Caleb's Wars Read Online Free Page A

All the young folks did.
    Uncle Hiram was turned out in his best suit, complete with a starched, shining white shirt and string tie with a piece of turquoise set in the slide. He was right proud of that slide—said he bought it off a Navajo Indian chief way over in New Mexico a long time ago. Pop said Uncle Hiram just liked to tell stories—the old man had never been out of the county, let alone Georgia.
    "How you, Caleb?" he asked. His big smile showed that half his teeth were gone. "Big day, ain't it?" He put out his hand, the knuckles all swollen and fingers twisted and curving toward his little finger. Rheumatism, Uncle Hiram called it. When I was little, his hands scared me, made me not want him to touch me. Now that I was older and understood, I felt sorry for him. Rheumatism was no joke. It made his hands hurt bad and twisted them up, but that never stopped him. Old as he was, Uncle Hiram could still do a hard day's work. Like he reminded everyone, there wasn't any choice—not if he wanted to eat.
    I shook hands but didn't squeeze tight, the way Pop had taught me to shake. I wouldn't hurt Uncle Hiram for anything. He'd always been good to our family. He was praying for Randall every day, and that had to count for a lot, as good a man as he was.
    The skin of his palm felt tough against my hand, and I could feel where it was hard with calluses. He could hardly close his fingers enough to give a real shake, but I didn't mind. He was doing the best he could.
    "I been prayin' for you, Caleb," Uncle Hiram told me. His pale eyes were gentle. "Askin' Father to enlighten yo' mind and lead yuh in paths o' righteousness for his name sake."
    "You makin' yo' mama right proud this day," Aunt Lou added. She was a tiny woman, especially compared to Uncle Hiram, who was tall and thin—a beanpole, Ma would have said. Aunt Lou had on a long, dark skirt, all the way to her shoes, a long-sleeved blouse with a brooch pinned at the neck, and a knit shawl over her shoulders, even on this warm spring day.
    "Y'all hear from Randall lately?" she asked.
    I started to tell them we'd had a letter yesterday, but Brother Johnson appeared at the church door and spotted me. "Come on inside," he called to me. "It's gettin' late, and you ain't even in your robe yet."
    "Run on, now," Aunt Lou told me, reaching up and patting my shoulder. "I'll get Lucy to tell me about Randall during the picnic."
    "God bless you, son," Uncle Hiram added. "I got the feelin' this is gon' be a big day in yo' life."
    I didn't know about that, but I thanked them and let Aunt Lou kiss my cheek.
    Inside, people were taking their places on the wooden benches. Everyone was talking. There always was a big crowd on baptism days—Pop said nobody in Toad Hop would ever miss the free dinner that followed the service.
    "Here," Brother Johnson said, handing me a white choir robe. "Y'all sit up front, 'cause I got some special words for you in the sermon. At the pond, do just like we practiced."
    "And keep our mouths and eyes closed," Henry added helpfully.
    "That's right," Brother Johnson said. "I put my hand over y'all's noses. Y'all be okay. It only take a second. Now go to the back and get your robes on. And remember, boys: listen real careful to the sermon. The Lord got somethin' important to say to you today. God bless you."
    We went to the back. Ma appeared, smoothed down the shoulders of my robe, and turned me around so she could make sure my shirt collar wasn't sticking up.
    "I'm so proud of you," she told me. "Today you're a man in the eyes of God. If only..."
    I guessed what she was thinking. Pop and Randall.
    "Never forget this day," she said.
    That morning went by in a blur. I remember sitting on the front bench along with Nathan and Henry, and how we were the only ones up there. I remember feeling lots of eyes looking at the back of my head. I remember Brother Johnson preaching a long time, but what he talked about, I don't know. My mind went everywhere