Walking Home from Rock Island

--thought that the settlement was probably about two miles away from the tall oak tree he had climbed. From that point Li'l Georgia could see that three or four buildings had been burned out and that a cotton gin appeared to have been partially destroyed. Otherwise the place seemed to be in fairly good shape.

"It looks like old Wilson's bummers thought that there just wasn't much worth burning here in the most beautiful village of the prairie, and I suspect that they were quite right. Anyway, I guess we got by light down in good old Orrville. I suspect that when they had burned out the store with the post office and the cotton gin that they thought they had just about taken care of this center of culture. Not even worth much burning. My, my." After giving his analysis of the situation, McLemore added his little mocking laugh and began pushing Hood back up on the mare.

"Maybe this means that they were feeling merciful the day they spent in this end of the county. Let's mount up and get over this last slope and just face the music. Whatever they've done to us, it is not going to go away just because we wait around," Logan said and went over to help McLemore get Hood settled in the saddle. He felt Hood's pulse and growled, "Hold on, fellow. I'm guessing that you're going to be in the care of Miss Earlene in about forty-five minutes. You'd better start praying to God that my guess is right. Let's move out."

About 1030 on the morning of 21 September 1865, the men topped the last ridge and looked down on Providence Church. The little white building was still standing, but about half of the gravestones had been broken or pushed out of the ground. As they passed by, they saw that the two front doors were off their hinges and that the grounds were cut up by the usual hundreds of wagon tracks and covered with horse signs. Three of the church benches were still outside and were now badly deteriorated from the summer's sun and rain. Everyone, even McLemore, looked away and walked on in complete silence.

They walked down the long slope from Providence Church toward the edge of the Logan place. The rest of the group slowed their pace, allowing the captain to walk out a little in front. It seemed that they wanted to avoid the moment when the house place would come into view. Finally Logan walked around the last little curve and into the cleared cotton field, now partially grown up in weeds, that stretched out to the trees and to the house itself. Logan blinked and rubbed his hand over his eyes. The house was still standing, and the crepe myrtles were still blooming.

He was still too far away to pick up many of the details of the house and yard, but the roof was still on and the chimneys were still up. A little of his dread of the moment began to recede, and he picked up his pace. The men behind him suddenly began to talk softly. After a moment he could make out the end of the front porch and saw that it was down and part of its roof was lying in the yard. The well house was partially smashed. No humans were to be seen anywhere. He hurried on.

As he moved nearer to the house, Logan could see that the front gate was gone but that the gateposts were still standing. The graveled avenue running from the main road to the house was badly washed out in several places but appeared to be still passable. The wisteria vine that had covered the south end of the porch for as long as he could remember now looked to be wild and overgrown. When he could see the front of the building clearly, he noticed that there were no chairs on the front porch. However, there was a wooden table with two adjoining goods boxes that were evidently serving as chairs behind the edge of the wisteria. Clearly someone was living in the house. He began to walk faster.

The captain led his group off the main road and up the drive of a couple of hundred yards leading to the house. All was still quiet around the building. Three cows grazing along the drive looked at them as though mildly curious about their passage then lowered their heads once more to the grass. Suddenly a door was opened into the dogtrot, and a half-grown black girl walked out and stood at the edge of the porch looking at the approaching men. Just as suddenly she began yelling excitedly as she turned and ran back into the house.

Moments later the door flew open and several women, black and white, came rushing through the dogtrot and onto the porch. A rather heavy woman, dressed in the usual dark clothing of the countryside, separated herself from the others and came running forward. McLemore held up a hand and stopped the men so that the captain could go forward to meet the oncoming woman by himself.

The woman threw herself on Logan and began to laugh a bit hysterically as tears rolled down her cheeks and fell on her bosom. She turned back to the women on the porch and yelled out in a broken voice, "It's Wes! It's Wes back from the wars! I just knew it had to be soon. I guess I knew it had to be today. I knew it! I knew it!" The women on the porch rushed together and hugged each other, talking excitedly.

"Well, Mama, it's you all right." Logan finally found his voice, and the idiotic statement that came tumbling out seemed to break open the floodgates as the group of women on the porch rushed forward. Two whites, whom he recognized as cousins, and several blacks suddenly began yelling to each other and dancing around Logan and his mother. Yet even in this moment of unrestrained excitement, one ancient old woman remained on the edge of the porch, leaning against the railing and smiling a tight little smile as she rolled her snuff brush back and forth in her mouth.