The Architecture of the Arkansas Ozarks - Donald Harington [65]
“Aw, heck,” Gilbert said, “like you jist said, most of us fellers has sampled what she’s givin away free. Boy howdy, she’s done recruited me four times already!”
“But don’t she say nothin ’bout the Rebel army?” Jacob wanted to know.
“Not a word to me,” Gilbert claimed.
“Nor me neither,” chorused the others.
“Hmm,” uttered Jacob, shaking his head. “Wal, supposin she does. Any of you fellers want to fight fer the Rebels?”
They all shook their heads, declaring, “Not me!” and “Nor me neither!”
“Wal, then, the question is: do we want to remain neutral or do we want to fight for the Union if those boys down in Limestone Valley try to start somethin?” A lively and formal debate was organized, which lasted for the rest of the afternoon. At the end a vote was taken, and the majority favored neutrality. Jacob dismissed the gathering, but took Noah aside and said to him, “Noey, honest injun, no buts about it, shore-nuff, really-truly, straight-up-and-down, tell me the pint-blank truth: did thet thar Virdie Boatright actually git ye inter her wagon?”
“Naw,” said Noah.
“I didn’t think so. But you said she ‘recruited’ you…”
“I never got inter her wagon,” Noah declared, “but she clumb up inter my house.”
“Did she now?” Jacob said. “And then what?”
“Wal…” Noah hesitated. “She tole me her name, and I tole her mine.”
“Is that so?” Jacob said. “And then what?”
“She ast me did I live all alone by myself up in thet tree.”
“Do tell?” Jacob said. “And then what?”
“She ast me did I keer to git a little lovin.”
“Golly moses,” Jacob said. “And then what?”
“I tole her I never had none afore.”
“Indeedy,” Jacob said. “And then what?”
“Aw…” Noah protested. “You know.”
“Naw, I caint imagine,” Jacob declared. “Tell me.”
So Noah told him, in some hesitant detail, which we may omit here, how Virdie Boatright succeeded in an undertaking which any woman other than she could never have accomplished. It was not easy, and it was not quick. But Noah’s half-century of virginity was sacrificed, or, if that is not the word, expropriated, or, if that is not the word, it was dispossessed; in any case, for that one time in his life at least, he didn’t have it anymore.
“What’d it feel like?” Jacob wanted to know.
“Shitfire,” Noah said.
“Wal?” Jacob persisted. “What did it feel like?”
“That’s it,” Noah said. “Shitfire. It felt like shitfire.”
“Oh,” Jacob said.
In the days following, bits of war news trickled into Stay More: the Confederate Army of Arkansas had boldly invaded Missouri and defeated the Federal Army at Wilson’s Creek, but had retreated back into Arkansas, where, in the hills and valleys of Pea Ridge in northwestern Arkansas, it met again a regrouped and larger Federal Army, and, after several days of fierce fighting, was beaten, although it was rumored that the Rebels still considered themselves in full control of Arkansas. A few men from Limestone Valley claimed to have been involved on the Rebel side at Pea Ridge. So far as Jacob could tell, none of the men of Stay More were showing any signs of joining the Rebels. Not then, anyway. But they were clearly restless, particularly the younger men. Jacob felt pretty restless himself, and wondered if he was too old to enlist in the army.
The men of Stay More, including Jacob, began to exhibit open signs of their restlessness: they could be seen kicking fence posts, dogs, and even occasionally a small child. They each developed a nervous tic of smashing one fist into the palm of the other hand. They swore more often than usual. Whittling was no longer therapeutic enough, although they denuded the forests with their whittling. Soon the younger men began fighting one another with their hands and teeth. Jacob’s sense of community responsibility never deserted him, and he attempted to organize energetic games of Base Ball to channel the aggressive energy of the men, but, as referee of the games, he often found himself losing his temper and kicking