The Mockingbird's Ballad

"Corporal, that's a mockingbird ain't it?" he spoke quietly to not scare the bird across the yard to three horse soldiers stretched around the trunk and roots of a larger live oak.

"Yes Sir, a mockingbird."

The major's soul smiled, felt blessed and maybe even forgiven. "Odd," he thought, "very odd." Nature for him had always been something to overcome, not appreciate. But on this occasion and at this place he had noticed.

===

"Major, Sir," Lou quietly spoke standing eight feet to the front of the napping, brown, gray, buff figure, with a battered kepi pulled over his eyes. An old brown book lay under his left hand on his lap.

"Yes," a groggy voice answered from the sleeping officer.

"Sir, the general asked me to tell you he wanted to see you in about an hour," Lou said.

Coming awake, Major Stevenson pulled himself alert, put his notebook in his haversack and picked up his overturned coffee cup made of milky white and blue china. He handed Miss Vann's fine china cup to Lou. Lou stepped forward and took it.

"Hey, Bear Cub, its you. Here, go get me some more of that store bought coffee, would you? Get yourself some too. I need to talk with you."

"Yes, Sir." Lou was off to the errand.

===

Sipping his coffee the major spoke, "Private, what possessed you to practice medicine on the general. Hell, boy. A man ain't a horse."

Lou looked slapped, "Well, Sir, well …"

"Well, well - well what?" Major Stevenson's attitude softened and his eyes sent out a twinkle.

"My grandmother, Sir, well folks from all over the valley come for her healing.

Plenty of cuts - axe, knife, saw, scythe, even gun shots. Usually by the time they come, their hurt is in a bad way. Mama Bear has medicine she gets from plants, trees and even certain moss. She grinds it, adds lard and makes a poultice and her treatment works most of the time. Her poultices are really good on sour wounds.

"And you just go and decide to doctor the chief of this here cavalry with your Indian medicine?" the major said with a smile.

Lou's feelings - mind and heart - were all confused. It seemed that the major was grilling her as if she'd done wrong, yet his spirit was warm and kind. Mighty confusing.

Lou struggled for a response. "Sir, some of my people are Cherokee women. Cherokee women are different, different from most white women I've known in the valley, at church and at the store."