The Biscuit Run

By Darrel Bird

15 year old Jacob Banning’s world suddenly crumbles as he is ruthlessly taken by cruel men to fight in the civil war. He ends up killing a boy about his own age, and flees the scene of blood, and smoke. He tries to get back home, but is only taken deeper into the south to fight in a battle over a hundred yard piece of ground.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Darrel Bird
• Release date: May 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458158635

Darrel Bird

Darrel Bird has written and published 47 short stories. He attended Bakersfield college, and is an avid motorcyclist.

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The Biscuit Run

By

Darrel Bird

Copyright 2009 by Darrel Bird

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The Biscuit Run

On that bright summer morning in Arkansas in 1862, fifteen-year-old Jacob Banning walked out onto the porch, pulling on his suspenders. He looked down the dusty road toward the barn at old Fred, one of the two plough mules the family owned. He watched as Fred scratched the underside of his jaw on the rail fence. Old Fred shook his head and went back to look for corn that wasn’t there.

I swear, that mule checks his feed trough as if he thinks it will grow corn. The only food Fred liked more than corn was apples.

The early morning sun was warm on Jacob’s shoulders as he stood there; sleepily thinking about the new ground he had started plowing yesterday. He thought of the time when the land had lain dormant. Seven years was almost half his life; he was expecting a good crop of corn off that land. He looked at his hands, which had become strong from hard work. Yes, he looked forward to breaking ground and planting that field.

Jacob had grown tall. He had soft brown eyes and a kindly look about him, and he favored his mother. His shock of blonde hair was in striking contrast to his tanned face.

He thought about going through the kitchen and trying to snag a biscuit. Jacob had made many biscuit runs, and he was tempted now to have a run at that kitchen. The middle bedroom of the house connected to the kitchen, which extended all the way across the back of the house. This meant you had to go through a bedroom to get from the living room to the kitchen. The kitchen had a back door, so if he was fast enough, he could run all the way through the house and out the kitchen door, snagging a biscuit on the way while dodging his mother’s long-handled cooking spoon. However, the thought of that spoon cracking atop his head cured him of such delusions. It took a certain amount of luck, and he didn’t feel up to the challenge. Besides, patience got the better of his stomach, and so he set himself to wait.

His mother frowned on anyone getting a