*****
A buzz of whispers erupted among the crowd of reenactors. Men moved away from Leland, although a small group of loyalists stood beside him. A few immediately turned and began walking back to the camps. I looked at Ben and he nodded slightly; the glare in his eyes had given way to a confused look. Reg, who had somehow made his way back to the Virginia 1202nd, and his friends began gathering in a small group.
Leland was down on one knee speaking to his son. Junior Squires was standing beside them with an angry look on his face.
Many of the reenactors were looking at Anna and me, waiting for one of us to respond. Thinking back to that day, I could have said many things, but I was too surprised by the boy’s words to speak. Anna said nothing either, although she later told me that she found the boy’s choice of words too offensive to be acknowledged.
Anna looked at me and said, “Let’s go.”
We climbed in the back of the truck and stood, holding on to the cab. My backpacking gear was scattered about. Evidently, Max had hastily gathered it together and thrown it into the back of the truck when Zeb stopped to pick him up.
The truck crept forward and Junior called out, “I know Ms. Foxharte there, but what’s your name, boy?”
Max put his hand on my shoulder, and I saw him smile. Like most people, he has different smiles; this was his sarcastic smile. Max asked, “What’s it to you?”
Junior jerked his head toward me and said, “So if I ever see him again, I can properly thank him.” A few reenactors laughed and others nodded with angry looks on their faces.
Max cleared his throat and shouted, “Don’t you know, this here’s Huckleberry Finn.” As the truck turned and pulled away.
Glancing across the battlefield, I said to Max, “You surprise me.”
“How’s that?”
“I didn’t know you were so well read – I mean, Huck Finn, come on.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last eight months, watching TV all day?”
“Good ole’ Max,” I said, “always there when someone needs him.”
“Good ole’ Max,” said Anna. She kissed him on the cheek.