Bo, “that sheriff musta got a cocklebur up under his saddle blanket over something that went on before we arrived there, and he was just taking it out on us. Don’t y’all reckon that’s so?”
“Maybe so. We three tired old troopers sure didn’t do nothing to stir his soup kettle, now did we?” Smitty replied.
One of the bloodiest engagements fought in the Shenandoah Valley had taken place on June 5, 1864, called the Battle of Piedmont, a Union victory that allowed the Federal Army to occupy Staunton, Virginia, and destroy many of the facilities that supported the Confederate war effort. Augusta County suffered again during General Philip H. Sheridan’s burning, which destroyed many farms and killed virtually all the farm animals. All the Confederates living in and around Staunton well remembered the Yankee Army.
Buffalo Gap came into view just before sundown. That small town wasn’t much to look at, but it had several saloons, a hotel, a mercantile store, a blacksmith shop, a livery stable, and three eating places, and most likely two or three whorehouses. “Let’s eat a steak at the saloon and sleep in that hotel tonight,” Smitty proposed.
“I’ll vote for that,” Bo answered.
“You two go ahead and sleep in the hotel. I’ll sleep in the stable next to my horse so I can watch our goods,” Jeff replied.
“Let’s eat our steak at the saloon and then all go sleep in the stable,” Smitty suggested.
“Good idea, Smitty, why didn’t I think of that,” Bo answered.
“Well, it’s plenty all right to see your blue soldier britches instead of gray uns. What’ll y’all soldier boys have to drink?” the barkeep drawled.
“Three whis—”
“Three cold beers,” Smitty interrupted as he punched Bo in his rib cage.
“And have the cook fry us up three beef steaks with some spuds for our supper, will ya, barkeep?”
“Y’all set yerselves down over at that table yonder and I’ll bring yer beers. My old lady heard ya and just threw yer steaks on the flames. Glad to see you, boys,” the keep remarked, as he set their beers on the table. “Yer beer’s free, gents. I’ll just be charging you boys for yer meals. This here Gap is the only saloon within yelling distance that wadn’t a rebel lover. Y’all gonna stay at that hotel? ’Cause if you are, all them beds are crawling with lice from them rat-eating rebels what slept there.”
“Not now, we’re not, thanks to you. We’re gonna be sleeping in the stable with our horses,” Jeff replied, looking at his two companions out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks for warning us, keep.”
“Glad to do it. Never liked that Southern trash what owns that place nohow. They was spies for the rebel army, so the rumor goes. I tried to talk that federal gen’ral into burning that hotel down, but he wouldn’t ’cause he was sleeping in a room there. Not in their licey beds though, there was a special wagon what carried that gen’ral’s own bed and writin’ table and chairs, so hiz sarge said. You boys is mighty wise not sleeping in that rat hole, I’m tellin’ ya.”
“We’re beholden to you, keep,” Smitty reminded him.
“Ah, here comes yer steak now. Eat up, gents, I’ll bring y’all another beer a piece.”
Right after sunup, they’d eaten their fill of ham and eggs plus a pan of biscuits for breakfast and washed ’em down with a cold beer afterward at the Gap Saloon. Then they paid their generous host and said their goodbyes. They fed and watered their mounts and were on the road, walking their horses toward Jeff’s homeplace.
Chapter Thirteen
“How far to your farm, Jeff?”
“’Bout twelve miles from buffalo Gap. We’ll be there right after noontime.”
As they topped the last hill, Jeff’s farm house came into view, and there was smoke curling out of the kitchen chimney, and the east field was standing knee-high in cotton. “Who the hell is livin’ in my house? And who is plantin’ cotton in my fields? I’m damn sure about to find out.”
“Whada you mean you own my house?”
“Bought it!”
“You bought it, from who?”
“The county tax man, that’s who.”
“I bought it for the taxes agin’ it, mister!” The little man bowed right up to Jeff. “I asked the tax man in town what he’d take for this place, he said, and then I said, I’d take it. Now hit’s all mine.”
“Show me your deed.”
“Ain’t got no deed, mister, till I pay it off, you oughta know that. I got a bill of sale, though.”
“Show me!”
“I’ll fetch it.”
The little man darted into the house and came out waving it. “Here ya are! I wern’t lying to ya!”
“I’ll go to town and straighten this out. I’ll be back.”
“You come back, it’ll still be mine, mister.”
Jeff and his friends rode back into Buffalo Gap. The town clerk said it was true. Jeff’s farm had been sold for back taxes.
“This town was dead broke, Mr. Nelson. We couldn’t pay our bills, so we sold farms all over this county for the back taxes owed agin’ ’em, yours, your neighbors, and many more. How was we to know you was gonna live and come back from that damn war. Feller comes along after two years, three years, and says I’ll buy that farm for the taxes owed agin’ it. We gladly took the man’s money. You wanted that farm. You should a stayed put and not run off to fight them damn rebels in that damn war.”
Back at the farm, Jeff asked the little man. “What happened to my family’s graves?”
“I moved ’em.”
“You moved them?”
“Yes, sir, I dug ’em up and I reburied them, Mr. Nelson, down by that stand o’ trees by the creek yonder. But I treated ’em with respect, I did. The missus, you see, didn’t want to keep looking at them graves out there every day on the way to her well water, she didn’t. You can understand that, can’t you, mister?”
“Yeah, I reckon I can. I’ll be sayin’ goodbye to you. You better take care of my folk’s graves, ya hear me?” Jeff replied.
“I will, Mr. Nelson, I promise.”
Jeff mounted his bay and rode to the grove of trees and he and his friends buried his papa beside his family. Smitty and Bo mounted their horses and waited while Jeff said his goodbyes.
“Well, you’re restin’ next to Mama and the girls now, Papa. It took me a while to get you here, but I did it. We don’t own this farm anymore, Papa. The tax man in town sold it while we was fighting them rebels, so I’ll be moving on directly. I know you and mama are happy, restin’ next to the girls here in Virginny soil, so I’ll let
