JWPg3

Jordan stuck his tongue out at him.

"Once," Pa said. "About ten years back, down around Lewisburg."

"What was he like?"

"She was just a girl. Big girl, but young. Not fat either, very stout," Pa said.

"Who was she with?" Jordan asked.

"Some woman in a fancy dress. They was buying fabric."

Jordan stopped talking. He couldn't think of any more questions even though he'd love to keep bothering Eamon.
He stared over the side of the wagon and scanned the woodland for deer, but the rattle from the hitch probably
scared them miles away.

"What's going to happen now?" Jordan asked.

"There's going to be a war," Eamon blurted out. "Now will you shut up."

"That ain't true!" Jordan yelled.

"Is too," Eamon argued.

A war! Vivid images of smartly dressed soldiers marching in rows to battle flooded Jordan's mind all courtesy of
a single sketch in one of his schoolbooks that he'd never forgotten. Other than that, he wouldn't know what a
soldier even looked like. He leaned back and lost himself in the cadence of the drum roll for a few moments
before returning to the conversation.

"Are you going to fight Pa?" Jordan asked.

"I'm staying out of this one," Pa said. "I'm getting too old."

"What about Eamon?"

"Can't till I'm eighteen," Eamon explained.

"Are you going to go fight when you're eighteen?"

"The war will be over by then," Pa said. "Now no more talk about this. You'll just be scaring the women."

"Yes sir," Jordan said. He leaned back and sulked. Not talk about it? This was the biggest thing that's happened
around here for ages. His thoughts drifted to the war and to the soldiers. He hoped he got to see one before
this was all over - a soldier other than Eamon.

A shadow moved, up ahead in the trees and Jordan tugged on Pa's shirt.

"I see it," Pa whispered and slowed the horses. Jordan climbed up and leaned on the back of the bench in
between Pa and Eamon. He kept his eyes on the spot where he first saw something move.

Three horses emerged out of the blue haze of the forest and down the pass towards them and it took a moment
for Jordan to recognize the riders. It was those mean Vander boys - Luke, Avery, and Charlie. Their guns were
strapped to their horses and all of them carried a bed roll.

The Vanders were considered trash, even by mountain standards, and no one ever crossed them. Luke, Avery,
and Charlie were the oldest of ten children, all of them ornery as sin. The shear number of them was enough to
frighten anyone. Charlie was the youngest of these three, only a few months older than Eamon. Although Jordan
never heard of any concrete evidence to link the Vanders to any mischief, every time something came up
missing or a fence got torn down, one could bet the Vanders would get blamed. They kept to pretty much to
themselves and didn't even bother with Church meetings on Sunday which didn't sit well with decent,
God-fearing folks.

"A little late in the day to be heading off the mountain," Finnian called out and pulled back a little on the reins
to stop the horses.

Luke was leading the others and stopped his horse right beside Pa.

"You see the notice at Renick?" Luke asked and grinned. His teeth were gray, shaded by black rot around the
edges, which was odd for someone barely twenty, even in these parts. Jordan couldn't help but stare.

"Yep, I seen it."

"We're heading to Lewisburg to sign up," Luke said then turned his attention to Jordan, who was still gawking at
his mouth. "What are you looking at?"

Jordan jumped to the other side of the wagon.

"You ain't going to make it there before dark," Finnian said.

"I know that," Luke said. He seemed a little perturbed. "We got victuals. We're going to ride as far as we can,
then camp. Going to be there first thing in the morning."

"Ain't Charlie too young?" Eamon asked.

"I'm sixteen," Charlie chimed in.