JWPg1

Chapter 1

May 1861

"Fight!"

Jordan Sinclair rushed towards the crowd surrounding the mercantile window and squeezed his way to the front.
Sure enough, two men he didn't recognize were wrestling in the dirt, shouting words he had certainly heard
before, but wouldn't dare say out loud. Blood spurted from the smaller man's nose as his face took blow after
blow.

"Alright, Oscar," Mr. O'Malley said as he pulled the larger man off the smaller one. "That ain't going to solve
anything."

The smaller man got one good punch in before another man from the crowd grabbed his arms.

"Everyone needs to go about their business," Mr. O'Malley called out. The crowd slowly started to disperse.
Of course he'd say that. He owned the mercantile and if everyone was standing outside watching two grown men
roll around in the dirt, then there was no one inside buying anything. Jordan looked around for any sign of his
father, Finnian and his brother, Eamon but didn't see them. They must still be inside lollygagging, Jordan
thought as he walked back to the wagon to finish loading the feed.

Lazy bums! He grumbled nonstop as he hoisted sack after heavy sack onto the back of the wagon. He was mad
and he didn't care who saw him, not that anyone was paying him any mind anyway as most everyone was still
gathered around the store window. His grunting, stomping, and the way he kept slamming the sacks hard
enough to shake the wagon, didn't disturb anyone except the horses, who were working up quite a foam.

Their trip off the isolated mountain to the small town of Renick took all morning and now he was doing all the
work by himself. Pa and Eamon were off with the other grownups, probably in one of the back rooms discussing
whatever was going on. It must be something really important because Jordan was the only one loading
anything, even though there must have been ten other wagons sitting out in front of O'Malley's Mercantile.

He wiped a stream of dirty sweat flecked with hayseed from the side of his face and stretched his neck to see if
he could see Pa or Eamon anywhere. There was no sign of them, but he did spot a rain barrel next to the
building, partially hidden behind a blooming goldenrod. He grabbed a bucket for the horses and trotted over for
a taste, making a point to whistle a bit too loud and swing the bucket back and forth just a little too high. No
one noticed him as their eyes, attention and conversation were drawn to the notice tacked inside the filthy
glass.

The muscles in his back and legs ached, almost too much these days for a spry lad of twelve although the cool
water did quench his thirst for the time being.

He dipped the bucket and walked back to the wagon, slopping water down his leg. The horses seemed parched
and drank as far down in the bucket as their large snouts would fit. He had to make another trip.

Doggone it! He was going over there to see what all that commotion was about. The crowd was now three deep,
and what few women were there kept dabbing their eyes with their handkerchiefs. A few of men whispered
amongst themselves so that Jordan could only tell by their expressions that something was amiss, but most of
them were either enthusiastically cheering or vehemently cursing President Lincoln.

Jordan attempted to wedge his way through them, but after catching more than one elbow to his cheek, he gave
up and stood where he could hopefully hear what was going on. He could make no sense from all the sobs,
whispers and swearing so he sulked back to the wagon, still not knowing what all of the ruckus was about. The
wagon shook as he plopped himself on top of the feed sacks and after digging his finger through the weave of
the fabric, he picked out a loose kernel of corn to chew on while he waited.

The sun was shining bright overhead and if they didn't get moving soon, it would be well after dark before they
got home. Ma would be worried something awful, but she fretted so much these days, it seemed normal.

Jordan didn't mind the darkness as he loved the mountains at night - the stars, the moon, the smell of pine, the
silence disturbed only by the faint footsteps of a curious bobcat and especially the feeling of being the only
person on earth.

The mid-afternoon heat soon ripped the last ounce of energy from him and his eyelids felt heavier and heavier
until he could no longer muster the strength to keep them open.

"Wake up sleepy head," Pa said and smacked him on the leg. The wagon shook as Finnian and Eamon climbed
into the front.

"I wasn't asleep," Jordan said. "Just got bored waiting for you that's all. I loaded this all myself." His voice
reflected a tinge of pride.

"I see that," Pa said. "I always said a little hard work wouldn't hurt you."

"A little help from ya'll wouldn't have hurt me either," Jordan retorted with just enough sting to get his point
across, but not quite hateful enough to get the strap taken to his backside when he got home for being a smart
mouth.

"Take this," Eamon said and handed Jordan a jar wrapped with layers of dusty brown burlap.

Jordan stuffed it between two sacks so it wouldn't break during the bumpy ride home.