“You, Seth, have more influence with the people than any one man in this county. You’re connected by family to every big clan in Breathitt. When you say peace, they keep the peace; when you say war, they fight. For years now there’s been no general trouble. That’s because, as you declared, war don’t pay. And you’re right, indeed you are, where feud wars are concerned. We’ve had enough of them, God knows!”
Todd continued: “Seth, they’re framing a draft bill there in Washington. They’re going to make men join the army if they won’t join it voluntarily. Now our boys never had to be kicked into battle, Seth. They’ve got the good old Kentucky warrior blood in their veins; and the better the cause, the harder they fight. Let’s show the country that Breathitt isn’t as bad as printer’s ink has painted her. Let’s not wait for that draft bill. Tell your men, Seth, that this is the worst war and the best war that ever happened. Tell ’em it’s the most wicked war and the holiest war in which a Kentuckian was ever privileged to draw a bead. Say the word, old friend, and every son of Breathitt will rally to the flag, to wipe the stains from their own hills and help clean the world’s slate for the universal writing of the name Democracy!”
Again old Seth shook his head. He waved his hand with a gesture of finality, then brought his fist to his knee with a dull thud.
“Yer a mighty purty talker, lawyer, and I ’low ye means what ye says—but, I tells ye, I ain’t got no consarn in this here war. Keeser and his Germins ain’t done nothin’ to me and my folks. Them men o’ Breathitt who wants to fight, can fight. I won’t stop ’em. But, lawyer, I ain’t a-goin’ to call ’em to war till that feller Keeser makes the fust move agin one o’ us. That’s what I says to Jim and that’s what I’m a-sayin’ to ye,” he added defiantly.
Lawyer Todd said nothing. He knew the mettle of his people. He believed in them. He also knew that old Seth was a victim of isolation and the teachings of a primitive creed; that his opposition sprang from ignorance, not disloyalty. It was the inborn nature of a mountaineer to prefer battle among his own hills, whose every rock and peak and cove he had studied with an eye to offense and defense, rather than wage war in the enemy’s country where he was a stranger. Besides, as Seth himself had said, the Brannons and their kin had not yet smelled blood. “Keeser and his Germins” must first offer direct injury to one of them before they could feel the personal touch of war and answer the challenge from oversea.
With this realization Todd broke the silence in a firm voice, pointing to the yellow envelope in the old man’s hand.
“Seth, that telegram holds bad news for you folks.”
Seth’s attitude of defiance relaxed. Taut cords stood out beneath the dry skin of his throat as the inner man gripped himself.
“Is Jim hurt?” There was a tremor of paternalism in the question. The yellow envelope fluttered to the ground near the mare’s feet.
Todd looked Seth steadily in the eyes. “Worse than hurt, old friend, yet better than hurt,” he replied. “Jim is dead.”