Destination Hope - Book 5 - Reconciliation - Chapter 30

It's hard to believe, but I started writing the first story, Separation, in January 1999. 20 years later, we near the end of the long, Destination Hope, journey. Still, there are some issues to resolve.

For new readers to this story, I linked Chapter 1. Chapters 2 - 4 are linked under September, 5 - 10 under October, 11 - 18 under November, 19 - 27 under December, and 28 and 29 under January 2019.

Destination Hope – Book 5 – Reconciliation

A Novel By:

Charles J. Patricoff

Copyright © 2014 by Charles J. Patricoff. All rights reserved.

Chapter 30

Uncle John’s Visit

Eight months passed. The reconstruction project neared completion. The church leadership organized a volunteer, self-equipped, security force, which patrolled the grounds every night. Whenever Nathaniel’s turn came, he brought Bailey with him. The congregation practiced emergency drills, and the men prepared to defend what they had worked so hard to build—twice.

The Graham family’s survival struggles from their first winter seemed like a faded memory compared to the one that had just passed and yielded to the planting season. Nathaniel rose before dawn and meandered to the barn, followed by his faithful companion, Bailey. Chickens scratching and feeding on the ground between the house and barn scattered. An assortment of other animal voices increased as Nathaniel’s footsteps drew closer.

He unlatched the door. With the first crack of daylight, the livestock choir struck their morning chorus. He stepped inside, and Shadow whinnied her “Good morning.” Before he could catch the door, it swung shut. Nathaniel chastened himself. “When am I going to learn?” He felt to his right. “Where is it?” His eyes adjusted, aided by the light leaking through the slits between the wall planks. “There it is.”

Grabbing the shovel’s handle, he pushed open the door and propped it open, restarting the sheep bleating, pigs squealing, and cattle mooing, all greeting the new day. “One of these days, I need to rebalance those hinges.”

Nathaniel moseyed to Shadow and stroked her neck. “Good morning, girl. Did you have a good night’s rest?” After opening the stall’s gate, he gathered her lead and walked her out into the breaking sunrise over to the greening corral on the far side of the grain elevator. “Looks like it’s going to be a fine day for working in the field. You feeling up to it, girl?”

Shadow blew and snorted as if she affirmed her readiness.

A squirrel dropped from a distant blooming wild-cherry tree. Bailey shot after it, barking his protest against the rodent invader. But, as always, the creature with the taunting tail made a chattering, clean escape up and into another much larger natural oak fortress.

“That dog could wake the dead,” Nathaniel told Shadow as he released her to graze. “Got to get the tools ready.”

While walking down the slight slope back to the barn, he heard the house’s front door slam. He swiveled in time to see little William toddle down the front steps, trip over his own two feet, and fall. Picking himself up, he waddled like a duck toward his dad, arms out the way a high-wire trapeze aerialist might. William smiled, exposing a near complete set of choppers. His suspended blue britches were a bit too large; his mother rolled up the legs. However, he did fill out his overstuffed seat.

“There’s my little man,” Nathaniel called.

William’s smile brightened.

“Is your mother making breakfast?”

William came to a halt. He stuck his index finger in his mouth and shook his head.

“No?” Nathaniel took quick strides toward his son. “We’ll have to see about that now, won’t we?”

William’s eyes widened. He nodded.

“We can’t have a big, strapping young lad like you starting a gorgeous day like this without breakfast.” Nathaniel snatched William and sat him on his shoulders.

William squealed and laughed.

Bailey charged out of the woods. The morning had reached a point for the Graham family to begin their day. With William riding bareback, Nathaniel raced for the front steps shouting, “Momma, your boys are hungry.”

As the Grahams enjoyed a hearty breakfast of fresh ham and eggs, Eleanor reported, “He could arrive today.”

“You could be right. What did his wire say? When did he plan to leave?”

William sucked on his bottle of fresh milk and played with his food as he shifted his head between his mother and father, then back to his mom.

“Twelve days ago,” Eleanor said

William slipped Bailey a clump of scrambled eggs. Then, with wide eyes, he turned his gaze on his dad.

Nathaniel caught the movement and grinned inwardly. “You said he took the train?”

“Yes.”

Nathaniel nodded. “He could arrive anytime today. He might come through Chattanooga. When I was there five years ago, that’s when I decided to write to you for the first time.”

Eleanor chuckled. “Now look where it’s gotten you. It must have been the Lord prompting you.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

She raised a brow. “I thought you were a charlatan trying to take advantage of my mother.”

Nathaniel winked. “Well, I sure enjoy taking advantage of you.”

Eleanor blushed. “Not in front of—” She tilted her head in William’s direction.

Nathaniel’s grinned rakishly.

“You’re a devil,” Eleanor chastised.

Wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve, he said, “Well, this devil has work to do. The corn field won’t get plowed by itself.

“Are you taking William with you?”

William pulled the bottle out of his mouth and searched his dad’s face with an obvious expression of hope.

“Yep. It’s never too soon to learn.”

All of a sudden, Bailey raced to the front door and scratched on it.

Eleanor gathered the empty dish and reached for William’s. “Can you let that dog of yours out?”

“He must smell another squirrel.” Nathaniel pushed his chair away from the table. As he stood, Bailey began to growl.

“That’s not a squirrel,” Eleanor said. “Do you hear it?”

“Sounds like someone’s coming.”

Eleanor set the plates back on top of the table, wiped her hands with her apron and rushed to the window. She squealed with excitement. “It’s him.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, let him in.”

The day slipped away as sister and brother caught up on old times, talking about childhood adventures, remembering with honor and affection their departed parents, and becoming reacquainted as matured, war-tested adults. Major John Ellis of the Regular Federal Army explained that he had been offered and accepted a new assignment at a western outpost called Fort Morgan in the Colorado Territory.

Nathaniel’s curiosity piqued. “So why did you want to leave Charleston?”

“And why take a position so far away, deep in Indian territory?” Eleanor asked.

“I was disappointed with the way things were going,” John said.

“How so?” Nathaniel asked.

John took a deep breath. “When you,” he looked at Eleanor, “sent me the telegram about the church, I didn’t want to worry you, but that sort of thing has been happening throughout the South.”

Eleanor gasped. “No.”

John nodded. “I’m afraid it’s getting worse. It seems former Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest has inspired uprisings in most if not all of the Rebel states. They call themselves the Kuklos Klan, or K-K-K for short.”

Nathaniel struggled to pronounce the name as he asked, “What does coo-close, mean?”

“As best we can figure out, the word is of Greek origin, meaning ‘circle.’ We think their reference is to a circle of like-spirited men or a band of brethren, all with the same objective.”

“What do you think it means?” Eleanor asked.

John waved his right hand. “What I think is not important. What they believe is.”

“And what is it?” Nathaniel asked.

“They believe that the Negroes will acquire so much political power with the help of the Federal government that they will do everything they can to exact retribution for being enslaved for so many generations.”

“Based on what we’ve seen here, that will never happen,” Eleanor said. “The folks in our church don’t seem to want anything more than to live and let live.”

John shot a strong retort. “It already is. In and around Charleston, the Negro population gained local control in the last election. They’ve stripped the right to vote from any man who fought for the Confederacy. They’re making life difficult for the former slaveholders, and their actions are spreading resentment and bitterness like wildfire. The Klan, as the white folks call it, gives them a voice, which they no longer have in the public discourse. Hostilities have boiled over to mayhem. I’m convinced the Federal government won’t do anything to stop the violence. The State governments are too shattered and ineffective. They’re busy trying to re-establish themselves. And the local authorities do not have the resources to maintain order. So, in my opinion, there is nothing the government, at any level, can do.”

“What about you and the army, John?”

“Nate, we’re chasing after ghosts. Even when we catch one, they are such a tight-knit group, the incarcerated will not disclose the names of their comrades. And the Negroes in power pass laws, which disenfranchise the white community even more.”

“Such as?”

“They passed a city ordinance giving the city authority to confiscate all personal firearms.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know. It failed. It accomplished one thing; hostilities increased. It’s as if the war has never ended, and with the new threat to personal liberty, maybe it never will.”

“Forgiveness is the key to a reconciled and restored nation—not retribution.”

“I understand, Nate, but all too many of the former slaves have a consistent message. They are victims and should be compensated. Roving gangs of young Negro men have ransacked, looted, and destroyed the private property of many of the once prominent members of southern aristocracy. Once the opportunity arose for me to leave, I jumped at it.”

“I had no idea it was that bad,” Eleanor said.

John stared at his older sister. “How could you? My general did everything within his power to make sure none of this information got out.” John took a sip of water. “When you sent me the message, I realized Charleston was not an isolated case. I asked some of my contacts at other posts and learned they had experienced similar, small-scale insurrections.” He balanced his chair on its two rear legs and rocked. “So I’m heading west, until I can figure out what the next chapter of my life looks like, or God orders my steps in some other way.”

“What about resigning your commission altogether?” Eleanor asked.

“I thought about it. You know your friend from Chicago, Reverend D. L. Moody?”

“Yes, what about him?” Eleanor asked.

“Well, I learned that General Howard…”

“Didn’t he lose an arm in the war?” Nathaniel asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Okay, I know who you’re talking about.” Nathaniel told Eleanor, “He’s the Federal General who became known as the ‘Preaching General,’ because he conducted Bible studies and camp revival meetings.”

“Yes, his teachings helped me reach a destination point in my life where I knew I was a sinner, separated from God, and that I desperately needed a Savior to be reconciled to God.”

“So what does he have to do with Reverend Moody?” she asked in an impatient tone.

John smiled. “The two of them have joined their talents to start a Christ-centered college for Negroes. General Howard asked for my support. He’s convinced that the best way for freedmen to become responsible citizens is to provide them with an educational opportunity.”

“Oh yes, I remember now. Emma told me about it. I didn’t think too much of it then, but it’s a wonderful idea.”

“Who knows? Maybe you could sponsor a young man from your church.”

“Yes, maybe.” Nathaniel pondered the possibilities.

“Anyway,” John continued, “General Howard asked me if I would consider coming to work for the university after I completed my military service.”

“And what did you say?” Eleanor’s countenance brightened. “Yes, I hope.”

“I wrote to him and told him…” John paused as if to tease his older sister. “…I’d give it serious consideration.”

Eleanor squealed.

Nathaniel nodded and took a bite of his cooled dinner. He decided to bring the conversation back to the previous topic—the one pressing on his mind. “Do you think those raiders might hit us again?”

John frowned. He glanced at Eleanor. Her face transformed from glee seconds before to one etched with concern. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But I don’t think you can be too careful. What’s to stop them?”

Nathaniel’s imagination raced. “John, do you mind speaking at our service on Sunday?”

“Husband that is an awful lot to ask.”

“It’s okay, Ellie,” John consoled.

Nathaniel justified his request. “I think the congregation needs to know that the danger is real and present, and I think if it comes from your brother, it will carry more weight.” He shifted in his seat and appealed to John. “Will you?”

 “Yes, but understand, I can’t speak from my position as a military officer. I can’t wear my uniform, or I could be brought up on charges.”

“I understand. But you can speak as an average citizen, correct?”

“Sure.”

“And I’ll introduce you as our relative.”

“That would be best.”

“I appreciate your willingness to help our community.” Nathaniel extended his hand to seal the deal.

Sunday came. John presented his account of what he had witnessed in Charleston and learned from friends located in other towns across the former Confederacy. As a result, the men of the church redoubled their volunteer security efforts.

On Monday, John rose early. As the dawn broke the eastern sky, he said his farewells to his sister, brother-in-law, and nephew.

“So, you’re heading back to Rockford before taking the train west.”

“Yes, I need to settle a few things with Paul.” John released Nathaniel’s farewell handshake. “It is too bad that he didn’t give you a chance or try to get to know you.” John reached for the rifle and leather scabbard tied to the rear of his saddle. He untied it and presented it to Nathaniel. “This is for you.”

Eleanor held William’s hand and offered an approving smile to her brother, and then to her husband.

Nathaniel pulled the weapon from its sheath, enough to make out the manufacture’s markings. “It’s a Henry repeater, lever action.”

“Military grade, a fine shooting iron. It will be good for hunting, too.” John said with noticeable enthusiasm, “The tube holds up to ten cartridges.”

“One man could be effective with this.”

“With a little practice, you’ll be able to defend your family and property, and if necessary, your church.”

“You sure I can have this?”

“Yes, after I heard about your trouble, I decided right then and there that I wanted you to have the best personal defensive weapon available. You should receive a crate any day, with a thousand rounds of ammunition for it.”

“A thousand?”

“I figured that should be enough to get you and my sister well prepared.” John gave a commanding look at Eleanor. “You’ll need to learn how to use it, too.”

Nathaniel examined the craftsmanship. “How can I thank you?”

“Keep my sister and nephew safe. That’s all the thanks I want.”

Nathaniel slipped the magnificent gun into its leather carrying case, extended his right hand again. “I’ll do my best.”

In that moment, the two former enemies at war, became more than brothers-in-law in peace.

Major John Ellis gathered the reins to his horse, hoisted his clean uniformed body into the saddle, and waved good-bye to Eleanor and William standing on the porch. Little William offered an awkward salute to his uncle. John returned the time-tested honor and called to Eleanor, “Try to keep this man of yours out of trouble, will you sis?”

Eleanor chuckled as she wiped a tear before it rolled down her cheek. “There isn’t a woman alive strong enough for that task.”

“You be careful out there in the west, John.”

“Write to us and let us know how you are doing,” Eleanor said.

“I will.” John did his best to control his horse, which seemed anxious to go. He said, “Nate, you should contact your friend, Reverend Moody, and ask him to fill you in on what we talked about, regarding the educational work he and General Howard are pursuing.”

“I plan to do so, straight away. I believe there’s a young man in our church who would make an excellent student for the college.”

“Good.” John wheeled his horse to the left and rode him at a walk, then spurred him to a trot up the winding lane leading to Mount Hope Road.

Eleanor and William joined Nathaniel as they watched John ride over the ridge into a beautiful sun-bathed morning. “Who do you have in mind for the college?” Eleanor asked.

“I’ll bet you can guess.”

“Reuben and Sophia Jefferson’s son, Zebulon?”

“You can read me like a book.”

Thanks for reading. If you believe the story has taken another step along the road to reconciliation, let me know by leaving a comment.