Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come

John Fox Jr.

Description

Growing up alone as an orphan is never easy no matter what the circumstances, but imagine the chaos and confusion of having the foster family you've cobbled together -- the only stability you've ever known -- torn to bits amidst the destruction of the Civil War. That's the fate that befalls protagonist Chadwick Buford in The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come, the second volume of John Fox Jr.'s acclaimed Mountain Trilogy. Will Chad be able to reunite with his makeshift family -- and his beloved fiancee - after the war?

Sujets

• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775561835
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME
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JOHN FOX JR.
 
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The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come First published in 1898 ISBN 978-1-77556-183-5 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter 1 - Two Runaways from Lonesome Chapter 2 - Fighting Their Way Chapter 3 - A "Blab School" on Kingdom Come Chapter 4 - The Coming of the Tide Chapter 5 - Out of the Wilderness Chapter 6 - Lost at the Capital Chapter 7 - A Friend on the Road Chapter 8 - Home with the Major Chapter 9 - Margaret Chapter 10 - The Bluegrass Chapter 11 - A Tournament Chapter 12 - Back to Kingdom Come Chapter 13 - On Trial for His Life Chapter 14 - The Major in the Mountains Chapter 15 - To College in the Bluegrass Chapter 16 - Again the Bar Sinister Chapter 17 - Chadwick Buford, Gentleman Chapter 18 - The Spirit of '76 and the Shadow of '61 Chapter 19 - The Blue or the Gray Chapter 20 - Off to the War Chapter 21 - Melissa Chapter 22 - Morgan's Men Chapter 23 - Chad Captures an Old Friend Chapter 24 - A Race Between Dixie and Dawn Chapter 25 - After Daws Dillon—Guerilla Chapter 26 - Brother Against Brother at Last Chapter 27 - At the Hospital of Morgan's Men Chapter 28 - Pall-Bearers of the Lost Cause Chapter 29 - Melissa and Margaret Chapter 30 - Peace Chapter 31 - The Westward Way
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To CURRIE DUKE DAUGHTER OF THE CHIEF AMONG MORGAN'S MEN
KENTUCKY, APRIL, 1898
Chapter 1 - Two Runaways from Lonesome
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The days of that April had been days of mist and rain. Sometimes, forhours, there would come a miracle of blue sky, white cloud, and yellowlight, but always between dark and dark the rain would fall and themist creep up the mountains and steam from the tops—only to rolltogether from either range, drip back into the valleys, and lift,straightway, as mist again. So that, all the while Nature was trying togive lustier life to every living thing in the lowland Bluegrass, allthe while a gaunt skeleton was stalking down the Cumberland—tappingwith fleshless knuckles, now at some unlovely cottage of faded whiteand green, and now at a log cabin, stark and gray. Passing the mouth ofLonesome, he flashed his scythe into its unlifting shadows and wentstalking on. High up, at the source of the dismal little stream, thepoint of the shining blade darted thrice into the open door of a cabinset deep into a shaggy flank of Black Mountain, and three spirits,within, were quickly loosed from aching flesh for the long flight intothe unknown.
It was the spirit of the plague that passed, taking with it the breathof the unlucky and the unfit: and in the hut on Lonesome three weredead—a gaunt mountaineer, a gaunt daughter, and a gaunt son. Later,the mother, too, "jes' kind o' got tired," as little Chad said, andsoon to her worn hands and feet came the well-earned rest. Nobody wasleft then but Chad and Jack, and Jack was a dog with a belly to feedand went for less than nothing with everybody but his little master andthe chance mountaineer who had sheep to guard. So, for the fourth time,Chad, with Jack at his heels, trudged up to the point of a wooded spurabove the cabin, where, at the foot of a giant poplar and under awilderness of shaking June leaves, were three piles of rough boards,loosely covering three hillocks of rain-beaten earth; and, near them,an open grave. There was no service sung or spoken over the dead, forthe circuit-rider was then months away; so, unnoticed, Chad stoodbehind the big poplar, watching the neighbors gently let down into theshallow trench a home-made coffin, rudely hollowed from the half of abee-gum log, and, unnoticed, slipped away at the first muffled strokeof the dirt—doubling his fists into his eyes and stumbling against thegnarled bodies of laurel and rhododendron until, out in a clear sunnyspace, he dropped on a thick, velvet mat of moss and sobbed himself tosleep. When he awoke, Jack was licking his face and he sat up, dazedand yawning. The sun was dropping fast, the ravines were filling withblue shadows, luminous and misty, and a far drowsy tinkling from thevalley told him that cows were starting homeward. From habit, he sprangquickly to his feet, but, sharply conscious on a sudden, dropped slowlyback to the moss again, while Jack, who had started down the spur,circled back to see what the matter was, and stood with uplifted foot,much puzzled.
There had been a consultation about Chad early that morning among theneighbors, and old Nathan Cherry, who lived over on Stone Creek, in thenext cove but one, said that he would take charge of the boy. Nathandid not wait for the burial, but went back home for his wagon, leavingword that Chad was to stay all night with a neighbor and meet him atthe death-stricken cabin an hour by sun. The old man meant to have Chadbound to him for seven years by law—the boy had been told that—andNathan hated dogs as much as Chad hated Nathan. So the lad did not lielong. He did not mean to be bound out, nor to have Jack mistreated, andhe rose quickly and Jack sprang before him down the rocky path andtoward the hut that had been a home to both. Under the poplar, Jacksniffed curiously at the new-made grave, and Chad called him away sosharply that Jack's tail drooped and he crept toward his master, asthough to ask pardon for a fault of which he was not conscious. For onemoment, Chad stood looking. Again the stroke of the falling earth smotehis ears and his eyes filled; a curious pain caught him by the throatand he passed on, whistling—down into the shadows below to the opendoor of the cabin.
It was deathly still. The homespun bedclothes and hand-made quilts ofbrilliant colors had been thrown in a heap on one of the two beds ofhickory withes; the kitchen utensils—a crane and a few pots andpans—had been piled on the hearth, along with strings of herbs andbeans and red pepper-pods—all ready for old Nathan when he should comeover for them, next morning, with his wagon. Not a living thing was tobe heard or seen that suggested human life, and Chad sat down in thedeepening loneliness, watching the shadows rise up the green walls thatbound him in, and wondering what he should do, and where he should go,if he was not to go to old Nathan; while Jack, who seemed to know thatsome crisis was come, settled on his haunches a little way off, towait, with perfect faith and patience, for the boy to make up his mind.
It was the first time, perhaps, that Chad had ever thought veryseriously about himself, or wondered who he was, or whence he had come.Digging back into his memory as far as he could, it seemed to him thatwhat had just happened now had happened to him once before, and that hehad simply wandered away. He could not recollect where he had startedfrom first, but he could recall many of the places where he had lived,and why he had left them—usually because somebody, like old Nathan,had wanted to have him bound out, or had misused Jack, or would not letthe two stray off into the woods together, when there was nothing elseto be done. He had stayed longest where he was now, because the old manand his son and his girl had all taken a great fancy to Jack, and hadlet the two guard cattle in the mountains and drive sheep and, if theystayed out in the woods over night, struck neither a stroke of hand nortongue. The old mother had been his mother and, once more, Chad leanedhis head against the worn lintel and wept silently. So far, nobody hadseemed to care particularly who he was, or was not—nor had Chad. Mostpeople were very kind to him, looking upon him as one of the wanderingwaifs that one finds throughout the Cumberland, upon whom the goodfolks of the mountains do not visit the father's sin. He knew what hewas thought to be, and it mattered so little, since it made nodiscrimination against him, that he had accepted it without question.It did not matter now, except as it bore on the question as to where heshould start his feet. It was a long time for him to have stayed in oneplace, and the roving memories, stirred within him now, took root,doubtless, in the restless spirit that had led his unknown ancestorinto those mountain wilds after the Revolution.
All this while he had been sitting on the low threshold, with hiselbows in the hollows of his thighs and his left hand across his mouth.Once more, he meant to be bound to no man's service and, at the finalthought of losing Jack, the liberty loving little tramp spat over hishand with sharp decision and rose.
Just above him and across the buck antlers over the door, lay a longflint-lock rifle; a bullet-pouch, a powder-horn, and a smallraccoon-skin haversack hung from one of the prongs: and on them theboy's eyes rested longingly. Old Nathan, he knew, claimed that the deadman had owed him money; and he further knew that old Nathan meant totake all he could lay his hands on in payment: but he climbedresolutely upon a chair and took the things down, arguing the question,meanwhile:
"Uncle Jim said once he aimed to give this rifle gun to me. Mebbe hewas foolin', but I don't believe he owed ole Nathan so much, an',anyways," he muttered grimly, "I reckon Uncle Jim ud kind o' like ferme to git the better of that ole devil—jes a LEETLE, anyways."
The rifle, he knew, was always loaded, there was not much powder in thehorn and there were not more than a dozen bullets in the pouch, butthey would last him until he could get far away. No more would he take,however, than what he thought he could get along with—one blanket fromthe b