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"Can I have a sip?" Jordan asked.

"Grandma will skin you alive if you even take a sniff," Eamon answered.

"Bet you had a drink when no one was watching," Jordan teased.

"Did not," Eamon said. His face turned red.

"Make sure that jar don't break," Pa warned. "She'll send us back right back here tomorrow for another."

"I got it," Jordan said.

Eamon held a small brown parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. Jordan knew exactly what was
in it - Grandma's tealeaves. Folks on the mountain said that Hattie McCoy could see the future in those leaves
and every pregnant girl within ten miles, every women with a straying husband or unruly children and every man
with a failed crop would come to call with a small gift of salted ham, pieces of cloth or a poke of coffee - and
ask her to read for them. She'd put those leaves in her special cup and saucer and have them stir it.

Supposedly, the way the leaves pointed would reveal some unknown truth or future. Ma said there was gypsy
blood running through her veins and called what she did a gift. Jordan saw her blood once when she cut her
finger and it didn't look any different than his. He didn't know whether or not to believe it all, but it was
Grandma's healing that got them through many harsh winters, so no one in the family poked fun at her.

Jordan was never allowed to watch the ritual so he never knew if she was right or wrong. There was one time,
when he was younger, he hid in the pantry and peered beneath the gap between the floor and a curtain.
A distraught woman came to visit and stirred the leaves while Grandma studied them and the woman. She
closed her eyes and her body froze, as if it were empty of her soul. Jordan watched for a solid two minutes until
Ma discovered his hiding place. From then on, Jordan swore that if anyone in the family was a seer, it was
definitely his ma.

Finnian took the worn leather reins and gave them a solid snap. The horses swaggered as they pulled the heavy
wagon onto the trail.

Jordan sat in the back and watched acres and acres of farms pass. He knew the names of most of the folks in
the valley but was never invited to supper or anything. Ma said valley folk thought they were better than
mountain folk but all they were was sinners.

After a few miles, the rolling farmland all but disappeared and endless forests surrounded them. The budding
green haze on the trees faded to gray as they descended up the mountain passage. Even though it was the first
of May, it would be at least another two weeks before the trees up this high would burst into bloom.

He was still a little miffed because the way Pa and Eamon left him alone earlier and he moved from one side of
the wagon to the other just like some excited dog. It bothered him even more that neither Pa nor Eamon had
mentioned one word about the notice or what everyone was so concerned about. He hated when they treated
him like a child and couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"What'd that paper say?" he asked.

Finnian broke off a piece of tobacco from a larger brick and shoved it in his jaw and handed the block to Eamon
who did the same.

"It says we aren't part of this here United States anymore," Pa said.

"Is that what those men were fighting about?"

"Yep," Pa answered.

"How can that be?" Jordan asked.

"Says we're seceding," Eamon snapped.

"What's that mean?" Jordan asked.

"Quit asking so many darn questions," Eamon said.

"Shut up Eamon. I had to load the danged wagon all by myself because you hauled your lazy behind off with Pa."

He could be just as cantankerous as his older brother and besides, why shouldn't he know what was going on
around here?

"It don't mean anything to us," Pa answered. "Fields still need to be plowed, sheep still needs to be sheared, and
hay still needs to be cut. Now quit arguing or you'll both walk home."

Why'd we do that? Secede?" Jordan asked, his tongue stumbling to form the strange word.

"I suppose some folks are tired of Lincoln telling them what to do," Pa said.

"What's he making them do that they don't want to?"

"Some rich folks don't want to give up their slaves," Pa explained. "President Lincoln says they have to."

"Have you ever seen a slave, Pa?" Jordan asked. "Nate told me he saw one in Hillsboro awhile back. Said he was
black as molasses."

"Can't you just be quiet?" Eamon asked.