Chapter Text
Mother cleaned up the blood seeping through my arm's makeshift bandages of thin, flimsy cloth. I held still and didn't wince; I had to be brave like Sam was!
"You know, Timmy, if you had not been as reckless as foolish Sam was to enlist, this wouldn’t have happened.” I could hear her fighting back tears.
I was furious. “You mean it would be better if I had let Sam be shot?” My shoulders tensed up, my hands curled into hard fists. Mother had never said something like this and it hurt so much deep down.
“Tim, he was going to die anyway.”
“Mother!” I exclaimed loudly in her ear, though I caught myself and continued in a softer voice. “Don’t say that. I wasn’t going to let Sam die. Those damned liars and thieves deserve to be shot instead of my brother who was innocent.”
She ran to the kitchen to soak the rag in water before racing back and wrapping it back up with a crooked knot to finish it. The green fabric was stained with an ugly crimson smudge.
She sighed, not having the energy to argue.
Every following day went on the same routine: sitting and tending to the livestock for a few hours, cleaning the tavern, checking on the animals again, aiding Mother with errands or tasks–and between all that was serving guests who came into the tavern to grab a quick meal or hang ‘round or have rum.
Betsy Read stopped visiting a long time ago.
Soon enough, winter had ended and spring followed. I hopped out from the house early in the morning to catch a breath before the day’s tiring, repetitive work needed to be done. I would usually spend time with Jerry Sanford or at Tom Warrups’ hut, but there was no reason to go anywhere anymore. Sam had re-enlisted and swore to never come back until his contract ended. He went back even when they wanted to shoot him.
The war moved far away from Redding and it hadn’t come back since winter time. Most folk were glad that no longer those Rebel thieves would steal their cattle. I, however, was quite upset–angry even. Angry Sam had left me again and didn’t even say thank you. That ungrateful bastard.
The morning was far warmer than the others, and the whole town smelt of gunpowder still. What was more fearful was that rumors said that a boy named George Levington had enlisted and died before even leaving the country due to being shot three times by Lobsterbacks. How unlucky the boy was.
Other than the increasing prices and gruesome work, life began to go back to normal. It wasn’t ever going to be normal like how it was before Sam left, but this was the best I would get and I should appreciate that; the war has taken so much after all.
Mother called me back inside to milk Old Pru before having to scrub the tavern clean. I begrudgingly trudged back. Something caught my attention. A quick white blur at the corner of my eye. I twisted around to see nothing. Perhaps it was my lack of sleep causing these hallucinations. I back walked inside.