The Deserter 

from Across Five Aprils 

Irene Hunt 


One night in February of ’63, as the family sat around the open fire, a wagon clattered down the road from the north and stopped in front of the house. Opening the door, Jethro saw three young men jump down from the wagon and stride up to the porch. 

“Is this the home of Matthew Creighton?” one of them asked. Jethro noticed the crispness of the voice—an upstate voice, he thought. 

“Yes, sir, my father’s right here. Will you come indoors?” 

They came inside with a great clatter of heavy boots. Jenny stood, wide-eyed, beside her father’s chair; Nancy and Ellen held the small boys tightly in their arms. Matt tried to rise. 

“Stay seated, sir. We’re here to ask you a few questions.” The young man who spoke threw back his coat to show his uniform and insignia. “We are representatives of the Federal Registrars; we are charged with hunting down deserters from the United States Army.” 

“Will you take chairs, gentlemen?” Matt said evenly, but Jethro noticed the sudden paleness of his father’s face. 

“Thank you, no. We are here to inquire if this is the home of Ebenezer Carron, 17th Illinois Infantry, Army of Tennessee.” 

“It is. This has bin Eb’s home since he was a lad of ten or so.” 

“Have you seen him lately?” 

“Why, no. Him and my son Thomas left together for the Army in August of ’61. My own boy was kilt at Pittsburg Landing; we ain’t heered from Eb but once since then.” 

“You know the penalty for shielding a deserter from the United States Army?” 

“I do. Air you tellin’ me that Eb is a deserter?” 

“His commanding officer has reason to believe that he is and that he has been making his way toward this part of the state—we assume toward his home.” 

Matt lifted a shaking hand and covered his eyes. Jenny glanced at him anxiously and then suddenly blazed out at the questioner. 

“We haven’t seen Eb. He’s not here, and I’ll thank you not to worry my father with more of this talk. If you want to look through this house—” 

“We do, Miss—this house and all other buildings around here.” 

Jenny grasped the kerosene lamp with a firm hand. “Jeth, you come with me. We’ll show these soldiers through the house; they can hunt outside for themselves.” 

Her anger made Jenny a very grand lady, Jethro thought. He had never seen her more beautiful than she was that night, with her cheeks flaming and her eyes large and black with mixed anger and fear. 

(page 1)

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