Chapter One

This is the first chapter of a historical fiction I'm writing based on my Great Great Grandfather's Civil War journal.

Breakfast had been hasty. Facing a long day, Addison had no time to waste. His tall, lanky assistant, James, a freshman understudy from the Lansing Normal School Architect Program, had borrowed his horse, Winston, for a long trip south to Chicago where a new, state of the art piece of survey equipment was waiting. That meant he was left with his cantankerous mule, Chuckles, aptly named for the sound he produced after pulling one of his infuriating, mischievous, indignant pranks. Though he had given himself plenty of time to make it to City Hall, he wasn’t a big fan of wasting time either. He had some preparations to make before his investors showed up for what they knew would be, based on Addison’s reputation, a gripping presentation. He and his wife, Phoebe, needed to land this contract, or it could forecast a cloudy, dismal year in the pocket book sector of their life. Grabbing his worn leather messenger bag filled with building plans and blueprints, he rushed out the door toward the barn only to discover its door hanging wide open. His feet bolted themselves to the ground, his fingers clutching the hair at his temples, knocking his top hat to the ground. Like the counterweight of a catapult a low groan fell from his open jaw.

“Phoebe! He’s done it again!” Dropping the satchel next to his hat, he closed the distance to the barn. Sure enough, no Chuckles. He turned to see Phoebe at the door of the house, an irritated frown hanging beneath her petite, upturned nose.

“Oh no! We have no time for his shenanigans today! It’s like he knows!” Picking up the hem of her dress she rushed to the corner of the house to scan the open field beyond.

“Phoebe! The Miller’s wheat field!” A look of horror engulfed her fair skinned face.

“Oh, Addie, they’ll never forgive us this time!” He was already at a full run toward their nearest neighbor’s farm, Phillip and Milly Miller. Phoebe hiked up her dress and joined the chase.

Addison had had enough of that wretched animal’s demented sense of humor. Any man as deranged would be locked up for good. Chuckles had been a wedding “gift” from his mother-in-law, who clearly disapproved of the wedding. To say the least, their first ride home together had certainly not been dull. Fresh out of college he couldn’t afford a horse and prior to the wedding he’d relied on the kindness of others, or his own two feet, for transportation, so, more for insult than generosity, Phoebe’s mother bequeathed them the steed of Satan himself. At times Addison could swear he saw flames in his eyes and smoke drifting from his nostrils. The Miller’s front porch was fast approaching before him, but before he even reached the first step, the door burst open.

“Don’t even bother Addison! I’ll have no apologies from you!” Addison came to a stop gasping for breath as Phil continued. “If you don’t do something about that sadistic four legged fiend, I’ll shoot him myself!”

“Oh Phil, how much did he trample and gorge himself with this time? I’ll pay you the top going dollar for whatever damages he’s…”

“The wheat! You’re worried about the wheat? Oh, no! It’s much worse this time, Addie! Much, much worse!” Phil pointed over at Milly’s prize flower bed and Addison’s heart sank to his ankles. He heard Phoebe gasp behind him. He wondered if Phil would consider shooting him instead of Chuckles.

He heard himself mutter, “Oh Chuckles, what have you done?”

“I’ll tell you what he’s done! He’s just destroyed three months of blood, sweat and tears! My Milly, she’s…she’s… Well, quite frankly Addie, she’s gonna be pissed!” He could tell Phil was at a loss for words; he almost never used profanity.  “My poor sweet Milly,” Phil continued, “started every one of those delicate beauties from seed. Even while the snow was still on the ground, she had their fragile little shoots in the window sill basking in the sunlight of early spring.” There was sadness in his voice. “See, Milly treats them all like her little children. She would wipe the dust from their tiny little leaves and stems every day while talking and singing to them. She was worried I’d think her crazy, but it was the most beautiful sound a man could hear. Addison, I’ve never seen little seedlings grow so green so fast!” He stood silent for a moment as if remembering a lost relative. His eyes glistened with gathering tears. “Then, the snow melted away and it was finally time to ready their bed. She spent days out there turning the soil and feeding it scraps from the kitchen so her little children would have all the food and nutrition they would ever need. She dug little windrows that looked just like waves in the ocean so the water would reach every root. Then she put each in the ground just so...” He was subconsciously re-enacting the tender motions with his hands as he spoke, then with sacred reverence continued, ”and when they bloomed… Oh what splendor! The colors sang like a chorus, just like she sang to them! In fact,” His demeanor quickly darkened again. “they was singin just this mornin till your beast of the underworld came and…” His words trailed off as a tear rolled down his cheek, then he leveled his gaze at Addison, “Milly’s gonna be pissed!” Then he turned, stomped inside, and slammed the door in angry punctuation.

Addison stood in shock for what must have been minutes, but could have been hours, before Phoebe’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Well, Addie, we best move him along before he gets any other grand plots of destruction rooted in his head. Still planted in the ruined garden, head held high, Chuckles stood defiant to the world. Addison walked right up and looked him in the eye. There were those flames…then the infuriating chuckle.

“Come on, Chuck. We’re going home.”

*****

The stubborn a*s’ steps were staggered the whole way home as he tugged and pulled at his lead, following Addison reluctantly, but following nonetheless. The quarter mile stretch home was silent, save the hoof-falls behind them as they plodded along. Phoebe knew better than to make any attempt at conversation in moments such as this. She could see an ocean of angry thoughts crashing at the shoreline of Addie’s furrowed brow. He was undoubtedly plotting a way to send the tenacious beast to an early demise without causing family hostilities with his wickedly sensitive mother-in-law. As their home on the edge of town drew closer, Phoebe rushed ahead to retrieve Addison’s hat and satchel when he called to her, “Never mind that! Get the whip!”

“Addie, no!” She knew her protest was made in futility, but she could not stand the thought of inflicting pain on a defenseless creature.

“Don’t argue, Pheobe, this vile whoreson of a creature knows exactly what he did and now it’s time to pay the piper with his hide!” He was generally a quiet, soft spoken, gentle man, but when provoked, his temper would flare with a vengeance; something only that pig headed mule cold seem to accomplish. She changed course toward the barn to retrieve the whip. She grabbed it from a hook next to the stall and turned toward the door when she heard a commotion outside.

“Damn you wretched creature, hold still! Whoa! WHOA!” She heard the stomping of hooves and ran to the door to see Chuckles raising his front hooves in the air as Addison pulled on the leather straps of his halter trying to regain control. Managing to pull Chuck’s head down, his front feet returned to the dusty ground with a thud and what Phoebe was certain was a tearing sound. She rushed to her husband’s side.

“Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” She looked him up and down, her eyes freezing at Chuckle’s left front foot. She gasped.

“I’m fine, now give me that…” Addie’s gaze fixed on the same small square of dirt. If his face was pink with anger before, it was now red as a late fall apple. His top hat was now around Chuckle’s leg like some ridiculous modern fashion statement and the contents of his bag were in tattered disarray, trampled and torn. At that moment they heard a stream of water hit the ground and, in unison, looked to see the animal’s lip curl up resembling a smile, but before the signature chuckle could escape his upturned lips, Addison cocked back his fist and planted a solid blow to the center of the demon’s forehead. The stream of urine stopped and a moment later Chuck’s knees buckled and he went down hard. Addison stormed into the house and slammed the door.  Phoebe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry…so she did both.

She carefully retrieved what she could salvage of Addison’s hard work and slid them into his satchel. Luckily these were copies he’d made. His originals were stored safely in his desk. The hat was, unfortunately, a complete loss. She pulled it free from Chuckles’ leg, placed the items on the front step, and then went to the water trough for a bucket of water to revive the unconscious equine. Two buckets later the startled animal jumped to his feet and ran straight to his stall. She was sure, if he could, he would have shut the door behind him. He stood, head hung low, at the back wall, scuffing his foot in the straw like a sulking child who’d just received a stern scolding. Now it was her turn to chuckle as she shut the stall door.  She turned to see her husband standing in the doorway. He’d changed his clothes, but still wore the same fiery mood. Phoebe sobered quickly.

“I’m glad you find this so amusing.” He said in a flat even tone while massaging the hand that had deftly dropped the mule.

“Addie, it’s not what you…”

“Never mind, I’m late.”

“I’m sorry. Should I saddle him for you?” His clenching fists and grinding teeth told her that was the wrong question to ask.

“No thank you. I’ll walk.” He reached to tip his hat finding it absent, which only increased his foul mood. He shook his fist in the air toward the stall, then turned on his heel and headed for the town hall. Phoebe’s heart ached. She knew how important today’s meetings were to him. She wished she could find words to cheer him, but in these virulent moods, it was best to remain silent until the storm clouds relented to sunbathed puddles and broken gray cotton balls against bluer skies.

*****

Thoughts bubbling like water in a pot, Addison steamed his way to town. He could still make it on time if there were no further delays. The plans he’d toiled over for the better part of a year were for a new addition to the capitol building and, across the street, and a new city hall. This contract would triple their income this year compared to last and invite even more business in the future. He was sure the governor and mayor would be more than pleased with what he’d drawn up and, with the new equipment from Chicago, he could lay the groundwork in half the time. It suddenly occurred to him that he would finally have the means of acquiring a carriage and a team of horses leaving his demonic mule to dragging a plow through a corn field where he belongs. This converted his grimace to a smile just in time to reach the city council chambers. Simultaneous to his hand grasping the door handle, he heard a shout.

“You sir! What say you? Are you ready to fulfill your patriotic duty?” The shout came from a tall man in full Union formal dress standing on a crate at the head of a long line of men. Seeing the puzzlement in Addison’s face as he turned to see if anyone was standing next to him, the soldier on the crate clarified, “Yes sir, I’m talking to you! What’s your name?”

“Addison S. Boyce!” he responded as he took a step back from the door.  The soldier hopped down from the crate and approached him.

“Boyce, is it? I’m Captain Smith of the 20^th Michigan Infantry. I don’t recall seeing a Boyce on the rolls, so I suppose we could use one. Tell me, Mr. Boyce, what do you do for a living?” Captain Smith’s gaze seemed to penetrate his very soul.

“I’m a contractor; I draft blueprints and oversee the construction of buildings.” There was something about this man that intrigued Addison, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“What college did you graduate from, sir?” The officer’s sincere, unblinking gaze prompted Addison to continue the conversation even though it would make him late for his appointment.

“Lansing Normal, sir.”

“Did they teach you how to read a newspaper at Lansing Normal, Mr. Boyce?”

“As I recall, I knew that much before I went to college, sir.” At this, the Captain sprouted a smile which never touched his eyes.

“My question was not if you learned to read in college, but if you learned to read a newspaper. I’m asking if you learned any deductive reasoning at your institution of higher learning.” Addison adjusted his neck tie in the awkward, silent pause. He could feel his throat getting dry.

“I learned enough to know what you’re driving at, sir, and I will tell you straight that I’m not a fighting man, so I would be of little use to you.” Addison gave a nod to excuse himself from the conversation and turned back toward the door.

“To the contrary, Mr. Boyce, you don’t need to carry a musket to be an asset to the Union. We need good men with college degrees who can think quickly on their feet. Michigan has remained a good distance from the front lines of battle, but if we don’t muster enough good, healthy, strong, intelligent, men to our cause, then Michigan will, inevitably, get caught in the crossfire. I can see by that gold band you’re a married man, Addison, so I’m sure you don’t want your dear wife having to worry about musket fire coming through her windows any more than I do.”  This time Addison took pause; he’d never thought of it that way before.  “You think on it, my friend. We’ll be here all day.” The captain took Addison’s hand in a firm hand shake and returned to his soap box to call more men to ranks.

As if in a trance, Addie stood stroking his thick beard for a few moments before the door in front of him swung open, giving him a start. A tall man in a black top hat and a fine charcoal, dove tail suit strode through the open door, giving a start himself when he nearly ran right into Addison. The Governor, who was right on his heels, nearly toppled into him.

“Mayor Chapman! Governor Blair! Fine pleasure running into you this morning!” Captain Smith, seeming to appear out of nowhere and giving Addison a start, greeted the two men with a slight degree of pomp and a broad grin beneath a healthy handlebar mustache across his face.

“Good morning to you, Captain!” The Mayor replied with a slight nod of the head and an extended hand. After a firm shake, he turned to Addison. “Mr. Boyce! Good morning to you, as well! I was disappointed to have missed your presentation of the building proposals this morning.” He paused to remove a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dab some of the July heat from his forehead. “I was running a touch late myself, so I didn’t get to see it, however I’m sure it was grand as ever; your work is seldom less than superior!” Confused, Addison pulled his pocket watch from his inner pocket. It had stopped exactly thirty minutes before his appointment before city council. He’d been so preoccupied with the morning’s havoc, he hadn’t even noticed. His face reddened just as the Governor spoke up.

“It may have been less than anticipated, Mayor, as it didn’t happen at all. It seems Mr. Boyce missed the meeting in its entirety.” A look of nearly exaggerated disapproval painted his entire face and accented his posture. Even through his thick white beard and mustache, his thoughts on the issue were clear. Addison felt himself shrinking under his own self disappointment.

“Gentlemen,” Captain Smith interceded, “Mr. Boyce is not to blame. I stopped him here in this very spot to request his assistance in our Union efforts and he was so eager to lend his aid, our discussion continued at length and it appears I’ve kept him too long. I do beg your forgiveness.” He leaned in toward the men with his eyebrows raised in askance. There was an awkward pause before the Governor spoke.

“No harm, no foul, gentlemen. Well, at least none to us. We have our contractor and are scheduled to proceed within the month.” His face seemed to say, it’s your loss; I reckon you won’t be late to the next meeting, if there is one. Addison’s heart sank below the dust at his neatly polished shoes. Months of preparation had just been dashed against the shoals because of a stubborn half-witted a*s and to pack the wound with salt, he was apparently going to war to boot. The survey equipment! He thought, I’ve got to do something! He had used every last cent of their savings and taken out a small loan to secure that equipment just for this job. It was the best quality you could buy because of its renowned accuracy. This contract would have paid for it six times over. Without this contract, he would lose everything. Gathering his thoughts, he raised his eyes to address the Governor when Captain Smith spoke up.

“Mr. Boyce may have lost the contract, sirs, but it appears the north has won a great deal with his commitment to enlist!” This was going terribly wrong and now there was nothing he could do to stop it if he wanted to walk away with any shred of dignity. The Captain clapped a gloved hand on his shoulder. “This is just about as patriotic a man as I have ever met. As soon as I told him of the detriments of our efforts to reunite this nation and end the needless suffering of the Negro people, he wouldn’t endure waiting in line to enter our rolls. He insisted I sign him up on the spot!” An instant look of approval obliterated any hint of dismay from the other two men’s faces. For a moment, Addison thought they would applaud him right there in the street. While Captain Smith had saved him some face, he wondered what gambit was etched into the other side of that coin. Obviously the Captain had something special in mind, but Addison doubted he would like it any better than losing the contract.

*****

After Addison had turned the bend and out of sight, Phoebe retrieved his hat to see if anything could be done to help it. It didn’t look promising. Trying to stay positive, she reminded herself that the contract he’d surely win this morning would buy him ten hats just like it if he wished, even though she knew he was far too practical for such frivolous spending. That was particular characteristic was one for which she greatly admired him. Perhaps she should cut ear holes in its brim and make Chuckles wear it as a token of shame. He’d undoubtedly make a tom-foolery of that too. She knew Addie would have an appetite when he returned, so she went inside to prepare some lunch.

The heat of the oven coals singed the dusting of dainty transparent hairs on her forearm as she pulled out the loaf of bread she’d put in before breakfast, her mind reeling over Milly’s trampled flower bed. She’d be heartbroken. Phoebe knew all too well what she’d put into her little blissful retrieve. Most Sundays, after church, the two families would walk the quarter mile from the church house to the split in the road. One direction led to the Boyce home and the other to the Miller’s farm. Milly would often talk excitedly about elegant little plants. Now that she thought of it, Milly did speak of them as her children, so, Phoebe supposed, in a way they were. As she carefully sliced the loaf of bread into perfectly even slices, her mind toiled over what she could possibly do to amend such a tragedy. By the time she’d finished preparing the meal and moved on to tidying the kitchen, she was still reaching for the bottom and coming up empty. Discouraged, she sat down for a breather while she waited for her husband’s return.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor planks jarred her from a strange dream of shouts through a thick glade of trees and distant gun fire. Her heart hurdling hemlocks and her eyes smeared with slumber she wrenched herself upright to see a man in union blue blocking the sunlight from the open doorway. The room went dim, then black…

*****

Addison’s eyes adjusted from the waxing sun’s glare to the lesser light of the interior of their home just in time to see Phoebe’s slender body go limp and slide from the chair to the floor. His eyes widened and he tossed his cap and newly issued haversack on the heavy oak table, nearly missing the lunch which was still patiently awaiting his arrival. He unslung his rolled knapsack from his shoulder and carefully lifted her head to rest upon it, and then stretch her feet out under the table. He grabbed a slice of bread and a glass of water and fanned her face as he sprinkled little droplets across her forehead. She was such an elegant woman, even in this condition. His heart ached that he would soon leave her and moaned that he might not come back. He was still reeling with how easily Captain Smith seemed to have volunteered him for this war without Addison having so much as a peep to say for or against it. More importantly, how was he going to break it to Phoebe? It then occurred to him that he already had.

Author's Note

Sorry about the difference in text size of the last paragraph. Something happened in translation between the word processor and this site. Anyway, any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!