Funeral
Cordia had never been to a funeral before. Most of her grandparents had died before she was born. Her Nana Pike passed away when she was about three or four, but she had stayed home from the funeral with Frieda. She had read about such things in many books, so it was a little surprising to her when she awoke that Saturday morning to see the sun shining in the sky. After all, in every story she had ever read, the sky was always dark and gloomy, wind blowing a driving rain, as all the mourners, dressed in black huddled around the coffin.
As her family followed the procession of other carriages and wagons out to the cemetery on the edge of the Adams Farm, she thought it fitting that the sun was shining. Though it was still August, and therefore, still hot, there was a nice, gentle breeze blowing. Jaris’s parents had asked Cordia and her family to sit with them directly in front of the coffin. She took her place there, beside what would have been her mother-in-law. Margaret smiled through her tears and took her hand. Of course, she was not angry with Cordia over what had happened with the telegraph. Arthur sat on her other side, along with the three boys. Cordia’s heart went out to them. Zachariah, trying to be a man, still wanting to cry like a little boy. Peter, sobbing his eyes out. And John, not quite able to comprehend what was going on around him.
Rev. Jacobson took his place beside the closed casket. A Confederate flag was draped over it along with some fresh flowers. He waited a few moments for others to make their way down the little walking path. Finally, he began, over sobs and wails of those come to give their last goodbyes.
“Dear friends and family, we are gathered here this August day to say goodbye to a brave and courageous young man.” People did not hesitate to verbalize their agreement, throughout the reverend’s speech, saying such things as “Yes, yes” and “Amen.” The reverend continued. “In a time like this, it is so easy to ask the Lord, ‘Why, why this young man? Why now, struck down so young, so much in the prime of his life, so useful to so many.’ And, yet, we cannot ask God why. No, that is not our place. We must trust in the Lord’s judgment ....” The sermon continued for about fifteen minutes. The reverend quoted scripture, read from the Bible, and blessed the family in prayer, including Cordia, who he described as, “Not yet a wife, but the love of Jaris’s life, and the truest of friends.”
Then, to Cordia’s surprise, Rev. Jacobson asked her father to say a few words. Apparently, he had planned to do this, as he pulled a small piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. He nodded his thanks to the reverend, and then addressed the crowd. “As you all know, I was given the honor of spending an enormous amount of time in this fine young man’s presence. We have been blessed in these trying times with many strong, courageous young men. But, I don’t think there are any who could champion Jaris Adams in his convictions, nor in the ability to stand up for what was right. I was looking forward to walking my daughter down the aisle to take his hand and join these two families into one. I would have been so proud to call my daughter Cordia Pike Adams. To me, we will always be bound to the Adams family in this special way, but I thought it was fitting, at this time, to share with all of you some of the words that Jaris spoke to me on the night he asked me for my daughter’s hand. He said, ‘Mr. Pike, I know there is a war a’brewin.’ I know that I may be called upon to do my duty. And if that time comes, and I have to leave my family and your dear daughter to answer that call, I will do so with knowledge that I am fulfilling my destiny. But please know, I will love your daughter with all my heart, always, no matter what may come to pass.’” Cordia couldn’t help but to begin to weep, listening to her father’s words. He closed with a few more remarks about Jaris’s strength of character and then returned to his seat, squeezing his daughter’s hand.
After another prayer, the reverend closed the ceremony. The flag was folded and handed to Mrs. Adams, and then Jaris’s coffin was slowly lowered into the grave. Cordia, along with the rest of his family, said there last goodbyes, tossing flowers onto the lid. Then, Cordia numbly made her way back to the carriage and to her life, without Jaris.
* * *
A few weeks into October, the sky finally began to change, the wind seemed to shift, and the sun seemed to lessen in intensity. To the citizens of Barton County, it seemed that this cruelly hot summer might finally be over. They were all looking forward to a crisp, cool fall. And, hopefully, the cessation of fighting.
That didn’t seem too likely, however. Everyday seemed to bring more news of battles and skirmishes within the state. Lexington, Butler, Warrensburg, all of these towns were scenes of heavy fighting. And then, there were more stories of raiders, working their way along the Missouri-Kansas border. Word had it homes were being burned with little warning, families attacked. There was even news that bands of guerrilla warriors were milling about, looting and robbing, taking whatever it was they wanted.
So far, the closest the fighting had gotten to Lamar since the Battle of Carthage was Butler in Vernon County. Still, folks were becoming very cautious, especially those who lived farthest away from town. The militia was still drilling on the square every day. Some folks said it was just a matter of time before war reached right into their own backyards.
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