagon ford on the Little Red River. They crossed over and headed toward the foot of Sugar Loaf Mountain. He knew they would circle the mountain and keep heading northeast from there.
He continued to pray after they forded the river. He felt like his only hope was to sneak out of camp that night, but as soon as they made camp, they tied his hands behind him with rein leather, and then tied him to a tree.
He was miserable with worry all that night. They threw old Fred’s saddle blanket over him, and he drew comfort from the mule’s familiar smell. He finally slept during the late-night hours and awoke at dawn to the sounds of the men stirring around camp.
He earnestly prayed again for his deliverance, and for the safety of his mother, brother, and sister. He asked the Lord to comfort them. He prayed for Pap, too, but with uncertainty as to whether his father was still living or not. He found himself praying with earnestness that he didn’t know he had, and he felt sure the Father had heard his prayer.
They untied him and fed him some foul-tasting meat and a hard tack biscuit, but he was so hungry he felt like he could eat the south end of old Fred going north. Moreover, that was one tough mule.
Tears welled up Jacob’s eyes as he sat there and ate. He thought about the farm and that newly turned field and his family, but he knew better than to show emotion around these hard men. He rubbed his eyes as if he was sleepy and brushed the tears away. He got up and stretched as if he had not a care in the world, but all the time he was thinking, furiously trying to figure a way out.
They had camped about ten miles north of the Little Red, and they didn’t seem in too much of a hurry. But Jacob knew they were just saving their horses. He knew by the talk that they wanted to get to Pea Ridge as quickly as possible. He had overheard them say the Yanks were heading towards Pea Ridge, and he knew there was going to be a fight.
As he rode, he thought desperately of getting away from these men; he wanted no part of killing. After he had accepted the Lord, he had started having twinges of guilt even when he shot a squirrel or a rabbit, though he only did it because the family had to eat.
Later that day a possum crossed in front of them, and the big man pinned it with his big skinning knife. They each had a piece of meat while the horses rested. Jacob was grateful to get his portion of the possum and another hard tack biscuit. He prayed silently and asked the Lord to bless the possum and hard tack. He offered up another prayer for his mother, brother Ben, and little sister Rose, and it made him miss them all over again.
His younger brother always wanted to follow him around, whether it was working, fishing, or hunting. It made no difference to Ben. He would follow the plough in his bare feet as Jacob turned the rich dark soil. He drank water when Jacob drank water, and was careful to see that he drank an equal amount. He looked up to Jacob for his approval about everything. His little sister Rose would run to the barn to meet him when he came in from the fields, her yellow hair flying in the wind. Jacob worried for them, and his heart ached at the turn of events.
As they rode on toward Pea Ridge, he remembered the scripture he had read of the Lord’s love and care. The promise brought comfort to his worried soul, and the words kept coming to him: “Fear not, for I am with thee.”
As the days passed, the men became more watchful than ever as they neared Pea Ridge. “You better start keeping a watch out, boy,” the big man said. “Them Yanks’ll shoot your tail off.”
One of the other men laughed softly, but you could tell he didn’t find the idea of getting hit by a minié ball tantalizing. They rode slower and grew even more watchful, stopping to listen every so often. They stopped at a creek to fill their canteens, and one of the men tossed one to Jacob. He drank deeply of the clear water as he sweated in the heat that clamped the Arkansas forest in an iron grip.
They shuffled along a couple more hours, and suddenly the big man yanked on his horse’s reins and held up his hand. They sat there real quiet and listened. After a minute, the big man motioned them to get down and lead the horses into the trees. Finally, Jacob caught a faint tinkling sound approaching them from directly in front. The big man whispered to one of the men, and the man slipped away up the trail toward the sound.
A little bit later, he and another man appeared through the trees. The new man introduced himself as Zack Jenkins. Jenkins looked to be around thirty years old, with a scruffy beard and a flop hat, southern uniform pants, and worn out shoes on his feet. He led the men another two hundred yards toward the creek, to where a rag-tag group of about twenty men waited.
There was a cap
tain and a sergeant, and they were the only men wearing what would pass for a full uniform. The captain explained that they were setting up an ambush along the edge of Little Sugar Creek. He quietly ordered them to hide themselves the best they could, and to remain quiet until he gave the order to fire.
The creek was just ahead of them. Jacob quietly prayed, but his nerves were on edge as he lay behind a log. His squirrel gun was primed and loaded. They lay there in the heat for quite some time before they heard the rattling of a troop of soldiers coming toward them.
When the approaching soldiers were immediately in front of them, the captain gave the order to “Fire!” Pandemonium broke loose as a volley of shots rang out on each side of him. Jacob couldn’t see much through the trees except an occasional flash of color. Smoke from the black powder soon filled the air, and he strained to see what was coming at him. He did his best to stay low as bullets came whizzing through the trees. The noise of the gunfire was deafening. He heard a horse scream pitifully as it took the full blast of a cannon.
Suddenly, through the haze of smoke, he saw a blue uniform stand up. Jacob pulled the trigger, and
