Going West

Solomon Compton nearly emerged from the woods when he saw a Confederate Army veteran rummaging through his campsite. That campsite consisted of a pup tent, a few belongings, and the remains of a camp fire. This was on the grounds of a small plantation that had been devastated, deserted, and overgrowth with weeds.  
      

     Solomon quietly backed into the woods, and put down a cloth bag he had been carrying.  He was a black man who still wore the uniform of a private in the Union infantry. He had with him a Henry Rifle. In an era when most soldiers carried muzzle loading rifles that took a minute to load standing up exposed to bullets, it took that amount of time to load sixteen bullets into a Henry Rifle. One could load a Henry Rifle while kneeling behind a tree stump or a boulder, protected from enemy bullets.  The Henry Rifle was a lever action rifle. One man with a Henry Rifle could fire as many well aimed bullets in a minute as a squad of men armed with muzzle loading rifles could. 
       

     The Confederate veteran wore the tattered civilian clothes Confederates often wore during the last years of the Civil War. He could be identified by his Confederate Army hat, and a belt buckle that had “CSA” on it. He had long blond hair, and a blond beard. He was famished, and looking for food.  
       

     Solomon took careful aim at the Confederate, and fired his rifle. The bullet knocked the Confederate’s muzzle loading rifle off of the tree, where it had been leaning.   
     

     Solomon cocked his Henry Rifle, and walked out to confront the Confederate. The white man stood up, and said with a stoical expression on his face, “I always thought I would be killed in the War. I never thought I’d get killed when it was over.”    
     

     “No one said anything about killing you,” Solomon said. “The way you look I’d rather feed you. Didn’t you get enough to eat in that army of yours?” 
       

     “Don’t see how we could,” the Confederate replied. “Everything you Yankees couldn’t eat you carried off.  ’ didn’t leave enough for the rats to eat.” 
      

     “As you can see over there I shot a turkey. I just found some greens and berries in the woods. You found the rice and wine I bought when I was in Washington, DC.  You don’t have to share it with me. I don’t like to eat alone.”    
     

      “Cant’ remember when I ate that good. What’s the occasion?”    
    

     “Well let me put it this way, Johnny Reb. I served in Mr. Lincoln’s Army for two years. You’re the first man who called me a Yankee.”    
     

     The stoical expression of a man expecting death melted on the Confederate’s face to a smile. Solomon tossed his rifle to the ground, walked to the Confederate, and shook his hand. “Solomon Compton’s the name.”    
    

     “I’m Luke. Luke Hawkins. Glad to meet you.”    
    

     Luke pitched his tent next to Solomon’s.   
    

      An hour later, when the two men were eating by the camp fire Solomon said, “When a war is over a soldier wants to go home. This here plantation is the only home I ever had. I was born in those slave quarters over there,” he said pointing to the charred ruins of some huts. “When I learned that the Yankees were enlisting Negroes I ran off to join. Before the War began Miss Julie and Mr. Robert bought a pretty little gal from down South. I wanted to come home and make her my wife. I came back. This is what I found,” he said gesturing to the ruined plantation. “My parents and Miss Julie and Mr. Robert are gone. I wonder what happened to that girl.”
         

     “With all the soldiers marching through here,” Luke said, “You’re best off not thinking about that.
     

     “Let me tell you my story,” Luke began. “I grew up in a farm in the holler out yonder,” He said pointing. “I knew my three brothers got killed in the War. I hoped when I came back that I could see my Ma, Pa, and my sister Mary Ann. Well I saw them, all right. When I got back to the farm it was over grown with weeds like this here plantation. When I walked into the log cabin house I was born in I saw three skeletons lying in bed. When my folks ran out of food they lay down and starved to death.”    
     

     “That story’s even sadder than mine,” Solomon said. “Tomorrow we will go to your farm and give your family a Christian burial.”    
     

     As the sun set Solomon produced a harmonica, and played, “Tenting tonight,” as Luke sang.

         

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K9kfwle5Cqg    

         

     The next morning they found a shovel in a tool shed and walked to Luke’s farm. When they got there Luke dug a grave, and Solomon made three crosses out of branches and some string he had brought with him. When he put the crosses into the ground they made him think of the crosses at Golgotha. He walked into the cabin, and came out several minutes later, having wrapped the skeletons in a blanket. This he put into the grave, which Luke filled over with soil.
      

     The two men stood respectfully, looking at the grave. “I ain’t never been much on praying.” Luke said. “If you have some words to say I sure want to hear them now.”    
     

     Solomon produced a prayer book and read, “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die. I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger. We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”
     

     “Amen.”
     

     “Amen,” Luke said.   
    

     When they were walking back to the plantation Luke said, “I never saw a Negro who could read before.”
      

     “Miss Julie taught all of us slaves who wanted to learn. She thought we should be able to read the Bible. It was against the law to teach a slave how to read. She taught us anyway.”   
    

     “It sounds like you really loved your white folks.”     
     

     “Sure, all of us slaves loved Miss Julie and Mr. Roberts.”
    

     “Why’d you run off then?’    
    

     Solomon patted Luke’s shoulder. “I can tell you’ve never been a slave. I came back, didn’t I? I wanted to marry that girl, raise a few chillum, and spend my life here.”  
      

     That night after the men had eaten, as the sun set, Solomon played “Lorena” on his harmonica, and Luke sang the words.   

          

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5i1s8FKoku8


To be continued. I know the rest of the story, but I have not written it yet.