Wili

The discussion was not hostile but it was certainly animated. Most of the troopers stood by grinning. They didn't understand a word but they knew Wili. His intransigence was almost endearing. Wili was a bright, cute child with a benevolent personality but also one who definitely knew his mind. He wasn't surly or combative in encounters such as this but he was steadfast and the irony of five foot, ninety pound Wili challenging the six foot, two hundred pound Siegfried provided jovial amusement and relieved the ennui of the travel-weary troopers. For several minutes, there was considerable doubt as to who would prevail, Wili or Siegfried.

A somewhat truncated translation of the German exchange went something like this.

"No I won't!"

"Yes you will!"

"No I won't!"

"Yes you will!"

"No I won't!"

"Look, Wili, if you want to get back to your mama and papa in two days, we don't have time to stop and soothe your sore bottom. Now put on those pants and get on this horse behind me!"

"But, Siegfried, britches make me feel like I'm still in that storm cellar."

"God, if I was like you when I was eleven, no wonder my Papa warmed my bottom so often.

"Look around you. Does this look like a storm cellar?"

"Well, I won't!"

"Wili, you are a wonderful teacher. I never understood until right now why my papa was so quick to warm my bottom. If I was anything at all like you are right now, I understand completely.

"I'll tell you what. You're going to put those pants on. If you keep fussing with me, pants or no pants you're going to have a sore bottom. And it won't be one from riding bare-assed on a horse-sweat soaked coarse saddle blanket. It will be from some firm whacks of my hand."

Siegfried had been Wili's teacher long enough for Wili to know the limits of the man's patience. They were now at the outer edge of those limits so after some thoughtful hesitation, designed to let Siegfried know that he would cooperate but that he was doing so under duress, he petulantly pulled on the britches, took Siegfried's extended arm and swung onto the horse. "I'm going to tell my Papa."

"Good and your Papa will thank me. If I let you ride bare-assed, your mama would probably take a lacrosse stick to me and maybe one to your already sore bottom."

Wili knew that Siegfried was right and he wasn't angry but - he was Wili so he sulked for an hour just to let Siegfried know that it was his superior size, not the logic of his argument that had engendered compliance.

The lieutenant had planned to return to Denver but quickly acquiesced to Wili's piteous pleas that he get back to his Papa and Mama. His sergeant was a crusty old former army scout during the Indian wars and could probably find his way to something as tiny as a mosquito in the middle of a dessert in a sand storm. Siegfried was a good man but a childhood in Munich had not given him the prairie sense needed to get Wili back to the village. The lieutenant sent the sergeant with Siegfried and Wili then headed back to Denver with the rest of the troopers.

Siegfried was relieved when the lieutenant sent the sergeant to guide them back. Siegfried felt that he could eventually get them back safely. But Wili's Broken Bough elementary trailing education had given the boy more confidence than his limited knowledge warranted and the thought of debating every change of direction or prairie anomaly with Wili was not comforting. After all, Siegfried was German also. If he had to endure a persistent two-day debate with Wili, he wasn't sure that he could get the boy back to his family completely sound of life and limb.

A plethora of nouns, verbs, adverbs, adjectives and assorted other parts of speech and rhetorical devices, regardless of how well assembled, could not capture the relief and jubilation of that family reunion. But it was more than family. Wili was New Heart, a member of the White Buffalo Calf Clan, and the tears in the eyes of the tough, stoic old Broken Bough and the entire village, traditional or Christian, spontaneously joining Keechee in a spirit dance of thankfulness are probably as eloquent a description as can be made.

Wili's papa was holding him, dancing and alternately hugging the boy and swinging him around. It all happened so fast and Wili was ecstatic but he couldn't see his mama and he wanted to go into their cabin and be alone with his family. As tough as Wili was, he knew there was a lot more hugging and crying to be done. Wili wasn't a crier but relief and happiness need more eloquent expression than dancing and laughter.

As Wili and his papa entered, the boy was accosted by three very happy little girls. When the hugging and kissing was done, Wili still hadn't seen his mama. "Where's Mama?"

The girls giggled and Abraham said, "Mama's got a surprise for you."

Fern came into the room with a blanket wrapped bundle in her arms. Wili knew immediately what it was. "We got the baby and I wasn't home to see it."

Fern sat and it was she who Wili hugged first. She had a baby in her and the baby came and his mama was still here. He hugged hard and got his kisses. Kissing was a thing Wili had taught the family. It was just better than touching foreheads.

"Don't you want to see your brother?"

In his joy at seeing his mama alive and healthy, he almost forgot the baby. "Brother?"

Dieter Red Fox was a month old. Wili tenderly held his brother with tears running down his cheeks. "You named him for my first papa?"

His mama answered. "Your first papa gave us a wonderful son. Your brother will have no Indian name except that of your second papa. God gave this baby boy so we could honor both your papas."

"Thank you, Mama. It feels like my baby brother made my two families just one."

He gently kissed his baby brother and then had to give him back to his Mama. The emotion that he had so firmly controlled during the dance and while he held his brother could be controlled no longer. He was Indian and he was German but right now he had to be German. He held fast to his Papa and sobbed out his anguish, his fear, his relief and his joy. The vignette was repeated with his Mama. The girls cried with him and joined the hugs. It was all right for a German to show his emotions and tonight he had to be German. Tomorrow he'd be an Indian and then he'd run.

As soon as he got the good news from his troopers, John Reid had wanted to go to the village. John wanted to see and hug Wili but he also wanted desperately to show off his new son. Declan had brought him so much joy. The boy was definitely a joy but his heritage occasionally seeped out and, rarely now, gushed out. Declan's outbursts were still cute but he was working hard to control them. That's what his pa wanted and he did so love his pa.

But that trip had to be put off. John had received a letter from the Secretary of War. He was to be in Washington by June 20. Short notice - only a month and a half away. Declan was still in school and he wasn't going to leave the boy. He'd have only a week to get to Washington but the railroad would get him there in plenty of time. What was this about? John was sure he was not being transferred. They would have sent a replacement before calling him away. Was there some problem with his Indians?

He notified his mother and sent a letter to a firm in Barre, Vermont. She could easily come down to Washington and they'd get to visit without anyone in Strasburg being any the wiser. He had no idea how long he would be required to stay in Washington but he was sure it would be long enough to get his mother down there. It was only ninety miles from Strasburg to Washington.

He would take Declan and Mrs. Bartlett. Declan was still very clinging and to be truthful, John didn't want to be away from the boy that long. Declan's sense of security was firming up and the boy could probably deal with John's absence but John's sense of loneliness was too recent so why take the chance of making both of them miserable?

John thought of stopping by the village on his way east but he wanted to stay more than just overnight. He wanted to give Declan a good taste of prairie life - of Indian life. He wanted Declan to meet and become friends with Wili, his other love. The thought crossed his mind that he would love to have Declan know Johnny but John forced that thought away. It could never happen and thinking about it hurt too much.

When they got to Washington, John wondered if it had been a good idea to bring Declan. The city petrified the boy. Declan's experience in cities as big as Washington had not been good and he did not want John out of his sight. While in the hotel, the boy was fine but when they went out to a restaurant for dinner, the boy clung trembling to his hand. John tried to reassure the boy but Declan was having none of it. Even after their food was served, Declan would not let go of his Pa's hand. John finally put the boy on his lap. John hadn't realized how big Declan had grown. It was awkward trying to reach around the boy to cut his steak. They did get through the meal and both Declan and he managed to get all the food inside rather than outside of their clothing.

The next morning was quite a different matter. He had hoped that Declan would allow Mrs. Bartlett to show him the sights but he would not leave the hotel and John left a howling boy being restrained by Mrs. Bartlett. It was heart-wrenching but John knew that it was something that had to be done. Not only had he been ordered to appear at the War Department but also because Declan needed to learn that he would not be abandoned, that his Pa would always return. He had repeatedly told the boy that but it would be the act of coming back, of taking the boy in his arms and hugging him that would assist in building the boy's sense of trust and security.

John was ushered into the office of Secretary of War, William W. Belknap. Secretary Belknap was seated at his desk. Standing to the Secretary's left was the commanding general of the entire U. S. Army, William T. Sherman.

Sherman was fiery by nature and blunt. He did not wait for his superior to introduce him. Of course, John knew who he was but protocol would have demanded that the Secretary of War first make an opening statement. Sherman, famous for his destructive March to the Sea did not stand on protocol.

"Reid," he barked, "You are ordered to accept a commission as a general officer. We are reorganizing and you will command the western zone. Your headquarters will remain in Denver but you will command everything west of the Mississippi, north of the 37th parallel west to the Nevada eastern border."

"General, I will accept on one condition...."

"You are ordered to accept!"

"With due respect, Sir, you will accept my condition or I will tender my resignation from the army."

Sherman was not accustomed to being challenged. "You would desert your country?"

"I do not think it unreasonable to ask that you hear me out, Sir. I do not wish to leave the army but you must promise me that, should I accept the commission, no formal announcement be made."

"Are you mad? It is a great honor to be a General Officer in the army of this great nation."

"It is indeed, Sir, but if you will hear me out, I believe you will understand my condition."

Sherman was angry. His face was nearly as red as his hair. "Colonel, I have given you an order!"

Secretary Belknap who had become adept at quenching the General's fire very deferentially but firmly said, "General, if you please, I would like to hear the Colonel out."

John told his story. Even the General was obviously moved.

Secretary Belknap said, "We can do the ceremony without press. We have congressional approval to appoint whomever we choose. We are to notify them of our choice but they have put no deadline as to when that notification should come.

"I'm quite sure that we can keep it out of the Congressional Record and the press here but someone is sure to pick it up somewhere and it will get to Pennsylvania. We need you and will do our best but cannot promise that your appointment will not become public."

"If it should become public knowledge, will you please not make my record available? I do believe that Dora and my son, Johnny, will think it another John Reid."

"We can do that but you know newspaper people. Regardless of how hard we try, they have ways of finding things out."

Sherman had remained silent really longer than he could bear. "Stand-up, Colonel! I will pin the star on your uniform."

Again, very deferentially, Secretary Belknap said, "General, you are no longer in the field. This, Sir, is Washington. The President wishes to be present. The ceremony will be tomorrow in this office at 10:00 AM."

"Damn. I hate ceremonies. This is the army, not some fancy lace party." William Tecumseh Sherman stormed out of the office with almost the same fury with which he had burned Atlanta.

When John got back to the hotel, his mother had arrived. Declan didn't know what to make of her. He was still crying loudly and giving Mrs. Bartlett a real problem. Sadie Reid picked him up, hugged him and firmly said, "Is your name Declan Reid?"

The tone of her voice got the boy's attention. A startled, somewhat apprehensive look on his face, he nodded.

"Do you know who I am?"

Declan nodded. John had pictures of her and Declan recognized her as his "grandma." He knew that Grandma was his Pa's mama. He had some faint understanding that a grandma was a good thing to have. But, right now, he wasn't so sure.

"A Reid doesn't carry on like that. Now you stop that crying and go tell Mrs. Bartlett you're sorry!"

Declan did. He was still anxious about his Pa but also got the strong impression that it would be wise to do what his Grandma said.

When John returned Declan clung to him. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back."

"I have always come back and I always will come back. I leave you with Mrs. Bartlett in Denver."

"But Washington is big and scary like New York. I want to go back to Denver and I want to see the Indians."

"We have to stay in Washington one more day and then where did I say we were going?"

"To Georgia. Why do we have to go to Georgia?"

"You know why."

"For Paddy, right?"

"That's right. We want Paddy to have a decent grave don't we?"

"Yes, sir. Pa, if you didn't love Paddy would you have got me?"

"Oh, yes I would have. You just have to love little red-headed Irishmen."

John grabbed and tickled the boy and that musical giggle filled the room. Sadie shed a tear. John had found some happiness and someone to love.

Declan loved his fancy dress-up suit. A jacket, necktie, knickers, knee-length stockings and high-button shoes were high fashion for nine-year-old boys in the 1870s. He always got to wear them to church but this wasn't Sunday. Both John and Mrs. Bartlett had schooled him thoroughly as to proper behavior at such an auspicious occasion but Declan did not stand on protocol. When Secretary Belknap was placing the proper insignia on John's uniform, Declan walked over to President Grant and asked, "What's that guy doing to my Pa?"

That got a general chuckle. General Sherman was not amused but then, not much amused him.

After the pomp and saluting were completed, the president sat in the Secretary's chair and pulled Declan onto his lap. He explained the proceedings and told the boy that his Pa was a very important man. Declan's response was, "Well, I know that!"

The President chuckled. "You have a good judge of character, there, General Reid."

"Thank you, Mr. President and thank you for coming."

"I wouldn't have missed it. You were my most trusted aide when I had Sherman's job. I understand why you wouldn't take the commission before but we needed you. And - you've got quite a boy here. It's good to see you happy. You were always pleasant but it was not hard to tell that you were carrying some heavy burdens."

"Thank you, Sir. The burdens are not all gone but my little fire-ball is so full of love and joy that he makes the others lighter."

"Will you ever make yourself known to your son?"

"I just don't know, Sir. As long as his mother is alive, I think not."

"You have sacrificed more for your country than most."

"Some gave their lives, Sir."

"Yes, I know, but you have given your happiness. I'm not sure life is worth much without happiness. How did you do it?"

"It wasn't always easy but if you keep pressing on, sometimes you get a little red-headed ball of fire." John picked Declan from President Grant's lap and hugged him tight.

Declan had no concept of the import of The Presidency. The only thing he knew was that guy whose lap he sat on was a nice man.

Sadie went with them to Georgia. Atlanta still was partly a blackened ruin but the red clay and the peach and pine trees of the countryside were pleasant.

John had arranged accommodations in Ellaville, eleven miles to the north and west of the Andersonville site. Less than ten years after the war, a Yankee General was not particularly welcome anywhere in the south but Sadie soon had the landlady won over and the stay became quite enjoyable. The food, of course, was wonderful. Annalou Johnson, the landlady, Sadie and Mrs. Bartlett fell right into a typical middle-aged women's chitchat. They sat on the veranda, drank sweet tea, fanned themselves and passed a very pleasant afternoon.

John explained his mission to Annalou. She softened slightly toward him when told of Paddy and sent her "boy" - actually a fifty year old man - to harness the mule, hitch the wagon and take John and Declan wherever they wanted to go. John asked if Jack had a shovel, a hammer and a pry bar. He did and they took those items with them.

John's first stop was the train station to see if any freight had arrived for him. Jack helped John load the heavy crate onto the wagon. Jack drove them toward where John thought Paddy's grave might be.

As mentioned, Ellaville was north and west of the Andersonville site. It seemed to John that he and Paddy had moved in that direction the night they made their escape. John saw nothing that looked familiar. They went to what had been the gate through which they had escaped and John tried to retrace his route that awful evening. He had no success. There just was no stand of pines. John had the fearful thought that the pines might have been cut down and he would never find Paddy's grave.

Jack finally said, "Sur, I don't wants to be no uppity nigga buttin' in yo business but did you tell me what yo lookin' for, might be I could hep ya'll."

"I was a prisoner here and I escaped with a young boy...."

"You de Yankee wit the red-hair baby, ain't yo?"

"Yes. Were you one of the men who helped me that night?"

"No, Sur, I weren't but all da niggas here 'bouts know 'bout you an dat baby.

"Do dat baby be de one in Jesus' arms brotha? He sho got red hair." Jack gestured toward Declan.

"In a way, yes. Do you know where Paddy's grave is?"

"Dat baby's name was Paddy?"

"Yes."

"I knows. Reckon dark as it were couldn't figure which way you goin. You didn't come toward Ellaville. You goed straight toward da drinkin' gourd. I carry you there."

After a short drive, a stand of pine trees came into view. John's heart started to pound. He wasn't sure this was the same stand but it was a stand of pines and it brought back powerful emotions. Tears began to flow from his eyes.

"You sad, Pa?" Declan asked anxiously.

"I'm thinking about Paddy."

"If I died would you cry for me like you do for Paddy?"

"You know I would but don't even suggest that. I don't think I'd cry long. I think I'd die too."

"You love me, don't you Pa?"

John's emotions were getting away from him. He had to break the tension. "Naw - who'd love a skinny kid with brown spots all over him." He grabbed Declan and tickled him.

When Declan could stop giggling, he panted out "Yes you do. Say it, Pa. Say you love me."

"What do you think, Jack? Would you love a little spotted, red-headed imp like this?"

Jack understood the teasing. "Don't know nothin' 'bout no imp but do dem brown spots all come together and he be brown all over, reckon I could love him red hair or no. Love him way he be but can't love him like you do, Sur. Ain't fittin' a nigga love a white boy like a son."

"Well I don't know why not but you can't have this one. He's mine." More tickling and giggling.

Declan tried to tickle back. "You got to say it, Pa. Say you love me."

"You love me."

"Not that. You know what I mean."

John took Declan in his arms. "I shouldn't have to say it. You know I love you."

Declan took on a pensive air. "I know you do but I like to hear you say it."

Several times as they had traveled, Jack motioned someone from a field and whispered to them. John wondered about it but felt it not his business. Had Jack wanted him to know, he wouldn't have whispered.

It was the right stand of pine trees. This time there was no holding back. John burst into tears. A neatly painted white fence surrounded a bed of flowers. It was Paddy's grave. John wouldn't have known the landmarks. Trees had grown and fields plowed. There was cotton where there had been war neglected fields. And, there were flowers where there had been that small mound of red clay that had haunted John's memory for eight years.

When he had regained some composure, John could only say in a kind of wonder, "You kept up Paddy's grave."

"Dat ole preacher man, Amos, say, 'We ain't gonna forget dat baby. He die tryin' to hep set niggas free.'"

"But why Paddy?

"Ole Amos say dat Yankee love dat baby and say 'Whole lot of livin' and lovin' left in dat baby.' Ole Amos say dat baby doin' his livin' and lovin' in Jesus' arms but need to be some livin' and lovin' here. Ole Amos say all da niggas gonna love dat baby an keep de livin' on his las bed. We goin' keep dem flowers livin'."

As John knelt beside the grave he heard singing. People seemed to be coming from every direction singing:

"The soul that on Jesus does lean for repose,
I will not, I will not forsake to his foes.
That soul though all hell shall endeavor to shake
I'll never, no never, no never forsake."

John had never heard the hymn sung in quite that style. It was now more a spiritual than a hymn. Style aside, John had never heard it sung with more feeling or - more meaning.

The singers formed a circle around the grave. There must have been thirty or forty of them. After singing the "code" verse, they started with the first verse:

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord
Is laid for your faith in his excellent word...

John, Declan at his side, was kneeling beside the grave. He was weeping softly but also feeling a sense of what could only be called Divine calm. He would never understand why Paddy had to die but he now knew that Paddy's love had touched more than him. People who could have hated had been touched by Paddy's love. The boy Paddy had died but the love that was Paddy was alive and producing more love. Paddy had not lived and died in vain. That awful eight year memory of that little body disappearing under red clay could now be replaced by thoughts of loving people and beautiful flowers. There would always be sadness for Paddy but now, perhaps, John could live more with the beauty of the boy's love than with the horror of his death.

John sensed the circle opening and heard the plop of hooves, the squeal of wet leather, the clank of chains and the rumble of wheels on the hard red clay. He looked up to see another mule and wagon. The wagon held a single wooden chair. In the chair, surrounded by pillows and blankets - much more feeble looking but still stately - sat the old parson. His face had the same expression of calm wisdom.

He slowly raised his hand and the singing faded to silence. "You come back to be wit yo baby. I telled da peoples yo would. We been waitin'. When Jack send word, many as could come.

"We comes here ever year on the day we put dat baby in Jesus' arms. We sing dat white man's song. Dat white man what wrote down dem words must'a had some nigga in him. He knowd how to tell da Gospel so a nigga can feel it in his bones. Lot of nigga songs tell how things be better in heaven. Dis song tell don't make no matter how thing's is here, de Lord ain't gonna forsake us. It tell heaven ain't de onlyest place de Lord is. He here by our side and he ain't leavin'.

"Dis baby die wit a smile on his face. I still 'members dat smile. Could dat baby die smilin' den we can live smilin'. He come out dat awful place. Niggas lived some awful lives. De book say, learn to be happy where you is. Don't mean don't try to make it better but mean wilst you tryin', know da Lord ain't forsaked yo. Yo can come out of a awful place and live or die smilin'. Dis baby help us 'member dat. Dat why we come"

The old parson motioned toward Declan. "See yo got yo another baby. Tell by lookin' ain't yo son. Yo don't get him in no prison. Where you get him?"

John told Declan's story.

"Yo a fine Christian man. De book say be like Jesus. Yo like Jesus. Yo loves de little chillins."

The parson nodded and the group started singing again. This time a lively spiritual. That's how it should be. This "awful place" should also be a place of smiling, a place of joy. John had tried to live his "awful place" with a smile.

John stood and walked over to the old parson. He lifted Declan onto the wagon then climbed on himself. He knelt beside the old man and tried to think of something appropriate to say. The old man stroked Declan's hair and while the boy didn't understand everything the old man had said, he sensed that it had been profound. Words didn't come so John expressed his feelings with an embrace.

John walked toward Jack's wagon with some better understandings. He wasn't completely sure what they were. He just knew that it would be easier now to live life with a smile. That old parson had to be the wisest man he'd ever known.

When Jack realized that John was prying open the crate with the bar, he picked up the hammer to help. It was everything John hoped it would be. When he had sent the order to Barre, Vermont, he had asked for an appropriate grave marker for a boy's grave. Several of the men helped set the stone in place and tamp the dirt tight around it.

John had thought long and hard about what to put on the stone. After what the parson had said, he knew he had chosen the right words.

He stood at the foot of the grave, his arm around Declan's shoulder. It was right. The stand of pines, the white fence, the flowers and the gray marble stone with the inscription: