Since Dawdi was in the midst of telling Sol he didn’t have to worry about taking care of the animals for several days—he’d asked their neighbor to spread the word Sol needed help—Ellie waited in the doorway till Dawdi motioned for her to enter. She set the tray on his lap, then carried the teacup around to the left of the bed and gave it to Sol. The ice bag was balanced on his head.

“You’ve done so much, Ellie,” he said as he took the cup in his good hand.

“Here, come sit in this chair,” Dawdi said to her, handing the tray back when she came around. “I’ll find another.” And with that, he left the room.

“Hezekiah says he and I are both conscientious objectors,” Sol said, stopping to sip some tea. He didn’t sound as breathless now.

“That’s true,” she said. “He rejected any form of service in the First World War, including a non-combatant role as a worker in a Virginia psychiatric hospital.”

Dawdi brought another cane-back chair into the room, lowered it next to the first, and sat down. “There, now,” he said as Ellie placed the tray on his lap again. He bowed his head and silently asked the blessing on his meal, then reached for his lemonade and began to drink.

“Why are COs so despised?” Sol asked.

“Well, some people think they should be willin’ to serve in the military no matter their beliefs. And in my day they weren’t just hated for being pacifists; they were also used as guinea pigs for medical and pesticide studies. Imagine usin’ people in such a way without their consent.”

Ellie was stunned.

“Wow. I didn’t know that,” Sol said.

Dawdi continued. “Fortunately, I wasn’t used in that way, but I was called every slur in the book, including some I can’t repeat. People accused me of being a coward for my refusal to fight or even serve, and that got me sent to prison in Leavenworth, Kansas, for more than a year. Many COs then were put in military camps. Some felt sure ’twas a breach of their civil rights to have to serve the U.S. government in any way, shape, or form.” He paused. “I felt it was wrong, too, but because of what the Good Book teaches . . . the path of non-resistance.”

“Then this . . . is nothin’ compared to your suffering,” Sol said, seeming to pace his words.

“Well, I’d hate to think of anyone bein’ chained to the bars in a prison cell eight hours a day,” Dawdi said, then took a bite of his sandwich.

“That happened to you, Dawdi?” Ellie asked, horrified.

He nodded, still chewing.

“I never knew.” Ellie was dumbfounded.