# War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy/Chapter 14

XIV
BETSY'S PIES AGAIN
ANYHOW, another squad of Unions come around.
"Well," I says, "you're a funny lot. Now you're all dressed up in Union uniforms. What are you, anyhow? Unions or Johnnies?"
"Do you think you have seen us before?" laughs the lieutenant in command.
"I do," says I.
"We are here for the last time, to find out from the people, like yourself, whom we know to be loyal, what is going on at the Underground station, and in the Copperhead lodge of the Knights of the Golden Circle. Are you willing to help your country?"
"Well, how can I help you when I don't know anything?" say I. "I'm getting tired of this."
​"So are we. And we are going to close the incident. Call out your whole family."
"There's no one here but me," I says.
They seemed mad about that.
"Mr. Vonner," says the officer, with his finger on me like a loaded gun, "there have been traitorous doings in this vicinity for a long time! Information goes south from here regularly of all our movements! Such bulky things as horses, provisions and recruits slip through the lines from here! Somewhere near the Knights of the Golden Circle meet! Now, then, do you mean to persist in saying that you live in this hotbed of treason and know nothing of any of these things?"
"Not a thing," laughs I. "You're fooled, Lieutenant. It ain't so."
"Well, let me tell you, sir, that the United States government is not so easily fooled. And its eyes are right on this place, just now—and on you! Take care. You may be as dull as you seem. You may not. Though all about ​here seem to agree that you are an honest Union man."
"Yes, I am," I says, "straight through from here to here—"
I touched my bosom and my back.
"—and if anybody plays rebel monkey shines around here you'll know it as soon as I do."
"I like to hear that," says the officer.
He consults with his men, and then he turns to me and says—suddenly.
"Mr. Vonner, the Underground station is said to be not three miles to the south of this spot!"
"No!" says I, soprized like thunder.
"It is at Crider's tavern, or in that vicinity," said the officer.
"Well, by the Lord," says I, hot against Crider, "I owe him a few now. If he cuts up any tricks hereafter he'll get a load of buckshot from the old flint-lock!"
"This will be better," says the officer, taking a carbine from one of his men and handing ​it to me. "Give him your ammunition, Gross," he says to the man, and he emptied a double handful of brass cartridges into my hands.
"Now," said the officer, "I believe in you, though you and your sons are under suspicion. Prove your loyalty to the Union by keeping up a patrol of this vicinity. There's a spy near you. Mallory. He must be caught. You can catch him. He won't be on guard for you. If you meet any strangers—or even not strangers—who can not give an account of themselves, take them into custody. I am authorized to deputize you a provost marshal of the United States. If any one resists or will not stand, fire upon him."
"By the Lord, I will!" says I, hot.
"You so swear?" says the officer. "Hold up your right hand."
I did it.
"But there is a suspicious circumstance affecting you and your sons. Why aren't some of you in the Union army if you are loyal?"
"Well," I says, kind of humble, "that's so, ​Mr. Officer. Some of us ought to go. We talk about it often. But Dave's young and reckless, and Jon's handsome. I hate to think about 'em being shot in the legs or cut in the face with sabers. Or with just one leg or arm. I see so many cripples coming home. I wish we could have war without shooting or cutting. When we get through all the nice young men will be on crutches. What then? Some one has to be licked. And the other side'll need the young men to build up with again. Why, we won't have anything when it's done and will have to begin right on the ground—after everything's shot and burned up. No one but me ain't looking ahead, I expect. Look at us. It was hard enough getting a living out of the old farm before. What do you think it's going to be afterward? And, then, Mr. Officer, though I ain't as pretty as my sons, they wouldn't let me go alone—though I'm willing if that'll keep them all in one piece. You see—I suppose you suspect it, anyhow—we ain't no fighters, and we hate to hurt and kill things—and to be ​apart. If one's goes we'll all have to go. And, maybe, we couldn't all get in the same company. So, who'd take care of my boys if they got sick? And how'd they take care of me? I expect, if it gets much worse—some'll have to—"
"It must get worse before it can get better," said the officer. "And when that time comes you must take your place in the ranks, or prove your loyalty otherwise. But, for the present you are, probably, more useful here. We expect the arrest of Mallory now, no matter who he may be. Be sure to tell no one of your office."
"Not even Dave and Jon?"
"No one," says the officer. "Especially Dave and Jon. And by the way, has Betsy any pies on hand?"
He forgets and laughs and opens his haversack.
"Oh, so!" says I. "You were never here before! I just wonder who told you about the pies—and Betsy! Ha ha!"
​But I didn't exactly get him. One of his men nudged him and whispers.
"My dear man," he laughs, "Betsy and her pies are known all through the Union army!"
"I thought I had you," says I, "but you got me—and you shall have the pies for being smarter than me and slinging such a fine compliment at Betsy."
Well, he got the pies—and dropped some papers out of his bag as he opened it for Betsy to put them in. I picks 'em up and yells after him, but he is out of sight, laughing, and in dust and noise, before I can think.
I put the papers in my pocket, thinking that they would soon be back again and I'd give 'em to him.