Corn Silk Days Part 3

The Erskine farmhouse appeared to be in safe territory unless the wind s.h.i.+fted and blew sparks in that direction. The barn was lost and it did not look like they could save the granary.

One of the men yelled out, "There goes the hay!"

They concentrated all efforts on the granary and after an hour or more they succeeded in saving it. Several men had moved to the roadway but the fire had jumped the road to Andrew McCord's farm. James had just gotten word that the fence was burning and the fire was moving onto his uncle's acreage. He knew the one thing that might save his uncle's land was the cultivated fields. There were not a lot of weeds or gra.s.ses to burn. The newly planted crop did not offer a lot of fuel for the fire.

They fought the fire all afternoon and shortly before sunset a rain began to fall. Exhausted, James stood in the rain, his head lifted to the heavens and said, "Thank you, dear G.o.d. Let it fall."

Lucinda arrived with a sandwich and cold drink of sweet tea. "Here, James," she said. "Mrs. Erskine sent this out for you. Eat something while you have the chance."

He realized he was starving when he saw the ham sandwich. He kicked the shovel into the ground with his boot, wiped his brow with his sleeve, leaned forward and planted a kiss on Lucinda's lips before reaching for the sandwich. He said, "What a day."

Lucinda replied, "You men did a great job, James. It could have been so much worse."

He sipped the tea, grateful for the cold liquid. He told her, "It's not over yet."

She looked to the sky. The rain was beginning to pelt them. "This rain will do it," she said.

James pulled her to him. "Sure you want to live on a farm, my love?"

She reached up and gently wiped the smoke residue from around his lips. "With this farmer, I do," she replied.

James and Lucinda were married a month later. The bride was dazzling in a lavender silk damask gown. Aunt Maggie made the dress, which was accented by black velvet trim. Lucinda decided against a veil and wore a bonnet with flowers, and ten b.u.t.ton gray slippers. James was handsome in a dark blue suit and vest.

The wedding ceremony, held at Professor Cramer's Academy, was attended by a handful of family and friends. Professor Cramer, who also held a Doctor of Divinity t.i.tle, conducted the simple, yet romantic, ceremony. Robert Garrison was his brother's best man and Lucinda's Aunt Maggie was matron of honor.

Catherine McCord had not a dry eye throughout the ceremony. Although she knew how handsome her son was, to see him dressed to his best, and standing beside his beautiful bride, her heart swelled with pride and admiration. James had written a poem for Lucinda and was reciting it, and Catherine bit her lip in the hopes of holding back tears. Daniel McCord, seated next to his wife, leaned toward her, handed her his handkerchief and whispered in her ear, "Okay, Mommy, dry those tears."

Catherine accepted the handkerchief and smiled at her husband, somewhat surprised by his reaction to her emotional state. She thought she got a glimpse of moisture in Daniel's eyes but surely she was mistaken. As much as she loved her husband it was most unusual for him to react with emotion, other than occasionally, with anger. Daniel McCord was a big man, somewhat robust, yet Catherine always felt he was like a puppy dog-warm, loving, and cuddly-but he seldom let that come through. She supposed he believed it a sign of weakness. She knew how wrong that belief was but she had the wisdom to know she could never convince him of that.

She also knew her son James was very much like his father, Richard-a romantic, emotional soul. Catherine missed that in her relations.h.i.+p with Daniel. If she had any complaints about her marriage, that would be it. Lucinda, she knew, was very lucky to have that. And she hoped her new daughter-in-law would always treasure it.

Six months later James and Lucinda Garrison built their subscription school, a two-room frame schoolhouse that sat on a hill just at the edge of town. They placed a plaque on the face of the building which read: The LearningSchool James and Lucinda Garrison, Teachers Lucinda planted flowers and apple trees around the schoolhouse and on the hill top, while James built tables and benches and ordered a large inventory of school books and supplies.

The school opened with great success. Word had spread quickly, with the help of people such as Professor Cramer, that the curriculum was unique and of a much higher quality than that which was being offered by the county schools.

Several of their older students had come from miles away, boarding with local families while they attended school.

When the war between the states began, life changed, not only for those on the battlefields but for everyone in the country. Some people who held to superst.i.tion blamed the war on the appearance in the night sky of Danaides Comet that had streaked through the night skies of the prairie in the summer of 1858, after a two thousand-year absence. Others blamed politicians such as Abraham Lincoln, the Abolitionists, the Confederate States secessionists, and others who had made their voices heard for some time. Thoughtful men all over the country had been reading books such as The Impending Crisis of the South by Hinton Rowan Harper and carefully listening to the political chatter and political platforms but no one could have guessed in April of 1861, when war broke out in Charleston, South Carolina, just how expanded and devastating the war would become. For many the ideals of American freedom and a unified nation were worth the risks that they might face.

James Campbell Garrison was one of those who believed pa.s.sionately that the war had merit.

By late 1861, the number of Iowa volunteers was high. James was faced with a dilemma. He believed he owed it to children to give them an education. But he also believed, without reservation, that he owed his country. His loyalty to the Union made it difficult for him to ignore what was happening to his country. So, on the larger scale, the security and freedom of people won out over his personal need as a teacher to teach.

James had long talks with Lucinda about the war and although he realized she was disappointed and even worried about his choice to go to war, he also admired her understanding of his need to do so.

In October 1861, he joined the 2nd Regiment of Iowa Volunteers. It was soon suggested to James that he become an officer and stay in the military following the war, but he knew he would not. He was at heart a teacher, not a warrior. He became a soldier only because he heard the call of his country and could not ignore it.

For those who knew James and his adventurous spirit, they were not surprised that he chose to volunteer. He said to Lucinda and his family before he left for St. Louis, Missouri, "All we ask is to be led against our enemy and test the matter. Onward to victory or death is my motto."

The initial war time a.s.signment for James was at McDowell College in St. Louis. He kidded about the throngs of students, which were actually Rebel prisoners. At first, he said, there had been more than thirteen hundred "students" but two to three hundred had taken the oath of allegiance to the Union reducing the number to less than eleven hundred. In a letter to his sister, Elizabeth Jane, he had written, "Missouri keeps sending us her disloyal inhabitants to educate according to a theory of our Professor J. W. Tuttle, also known as Union Colonel J. W. Tuttle. He has the men of our company to help in his duty. We teach them that Uncle Sam is not to be fooled with and that they have to submit or somebody will get hurt. So once a teacher, always a teacher."

Chapter Three: Sunday, the 8th Day of March 1863.

Iron Mountain, Iron County, Missouri Dear Companion, It is through the mercy of G.o.d this evening that I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well at present and the health of the boys in the company is very good. I hope these few lines will find you all enjoying good health. I was paid a week or two ago and I received forty-six dollars and 80 cents and today I expressed thirty-five dollars home. Five of us boys expressed together and we expressed it to Leander Smith and he is to give each man's money to the families. You will have to receipt to him for what money you get. The agent could not tell us what the postage would be so we could not pay it here. You will have to pay your share of the postage to Leander Smith and give him something for his trouble.

I want you to square up with Aunt Sarah McCord and pay the mortgage so the land will be free from all enc.u.mbrance and I want you to keep it as long as you can. Take good care of the balance of the money. Use what you are compelled to use. You need not think by this that you are extravagant for I would not be afraid to trust you with five thousand dollars. I would feel as satisfied as though I had it in my own pocket. I have that much confidence in you that I can rest easy. I think you are doing business as well as I could expect. I think I have the best woman in Iowa. I know one thing, my Janie is the nearest and dearest to me. I received your kind letter dated the 15th. It was good to hear that you are all well and on the land and among the living. You may think I am making light of such. I feel a little funny tonight. I have been to Pilot k.n.o.b today and just got back this evening but I did not get drunk. I only had one dram today and that was sweetened with water. It was the first time I have been from camp without some officer with me and could do as I pleased. That has become a rare thing.

We are quartered at Iron Mountain six miles above Pilot k.n.o.b and the railroad, and it seems more like home than it has for the past few months. The country we have marched over has been princ.i.p.ally mountainous. This area is full of iron and it is manufactured here and at Pilot k.n.o.b.

We are in an Iowa brigade with the 21st and 22nd. We do not know for certain where we will go but it appears it will be down the river, probably to Vicksburg.

You wrote you heard that ten of our men went out on a scout and had taken four thousand dollars from a woman. That was the first I heard of that. In the first place, there is no such a man as Wickerman in our company nor never has been, and in the next place there has not been any of our boys out on a scout. So you can set that down as a false report. You need not believe half the news you hear.

Today was a very nice day. It is what we call spring weather in Iowa. The trees are beginning to pop forth with new leaves and wild flowers are blooming.

Next time I write I will send my likeness. They cost me a dollar a piece. I will send one to mother. You will see me with my whiskers off and with my fat. I am so fat now that my belly nearly drags the ground. My belly sticks out so far, far, that I can not see my feet. I am fatter now than I ever have been in my life but there is nothing wrong with that. If I could be so while in the army I would be very thankful.

Well, my darling I would like to see you once more and kiss those sweet lips that I used to kiss and enjoy the pleasure that we once enjoyed together. Those pleasures seem sweet to me and it gives me a great deal of pleasure to think of the past. I long to see the day that we need not to talk to each other with pen but that we can converse face to face-but that will not be until the time these Southern Rebels are subdued. Janie, it is late and I have to go on guard tomorrow. While there, I will think of the loved ones at home. Your loving husband, Silas Thursday, the 12th day of March 1863 My dear wife, I did not have the opportunity to post my previous letter to you. We left Iron Mountain on the 9th and landed here at Camp High, Ste. Genevieve, Missouri yesterday, the 11th. We have traveled over Missouri a great deal but we have never come across such roads as we did on this last march. The road was plank and gravel and lay through the richest of Missouri that I have seen.

I have seen very good farms for a timbered county. It is settled princ.i.p.ally by the Dutch and French and you have an idea of the kind of farmers they are. It has been good soil to make money. Everything they raise can be sold for cash and at a good price.

We lay at the river awaiting orders. I cannot say how long we will remain here but probably not long. The reports are that we are to reinforce General Rosecrans in Tennessee. Without a doubt we will go down the river soon and it will be hard to tell what our destiny will be. This brigade is said to be the strongest one in the field. We have the Iowa 23rd, 21st and 22nd and the First Missouri Battery and they are wholesome boys.

If our Colonel comes out clear we will have a man that we can depend on to lead us. Now I suppose you would like to know what is the matter with him. While at Alton, Missouri, two companies of our regiment were sent back to Van Buren and General Davidson ordered him to go with them. It is the rule for the Colonel to stay with the majority of the regiment so he ordered the Lieutenant Colonel to go with them contrary to the General's orders. He was arrested for disobeying orders and is now in St. Louis to be tried. I live in hopes that he will come out of it all right. The reason I did not write such news before was that while down in Missouri our letters were opened by the head commanders of our division so I would not write much of anything. We had pretty hard times there but I will not write anything concerning it and when I come home I will tell you all about it.

Soldiers now have thirty days furlough. Five out of a hundred can go home at once. I do not know whether I will go home or not. I would like to see you all but it costs money and staying such a short time I would then hate to leave and return to battle.

You said Pap wanted me to write concerning Negroism. I will write what I know about it soon. So no more at this present time.

I remain your affectionate, loving husband, Silas

Chapter Four: Alexander.

The s.h.i.+mmer of light bouncing off the knife blade into his eyes caused Denny to s.h.i.+ft his feet and move slightly. He watched with continued fascination as the skin began to fall away from the meat in a spiral course until it fell free onto the wood plank.

He asked, "How do you do that, Pap?" He leaned down and picked up the apple peel from the porch floor and examined it.

Denny's great-grandfather held the knife upright in his right hand. "You start with a good blade, Denny, like this one, and then you practice and practice. Toss me another apple," he said. He sliced a piece of the peeled apple he held in his left hand and popped the slice into his mouth as Denny retrieved an apple from the basket that sat on a small table on the front porch.

Denny handed him the apple and inquired, "How long you been practicing, Pap?"

Alexander Johan Storm chuckled, accentuating wrinkles around his humorous steely gray eyes, as he took the apple from his great-grandson. "A long time, since I was about your age," he replied.

"How long's that?"

Alexander, in thoughtfulness, twisted the end of his gray moustache between his long bony fingers then replied, "Going on nearly seventy years, I'd say."

Denny's eyes widened, "Gosh, will it take me that long to learn?"

"Nah, by this time next planting season I think you'll be pretty good at it."

"But I've never even tried it."

"Your Mama brought those apples up from the cellar and wants them peeled so she can make some sauce, so let's get to it. You got the whole basket full to practice on."

"You mean it!" Denny exclaimed.

"Bring a chair over next to mine and we'll see how fast a learner you are," he said. "If you're good at them apples, I'll teach you to whittle wood. Then when your Daddy comes home from the war you'll have something to show um."

Alexander recalled the fall day that he sat on a downed tree at the edge of the woods in New Jersey and watched as his father had peeled an apple. Even after all these years, the memory was vivid in his mind. It had been their last harvest time in Hunterdon County. His father, Henry, sold his one hundred acre farm after harvest that year and the family set out for what his father called the "goodly land afar off."

Henry Storm had emigrated from Schifferestadt, Pfalz, Germany arriving in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, aboard the s.h.i.+p Mortonhouse which had sailed from Rotterdam. He took the oath of Allegiance in 1772 and settled in Hunterdon County, buying one hundred acres of rich farm land. He raised wheat and supplied Was.h.i.+ngton's Colonial Army. Soon after the Revolutionary War broke wide open, Henry joined the Pennsylvania Army. When his wartime service ended, he married Anna Bray. Alexander was their fifth-born son.

Henry pet.i.tioned for bounty land in the Ohio territory and received two hundred fifty acres for his war service and another two hundred acres for supplying the army with wheat.

The year was 1802, and as Alexander would tell the story many times over the next years, even though he was young, he understood the motives which impelled his father to move on. So with his wife and six children, Henry Storm and family set out for Ross County, Ohio, accompanied for a distance the first day by a small group of neighbors who feared they might run into Indian attacks before reaching the Ohio River. The neighbors camped out with the family the first night before turning back the next morning, convinced that they would never see the Storms alive again. Once the Storms reached the river and boarded a barge, they were escorted by river scouts, which at least gave them a sense of security, albeit a false one.

When they reached land after several days, they laid in needed supplies such as bread, corn, and oats for themselves and their horses and milch cows. Henry was an excellent hunter and rifled a few wild turkeys along the way. They also had the good fortune of falling in company with some teams freighting merchandise to market and on several occasions their wagon would become bogged down in the mud. Rocks in the roadway would be so large that in order to pa.s.s on, the wagon wheels would have to be lifted by brute strength and the teamsters would a.s.sist. The trip took many days, but able to withstand any hards.h.i.+p they encountered they safely reached their destination.

With five strong and robust boys to help out, Henry fell trees, cleared the land, and built a house. By spring, planting began.

At maturity, the Storm men were stout of physical stature-six feet in height and two hundred pounds and all possessed a determined spirit as did their mother, Anna, and their sister, Margaret. The Storm boys, as they were known to many, had a reputation of being good men, but men that others did not want to cross. They had eagerly and earnestly earned the reputation they carried. Be honest and above board and there would be no trouble, be less than that, and they made life difficult.

When Alexander was about twenty-five he had encountered a small group of White men in the roadway just outside of the town of Chillicothe who were savagely beating a Negro man. He dismounted his wagon with rifle in hand and took a brave stand against the group, demanding that they stop the beating.

The reaction from the men was one of outrage and anger. As Alexander told it, the man who appeared to be the leader, a big, burley man of about forty, turned to him, shaking the stick he held, and shouted, "You get the h.e.l.l outta here!"

Alexander dug his boot heels into the ground and kept his stance with the rifle b.u.t.t tight into his shoulder. "You stop now! Hear!" he demanded.

One of the other men, a scrawny, balding man, closer to fifty years of age, sauntered toward him and said, "This ol' n.i.g.g.e.r talked to my wife. He's gonna pay."

Alexander stood his ground, "Not if I can help it!"

"Who the h.e.l.l you think you are? You get your G.o.dd.a.m.ned nose out of our business!"

"You made this my business," Alexander said calmly, yet sternly.

The remaining man with looks of a person who had fought his way through life, began to taunt him. "Hey John, we got a n.i.g.g.e.r lover here. He don't wanna go c.o.o.n huntin'!"

The Negro, a heavy-bodied man, who appeared to have spent a lifetime of hard physical labor, lay in the dirt, rolling back and forth, moaning. Alexander saw pain in his eyes but he also saw there, terror.

The burley leader turned away from Alexander and began kicking at the Negro.

"Stop now or I shoot!" Alexander yelled out. The man ignored his warning and swung the stick downward at the Negro's head. Alexander knew he had to make his shot count. He took careful aim and pulled the trigger. The bullet impacted the man in the shoulder, dislodging the stick from his hand, knocking him off his feet and to the ground almost before the crack of the gunshot echoed through the trees.

Alexander quickly reloaded his rifle. "You move away!" he told the two remaining standing White men. He moved in toward the Negro, all the while keeping his rifle trained on the two men. They stepped several feet back, now apparently more concerned about their friend than their bloodied victim.

Alexander told the injured Negro man, "Come on, you're coming with me." He helped the terrified man into his wagon. Alexander's last words to the two men left standing were, "You two get your friend to the doctor." He moved the horse and wagon on down the road and did not look back.

That action was the beginning of a long friends.h.i.+p with Joel Morgan, a free Negro. Alexander learned that Joel had been freed from slavery after saving his owner's children from an Indian attack in Kentucky. Joel went to work as a farmhand for Alexander and remained with him until his death some twenty years later.

The incident with the three men caused much distress for Alexander. Two weeks following the event his barn was burned to the ground in the pre-dawn hours. Days later he discovered one of his cattle dead in the pasture from an apparent gunshot wound. Not long after, Alexander sold his farm and moved to Iowa. He had told his friends that he was not running out of fear, as some believed, but because he wanted new opportunity. They were to soon discover that the real reason Alexander left Ohio was his love for a woman named Sally Day who lived in Iowa.

Sally Day was a young woman of twenty-one and a seamstress by trade. When Alexander laid eyes on her it was not "love at first sight." It had been a confrontational meeting. Sally was at a livestock auction selling off a lot of cattle that she had inherited from her father. Alexander had bid on her cattle but did not buy them. He had told another man that her herd was not of good stock and too lean for the price.

Alexander's statement was overheard by Sally. Apparently insulted by Alexander's words, she had confronted him directly. Slender of build, wearing pantaloons tucked into high leather boots, a plaid s.h.i.+rt belted into the pants, and auburn hair neatly pulled up and concealed under a hat usually seen on a man's head, she lashed out at the stranger whose comments she had overheard. She walked up behind Alexander and said, "Mister, you don't know what you're talking of. Those cattle are fine. Maybe you need to buy some spectacles so you can see what you're looking at."

When Alexander turned to face his accuser his first thought was that it was an adolescent boy. Then he noticed the two slight bulges in the s.h.i.+rt front and the slim waist and rounded hips. But it was also her face that gave her away. Her eyes were a cool blue gray with lush dark lashes encircling them and soft lips pursed into a pout. She stood with hands on her waist and stared at him awaiting a response.

Alexander nodded to the man he was standing with and excused himself as he reached out and gently took Sally by the elbow and moved her to a distance away from others. "Ma'am, I apologize if I have offended your sensitivity but I must say that I have seen more desirable cattle than your bunch," he told her.

"Mister, I will not accept your lame apology. You just look around and you will see that mine are as good as the next-and maybe even better."

He couldn't resist smiling at her and he did so. "Maybe they're not too bad," he admitted.

"Darn right, they're not too bad."

He asked, "What else you auctioning off?"

"One of the best geldings you've seen in the country," she answered with resoluteness.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Obviously she was determined and outspoken and Alexander discovered, much to his own surprise, that he was drawn to that. She could give any man a challenge, that was for sure, and he was enjoying it.

He told her, "Let me see this horse of yours." He walked behind, admiring the way she moved as he followed to the corral. She had been right. The horse was one fine specimen.

"Where did you get him?" Alexander asked.

"My Daddy brought him back from Kentucky two years ago."

"Forget the auction. I'll buy him."

She gave him a suspicious look. "How much?" Her hand returned to her hip.