Tom Tanner
Chapter One
I would never look at a field the same again. For all of life seemed different to me now. I did not trust the quiet. It used to stretch on, when I was young. But now I did not trust it, and knew it held all of the ingredients for chaos that could come so quickly, in a turn, a moment. Death. I had just finished the bread and meat Ma had packed for me in the wagon.
That soft white bread I could not stuff myself with enough to silence my thoughts or fill the empty craving. I wasn’t worthy of the bread, the hands that kneaded it with hope, nor the fire that baked it. I was no sooner done with my hourly chaw of self-loathing when I picked up a call…a young voice. Too young for such a pitch, such a word, my name.
It was not my brother Garrett. But I heard him sometimes…on the wind. Smelled him, too. Saw him in some men…tall ones, strong like him, walking loosely and free. But this call was younger, and I thought I heard it again. I rounded the wagon and saw him. A lad coming on, running. “Mr. Tanner,” he cried. I hurried to meet him.
“My ma,” was all he could say, over and over, hands on his knees. But when he got going, I picked him up and ran for the wagon. Though I could not clearly understand him, I heard enough of the words I hoped to never hear again. Soldiers and guns and killing. He was the Varn boy, the one who favored the mother.
He was dark and freckled, big brown eyes. I had seen her at meeting. She had rattled me enough I took note. Only because my ma went on. My sister too. There was Jesus and the Mrs. Varn. But now…the lad sat beside me, as I nudged this old mule to do more than saunter.
She was past her prime and in no hurry. I’d only brought her today because the work was light. I watched the boy from the corner of my eye. He stared ahead, a white grip on the seat. The boy had told the story then stopped talking altogether. I didn’t think I could send him to the farm on his own.
He looked spent, and if there was trouble, he shouldn’t be trouncing around until I understood what to look for. I had my rifle, I was rarely without it. So the boy needed to stay near. I pulled up to a gruesome scene. The boy was keening, a bad sound. He was rocking on the seat. I told him to lie in the bed of the wagon. I spoke firmly, and made him look at me.
My Wounded Soldier, Book One: Fight for Glory Description:
1866
All across the country men are drifting home from the war. But when Tom Tanner musters out, he doesn’t plan to go home. He has been working in the brickyard in Springfield trying to save enough money to buy a rig and head west. He’s not expecting his father to show up and plead with him to return to the farm.
After the horrible loss of his older brother, Tom doesn’t feel worthy of the family’s company. But his guilt won’t allow him to cause them more pain and so he goes home for one last visit. It’s hard to find normal around the folks. The work of harvest provides the perfect distraction. Once the crops as in he’ll go so far away they’ll never have to look at him again.
But his plans are challenged one day. Tom is working in the field when the neighbor boy, Johnny, comes running for help. What Tom finds at the neighbor’s home is a scene right out of the war. But it’s not just about killing. The Missus Addie Varn, is ready to birth. Tom wants to run, and he will come fall, but now he must roll up his sleeves and play midwife.
