Josh was trying to make his conscience shut up, so he could get some sleep. His fellow passengers on the stage were sleeping, in spite of the bumpy ride and ever-changing speed. He'd already gone over his finances (he might have to take a job or two to get back, especially if he indulged in any entertainment.)
He'd gone over his own timetable as best he could. Too much of that depended on other people, whom he did not know, in the city. At the army base. Why couldn't they just answer a guy's questions like rational people? It couldn't be that big a secret how long enlistments were; all the newspapers were reporting on that. (Except every one of them offered different information.)
He'd also gone over Jason's probable schedule. Jason's annual buying and business trips usually took him about six weeks. It depended on what transportation was available. If there was a boat coming back, he'd be there quicker; if he had to come overland, balancing railroad and stagecoach, like Josh was doing now, it could take longer.
If it didn't take too long, he should be able to get back before Jason.
Hell with depending on other people. The farther he got from home, the more he wished he hadn't left. He shouldn't have left Jeremy alone, even if it was what he'd wanted.
He remembered how Jeremy had looked at him when he left. Stoic, that was the word. Jeremy wasn't going to try to stop him, and Jeremy knew he might not come back. They had discussed that.
Sort of discussed it. They had left a lot unsaid, in the way of brothers who'd known one another all their lives and didn't want to get the other one in trouble.
"If I'm not back in three days," he'd said and Jeremy had nodded.
"If I have to go – ahead," he'd said, and Jeremy had nodded.
"I might not be back when Jason gets back.I'll try, but."
Jeremy had nodded.
"Do you want to do this? We – I don't have to." (That was a lie, of sorts. Joshua was feeling compelled to do what he needed, whatever the cost. But he should be the one that paid the cost; not his little brother.
His little brother who was looking littler with every word.
"Yes, we do," Jeremy said. "B-both of us." He'd smiled faintly. "W-we can't k-keep letting J-jason t-treat us like slaves."
Joshua, then and now, laughed out loud.
That had been Jeremy's take on Josh's explanations of slavery and why it was an issue. That slaves were bought and sold, and the people who bought them treated them as children who could be hired out, and never, ever, ever allowed them to be grown up. They had to be housed and clothed and fed and taken care of and when they got old they still had to be housed and clothed and fed and taken care of. They couldn't grow up and go to other places, and they had to do jobs that they were told to, instead of what they wanted. They could only be friends with who the owners let them. They couldn't get married and have their own babies, because the babies belonged to the owners, too. The owners could sell the babies and keep their parents.
Or they could sell the parents and keep the babies.
Jeremy had been so outraged! That anyone would take Mamas away from their very own little kids, on purpose! Who did they think they were, God?
"Yes, that's who they think they are. It's who they are, to their slaves," Josh had answered.
"People ain't g-gods," Jeremy said flatly.
Joshua could agree with that. Most people seemed more inclined to the Other Side.
"And g-grown-ups sh-should be allowed to g-grow up. Gosh, what if Jason should d-decide we can't be grown up when we are?"
"If he's like Da, he'll probably have to be reminded a lot anyway."
Jeremy thought that over. "W-well J-jason wasn't very growed up. Just m-more than us."
"Maybe. I guess maybe you always keep growing so everybody older than you always is, so you never really do catch up with them."
Jeremy sighed. "Yeah. Jason al'ays says we're always gonna be his l-little b-brothers."
"We don't have to stay little."
Jeremy looked down at himself, and grinned. "I hope not! I ain't never b-been as b-big as anyb-body my own age, so." He shrugged. "As long as I g-et bigger than I am."
"That'll happen."
"Good."
Yeah, Josh really hoped he'd be home if Jeremy ever unloaded that definition of slavery on Jason.
He'd just have to make sure he was.
Maybe.
He wondered what Jeremy was doing, and hoped it wasn't splitting more firewood. He'd seen the set of the jaw and shoulders when he'd told him not to, and there wouldn't be anyone there to stop him.
But Jeremy had a core of common sense, and Josh thought he'd be okay.
And still wondered what he was doing. With a smile. He could sleep now.
/
Had Josh known what Jeremy was doing, he might have laughed out loud.
Jeremy was sampling one of Jason's cigars.
It wasn't naughty, exactly, because Jason always asked his brothers if they wanted one, too; but it sorta was because Jason knew they'd both say 'No.'
Jason knew they'd both say no because one time Josh had accepted his offer, and then Jason had a good laugh when Josh got sick. Jeremy wasn't going to let anyone laugh at him. Unless he was being funny, of course.
Josh hadn't listened to Jason, though. Josh was just set on being as big – as grown up as Jason was, and taking big breaths in, and holding them in, letting them out slow, with smoke coming out his nose, and trying to make long ashes, and ignoring when Jason told him to take it slow, or to sip and not gulp, and other advice of that sort.
Jason said smoking was like eating. You had to do it a little bit at a time, just like when a baby starts eating real food. After a while, the child could clean a plate, and a man could enjoy a cigar.
But Josh said he was older than Jason had been, and he could do anything Jason could at the same age.
So Jason had laughed, and laughed hard, when Josh got sick.
Josh had been so mad, but he couldn't do anything about it, because he was too busy being sick.
Jeremy wasn't going to be that dumb, and if he got sick, he'd be the only one to know. (Of course, he might have to clean up after himself, too, and that wouldn't be nice.) If he liked it, he'd practice like taking baby bites until he could 'clean the plate'.
He liked it when Jason smoked cigars.
Jason didn't do it very often, but every now and then he'd say it felt like a good night for a good smoke. It was almost always here at the mountain cabin, and Jason would go sit on the porch (with his brothers following) and lean back, put his feet up, and make a ritual of lighting his cigar.
And of smoking it.
It smelled good, when Jason smoked outside on the porch. The smell mixed in with the scent of trees and water and fresh air.
When he'd been little, like last year, he'd scramble into Jason's lap and lean back against his chest, and just enjoy being there. When he'd go to bed, the smell stayed in his hair and on his skin. It was almost like when he used to sleep with Jason all the time.
Josh would sit on the edge of the porch, and sometimes they'd talk, and sometimes they wouldn't, but it didn't matter. What mattered was they enjoyed being together while Jason enjoyed his cigar, and the nights were wonderful.
Jeremy wasn't going out on the porch, though. That would make him miss his brothers too much, but he could sit here on the hearth in front of the fireplace and try this out. He hoped he wouldn't get sick.
First, it made his mouth taste funny. Then it made his mouth feel funny. Like he licked a dustrag. Bleah.
Sip, don't gulp, he reminded himself.
Next it made his nose taste funny. That was interesting. He didn't know his nose could taste. And here came that dustrag, trying to get right into his nose.
Maybe he had sipped enough for tonight? He wasn't feeling sick, exactly, but what if that not-real dustrag went down his throat?
Well, he'd try one more sip and see if it went that way.
It went from his nose right into the top of his head and made it float around. He'd better stop now. When your head floated around, that could be when you got sick, and he didn't want to clean up sickness.
Regretfully, he tossed the rest of the cigar into the fire, and sat there breathing until his head stopped floating.
It still smelled okay, the cigar did. It smelled like Jason was there. Jeremy looked around cautiously to be sure he wasn't.
When Jeremy stood up, his eyes got all blurry. Uh-oh.
He made it to his bed, though, and snuggled in, sniffing at his clothes and his skin. He smelled like Jason was here. That was nice.
Until it wasn't.
His head didn't float around any more, but the room was spinning around, and that nasty old rag was going down his throat anyway.
He shouldn't have took that last sip.
Jeremy had tears running out of his fuzzy eyes, and he closed them so he couldn't see things moving. As long as he didn't move, and nothing else did, either, it would be okay. He would be okay.
He took slow breaths, and concentrated on enjoying the Jason smell the cigar had filled the room with.
He went to sleep crying for his brothers, while, miles to the south, Joshua was sleeping, smiling proudly at the thought of his.