With This Peace

by Karen Campbell Prough

  “Ella Dessa,” he murmured. “I’m not scolding you. You are a wonderful person.” His shoulders slumped, as if under a burden. He held out the folded paper. “We must discuss this. I can guess your reaction to it.”

  With trembling fingers, she unfolded the yellowed paper and read the familiar handwriting. Her lips parted and astonishment took her breath away. “Jim … wrote this ahead of time?”

  “Yes. Told me to keep it in case—”

  “He wants us to marry?” Incredulous, she skimmed the missive one more time. “That’s what he says!” She handed it back. “But I don’t think we need to discuss this.”

  Luke stood in the dark, outside the barn. He watched Samuel step out on the porch. Moments later, the one-handed man appeared in the spread of light issuing from the lantern’s glow inside the barn.

  Samuel carried a leather-bound copybook, gun over his shoulder, and a bedroll. “Does it matter where I sleep?”

  “No, pick a spot.” Luke watched the secluded cabin until the dim light shining between the gaps in the logs faded. He turned away with a burdened heart and sought his own bedroll.

  Chapter 23

  Saturday, February 19, 1848

  Ella rolled over, slipped from the low bed, and stood beside it. Her hand touched the log wall. What woke her? Shivering with the cold February air drifting through the cabin, she rubbed her arms and waited.

  “Mama?” Hannah whispered from the loft. “I heard somethin’.”

  “Shh. Perhaps, it’s a coon.” She tugged a quilt off the bed and lifted it over her shoulders. She listened, hoping to recognize the noise.

  Nothing moved. An owl hooted in the distance.

  She shivered and felt her way to the window, eased the latch, and cracked open the shutter. She guessed it was close to dawn. The eastern sky appeared lighter, and the winter moon had hidden its face behind the trees.

  The unidentified noise came, again. Someone—something—walked on the porch. She could feel the vibration of the timbers under her stocking feet, and she backed away from the window. She flattened herself to the wall, held her breath, and waited.

  A pronounced snuffling and a deep rumbled grunt broke the stillness. Out on the porch, the wooden lid to the water barrel shifted, as if it had been bumped or shoved sideways. She drew in a quick breath when she heard a lapping noise. An animal drank from the water barrel! Ella thought of the wild dog but then dismissed the idea. The dog was too short-legged.

  She crept to the thick door and pressed her ear to it, just as a horrific roar shattered the peaceful dawn.

  Ella dropped to her knees and felt for her gun propped along the wall. A vicious snarl erupted and something crashed into the cabin wall. Amid screams from the terrified children, the animal fight moved off the porch and proceeded toward the barn.

  While her shaking hands struggled to light the lantern, fists banged on the door.

  “The gun, where’s the gun?” Luke shouted. “Ella!”

  “Here!” She threw the bar and opened the door long enough to shove it at him.

  The horrific noise and fighting ended. Something large thrashed through the scrub behind the barn. Amos and Hannah’s sobs could be heard from the loft, and Ella tried to catch her breath.

  “It’s gone,” Samuel said, from the porch. “Open up. Amos—Hannah, shh! It was a bear.” The extra lantern swung from his left hand, its light created a pasty aspect to his handsome face. His pistol protruded from his waistband.

  “I think the wolf dog drove it away.” Luke appeared behind him, his outline barely visible against the breaking day.

  “The bear drank from the barrel.” Ella tugged the quilt higher on her shoulders, clasped it across her chest, and covered the ankle-length nightgown she wore. “I’d never expect such a thing.”

  “I heard a rustle in the brush near the wagon before he headed for the porch. I was sitting in it, keeping watch.” Luke stood like a giant sentinel at the door, gun balanced in his hands. “Couldn’t see a thing with the moon behind trees. I recognized the roar.” He raised one heavy eyebrow.

  “Now we hav’ta worry ’bout a bear drinkin’ our water!” Ella pushed disheveled hair from her face. The narrow piece of cloth holding her thick braid had come undone.

  With a chuckle, Samuel asked, “Is that better than worrying about Seminoles finding us after all this ruckus?” He set his lantern on the table.

  Ella giggled, finding a touch of amusement in the dire situation. “We’re a fine group.”

  Luke responded with a smile.

  “Ella Dessa, perhaps Luke would agree to accompany us part way on the trail to Tampa.” Samuel faced him. “I think it’s best we go there before going back north, because we’ll need supplies. What do you say?”

  Daylight crept in at the window.

  Luke cleared his throat. “I’ll help, but I won’t chance capture. If Ella asks me, I’ll go—after we make plans.”

  She blurted out, “You will? Then—I’m askin’!”

  “Yes, I’ll go with you.” Luke shouldered the gun and walked away.

  “The trail is overgrown until it connects with the one heading directly west,” Samuel muttered. “Will require the machete. But I guess it’s no worse than what we’ve been through.”

  “No, I think not,” she said, smiling up at him.

  Samuel gazed down at her and started to respond, but instead shook his head. “Today, I’m going to do some repairs to the wagon.” He took the lantern, slipped from the cabin, and shut the door.

  Ella went to the shutter and opened it. Morning light filled the crude cabin, revealing the children sitting at the edge of the loft, not saying a word.

  “I’ll help you down after I milk the cow. I want you to stay there, in case the bear returns. Wrap in the quilt—stay warm.”

  Hannah nodded and pulled at her brother’s shoulder.

  Ella stepped under the loft where the children couldn’t see, took off the nightgown, and slipped a dress over her head. Her fingers shook while buttoning the bodice. The lonely ache in her heart grew. Jim will be left behind in Florida when we leave. Her husband, the man she loved, was gone—laid in an unmarked grave. The wilderness would smother and blot out its existence.

  With a doubled wool shawl clutched about her shoulders, she crossed the short distance between the two buildings. She wasn’t concerned about running into the bear during the day. But a part of her welcomed the possibility of danger, to counteract the whirlpool of indecision and sadness causing her chest to hurt.

  The rustle of branches made her jerk to the left and raise her hands in defense.

  Luke emerged from the young, soft-needled pines.

  “You!”

  His widespread smile showed the missing tooth. “I followed his tracks. He’s a big one.” He raised the gun in his hands. “Too bad I didn’t have this when he jumped off the porch and ran. I think I could’ve seen to shoot him. But he’ll be back.”

  “That’s bad,” she murmured, avoiding his direct gaze. She turned, pretending to study the field in front of them. “Added things to worry ’bout.”

  “We’ll go when you want. I’ll do my best to get you close to the village of Tampa. But I’m a runaway. I won’t take the chance of being seen.” He had a knack for getting right to the point and not covering his thoughts.

  Ella swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know it’ll be dangerous for you, but I—we cain’t stay here. Please, get us started in the right direction? An’ then leave us?” She rubbed her forehead, trying to the ease the tension she felt.

  He bowed his head and kicked at the ground. “I’ll do that. Strange, isn’t it? You’re free, but you need a hunted slave to show you to safety.”

  She had to smile. “Can you get us to a fort?”

  Chewing on the stem, he muttered, “Fort Brooke would be best, but far away. There’s a military road, but it’d be dangerous. I couldn’t chance it. And while lingering here, you could be at risk for a random Indian at
tack. But the other thing is … remember, you aren’t supposed to be here. You’ve been—we’ve been lucky so far, because we’re isolated from the river.”

  “The army wouldn’t be that hateful—would they?”

  “They must keep peace with the Indians. Having you here sets it up for a bad situation. You could be killed … at least in the army’s mind, you would be. Right now, Indians are to blame for every problem.”

  She took a deep breath, unable to think of a solution. It made her head hurt. “We cain’t survive without your help.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to be less visible. I’ll hunt more, but stay somewhere within shouting distance, in case you need me.”

  Ella faced him. “How soon can we get to Tampa—with the wagon an’ all?”

  “Samuel might know that. By the way, it was the wolf dog attacking the bear.”

  “The dog’s vicious?”

  “Only with a bear. I don’t think we need worry about him hurting the children. My thoughts are, he’d chase that bear clear to the river to protect them.” Luke’s amused eyes glinted. “And he’s sitting behind you.”

  Ella whirled and stared at the shaggy, one-eyed dog crouched sixteen feet away. She laughed. “He doesn’t look like a wolf. But he brings to mind a nightmare I once had.” She held out her hand and snapped her fingers. “Here, boy, come here!”

  The one-eyed dog’s tail twitched at her call, but he didn’t budge, except to turn his head toward the cabin. His jaw dropped open and he panted—only to shut his mouth with an audible snap when Amos’s voice was heard.

  “Mama, I see dog.”

  The animal bounded to his feet and trotted toward the porch where the little boy stood.

  “Luke! Stop him.” Ella started to intercept the dog.

  “Let it go.” Luke’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Give it a moment.”

  Amos stood stock-still, his cold-reddened toes gripping the edge of the porch. Slowly, a smile stretched across his little face. “Mama, he’s nice?”

  The animal plopped to the ground, whining. His furry head lowered to his front paws. The one intent, pale blue eye stared at the boy. For more reassurance, Amos sent a searching plea to Luke and his mother.

  Luke laughed. “Go pet him.”

  “No,” Ella cried and reached for Luke’s arm. “He—”

  Samuel came around the barn and jogged to Ella. “What is it?”

  Amos scrambled down the steps and skidded to a stop within a foot of the dog. “Here, doggie.” He patted his little knee.

  The dog whined, tucked its tail, and slinked closer. Within seconds, it licked the boy’s fingers, feet, and face.

  After exploding into delighted giggles, Amos wrapped his arms about the filthy dog and hugged it. “Mama, he likes me.”

  Hannah ran out of the cabin. “Amos, he wants a name. How ’bout Wolf?”

  “Not what I’d choose!” Ella breathed a prayer of thanks. Maybe, with the dog shadowing Amos’s wandering steps, it’d be good. “Please, keep him out of the—”

  Wolf abruptly gave a low growl and crouched in the sand. He placed himself between Amos and a limping figure approaching the cabin.

  Samuel said, “Amos! Inside—now. Ella Dessa, there’s someone—”

  “We don’t need to hide.” Luke waved at the visitor.

  “Samuel, it is Perleu.” Ella smiled. “Remember, we told you of his happenin’ by? It’s been a while.” She called to the bewhiskered man and walked to the cabin. “You here to sit an’ rest?”

  Perleu made it up the cabin’s steps and sank to the bench. His breath came in unhealthy gasps. The dog barked in excitement and jumped up on the porch, but the old man muttered, “Quiet, Dog! Sit.”

  Wolf obeyed. He kept his good eye on Perleu, by cocking his head sideways, and his tail wagged.

  “That’s better,” Perleu muttered. “Good day ta ya’ll.”

  “He listened to you,” Ella said in disbelief.

  “Sure, that’s what a good dog does. An’ who’s this?” He pointed his walking stick at Samuel.

  “Perleu, this is my … my late husband’s brother, Samuel.”

  “Ah, a good Bible name.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Samuel acknowledged the old man’s presence with a handshake, but his puzzled eyes watched the dirty dog.

  Amos ran over to hug their visitor but shied away at the last second. “My dog,” he said. “Come here, come here.” He wiggled his fingers at the dog.

  Wolf trotted up the steps, crawled under the bench, and curled behind Perleu’s moccasin-clad feet.

  “Yer dog?” Perleu bent over and eyed the dog. “Shame on him. He didn’t mind me.”

  “My new dog.”

  Perleu’s eyes narrowed to green slits. “He’s the image of Cullom’s dog … named, Dog.”

  “Cullom’s?” Ella caught Luke’s eye. “I was told that dog was dead.”

  “Yes, Cullom’s. Last name of man which built this place.” Perleu coughed and grimaced. His arthritic hand rubbed his right side. “I tumbled smack over a root in the trail. Think I broke a rib—likely two.”

  “That must hurt! I can bind it for you.” Ella said, eager to help.

  “No. Best leave the ribs alone. I used ta bring the Culloms herbs I’d find an’ gather in the forest. Missus Cullom would fix me up a mess of poke greens. She grew a good garden.”

  Hannah hugged her dolls and grinned at Perleu, but she didn’t venture toward him.

  “You said last time you were here the Culloms left on their own,” Ella said, wanting more information, but hating to ask outright.

  “I did, I did. Don’t even knows wheres they got to. You’re lucky Injuns hain’t burned this place. Didn’t knowed if I’d still find ya here. Cullom’s boy were attacked by a survigorous bar. They said it tore up their dog.”

  She frowned. “Sur-vigorous?”

  Perleu nodded. “Bad … bad, bad.”

  “We’ve heard ’bout the bear. A family stopped by an’ told us. The boy died?”

  Perleu studied his nasty fingernails, as if examining them for the answer. “Yep! Tom shot at the bar. It dropped the child but ran with Dog hangin’ on its back. The boy didn’t live.” He sent a swift glance at the wide-eyed children. “Ahh … tore scalp off … ya knows what I mean. Tom built a pine box, put the boy in it, an’ stuck it in the wagon. They cleared out of here within hours. I met ’em on the trail headin’ out. Heard they buried Zeke north of here, close to So-cum.”

  “So-cum? You know of the place?” Her heart doubled its beats.

  “Hmm, ole Indian Pond. Yes. Them folks couldn’t abide livin’ here with Zeke dead.”

  “I don’t know how they bore the pain of losin’ him.” Ella shuddered.

  “E’zactly.” Perleu removed his battered hat and wiped his face in the curve of his elbow. “Tom Cullom kept goin’ after the buryin’. Took off back ta Virginy, so it’s heard.” He repositioned the hat. “He warn’t suppose ta be homesteadin’ near the river. But he were stubborn.”

  “Like us?”

  “Heard a rumor. Someone knows you’re here.” Perleu’s faded eyes scrutinized Luke’s darker-skinned face. “Jest a warnin’…”

  “I thank you.” Ella’s fingers pushed through Amos’ matted curls.

  Samuel remained silent.

  “So, the dog you mentioned looked like this’n?” Ella waved her hand at the panting dog under the bench.

  “He rode away on the bar’s flabby rear. They never seen him return, but then … they packed up.” Perleu squinted. “This dog peers the same. I see him a time or two. Had two eyes then, as I recall.”

  Luke spoke up. “Perleu, early this morning, we had a bear on this porch. The dog took after it.”

  “Humph! Then I’m sure it’s the same dog. He ain’t no dim-witted dolt, jest not a whole dog, like he used ta be. Why—jest might be the same bar. Best watch out.”

  “The dog sure remembers you,” Ella said.
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br />   “I always brought him a cow’s hip bone.” Perleu coughed and glanced sideways at Samuel. “What happened, son?” He pointed his cane at Samuel’s right arm, which protruded from the shirt sleeve. “Gator git ya?”

  “Rope tightened around it. An accident with a mule.”

  Ella saw Perleu eye Samuel’s face, checking the response written on it. A sinking sensation developed in the pit of her stomach. Perleu, don’t show him! Samuel shouldn’t see how awful your leg is. An’ I don’t need to see it ag’in.

  Before she could suggest Perleu not show his leg, the feisty old man jerked up his pants leg and thrust out his exposed calf. “I got a worse limb. Done by a rattler!”

  Samuel’s face went white. He drew in deep breaths, but he didn’t speak. Finally, he tore his trance-like stare away from Perleu’s damaged limb and caught Ella’s gaze. His expression said it all. He realized how bad it must have been for his brother at the time of death. She wanted to envelop him in her arms, but didn’t dare.

  “Do you still feel your fingers? Do you feel like you could still touch your sister-in-law’s pretty hair? I bet you did that once upon a time.”

  “Perleu!” Ella gasped.

  “Do you?” Perleu said, with persistence, while shock still registered on Samuel’s face.

  “No,” Samuel said. His left hand tightened into a fist, the knuckles colorless.

  Oh, Lord, this isn’t good! Ella rose to her feet and stepped closer to Samuel, wanting to protect him from the old man. She placed her hand on his tense arm and squeezed. “Perleu, we may be leavin’ here—soon.”

  Perleu coughed. “That’s a good idee.” He turned his attention to the clouds drifting in. A few drops of cold rain splattered the sand. He coughed, bringing up something from his throat and spitting it over the side of the porch. “Could I trouble ye fer water? My throat’s parched.”

  Ella nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t offer. We’d also like you to stay for breakfast. But I haven’t got it fixed yet.” She went to get a tin cup for him.