With This Peace

by Karen Campbell Prough

  Chapter 3

  “It’d be for two weeks,” Duncan said. “I’d be back the middle of September. You have my drawing of the trail. I’ll catch up with you. It’s my chance to cut west and locate the survey crew—the one from Virginia I traveled with last winter.”

  “You can’t find them in this soggy wilderness!” Jim’s tone was sarcastic.

  “Jim, I know they follow the coast and plan to be near the village of Tampa by the third of next month. There’s a ship expected on that date. It’s got supplies and equipment for them. It gives me time to make it to the bay. I’ll hike it—do it with a gun, ammo, and food pack.”

  “Are you sure of anything?” Jim said. “Even of where we are, right now? Why would you think of leaving? We had a bargain—you and me.” Anger laced his clipped words. “You‘re deserting us.”

  “Jim, they offered me a job for the winter, starting southward in mid-October. I want to see if the deal still stands. Besides, it’s good wages. I didn’t think I’d be coming south this soon and told them no.”

  “But we need your help.” Jim’s strained voice indicated resentment. “You’re cutting out on us after persuading us to follow you into this sweltering heat.”

  “Jim, calm down. I remember our deal.”

  “You’re walking away!”

  “No. When I rejoin you in two weeks, I’ll still have a month or more to get you settled before I catch up with the survey crew. The winters are mild—not like in the mountains. You’ll see.”

  No, no—we cain’t split up. Ella laid back on the sleeping mat and dug her raw fingertips into the sheet under her body. I want to go home. A tear slid down the side of her face. Jim, don’t agree with him. Don’t.

  “Duncan, your leaving means we’ll have less protection.” Samuel spoke with a hint of disbelief. “Who knows what we’ll come up against? I say we stay together or turn back. My opinion of what we’ve done has changed since we talked to those families in Saint Augustine. They thought we were crazy, and said it’s a foolish venture. This Indian issue isn’t settled.”

  “Samuel …” Duncan chuckled. “I’ve been up and down the length of Florida two times. Two, mind you. Each Indian I saw was friendly. I’m even beholden to a couple of them for saving my life. This spring, when we clear land for a school, you’ll feel different. And Jim, do you want to turn back in defeat?”

  Defeat? Oh, Duncan, don’t ask that of my husband. Ella groaned in dismay.

  There was a span of thick silence, broken by the crackle of the dying fire. The cicadas in the oaks ceased their sing-song trill.

  “I’ve come this far.” Jim’s voice reflected fatigue. “I can stick it out and claim a bit of land. Although today seemed a disaster. I hate it Ella lost her cow, with it ready to drop. Is it possible to get a replacement from the wild cattle? A calf?”

  “We can do that.” Duncan cleared his throat. “And I want to take Samuel with me.”

  “What?” Jim shouted.

  “Shh! You heard me.”

  “Duncan, I can’t go!” Samuel’s voice held disbelief.

  “That’s right.” Jim said. “If something happens to me, I want him with my family. He knows my wishes. I wrote it out on paper.”

  “Jim, look at it this way. Samuel can check the need for teachers in Tampa and help me round up cattle on our way back. I’ll need his horse and ability with the whip. We’ll buy a cow pony at the village for you. If you make camp and start a simple corral where I showed on the map, we’ll easily find you.”

  “You’re cow-crazy!” Samuel said. “I’ve seen those wild cows and bulls. They’re skinny and mean, with horns that can do grave damage to horse or man. They’ve no meat or fat on them.”

  “Let me show you the map.”

  “I don’t care what your map says,” Jim shouted.

  There was the faint rattle of paper.

  Ella rubbed her face. “Oh, God, this is a nightmare!” She wanted to jump out of the wagon and demand Duncan lead them home.

  “Duncan,” Samuel said. “You can’t be serious. It’d leave them alone.”

  “Samuel, they’ll have two guns, and Ella shoots as good as any of us.”

  “So? Listen to yourself. Don’t you care?”

  “I do care! Jim and Ella can find the small settlement I marked on the map. It’s close. There’s people living there. I promise we’ll be back in two weeks, three at the most. This is a chance to divide up and accomplish two things.”

  “How?”

  “You and I will push a bunch of cows ahead of us on the way back. We’re both good at using a whip. Corral them, and we’ll have a herd started in no time. A cow’s a cow! They’re meat and hide, not to mention milk. We’ll fatten them up. While I’m gone with the survey crew, you all can enjoy the extended fall and warm winter. You’ll love it. After the survey crew comes back this way, I’ll join you and have my pay to help with summer supplies.” He cleared his throat. “Jim? What about it?”

  “Oh, you make it sound good,” Jim replied. But uncertainty tainted his words. “Let me see the map.”

  “Which one? Mine or the crazy settler’s from two weeks back?”

  “Yours.”

  Morning dawned clear and cooler. Samuel smiled at Ella Dessa, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t speak but handed him a metal cup of black coffee. He had no doubt she listened to the conversation around the fire. He wished Jim hadn’t been pulled into Duncan’s scheme. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew a fight amongst them wouldn’t be good. He feared for his sister-in-law’s well-being and the safety of the children.

  He gingerly took a sip of coffee. “Hmm, it’s good—but scalding. You want to burn someone?” He eyed her over the rim of the tin cup.

  “Stop starin’ at me, Samuel McKnapp.” Her tired blue eyes flashed as she turned back to the cooking fire. “You’re hoverin’ like a mama chicken. I’m not a child no more.”

  “No, you aren’t. How’s your hands?”

  “They hurt.”

  “I’m worried.” He edged closer. “Ella Dessa?”

  “Yes! I know what’s planned,” she muttered.

  “Look … I’m shocked Jim gave in.” A quick glance told him his brothers stood out of hearing. “This time, I think Duncan’s lost his mind. All the other times—back home—when he wandered away from the mountains or dug in them for gold, he never endangered others.”

  “Try reasonin’ with him.”

  “Impossible.” He rubbed his unshaven chin. His eyes burned from lack of sleep because he did most of the night watch.

  Before responding, she laid a branch against the logs burning in the shallow pit. Her booted foot kicked leaves away from the fire’s edge. Finally, she placed her hands on the curve of her hips and faced him.

  “Does he believe those wild cows will let themselves be caught? I’ve seen those critters up close. Anyone who’d think of wranglin’ some would have to be—” She stopped and gazed at him with regret in her beautiful blue eyes. Her shoulders slumped. “Never mind.”

  “Addled—crazy?” He chuckled.

  “Yes.” She bowed her head and fiddled with the dirty apron around her slender waist.

  “Look at me.” He touched her shoulder with his left hand and gently squeezed. “I plan to be careful and rejoin you and Jim. I’ve herded cattle with one hand, but no—I understand these cows aren’t gentle-like.”

  “You’re right. You cain’t do it.”

  “You might be surprised! But no … cracking a whip, driving wild cows, and burning up under this Florida sun isn’t something I’ll enjoy. Also, I’ve been teaching for the last four years. I don’t believe chasing cattle through palmetto thickets and swamps will be what I do best.”

  “Samuel—”

  “Let me finish.” He held up his right arm, knowing full well what she saw—a scarred stub. “Yes, I only have one hand, but I know my strengths. Duncan is the one I worry about.” He grinned, but still detected fear in her eyes
.

  “Then don’t go,” she pleaded. “Jim would rather you didn’t. We don’t need no stupid wild cows. We don’t even have a corral. We are travelin’. If my tame cows won’t stay put, how does he think a wild one will be submissive?”

  “Duncan hopes you and Jim will reach the settlement marked on his map. It’s the direction he hopes to drive the cattle.”

  “He hopes—” She folded her arms. “Samuel, what if we fail to find it? Get lost? Have troubles? What then?” She gazed at him with eyes reminding him of a troubled sky marked with hints of a storm. “I’m scared.” Tears filled her eyes.

  “I’ll find you and Jim. I promise.”

  “And how? How many moons from now?”

  He chewed at his bottom lip. “There has to be a way … a way for you to leave a sign I can follow. It’s for two weeks. You could just camp here and wait.” He searched her comely face while a familiar ache wrapped around his heart. He wanted to hug her fears away.

  Her face brightened. “No! I can mark the trail.” Her hands grasped the material of her faded blue skirt and lifted it above the tops of her boots. “This! Give me your knife.” She held out her right hand.

  “What?”

  “Give me your knife.”

  He drew the knife from the sheath and handed it to her. Astonished, he watched her fumble with the hem of her skirt, slice through the fabric, and cut a long, narrow strip.

  “It’s old.” She held the piece out to him. “Put it where you won’t lose it. Remember the color.” Her shaking fingers pressed it into the palm of his left hand. “I’ll tie strips from this skirt to branches as a sign. Follow ’em.” Her blue eyes searched his face. “I know you can find us if you leave your own sign to get back to this point.”

  He squashed the material in his left hand and stuffed it in his pocket. “Two weeks. Nothing will keep me from finding you … and the family. Always tie it on the right side of the trail. It’ll keep this poor wanderer going the right direction.” He tried to smile.

  “Mama?” Hannah stuck her head over the rear boards and beckoned. “Amos took his clothes off.”

  “Tell Amos to git dressed!” She sighed, but her lips curved in a tentative smile. “Samuel, don’t let Duncan’s ways rub off on you. He’s your mama’s wild child.”

  He chuckled and watched her walk away. She’s exhausted. He could tell by the way she folded her arms tight to her midsection.

  “She’s a strong woman, still young and beautiful.” Jim walked up and held out a folded paper. It resembled the last page of their family Bible—yellowed and ragged-edged. “Read this. I wrote our agreement.”

  “Ours?” Samuel unfolded the crisp paper, stared at it, and proceeded to read it a second time. “What? Jim, we won’t need this.”

  “It explains itself. I told you, if something should happen, I want you to marry Ella. Protect her. Raise my children as your own. But make sure they remember me.”

  “Jim, I’m the one leaving. I might not make it back! This—this is crazy.” He shook the paper in his hand. “Is this a page from our family Bible? You ripped it out?”

  “Yes. I want you to keep it in case you ever need to convince her it was my idea. I don’t worry about you being willing. I know how you’ve always felt when it came to Ella Dessa. So now, I need the reassurance my family will be safe in this flat land of water holes, heat, and snakes.” He dropped his troubled gaze. “I wish we’d never left the mountains. It’s my fault. I listened to Duncan. The alligator attacking the cow brought me to my senses—too late.”

  Samuel touched Jim’s solid shoulder. “And you’re still listening to him? Sending me with him could be a death sentence for all of us. Anything could happen. I should be here, helping you get the family to a safe settlement and away from Duncan’s schemes. In fact, I’m for turning back, cattle or no cattle.” He squeezed Jim’s shoulder. “Hey, let’s do it—head north. Let Duncan go explore. He can visit us back home.”

  “No.” Jim’s gray eyes watched Amos and Hannah run around the wagon.

  “What?”

  “I’m not ready to give up.” His jaw line tightened under his beard. “Samuel, I see where having cattle might be a plus in this land—a money-maker. You traveling with Duncan will provide the assurance he’ll stick with us in this venture. See? Otherwise, I believe he might disappear. So, keep an eye on him. Hog-tie him if you must.”

  “You know he’ll leave shortly after we get back.” Samuel hated the new lines on his brother’s forehead. “Jim, he has a history of wandering away. It always made Mother worry!”

  “It’s why you must go with him. Don’t let him stray. Hopefully, Ella and I will find the settlement he talks of. Pray we do.”

  Chapter 4

  Friday, September 24, 1847

  Her husband’s abrupt movement jarred Ella awake.

  “Jim?” She rolled to her back.

  They had slept together for the first time in months. Jim had removed a small trunk, which once belonged to her mother, and placed it under the supply wagon. In doing so, he created a wider space on the wagon floor.

  “Shh!”

  The canvas-topped wagon jiggled with their combined movements. He rose on one elbow, his sweaty skin against her side. She tried to control immediate fear.

  “What is it?” Her eyes adjusted to the diffused light filtering through the gaps in the gathered canvas at the rear of the wagon.

  His callused hand found her bare thigh and squeezed, cautioning her to be silent. He leaned against her, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Then his lips touched her ear.

  “Something walked past the wagon. Heard the leaves rustle. It woke me. I should’ve slept outside.”

  “A coon—a bobcat?” She listened for noise beyond the oiled canvas. “We’ve slept late.”

  His finger pressed against her lips. “Shh. Don’t wake the children.” The wagon quivered as he scooted to the opening and loosened the gathers.

  The interior of the wagon lost some of its shadows, revealing his strong profile against the breaking dawn. He stood and hunched over to tug on pants and shove his feet into worn leather boots. The eastern sky lightened and penetrated the spaces between the fern-covered oak branches extended over the wagon.

  “It’s quiet.” He squatted at the rear of the wagon and placed the gun on his bent knees.

  “The livestock ain’t spooked. Even my chickens are still.” She sat up and reached for her blouse. She slid her arms into it and covered her sweat-dampened chemise.

  He uttered a disgusted exclamation. “Cows got loose!” He rose and shoved the canvas aside. “Stay here.” He stepped over the end and dropped to the ground. “Shush the children if they wake.”

  “What if it’s Indians an’ they—” Her whispered question went unfinished, while she crawled to where Jim had sat and peeked out.

  She watched him inch left, gun held shoulder-high. Whatever danger presented itself in the dusky light would get shot. His bare chest appeared ghostly white compared to his tanned arms, neck, and bearded face.

  “God protect ’im!” She snatched up her wrinkled skirt and stood on the sleeping mattress in the center of the wagon. Her shaking hands dropped the skirt over her head. It fell around her bare legs, adding its weight and sticking to her body. Weariness enveloped her as she pushed her feet into her boots and laced them. She knelt at the end of the stuffy wagon and breathed in the cooler air. She hadn’t slept well with both of them bedded down in the narrow space.

  “Jim?”

  “Here.”

  “Can I help?”

  “C’mon. I’ll stand guard.” His breath whispered over parted lips. “Get the grain bucket. Tap on it and call soft-like. Get ’em to come to you. They jerked the tie-downs loose. Stupid sand! There’s no other tracks, but keep an eye on the woods.” He laid the gun barrel over his right shoulder and faced her. “I’ll harness the oxen and horses. We’ll eat later. I want to take the trail anglin’ south.” He slapped at a
mosquito. “Throw me my shirt.”

  She tossed it at him and got out of the wagon. Softly, she called in the growing light, walking an ever-widening circuit of the camp. Conscious of Jim’s gaze following her stumbling progress through the snapping brush, Ella circled back. He had set the wooden yoke and was pinning the hickory bow on the second ox.

  “Jim, they’re gone.” She tried to keep the quiver out of her voice.

  “C’mon.” He patted the rump of the closest oxen and shoved it aside so he could reach a pin he dropped. “Ella. Get the grain bucket, like I suggested. Your cows didn’t stray far. No panthers screamed last night, and we didn’t hear any wolves. They’re just dumb animals.”

  It made sense in Jim’s mind. The cows acted stupid. But why, she thought, are my cows figured to be dumb an’ not his oxen? Why did he fail to tether the cows to trees instead of using stakes in the ground? She shook the leather bucket and pounded on its sides. It produced hollow thumps, creating a sound akin to a muted Indian drum.

  The oxen recognized the sound. Jim fought to insert the second bow and pin it. He tugged on one of the animal’s curved horns and muttered under his breath. “Jake, hold still.”

  She walked through tall grass back to the clearing. The supply wagon’s horses wanted to follow her, but Jim grabbed their homemade bridles and led them to the harness.

  But no lumbering cows appeared to feed on grain.

  Sick with despair, Ella paused on the edge of the clearing, held her long hair out of her face, and scanned the sandy ground for prints.

  Her sewing and mending money, collected over the span of a year, had gone toward buying three heifers. They gave away four old cows before leaving the mountains. But one new cow was dead—killed by the alligator—and now her last two were gone. She had hand-picked them from an Irish homesteader’s herd back home. They had been bred, making them more expensive.

  “Oh, Lord, you know I worked hard for these cows.” She hung the grain bucket on the side of the wagon and hid her trembling hands in the folds of her stained skirt. She didn’t want Jim to see her upset.