Unconquered - Johnny Neil Smith

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on the bench and rested his head on his great grandfather’s lap. “World looks different down here looking up, Popee. Kinda hard to see up through your fuzzy white beard though. It looks like a briarpatch and your nose holes resembles some tunnels where trains come through puffing and clanking.”

      Pushing the boy’s hair out of his face, the old man replied. “You have some kind of imagination, boy. I used to like to daydream too.”

      Growing sleepy, Andy gazed up at the sky and pointed. “Popee, I can see all kind of things up there in those clouds. I think I see an elephant. No, it’s just an old bear, maybe.”

      Eyes closing, he mumbled, “Popee, would you tell me one of those stories about when you were a young man? One of those about the big war you fought in?”

      “Your Mama don’t like for me to tell about the war,” he replied, but thinking back he began to reminisce. “My life has been good in many ways, but there are things I want to forget. Things too painful to think about, much less speak about.”

      Glancing back down at Andy, he saw that the boy was sleeping soundly. “Sleep on young man. Chase your dreams, harness the rainbow, fight your battles and enjoy the life the good Lord has given you.”

      Looking up at the clouds, he could see himself as a youngster lying on a sandy creek bank listening to the water ripple across the rocks bringing fantasies tempting him to another kind of life. Shutting his eyes, it seemed that time had played a trick on him. The same sky full of puffy clouds had not changed at all. The sun was still up there laughing at him, tempting his patience. Thinking harder, he could vividly remember his days as a young man returning from a war that should have taken his life, only to find that his older brother had died up in Virginia and another had deserted the army and fled to the West. He remembered the pain of loosing the woman he had worshiped since childhood and finding his country devastated by four years of struggle for survival against overwhelming forces.

      It was a perilous time for the South. Home government was a thing of the past. The South lay conquered. The year was 1866.

      2

      HOPE IN DESPAIR

      The late march winds gently nudged the tops of the trees creating an eerie sound as it whistled around the corners of the stately home located on the outskirts of Richmond, Virginia. Inside, a man wrapped in a dark red housecoat stood with arms crossed, staring out a large window.

      Hearing the door open behind him, he turned and muttered, “Come on in, Joshua. I know it’s about time.”

      An old Negro man dressed in a dark suit entered, holding a bottle in one hand and a spoon in the other. He nodded politely. “Mas’ Stephen, it shore is some kind of cold out da’er and dat wind will cut ‘chu in half.”

      “You can drop the Mas’ Stephen, Joshua. Those days are over,” replied Robert Stephens as he reached for the spoon.

      “I always called you dat, sir. Ever since I can remember. What you wants me to call you?”

      Smiling over at the old man standing patiently in front of him, Stephens replied, “Well, you can call me Mister Stephens or I guess maybe, Senator. Some folks still use the term.”

      Nodding his approval, Joshua said, “I thinks I’ll call you Mister Senator. I’ll never forget them days we spent up da’er in Washington. You with all them high fluting folks, and I’ll never forget you being invited to dine with the Pres’dent. Them was some days to behold.”

      Pouring the medicine into his spoon, Stephens nodded in agreement and pointed back to where a fire was burning in a fireplace located at the back of the room.

      “Joshua, sit a spell with me. I get a little lonesome, especially this time of the year. She left me about this time two years ago.”

      Not accustomed to socializing, Joshua dropped his head and replied, “You shore you wants me to sit with you.”

      Making himself comfortable, Stephens continued, “Joshua, I’ve known you all my life. You served my father when he was alive; you took care of me when I was a youngster and when the war ended and the slaves were freed, you wouldn’t leave us. You go ahead and have a seat.”

      “Yes Sir, Mister Senator, I ain’t never left you. You is the only family I got. You know, Mister Lincoln sho enough freed us, but he didn’t tell us where to go or what we ‘spose to do,” easing into the chair next to Stephens. “I decided I’d just stay right here with you, if’n you’d have me.”

      Trying to refrain from coughing, Stephens grabbed his chest. “If I don’t hurry up and get over this ailment that danged ole medicine is gonna put me in the ground. Maybe that’s where I need to be anyway. The hope of the South, the Confed’racy, was crushed without mercy, our armies driven from the field and worst still, my beloved wife of more than twenty years passed away leaving me all alone. Some men have children. We never could.”

      Placing his hand on Stephen’s arm, Joshua whispered, “Don’t talk like dat, Sir. You still got ole Joshua and before long the cold winds will be gone and Mister Sunshine is gonna pick you up and send you right back to ole happiness. You jest wait and see. You never was a winter man.”

      At that moment there was a light tap on the front door, but the two men ignored the rapping sound thinking that it was probably no more than the wind.

      “Sir, I think someone is out front,” Joshua said, getting out of his chair. “Yes Sir, that is a knock.”

      Keeping his seat, Stephens said, “It’s might near dark. Be some kind of a fool to come out on a day like this. Unless it’s someone special, tell ‘em I’m not here.”

      “Yes Suh, I’ll do just dat.”

      A few moments passed and by the sound of voices conferring downstairs, Stephens felt that it was probably just one of Joshua’s friends who on occasions would drop by to chat with him. I’ll try one more dose of this medicine, Stephens thought, and if I don’t get some relief then it’s gonna be left up to the Lord Almighty to do what he wants with me. Suddenly the sound of people making their way to his room caused him to put down his spoon and pick up the glasses that were lying on the table beside his chair. The door slowly opened and Joshua whispered, “Mister Senator, I thinks you might want to see this gentleman, he says—”

      “He says what?” Stephens interrupted, clearing his throat. “It better be good”

      A tall man wearing a gray overcoat and a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck replied, “Well sir, you sure are in a foul mood tonight. I thought I’d just come by to see if you would like to make a charitable donation toward one of our local houses of ill repute.”

      “Ill repute! What in tarnations are you talking about?” Stephens answered, adjusting his glasses.

      Unwrapping his scarf, the intruder began to chuckle. “Robert, I know we’re getting a little old, but I didn’t know you’d be blind as a bat.”

      Hearing a familiar voice, Stephens peered closely at the man standing by the door. “You’re Jack Hudson. Good gracious man, I haven’t seen you in years. What in the world are you doing here in Richmond?”

      Extending his hand, Hudson replied, “Good to see you Robert. It’s been a few years since you and I were cadets at the institute. I was passing through here and I thought I’d better stop by to see you.”

      Happy to see his old friend, the two embraced. After a hard pat on the back, Robert said, “What’s it been, thirty years or so? Come on in here by the fire. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Joshua, take Mister Hudson’s coat and prepare the guest bedroom.”

      “I can’t impose on your hospitality, Robert, and you may not feel like puttin’ up with an old fool like me. Joshua told me you’ve been sick for a spell. I can stay downtown.”

      “Downtown! There ain’t much left downtown since the Yankees burnt us out. You’re

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