Two for Home

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sharps curled a knee around the saddle horn; he trusted his mare to not bolt with him or toss him on his ass. He leaned an elbow on his knee and took a long drag of his cigarette. He didn’t drink much beyond the occasional beer, but he had picked up on the habit of smoking. It had helped calm his nerves at times when things had gotten dicey.

Most evenings, back during the war, if there was a break between the fighting, and after the day’s tasks were completed, the men would sit around the campfire and sing along as Captain Marriott played the old banjo he’d brought with him from home and Sharps played the harmonica one of Pa’s German customers had given him in p*****t for repairs to a gun the man had brought Pa.

Sharps enjoyed accompanying the captain. Old favorites like “The Water is Wide” and “Green Grow the Lilacs.” New songs written for the war—“Tenting on the Old Camp Ground” and “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.” Songs about wives and sweethearts, such as “Lorena” and “Aura Lee.” Sometimes, the Rebs camped across creeks or fields would join in, and they all could forget for a while they were enemies. And just before “Taps” signaled lights out, Captain Marriott would set aside his banjo and let Sharps take over. He’d play “Home, Sweet Home,” bringing many a battle-hardened soldier to tears.

War was hell, as the soldiers knew, even if some of the commanding officers didn’t, but in spite of that, those were some of Sharps’s happiest memories of those years.

* * * *.

Sharps was sitting before a little fire outside his tent, blowing softly into his harmonica, when Captain Marriott came by.

“No taste for cards?” the cap asked. He made a point of seeing to the welfare of all his men after a battle, so no one took notice of him stopping by Sharp’s campfire.

Sharps grinned up at him. “I like playing cards, Captain. It’s the men who don’t like playing with me.” He tapped the harmonica against his palm to clear it of moisture. “Last time, after we played, I had a good stash of greenbacks to send home to Pa.”

Cap grinned back at him. “You’re a regular card shark?”

“Pa taught me.” Although these years had honed his skills.

“Seems your pa taught you a lot of things.”

“He did. I’m all he has, y’see.”

“Hmm. We should play sometime.”

“I don’t want to take your money, Captain.” But Sharps did like the idea of spending time with the man.

“Don’t be so sure about that. My daddy taught me, too.” Cap smiled at Sharps.

It was a warm, almost tender expression, and Sharps found himself smiling back.

“Mind if I join you for a spell?” Cap asked.

“I’d like that.” Sharps moved over so there was room for his captain before the fire. “Can I offer you some coffee?”

“Sounds good.” Cap settled himself down beside him,

Sharps sighed. Even sitting down, the captain was taller than him.

Cap accepted the cup Sharps offered him and took a sip. “Mmm. Who made this?”

“I did.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” Sharps wanted to wriggle like a puppy, but he was a man, even if his age belied the fact. He’d been through more than most boys his age. “Pa taught me that, too.”

“Family are special, aren’t they?”

“They are.” He gazed into the fire. Usually he wouldn’t do that; if they were attacked, it would take too long for his eyes to adjust to the dark of night. Tonight, though…He knew it was safe with Cap—with all the men nearby. “I…I wish I had a bigger family. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Pa’s been the best father a feller could have. It’s just there’s the two of us. I wish there were more.”

“Didn’t your pa have brothers or sisters?”

“Yes, but they’re pretty much scattered all over God’s creation.”

“I could tell he was Southern. Which state was he from?”

“Oh, he’s from Texas.”

“So you’re Texan?”

“No, sir.” He didn’t mention he’d been born in the Indian Territory. “I’m American.”

The cap reached out and ruffled his hair. “Good answer.” He took another sip of his coffee, then asked, “What about your ma’s family?”

“I don’t remember much about them.” Sharps had learned not to talk about them. Folks got…strange…when they learned he was half Cherokee. He’d got his black hair, warm copper skin tones, and facial features from his ma, but his blue eyes were all Pa’s. “Pa said they would have kept me after Ma passed on, but he wouldn’t hear of it. When I was old enough, we left. We drifted through the country for a few years before we settled in Brooklyn.”

“I used to see you tending the neighborhood kids.”

Sharps shrugged. “It gave me something to do and kept them out of the way when their mamas were busy.”

Cap reached over and ran his fingers through Sharps’s hair. He did seem to do that a lot, not that Sharps minded. It felt…good.

“I imagine one day you’ll have a family of your own.”

Sharps looked up, startled. “Yes.” One day, if this damned war ever ended. “I’d like a big family, with lots of boys and girls.”

“And a wife.”

Sharps felt a flush climb his cheeks. He cleared his throat but didn’t answer.

“Your pa did tell you how babies were made, after all.”

“Yeah.” Although truth to tell, Sharps hadn’t given much thought to how he’d get all those sons and daughters.

The cap took a last sip of his coffee. “It’s getting late. I reckon I’d better let you get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Yes, sir.” They’d be on the march for the next few days. “Good night, Captain.”

“Good night, Corporal.” Cap smiled and set his cup down, then hauled himself to his feet and strode off to see to the rest of the men.

Sharps stared after him, then picked up the cup and held it against his chest for a minute. When he realized what he was doing, he shook himself and dunked it in a bucket of water. Once he’d dried it and set it aside, he put out his campfire, went into his tent, and removed his boots. Henry, the young man with whom he’d shared the tent, hadn’t survived the last battle, so Sharps had it to himself, although that would probably change as soon as the replacements arrived. He stripped down to his drawers, crawled into his bedroll, and made himself as comfortable as possible.

Tomorrow they’d break camp and head for a little town called Gettysburg.