“What do you mean by, you know what else,” Timothy asked.
“The only thing you is fit for is whoring. Timothy Johnson you are nothing but a sinning whoremonger, and my brother won’t be going to Meridian with you. He’s got a pretty young lady who thinks the world of him. He don’t need yore whores. Why do you think that wife of yores run off with that visiting preacher? Cause of your constant carousing and staying away from home for weeks at a time. That’s why she left you. You just go on to Meridian by yoreself.”
Before the Civil War, Meridian, a bustling rail center, was the largest town in Mississippi. When General Sherman sacked and burned the town on his raid across the state, many feared it would never prosper again, but as soon as his troops had left the area, its people began to rebuild. Now Meridian was once again thriving and prosperous. It was filled with merchandise, and its nightlife attracted people from all parts of the state. Gambling houses were in operation twenty-four hours a day and for those who wanted the company of the opposite sex, the red district was rivaled by none.
Timothy was in the process of leaving when he caught the remark about his ex-wife and he sharply brought his horse to a stop and turned in the saddle. “Sister, we may get into some squabbles sometimes and most of the time it don’t mean nothing, but you better never say anything about Sally. That’s none of yore business what happened to us, and I’ll tell you one more thing, least I didn’t up and marry a damned Yankee.”
During the war when Sherman made his raid through Little Rock, some of his soldiers were foraging for food when they came upon the Wilson’s house. Making their way inside, they knocked Sister’s father unconscious and were trying to force themselves on Sister and her mother when suddenly a federal officer, Lieutenant James Robinson, rode up and intervened. In the scuffle that followed, Robinson killed one of his soldiers and wounded the other. Following the war, he was assigned to the Newton county area as part of the military controlled government and began to stop by the Wilson’s on a fairly regular basis. Eventually, Sister and he began to see each other socially and after a ten-month courtship, they were married.
Knowing she had probably gone too far, Sister stood motionless, fearing to say anything else.
Heading down the road, Timothy stopped and shouted back to her. “You think I’m nothing but a whoremonger, but you know what your are, Lucretia Wilson? You’re the biggest gossip and hypocrite in Newton County and for your information, we ain’t going to Meridian, I think.”
Calming down as he rode off, Timothy couldn’t help but feel a fondness for Sister. Even with her quick lip and spunky attitude, she could be delightful at times. Glancing back, he noticed how attractive she had become, standing well over five feet six inches tall with long flowing blond hair and blue eyes. She was certainly a striking figure on the porch. Without thinking, he raised his hand and waved.
Without hesitating, she smiled and returned the gesture.
Because Sister and James had built their home on a plot of lower Wilson land, it didn’t take Tim long to reach Sister’s parents’ place. Riding up, he could see Mrs. Wilson sitting on her front porch churning butter and singing a familiar church tune.
At that moment she stopped churning and peered over the top of her glasses. “Timothy Johnson, you sure are dressed to kill. You must be on your way to see some pretty little thing. Get down and come on in.”
Tim dismounted and politely tipped his hat. To him, the Wilsons were his second family. They had always accepted him no matter what he had done, and Mrs. Wilson always encouraged him to try to do better. He felt that his own parents never cared enough about him to even correct him or give him encouragement.
Making his way up the steps, he said, “Good to see you Mrs. Wilson, mind if’n I give you a hug.”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, young man,” smiled Mrs. Wilson.
After a hug and a kiss on the cheek, she said, “How’s your mama doing these days?”
“She’s fine. She’s been doing a lot of garden work lately and putting up with me keeps her pretty busy,” he replied. “Is John in?”
Mrs. Wilson pointed to the back of the house. “He finished his chores early today. You’ll find him back there in his room, probably reading. Sometimes I think he spends too much time in them books.” Pausing a moment she continued, “I bet you boys gonna do some courting tonight. That’s why you’re so dressed up. That’s it, ain’t it?”
“Pretty close, Mrs. Wilson. I’ve come over to invite John to a meeting. A kind of revival meeting,” he replied.
“A revival meeting. I ain’t heard of any such meeting around here. You sure ‘bout that?”
“Yes Ma’am, there’s gonna be one down near Hickory Station. A shore ‘nough big ‘un.”
Tim made his way down the open hall toward John’s room.
Easing the door open Tim began to sing, “Shall we gather at the river, the beautiful, the beautiful river down near Hickory.”
“Come on in Tim, I could recognize your voice anywhere. And by the way, you can’t carry a tune and your lyrics border on being sacrilegious. No wonder they never encouraged you to sing in the church choir.”
Lying across the bed with a pillow folded under his neck and a book across his lap was Tim’s best friend, John Wilson. They had attended the same church and had been classmates in school until Tim quit in the eighth grade. Although Tim and John were total opposites, they had a special bond of friendship. John was serious and believed that honest hard work was the way to success and that education would open the doors of opportunity to those who persevered. John’s reputation of being the best student the local school had ever produced was a promise for his future, but the war and the effects it had upon his family had kept him at home and away from his dreams. Tim, in contrast, lived only for the day. As a youth he never cared for farming and the loss of his leg during the war made farming impossible. Instead, Tim loved to gamble, drink and carouse and had become so skilled at the cards that he made more than a meager living.
Even as different as they were, they were inseparable. Since they had joined the same regiment during the war and had experienced the same horror and trials of combat, they had drawn even closer.
Easing down in a chair next to John, Tim reached over and glanced at the cover of the book. “Thought you might be reading some of that ole Shakespeare the professor used to try to cram down our throats. You used to like that stuff, didn’t you?”
“You know I never cared for that,” John replied, closing the book. “I’m reading about the Greek way of life. It’s fascinating to see how they formed their government. You know, their system is part of the foundation of how we operate today.”
“Greeks,” Tim exclaimed, grabbing the book. “Let me see what you got yourself in to.”
In a few minutes Tim handed the book back “Don’t look too interesting to me. Them folks been gone for a thousand years.”
“Thousand years,” John replied. “Been longer than that and what do you like to read, nothing I bet.”
Feeling somewhat offended, Tim responded, “I do read sometimes. I read the newspapers when I get
