Lone Star Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  Marion said the words with such pride, Wande expected an ornate castle. Instead a cluster of buildings, not too different from her farm back home, came into view: a fenced-in area for a kitchen garden, a barn, a chicken coop. The two-story wood-frame house was larger, however. A home, Wande realized, and a longing for a place of her own swept over her. Soon, she hoped. Perhaps Konrad had already built a place for them.

  Despite her eagerness to reach Neu-Braunfels, Wande didn’t regret the time she would spend on the Morgan ranch. Marion, and even Jud, had offered friendship. Wande no longer felt as lonely.

  Marion scrambled from the wagon and waited for Wande to join her.

  “I expect Ma will offer the extra room to your parents. You and Alvie can sleep in my room.”

  Wande looked to the front of the wagon, where Mama stared at the ground as if expecting a staircase to appear. “Let me help you, Mama.”

  Jud walked around the wagon and stopped in front of Mama, extending his arms to lift her down. Wande scrambled onto the seat beside Mama.

  Mama sighed. “I am embarrassed to have a stranger carry me. But since God has given someone to help me, I need not worry, ja?”

  “Ja.” Wande helped Mama inch forward. When she reached the side of the seat, Jud lifted her and carried her into the house. Wande hurried after them. He settled Mama on a padded chair and slid a footstool under her injured foot.

  “Ach! Now everyone can see my foot!” But Mama’s eyes twinkled, and Wande suspected she enjoyed the special treatment.

  Mrs. Morgan, Marion, and Alvie came in, each carrying a valise. “Alvie said you would need these bags first,” Marion said. “If you need anything else, just let Jud know.” She started for the staircase. “This way, Alvie.”

  Alvie stopped before the stairs. “Are you all right, Mama? I want to help unload our things.”

  “You go on, dear.” Mrs. Morgan shooed her away. “I’ll fix your mother some tea while I start supper, and we’ll be as right as rain.” Mrs. Morgan headed to a different room where Wande glimpsed a stove. A wonderful iron stove to cook on—not an open fire.

  Outside, Wande met Jud returning from the barn. She reached for the nearest box on the wagon.

  “That’s too heavy for a little thing like you.” He took it from her and headed to the barn. “Ordinarily I’d have our hands help you unload, but we gave them a few days off for Christmas.”

  Too heavy? She shook her head. She had carried packages much heavier than these. To make it easier for Jud to carry the boxes, she moved a few to the edge of the wagon bed. As soon as she lined one up, Jud grabbed it, and they fell into a routine like a bucket brigade for putting out fires.

  Jud moved with an easy grace, saying as little as possible. This friend might not talk much, but he took care of what needed to be done.

  Was there a young Frau Morgan? Such a fine man as Jud must surely have a wife, but Wande had not seen any signs of her.

  At supper, she would discover the truth.

  Jud stacked the boxes in the barn as high as he dared. In the house they had an extra bedroom, the room they had added for Calder and his bride to share until they moved out. But for now Jud expected to sleep in the bunkhouse, so the Fleischer brothers could have his room. Ma insisted.

  Maybe Wande’s offer to help shouldn’t have surprised him. For a little bit of a thing, she had enough muscles to heft those heavy boxes. He hoped Tom might return early from town, but the ranch hand intended to take full advantage of his extra day off. Jud and Wande made quick work of the crates without him.

  Jud hustled back from the barn to help Wande down from the wagon, but he didn’t get there in time. She was smoothing her skirt and brushing off some of the mud when he reached her side. He stood there and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’d best be getting back for the rest of your family and your things.”

  “Auf Wiedersehen, freunde Jud.” Her smile said thank-you.

  As he climbed into the wagon, he heard her singing a melody he vaguely recognized. There hadn’t been much music around the Morgan household since Billie disappeared. The melody both pained and uplifted him.

  Dusk approached, so he had best hurry back to retrieve the Fleischer men and the rest of their belongings before full dark set in.

  Jud scooted over his chair at the head of the table to make room for Mr. Fleischer to join him. They were about to say grace when someone knocked at the door.

  Marion’s face turned pink. “That must be Tom. He said he would probably be back in time for supper.”

  Jud went to the door. “Come on in and join the crowd.” He found another chair and set it on his other side.

  Tom’s glance took in the crowded table, and he backed up a step. “I didn’t know you were having company. I can catch a meal in town.”

  “Nonsense,” Ma said. “We have plenty. Marion, why don’t you introduce everyone while I get another table setting?”

  Jud listened to Marion’s tale of the afternoon, which she made sound like a grand adventure. “If we’re lucky,” Marion said, “the Fleischers will be with us for Christmas. Won’t that be merry?”

  Tom offered an uncertain smile and took his seat. “Do these folks speak English?” he murmured to Jud.

  “Some.” Jud turned to Mr. Fleischer. “Would you like to return thanks for our food?”

  “Certainly. Alvie, what prayer would you suggest for tonight?”

  “How about, Comm, Herr Jesu, sei unser gast, since we are guests tonight?”

  “Very good.” Everyone around the table bowed their heads as the Fleischers spoke a short prayer in German. The father continued in English, “Come, Lord Jesus, and be our guest, and let these gifts to us be blessed. Thank You for the Morgans and all their kindnesses to us and for this food. Amen.”

  Amens sounded around the table, and they began passing food. The Fleischers showed their appreciation by digging into their food heartily.

  Jud caught Ma’s gaze and started the platter of ham around a second time. “Oh, thank you.” Alvie took a small piece. “We have had nothing but frijoles and cornbread for days. And the frijoles are so hot, and the cornbread gets so hard. This is wonderful.”

  “Alvie.” Mrs. Fleischer spoke with the tone of mothers everywhere, but the others laughed.

  Ma had outdone herself with such a short time to prepare, but she was always ready to entertain strangers. She said they never knew when they might entertain angels unaware.

  Jud glanced at Wande, who looked as pretty as an angel. Even with her pretty face—she was still German.

  Marion knew that Jud meant to honor Tom by putting him at the head of the long oak trestle table, but he looked uncomfortable. Maybe he couldn’t understand the Germans’ pronunciation of English. Tom didn’t even take a second serving of the sweet potatoes, and she had made them as a special treat for him.

  Something pressed against her leg. She reached down to pet their cat. Ma used to scold Billie something fierce for feeding Marmalade from the table. Now that Billie was gone, even Ma slipped him a tidbit sometimes. Not that the cat was fussy—Marion had caught him eating everything from green beans to the frosting on a cake.

  But when Marion offered a sliver of ham, she didn’t hear Marmalade’s usual contented rumble. Instead, she heard a soft purr, and green eyes between black ears stared up at her. It was Mittens.

  Something bumped her other leg. Marmalade demanded his share.

  “Is that the cat?” Ma said.

  “Both of them. I’m afraid they’ll start fighting. I’ll put them outside until we finish supper.” Marion scooped up a compliant Mittens with one arm, then reached for Marmalade.

  Mittens yowled and jumped from her arms, her long hair bristling. She dashed under Wande’s chair, and Wande grabbed her. “Outside. That is good.” The cats snarled as the two women walked into the yard and set them on the ground. Mittens ran for the safety of the wagon, and Marmalade hid under a bush.

  “I don’t know what got int
o Marmalade. He’s usually friendly.”

  Wande plucked some long black cat hairs from her arms. “Mittens should stay outside.” She leaned forward. “Is the young man who is eating dinner with us your beau? He is very handsome.”

  Marion smiled. “He came here from Tennessee with his folks, only they died along the way. Tell me about your fiancé. Alvie says you plan to get married when you arrive in Neu-Braunfels.”

  A shadow passed over Wande’s face. “Only if Papa gives his blessing. Konrad was to meet us, but he only sent a letter. He said we would meet in Neu-Braunfels. Papa’s not happy.” She sighed. “He thinks something is wrong.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Wande reviewed the few lines she had scratched on the page. So much had happened in the short time since they had left Carlshafen. She had given Konrad only the highlights: the damaged wagon, Mama’s injured ankle … the Running M Ranch…. But she left unspoken her deepest desires. She signed her name and sealed it.

  Across from her, Marion looked up from a book. “Did that quill work well enough?”

  “Ja.” Wande lifted the letter.

  “I’ll ask Tom to take it into town today.” Marion smiled shyly, as she always did when she mentioned his name.

  Wande had learned that the young man lived and worked at the Running M. Since he was an orphan, he had chosen to stay with them for Christmas.

  “I know you must be anxious to hear from Konrad,” Marion said.

  “We planned for Weihnachten in Neu-Braunfels.” Wande looked out at the gray winter sky. “But God wants us here with your family. And look. There’s Tom.”

  Marion joined Wande at the window and waved. “Be right back.” Her light footfalls padded down the stairs.

  A few moments later, Wande saw her friend hand Tom the letter. How sweet they looked, with their heads bent close, their hands touching as they exchanged the letter. Wande’s heart yearned for Konrad. How long would it take for him to receive the message? When could she expect to hear from him?

  She shook her head. For today and tomorrow, she must put aside all worries and help her family celebrate the birth of the Savior. Perhaps they could make lebkuchen after all, and learn what special things the Morgans liked to eat.

  Alvie danced through the door. “Are you going to stay in this room all day? It is Christmas Eve! Come on, let’s have fun.”

  Wande let her little sister pull her out of the bedroom. “What are we doing, then?”

  “Papa asked Mr. Morgan if he could cut down a tree.”

  “I did not recall seeing any evergreens.” No Christmas tree at all would be better than one stripped of its leaves.”

  “He asked Mr. Morgan where he might find a tree that was green even in December.” Alvie giggled. “Mr. Morgan grumbled, but his mother made him go.”

  “I heard that.” Marion came in.

  Since Jud was away for the morning, Wande might venture out farther. The man went hot and cold—sometimes kind and helpful, other times he looked at her with a distant expression that was almost angry.

  “Don’t mind my brother,” Marion said. “Jud’s bark is worse than his bite.”

  Alvie shook her head. “Mr. Morgan does not bark. And I know he does not bite.”

  “It’s just an expression. It means he sounds loud and threatening, like a dog. But he does not hurt anybody.”

  Wande nodded. “English is a strange language.”

  “Come on, girls.” Mrs. Morgan called from the kitchen. “Time’s a-wasting. Let’s do some baking while the men are hunting for a tree.”

  “Lebkuchen!” Alvie shouted.

  Mama sat by the table, her leg propped on a stool while Mrs. Morgan organized the work. “I’ll roll out pie dough. Marion, you can whip up the filling for one pecan and one sweet potato pie.”

  Marion was already cracking the nuts.

  “And Nadetta,” Mrs. Morgan said to Mama, “what do you need for that—what did you call it—lebkuchen?”

  Mama surveyed the kitchen, shaking her head. No evidence of almonds—they hadn’t seen them since they set sail from Germany, nor were raisins or dates to be found.

  “We cannot make lebkuchen without dates and almonds.” Alvie frowned.

  “We will make Texas-style lebkuchen.” Mama studied the cans of fruit and preserves in front of her. “Look at all the pecans Marion has. We can use those instead of almonds. And there’s a bag of dried fruit. Apples are just as moist and tasty as raisins or dates.”

  Wande opened the sack and sniffed. “I think these are peaches and not apples.”

  “And we have honey and flour and all the spices we need. Let’s get busy.”

  What a waste of a day. Jud intended to put the finishing touches to the presents he planned to give at Christmas, in-between routine chores, of course. Horses needed to be tended and their stalls cleaned, regardless of the date on the calendar.

  Tom had taken off for town, saying Miss Fleischer asked him to post a letter. Then Ma roped Jud into hunting with the Fleischers for a “Christmas tree”—whatever that was.

  “Mrs. Morgan said there are trees here that stay green all year-round, ja?”

  “There’s the huisache, or sweet acacia. Ma’s real fond of it because of the yellow flowers that bloom in the spring. I kinda hate to take one of them down.”

  “Then we will look for one … out there.” Mr. Fleischer gestured to a stand of trees a short distance away.

  “I think I see them!” Drud, the younger brother, called. He jogged away, dashing Jud’s hopes of steering them away from where the acacias grew.

  Drud reached the trees first, followed by Georg. Jud followed at a fast clip, with a panting Mr. Fleischer struggling to keep up. The boys stared into spreading branches overhead. When their father joined them, they wandered from one tree to another, studying the leaves, branches, and trunks.

  “It is not what we are used to,” Georg said. “Not very—green.”

  Jud didn’t know if he could bear hearing the Germans complain about the color of his trees.

  “It does not matter. As long as they are green, they remind us that our Lord came to give us eternal life.” Mr. Fleischer put his hands on a young tree, only fifteen feet tall. “What do you think of this one, Georg?”

  The three Fleischers stood beneath the tree, talking in German. Drud led them to another tree, but they returned to the first one the father had chosen.

  “With your permission, we want to cut this one down. Then the four of us, we can carry it back to the house.”

  The tree was far too tall for their parlor, but they must realize that. He should either speak his doubts now or keep quiet.

  “I’m not real comfortable with cutting down a tree for Christmas,” Jud said. “It almost seems pagan.”

  All three Fleischers stared at him.

  “Our Lord died on a tree,” Drud said.

  “But isn’t putting up a tree like worshiping it?”

  “Oh, no.” Mr. Fleischer shook his head. “It is like a symbol that represents something else. The tree reminds us that even though Christmas is a happy time, when we celebrate the birth of our Savior, we also remember that He came to die so we might have eternal life. Are you a Christian, Herr Morgan? Do you know these things?”

  Mr. Fleischer asked the question with such earnestness, Jud swallowed down his reaction to the implied insult. “Of course I’m a Christian. Go ahead and cut down your tree if it means so much to you.”

  The tree looked festive, Jud admitted. The Fleischers had cut several feet off the bottom, but it still dominated a corner of the parlor from floor to ceiling.

  Marion and Wande were poking threaded needles through wolfberries and popcorn, making a garland for the tree. “We have never had this corn before, but it is pretty.” Wande smiled. “Sie nicht so, Alvie?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Alvie popped a piece into her mouth.

  “Stop that, or we will not have enough.”

  Mrs. Fleischer had dug a few small cand
leholders out of her crates and now was fastening them to branches. “They say Martin Luther was the first to put lights on the tree, to recreate the stars in the sky.” She lit the candles one by one.

  “The star of Bethlehem!” Alvie said.

  Jud caught a whiff of honey and cinnamon from the kitchen. He peered through the door at the pies and cakes on the countertop.

  “Those are for tomorrow, Jud.” Ma looked up from her cookie dough and smiled.

  “Let’s sing ‘O Tannenbaum,’” Alvie said.