"Oh, Solon, no, no." Lou said, knowing her pleading was to little avail. Solon had blocked her, stopped her offense and turned the struggle.
"Remember that heathen smug fool chaplain in that barn, Lou, remember? He tried to bully you and me with his self-righteous arrogance and mean spirited judgment. Remember, Lou?"
Chill bumps rose on Lou. Her heart did a pitty-pat, "Yes, dear, I remember." Her defenses crumbled. No one had won the argument but she knew right then that she could only declare a truce.
===
"No, no, not both of you. I just won't have it!" Lou's anger had been provoked for the second time in two days. Joe announced at the Sunday dinner table his intention to join the Army heading for Cuba.
"Mother, I'm nineteen-years-old. Nineteen, Mama! I can go without your permission. Daddy said I couldn't go too, but, I'm going." Joe's resolve was sure but his dread of his mother's displeasure and protest was substantial. Lou glared at him across the table then at her husband at the other end of it. The others in the family kept their silence. Only Alex watched Lou's face.
"Joe Wheeler Stevenson, you know what your granddaddy and grandmother would say? They tried to keep me and your Uncle Alex from that hell thirty-five years ago. Don't be a fool. War ain't a play time!" Lou's tears began rolling down her cheeks - big plentiful tears without voice.
===
The three - parents and son - were at the Fayetteville depot at 7:30am two weeks later, waiting for the train to Dechard and then to Chattanooga. Alex had wanted desperately to go with Lou, but she talked him into staying and tending the place. He wasn't happy about his assignment but accepted Lou's entreaty and took them to the station. He got wet-eyed and left them after hugging each one. He waited up the hill from the depot out of sight till the train pulled out. He made a slow carriage ride home to Dellrose.
They'd be there by a little after noon. Lou had packed some ham biscuits. Joe had his brass trumpet that Jim had given him the Christmas before he died in a small valise with a few underclothes and shaving items. Solon had his journal and old Bible in an old beat up black satchel. His small suitcase was stowed above their seats. Lou had her handbag. Inside was a souvenir from her war.
It was an old knife. She hadn't looked at it in years. Kept in her cedar chest since the move from the Sequatchie it had responded to the old concoction Mama Bear had told her about. The old wool rag made from one of Solon's worn out suits had burnished the silver till the heirloom had shined like a new silver dollar. Lou at sunrise had sat on her rock near the house in the cedar thicket with it after she was satisfied with its renewal. Tears rolled patiently down her face as she held it in her old soft clean handkerchief. The cool metal brought forth warmth in her heart.