and bad for both sides, they said. It had let the army move against the rebels sooner, but it had also given Lathan a chance to broaden his holdings over good ground, since the earth wasn't churned to mud this spring like it usually was. There was one thing certain, people said, there'd been plenty of chances for fighting and there were a lot of dead and wounded in both armies.
One day a traveler from Bluevale stopped for supper and told Papa there was trouble in town with the army, and likely to be more. After the terrible battles out west, many troopers had been sent back to rest up and lick their wounds.
"They're hungry and most of ' em hurt," the man said. "They got no will to fight Lathan anymore, but there's plenty of mean in them still."
And mean, he told them, meant brawling and burning, and a rape or two thrown in. It wasn't so bad in the countryside, yet—but it would be, soon as the towns got too tough on the troopers.
There was other news, too, that set Papa's jaw and turned his face beet red.
"A War Tax, or that's what they're callin ' it," he grumbled. "You're old enough to know what's happening in the country and take some note of it," he told Howie.
The traveler had gone his way and Papa sat with his big fists in his chin before the fire. There was still a chill in the air and wood coals glowed on the hearth.
"Thing is," Papa explained, "it's not what you call something that makes it what it is. You can pin a name on a nettle and call it a daisy, but that don't make it one An' you can call this tax business what you like—it's the government getting too big for its britches is what it is."
He told Howie that the troopers were going to have to have more food to keep fighting Lathan through spring, because the rebels had stripped the land out west and left nothing but stubble on the ground.
"And we have to give it to ' em ?" Howie wanted to know.
"Appears that way for now."
"Is it a lot? A lot of food?" Howie had visions of soldiers carrying off everything on the farm, leaving them with nothing at all to eat.
"It's enough," Papa muttered. " Enough . And do we have to?" He scratched his beard and looked at Howie. "That's a yes and a no, boy, is what it is. Something that ain't been clear settled. Might be the government'll find they bit off more'n they can swallow 'fore it's over."
"What do you mean, Papa?"
"Just that anybody with good sense knows it's got to stop sometime!" His fist hit the table so hard Howie jumped. "It ain't just the war. It's other things, too. Things that give a few folks too much say in other people's business!"
Howie didn't understand a lot about the government, or what it did. He knew there were people like the man who came every year at Choosing and talked about America. That was government and so was the army fighting Lathan. And there were real important people, like the president, who told everyone what to do. But all that was pretty far away. It didn't have much to do with planting crops and tending stock. You couldn't think a lot about things you couldn't see—there were too many real things closer by. Only he guessed the government was going to be close enough to think about, now.
At the end of February the troopers started making their rounds of the farms and ranches in the county, and Howie recalled what Papa had said. It was true enough—a lot of people were thinking the government had bitten off more than it could swallow. They worked hard for what they got and didn't take kindly to giving any part of it away for something like a War Tax.
At the Jeffers farm there was a fight between one of Lang Jeffers' boys and a couple of troopers. One soldier got cut up pretty bad and they tried to take the boy in for trial. They didn't get far with that—Lang made it clear the soldiers would have to take him and his other five sons too if they figured on taking one and he didn't think that would be too easy to do. The soldiers were smart enough to see they could
One day a traveler from Bluevale stopped for supper and told Papa there was trouble in town with the army, and likely to be more. After the terrible battles out west, many troopers had been sent back to rest up and lick their wounds.
"They're hungry and most of ' em hurt," the man said. "They got no will to fight Lathan anymore, but there's plenty of mean in them still."
And mean, he told them, meant brawling and burning, and a rape or two thrown in. It wasn't so bad in the countryside, yet—but it would be, soon as the towns got too tough on the troopers.
There was other news, too, that set Papa's jaw and turned his face beet red.
"A War Tax, or that's what they're callin ' it," he grumbled. "You're old enough to know what's happening in the country and take some note of it," he told Howie.
The traveler had gone his way and Papa sat with his big fists in his chin before the fire. There was still a chill in the air and wood coals glowed on the hearth.
"Thing is," Papa explained, "it's not what you call something that makes it what it is. You can pin a name on a nettle and call it a daisy, but that don't make it one An' you can call this tax business what you like—it's the government getting too big for its britches is what it is."
He told Howie that the troopers were going to have to have more food to keep fighting Lathan through spring, because the rebels had stripped the land out west and left nothing but stubble on the ground.
"And we have to give it to ' em ?" Howie wanted to know.
"Appears that way for now."
"Is it a lot? A lot of food?" Howie had visions of soldiers carrying off everything on the farm, leaving them with nothing at all to eat.
"It's enough," Papa muttered. " Enough . And do we have to?" He scratched his beard and looked at Howie. "That's a yes and a no, boy, is what it is. Something that ain't been clear settled. Might be the government'll find they bit off more'n they can swallow 'fore it's over."
"What do you mean, Papa?"
"Just that anybody with good sense knows it's got to stop sometime!" His fist hit the table so hard Howie jumped. "It ain't just the war. It's other things, too. Things that give a few folks too much say in other people's business!"
Howie didn't understand a lot about the government, or what it did. He knew there were people like the man who came every year at Choosing and talked about America. That was government and so was the army fighting Lathan. And there were real important people, like the president, who told everyone what to do. But all that was pretty far away. It didn't have much to do with planting crops and tending stock. You couldn't think a lot about things you couldn't see—there were too many real things closer by. Only he guessed the government was going to be close enough to think about, now.
At the end of February the troopers started making their rounds of the farms and ranches in the county, and Howie recalled what Papa had said. It was true enough—a lot of people were thinking the government had bitten off more than it could swallow. They worked hard for what they got and didn't take kindly to giving any part of it away for something like a War Tax.
At the Jeffers farm there was a fight between one of Lang Jeffers' boys and a couple of troopers. One soldier got cut up pretty bad and they tried to take the boy in for trial. They didn't get far with that—Lang made it clear the soldiers would have to take him and his other five sons too if they figured on taking one and he didn't think that would be too easy to do. The soldiers were smart enough to see they could
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