Read The Last Confederate for Free Online Page A

calloused, and Winslow liked the boy’s face. There was a stubbornness in the dark eyes, but that was fine with Sky Winslow, who himself was a stubborn man.
    “Thad, I’d like to ask you a question, but don’t answer if you don’t want to. You’re from the North—are you in any kind of service for the Union?”
    “No, I ain’t, Mr. Winslow.”
    The boy did not protest, and Winslow liked that. “I believe you, Thad. Now, I’ve got an offer for you. You can’t goanywhere until this snow is gone, and you don’t have any money, I take it.”
    “No, sir. I’m plumb busted.”
    “Well, I think we can keep you until you get your strength back—not here, of course, but in my overseer’s cabin. He’s got plenty of room and an extra bed. You can rest up and put some meat on that skinny frame—then we’ll see.”
    The unexpected kindness was too much for Thad. He could only swallow and nod. Winslow saw this, and patted the boy’s thin shoulder, “Well, you take it easy, Thad, and we’ll be talking later.”
    Winslow went immediately to see Sut Franklin, his overseer. Franklin was a rough man who took little care of himself, a characteristic of most overseers. He was too hard on the slaves, and Winslow had to watch him carefully.
    Franklin listened, then shrugged carelessly. “He’ll have to take care of hisself, Mr. Winslow. I ain’t no nursemaid.”
    “He won’t require any care. See that he gets plenty to eat, Sut. Maybe we can use him around here.”
    “Not likely,” Franklin returned quickly. “He’s a Yankee, ain’t he? We don’t need his kind!”
    Later that day Franklin came for Thad, taking him to the small house. “That’s your bunk,” he said roughly, then added, “I won’t be here much for the next few days. Big poker game goin’ on in town. You can get fed in the kitchen at the Big House.” He was surly about it, and said nothing more to Thad until he left for Richmond that evening.
    For two days Thad ate huge meals and walked around the property. His strength flowed back, and late on the second day, he went to the slave quarters and asked an old man with snowy white hair where Toby lived. The man said something, but Thad didn’t understand a word. Thad could understand the house servants fairly well, but this old man sounded as if he had a mouth full of mush. Finally the man looked at him in disgust and pointed at a house right across from where they were. Thad went to the door and knocked. When it opened alarge black man stood before him. “Well, look at you! Ain’t you jes’ all well, sho nuff!”
    “I guess you must be Toby,” Thad said, then hesitated, not knowing what to say next.
    Toby turned quickly and called, “Jessie, look heah who’s done come to see us.” He opened the door wider. “Come on in, now.”
    Thad entered and took in the single bed stuffed with shucks, the stone fireplace with pothooks and black utensils—then glanced at the woman and the small boy. “I . . . sort of remember you . . . but not much,” he apologized to Toby. “But I know you saved my life—so I came to thank you for it.”
    Toby nodded, grinning widely. “Why, you mighty welcome. I reckon you do da same fo’ me.”
    “I sure hope so,” Thad replied. “Well, I guess I better get.”
    “Wait a minute,” Toby interrupted. “You et yet? No? You is a Yankee boy, ain’t you?”
    “Guess so, Toby.”
    “Well, you set right in dat cheer, and pitch inter some of dis catfish. You ain’t nevah had no fish till you eats a mess of bullhead catfish!”
    Thad sat down awkwardly, but soon the tension left him. He felt more at home in the small cabin with the slaves than he had in the Big House. Jessie was quiet at first and the boy, Wash, was bashful, but after a time, the woman began to smile and the boy came to stare up into Thad’s face. The fresh catfish steaks had been fried in fat and were the most delicious Thad had ever put in his mouth. He allowed Jessie to fill his plate