Sissy Johnson

John’s arms and legs had been cleaned and Frank was gently assisting him to remove his shirt when Jack pushed through the crowd that still stood speculating around the tent. “You’ve gotten quite popular, brother,” Jack laughed, and then saw Sissy and John. “Miss Johnson!” he greeted, surprised to find her in one of the men’s tents, though it was his brother’s. “And who is this?” Jack smiled kindly at the boy and handed Frank a letter from Mrs. Richardson.

Frank nodded to the cot and merely said, “There.” Jack put it down obediently as Sissy gave introduction. Jack expressed his delight that former acquaintances of Sissy’s had been found.

“Susanna is being assisted in cleaning up by Madam Annabelle’s women,” Sissy said. “She is awaiting an audience with the colonel to determine their next course of action.”

The younger Richardson brother let out a sharp breath as John’s shirt was finally removed. He had thought the mud was plastering the boy’s clothes on him, but upon his back being exposed, saw deep cuts into his back. Streaks of dried blood ran down his frame and large clumps of scab and mud filled the gashes. John’s body shivered but he held his head still and gazed without flinching into Frank’s face as he stepped back in shock.

“Fetch some fresh water,” Jack said simply, and handed the bucket of dirty water to Frank who left obediently. “How old are you?” Jack asked John, kneeling beside him and looking up into his eyes that had welled with tears of pain.

“Thirteen, sir.” His voice was steady and proud.

“Who did this to you?”

“The same man who hurt my mother - the slave hunter that found us.” Anger and indignation lit his face, but he remained calm.

“And how old are these wounds? They look rather fresh.”

Sissy felt the anger in Jack’s eyes as he looked toward her. She hadn’t hurt John. Why did she feel as if she were the reciprocal of Jack’s anger?

The wounds were several days old, and though asked, John could not remember when they had occurred. Jack said it was alright he didn’t remember and said briefly to Sissy, “I think we should take him to the medical tent.”

“No, sir, please!” Tears rolled down John’s cheeks as he dropped his face. “No one must know. My mother doesn’t know. It’s - shameful,” he whispered. “They hurt her, too, I think. I didn’t see any blood, so maybe they just beat her. She cried a lot when she thought I was asleep.”

“It is not shameful,” Jack said gently.

“I am a man,” John murmured, raising his trembling chin proudly. His voice raised in indignation as he repeated, "I am a man! They treated me like I wasn’t - they treated both of us as if we weren’t human. All three of them – they – they did things to me that no one should. I think they did to my mother, as well. Because of that, I am ashamed. I have failed to protect us both.” He lowered his head and great sobs shook his body.

Sissy felt her stomach turn, realizing what John was saying. Jack stood, unable to comfort the boy because of his injuries. He stepped to Sissy’s side as she took a deep breath to calm herself. Still, her hands were numb and shaking.

“They sodomized him,” Jack said shortly between gritted teeth. He glanced down at the top of her head as she covered her mouth with her hand, attempting to control herself. "It would be best for everyone if we brought medical supplies here.” He knew his wrath was evident in the way he spoke to her, but was unable to calm his voice to address her. He left the tent to find Frank and fetch supplies. Sissy seated herself beside John and placed her arm over his shoulders, scarcely touching him for fear of causing him pain.

“Does Susanna know?” she whispered as her own tears began to fall. John laid his head against her and the tears he shed soaked quickly through her bodice.

“I cannot tell her. They hurt her, as well. I suffered no more than she did. Please, do not mention it! I beg you, Miss Johnson.”

Sissy laid her hand on his head and gently rocked him.

John’s wounds were bandaged and the Richardson brothers let him rest on Frank’s cot. The colonel had still not found time to speak with Susanna and she sent word that she was staying with Annabelle’s women for the evening. Jack and Sissy left the tent quietly after John had fallen asleep and Jack reached for his pipe.

“Is this your idea of everyone being born a slave?” he questioned quietly after a moment’s silence. His tone was cold and Sissy felt the anger behind the question.

“Do you think that only black children are abused?” she countered. “Certainly the system of slavery does not protect slaves, and they are abused more than others, but it is individuals who abuse. People are evil. They take advantage of the vulnerable.”

“Don’t tell me that.” Jack was never impatient, but his tone bordered on it now. “You cannot tell me that a society that protects people who do this to a child is not inherently evil!”

Sissy drew a long, deep breath. The sun was sinking behind the camp and a starling called from the nearby woods. Her heart was heavy, there was no other way she could think to describe it. It felt like a great pressure was being placed against it. She looked toward the evening star and said in punctuated tones, “No one protects this. No one condones this. This is the basest form of evil and if you were to ask any good Southern person, they would tell you!” Tears stung her eyes and she paused her steps, grabbing Jack’s arm forcefully as he moved to continue walking, stopping him in his tracks.

“I have never defended the way it works! I have merely answered your question as to how a good person can own another!” Her voice was raised now and shook with emotion and controlled sobs. “No good person would do this, Mr. Richardson! No one in their right mind would do this! You asked me how good people own others! Husbands own their wives, yet many love each other. Nothing is ever as it should be. The world is broken! It always has been!” A sob shook her body. Jack was silent and Sissy dried her eyes quickly and excused herself for the evening saying, “I should go inform Eleanor of today’s events. I am certain she has been wondering where I have been.”

Over the next few days, Sissy kept to herself, visiting John and Susanna who had still not had word from the Colonel of the Regiment. John was young, and as his body continued to heal, so, too, did his spirits. Eleanor said the colonel was busy with communications, but Sissy wondered at the delay. When she had been found in the midst of the skirmishing, a place had been made for her immediately, yet here were two escaped slaves who had been brought in, and no decision had been made regarding their futures.

Susanna mentioned one day that the wait confused her and she worried she would be separated from Sissy. Sissy went to the colonel’s tent that afternoon and found him at his desk with his Aide.

“Yes, Ms. Johnson?” Colonel Trenton asked, rising from his stool and offering it to her. “How may I help you?”

“Thank you, Colonel Trenton, but I shan’t be staying long,” Sissy smiled. “I have come to inquire about arrangements for my friend, Ms. Susanna. She was separated from myself at the skirmish where you found me, and has recently been picked up. She has been waiting for word of any arrangement that could allow her to stay near me.”

Colonel Trenton sighed and picked up a piece of paper. “I have been instructed by the Brigadier General, that the regiment is not permitted to take her in.”

“She has offered to lend assistance to myself and Ms. Trenton,” Sissy insisted politely, though her back stiffened and her expression became cool.

“The regiment cannot shelter her,” Colonel Trenton said briefly. “I am sorry, Ms. Johnson, as I realize she means a great deal to you, but that is the decision. You will communicate my regret, I hope. Lieutenant Clark?” He seated himself again and motioned to his aide who opened the tent for Sissy to leave.

Sissy hurried away, anger at the colonel’s inability to help burning within her. “It isn’t right!” she exclaimed to Susanna, after telling her the Colonel’s final word. “Plenty of women follow the army!” She glanced at Mary-Anne who sat listening. “You follow the army. No one bothers you and says you don’t have a place here!”

Mary-Anne was silent, recognizing the disapproving tone of Sissy’s voice which she was all too familiar with, and then said quietly, “No one protects us either.” Sissy stamped her foot impatiently and the three sat in hopeless silence for a moment.

Finally, Mary-Anne suggested, “I know it may not be ideal, given our line of work here at Madam Annabelle’s,” and she glanced pointedly at Sissy, “but Susanna, you might stay with us and help look after us if you would like. We could all use a mother figure in our lives!” She smiled playfully and, to Sissy’s surprise, Susanna laughed pleasantly. “I know you would like to be near Miss Johnson, and all of us understand the dangers of being alone as a woman.”

“I do not know how advantageous that would be,” Sissy answered. “After all, John needs a place to stay as well.” They looked over toward Frank’s tent which John was sitting outside of, watching Frank clean his rifle. Some of the other soldiers were still inquisitive and were gathered in a group asking the boy questions about his former life and what he had heard from the South before escaping to the Union encampment.

“I would be more than willing to stay with you,” Susanna said after a moment’s reflection, surprising Sissy even more than Mary-Anne’s suggestion had. “You ladies have been very thoughtful of me and you have good and kind hearts. As Miss Johnson says, Ms. Mary-Anne, my only concern is my son.”

The woman smiled and said that at least for now, Susanna would stay with them and their only dilemma would be where John could be placed. “I am certain Miss Johnson and her friends can find a solution!” she said cheerfully.

A soldier riding a sweating horse hurried past and drew rein in front of the colonel’s tent some few hundred yards away. The men gathered around Frank and John stretched to see what was occurring and one man’s voice carried to Sissy from the group. “That’s one of the general’s couriers!” the man exclaimed. Soon after, officers were seen leaving the colonel’s tent with quick steps as the courier galloped on, and before long, the call to strike camp was heard.

“We must be moving,” Mary-Anne said. “If you will excuse us, Miss Johnson, Susanna and I must be packing with the rest of the girls.”

Sissy was never long in packing, as she had few belongings, so she made her way slowly toward her own tent. She met Jack Richardson as he was turning away from speaking to Eleanor. “I have just been looking for you,” he told her. His attitude was hurried. “I wanted to speak to you about John and Susanna. We’re moving toward the mountains since the Confederates fell back. The general wants us to keep hot on their heels. Has Colonel Trenton decided on a course of action?”

Sissy stood erect and with a coldness about her, her recent exchange with the soldier still fresh in her mind. “Susanna has decided to stay with Madame Annabelle’s. We have not yet determined what is to be done with John.”

“Do you need to pack your things, or can you walk with me as I strike my tent?” Jack questioned. Sissy agreed to walk with him but Jack noticed her distant demeanor as they approached his lodging. “I am sorry about the other night,” he said, stopping and taking her arm earnestly, not unlike the way she had taken his arm. “It was not my intention to upset you, Miss Johnson. But you must understand, the sight of a boy whipped to the point of drawing blood, and abused in that way is -” he did not finish his sentence as Sissy nodded briefly and thanked him for his apology in cool terms. Jack saw she was not quite appeased and turned toward his tent. “At any rate,” he said, laying the tent flap on the roof of the tent to keep it open so that Sissy might remain outside while he organized his things, “I’m an officer and am lucky enough to have my own tent. If it is alright with his mother and yourself, I can look after him. I am very willing to do so permanently if there is not another, more preferable option.” His blanket was rolled quickly and his spare shirts and pantaloons tied in his bag. “Frank would have liked to keep him there, but he does have a tentmate, after all so it’s rather tight.” He stopped under the tent’s opening with his hand against the frame and looked at Sissy. “I am truly sorry,” he said softly, “to have made you feel my anger was toward you. You were also hurting. John is your friend, and I should have been more thoughtful of your feelings. I hold you in very high regard, Miss Johnson!” he insisted as she glanced away from him. “What’s this?” he asked, smiling gently as a tear slipped down her face and she blinked her eyes quickly to stop them.

She laughed sadly and quickly wiped her cheek. “It has been quite an eventful week,” she excused herself, fighting to control her trembling voice. “Seeing John in that state and having you speak to me that way -“ her voice caught with emotion. “I was afraid I had lost your good opinion of me for events that were outside my control.” She turned to hide her face from the soldiers striking tents nearby. Jack looked toward them and moved his arm to give Sissy’s emotions more privacy. “The way you spoke of it was as if you put me in a group of people that would do that to someone!”

Jack put his hand softly on her shoulder. “Look at me. You are a brave and kind young woman, Sissy,” he said admiringly, “and have nothing in common with the men who harmed your friends. Do not think my good opinion of you will ever change.” He smiled as she turned her face toward him gratefully, and his hand slid to her arm. “Now then,” he said, clearing his throat as she blushed lightly and glanced away, “if you would like to discuss it more and give me a thorough admonition, that can be arranged later. How would you like to run along and tell John the good news? He can ride my spare mount for the march as he shouldn’t be walking much, and I doubt he will add significant weight.”

The march was long and hot. Sissy rode with John and Jack toward the rear and looked out over the clear pastures and farmhouses that laid undisturbed from the choking dust being raised on the road. Clear streams ran through the rolling landscape and the men broke rank to fill their canteens while officers yelled to stay in place. Jack nodded permission to his men to water their horses and they dismounted as they approached the stream.

“John seems quite tired.” Sissy glanced toward the tree he sat beneath, his head drooping wearily. She smoothed her hair with the fresh water. It cooled her as it ran down her neck. Jack submerged his head in the stream and then straightened, pushing his dripping hair back.

“Let him be while the horses are refreshed,” he answered her. “It can’t be easy riding in his condition. He’s quite brave.”

“He always has been,” Sissy murmured. She wet her handkerchief and stepped quietly to the boy to place it against his neck. Her hand lingered on his dark curls, damp with sweat. “He was like a brother to me when Uncle Zachariah took me in. Susanna has been much like a second mother.”

Jack smiled and seated himself beside Sissy and John, his horse’s rein still in hand. “Did you see that patch of wild flowers?” He pointed to a sun-dappled glade filled with spears of blooms and delicate flowers waving in the breeze on long tendrils. “It’s so strange that such beauty continues to exist even as we fight and kill one another.” Sissy laid the handkerchief on John’s neck and left him with Jack to go and pick some of the flowers, saying that they should keep reminders that beauty still existed.

Thompson walked his horse toward Jack and watched Sissy as she walked among the flowers. “I wonder how she cannot condemn slavery when someone she cares deeply for has been treated this way.” He shook his head in disgust.

Knowing Thompson was not aware of the half of John’s suffering, Jack moved John’s leg off the sharp-edged rock it laid on. In a low tone he said, “I advise you take a different attitude toward Ms. Johnson, Private Thompson.” Thompson looked at Jack in surprise at his firm defense of Sissy. “I understand your hatred of slavery, but she has done great service to our regiment and cares deeply for this boy and his mother. I am the one who saw value in her despite her family’s political leanings, and I am the one looking after her. If you question her, you are questioning me. Now, Mr. Thompson, do you consider me foolish?”

The reply was a dismissive roll of the eyes and Thompson said, “They do say love makes a fool out of a man, Jack.” Jack, surprised, opened his mouth to speak, but Thompson laughed, placed his hands in his pockets, and strode away without speaking further. Jack’s eyes turned to Sissy who ran back to the tree laughing, her hands full of blossoms.

“I do thank you for noticing these, Mr. Richardson,” she said, picking through the pile she had laid on the ground. “They are so lovely! Will you help me sort them?” Her hands, initially delicate before joining the regiment, but now gradually becoming calloused, worked quickly through the pile.

“Are we sorting them by color?” Jack asked after glancing quickly at the men refreshing themselves, not wanting to linger too long behind the regiment. He reached for a stem of blooms and his hand brushed Sissy’s. He withdrew it quickly and laughed, lowering his eyes.

Sissy smiled and she drew her breath quickly with a thought. “We ought to decorate John’s hair!” she giggled playfully. Jack chuckled with her and helped insert the stems between John’s curls until they were full and some flowers fell from their place.

“I don’t think he’ll hold any more!” Jack said, looking at the remaining flowers. Sissy took the flowers and braided them deftly into a wreath.

“It is time for yours, then,” she said, and laid her hand gently on his cheek. Jack lowered his head for her to work. She placed the crown over his head and, still caressing his face said, “There is the halo you deserve.” Her smiling eyes met his. She was surprised as Jack blushed unexpectedly and abruptly stood. He glanced down again at Sissy’s pretty upturned face and then looked quickly away toward the group of men splashing water at one another.

“Thank you for the crown, Miss Johnson.” He grinned almost sheepishly and then, with a brief sigh, he said they should be going to catch up with the regiment before dusk.