Lone Star Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  Something scratched at the door.

  Jud scooped up the cat, which started to purr. “Yeah, I’m upset tonight.” Marmalade couldn’t spread any secrets, except to another cat. He smiled at the thought. But Mittens wouldn’t betray his confidence, not even to Wande.

  Wande again. He was brought back to Konrad’s letter. So help him, Jud felt responsible for the Fleischers, no matter what he thought about Germans.

  Marmalade jumped from his arms, and Jud resumed his pacing. No. He refused to accept responsibility for anyone else. He had already raised one family. If he wanted more dependents, he’d start a family of his own.

  Where had that come from? Jud hadn’t thought much about getting married, not that he was opposed. Now a shadowy figure of his wife emerged, someone with blonde hair and blue eyes, a lilting voice, and a ready laugh …

  As soon as the year turned, he’d go to town and hunt out the leaders of the German community. Jud would turn responsibility for the Fleischers over to someone else.

  Wande checked the English spelling as she formed the letters on a sheet of writing paper.

  Dearest Oma,

  Happy New Year!

  Oma, that’s English for Prosit Neujahr. Can you believe I am finally learning English? My new friend Marion is a good teacher. We are staying with them while our wagon is being fixed. They are very kind to take strangers off of the road and welcome them to their home.

  Alvie sat at the table as well, painting a watercolor of their “funny Texas Christmas tree” to send to Oma. The family wouldn’t send cards as they usually did at the first of the year, but Papa said they could each write something to Oma. Papa had sent a letter when they arrived in Carlshafen, but so much had happened since. A shadow fell across Wande’s heart. She was glad she wasn’t the one who had to tell her grandparents about Ulla’s death.

  Wande lifted the quill from the page. What should she write about? During the ocean voyage she had thought of her Opa. Before he married Oma and settled in Offenbach, he had been a sailor. Ulla had remained sick for the whole crossing, but after the first few days, the motion didn’t bother Wande. She enjoyed walking on deck, breathing the salt air. The farther south they traveled, the warmer the days became. She almost wished their journey could last forever, except she wanted to reach Konrad.

  Oma would wonder about Konrad, but Wande wouldn’t write that he failed to meet them in Carlshafen. She would wait until she heard his explanation, when she would be writing as a Frau and not a Fraulein.

  She could write pages about life at the Running M Ranch, but Oma might think she was more interested in Texas than her own family and their broken wagon.

  So … that left her with what? Wande described the Texas-style spice bars they made for Christmas, and how different they tasted with pecans and peaches instead of almonds and citron.

  We think Mittens may soon have some yellow tiger kittens. Marmalade, the Morgans’ cat, has been paying her extra attention lately. I miss Ulla, but God is so good. Marion has become like a sister to me. I will miss her when we leave for Neu-Braunfels. But God will have a new family for me there. I know He will.

  Wande looked out the window. Instead of open fields, she saw the patchwork farms of Offenbach. A soft snow had settled on the roofs and fields, transforming the world into something new.

  “What do you think?” Alvie showed her small watercolor to Wande, and her mind snapped back to the brown dirt and hollows of Texas.

  She smiled at the painting. Two cats, one yellow, one black and white, both with pointed ears and tails like question marks, fought over a ball of yarn. Strands of white and red dotted the tree with its pale green foliage. “I will tell her about the special corn that pops,” Wande said. “We need to finish the card. Maybe Dr. Treviño can take it into town after he sees Mama.”

  “I am almost done.” Alvie added a few flourishes. “There. All finished.” She handed the square sheet to Wande.

  And so am I. They can dry while we wait in the parlor.”

  The men came in for the midday meal. There was always a full table at noon with Papa and Drud, the three women and Alvie, plus Jud and the ranch hands: Bert, Tom, and now Georg.

  Georg looked to Wande. “What does the doctor say?”

  The door to their parents’ bedroom opened, and Mama walked through, holding Papa’s arm. “I will tell you myself.”

  Dr. Treviño followed, smiling. “She can move about, as long as she doesn’t overdo.” He agreed to stop by the post in Victoria and mail the thick letter.

  “I will have to trust you, Wande, to keep your mama quiet. All she wants to do is work, work, work.” Papa’s eyes twinkled. “And I have good news myself. I have found a wagon to buy. We will sell a few things, and we can all fit gut.”

  Jud wasn’t ready to tell the Fleischers about the letter from Konrad, not when he hadn’t decided what to do about the last request. He must be the one to tell Wande the news before she read the letter. New Year’s Day or not, he couldn’t let the Fleischers leave—not without telling them. He listened to their excited conversation and wished he didn’t have to end to their happiness.

  While everyone was talking, Jud slipped out and walked to the bunkhouse. His hand hovered over the page addressed to Wande. Grabbing both letters, Jud strode back to the main house.

  A cold breeze blew in when he opened the door, and he hurried to shut it. The noise level in the parlor told him their celebration of the New Year was under way. Jud cleared his throat. “About your leaving.”

  Wande heard him and dropped her arms from hugging Alvie. Her eyes sent a plea.

  Mr. Fleischer noticed him next. “What is it? You have news for us?” The German’s voice descended to a deep bass.

  “I received a letter the day before yesterday. Last year in fact.”

  “That letter I brought you from Neu-Braunfels.” Tom snapped his fingers. “I knew something was up.”

  Every eye in the room swung to Jud.

  “I did not think you knew anyone in Neu-Braunfels,” Mr. Fleischer said.

  “I don’t. But this letter was addressed to me.” He displayed it, as if to support his claim. “It’s from Konrad Schuster.” Wande’s hand covered her mouth.

  Jud fixed his gaze on the mantelpiece. “There’s no easy way to tell you. Mr. Schuster wanted me to explain why he hasn’t come to meet you. He can’t—he can’t marry you, Wande. He’s already married.”

  Wande collapsed into the chair nearest the window and gazed at the blank glass.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Konrad has taken an ehefrau?” Wande hoped she had misunderstood the English words. “A wife?” The looks on Marion and Mrs. Morgan’s faces told her she hadn’t heard wrong.

  “He says he met the girl aboard ship and they married shortly after they arrived in Texas.” Jud hesitated. “They are already expecting a child.” He dug in his pocket. “He asked me to give you this.”

  Wande held out her hand, but couldn’t grasp the paper. It floated to the floor. A kind—the child that should have been hers. Wande bent over, covering her face with her hands. “There, there, Liebchen.” Papa patted her shoulder. Georg jumped to his feet. “If that scoundrel had come here like a man, instead of hiding away in Neu-Braunfels, I would teach him a lesson.”

  “Now, Georg.” Papa abhorred fistfights.

  “He is right,” Mama said. “I kept quiet because I knew you cared for him, Wande. But I never thought he was good enough for you.”

  Wande shook with tears. Mama meant well, but no one besides Konrad had seriously courted her.

  Tears fell. All the tears she hadn’t shed when Ulla died, and the grief she had suppressed when her beloved home in Offenbach disappeared in the distance.

  Alvie sat by her feet, and Marion pulled a chair next to Wande. Alvie laid her head on her knee, and Marion placed an arm around her shoulder. Papa stood beside her like a sentry.

  Surrounded by such love, Wande should have felt buoyed up. Instead, she g
rieved the losses, disappointments, and broken dreams that Texas had brought for her and her family.

  If only she could turn back the clock—six months—a year—to the day Papa had seen the flyer from the Adelsverein. Even if she had the money to go back to Offenbach, it would do no good now. Everyone she loved had left. Even Oma and Opa had moved a few years ago, back to their first home by the sea.

  When at last Wande cried her tears dry, she hiccuped and stopped. Still she hid her face behind her hands. Someone hovered in front of her, holding a glass of water.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Jud, the man who had delivered the awful news, wanted to help.

  Wande removed her hands from her face, realizing how red and blotchy she must look. “Ja, danke.”

  His fingers brushed hers as he handed her the glass. She drank and handed the glass to Jud, then planted her shaky legs on the floor and stood. “I will go to my raum.”

  “Wande.” Mama’s voice followed her. “You need to eat.”

  “Nein, I want to be alone.” She spotted the letter from Konrad, where it had fallen.

  Before she could bend over, Jud picked up the note and handed it to her. Taking her hand, he closed her fingers around it. Jud leaned down, his cheek against hers, and whispered, “Tear it up, if it will help you to feel better.”

  Wande nodded, went into the room she shared with Marion and Alvie, and shut the door. Muffled sounds intruded as the parlor emptied and the family ate their noon meal in the kitchen. Today she wished she didn’t have to share the room with anyone, let alone a child and someone she hadn’t even known a month ago. No, that wasn’t fair. Wande knew Marion would do everything she could to make things easier for her, including giving her as much time alone as she wanted.

  She curled up in a ball on the trundle bed, but she couldn’t cry any more. In place of her tears, anger built. How could Konrad abandon her as soon as he set foot on the boat? His letter burned her hand. She longed to discard it, unread. No words could excuse his behavior. But neither could she toss the letter away. She propped herself against the headboard.

  Dear Wande,

  By now you know that I have married someone else. I cared for you, Wande. I still do, as a dear friend, although I no longer deserve that title.

  I thought I loved you. But when I met Hannah, I realized that the love I felt for you was friendship, a love such as might exist between brother and sister. But what I feel for Hannah I cannot describe, except that it is the kind of love that should exist between a man and his wife. I would still have honored our agreement, but I felt that would cheat both of us. Some day you, too, will find someone who loves you this way. To my shame, I am not that man. You deserve that, and so much more.

  Konrad promised some day she would meet a man who would love her for herself. But she didn’t believe it, not anymore. Not here. Not in Texas. Not after he abandoned her. She had no prospects: no home, no money, no property and she could hardly speak English.

  I know right now you will not believe me. All I can do is to commend you to the One from whom nothing can separate you. Neither height nor depth nor any other creature—not even a man as miserable as me.

  Hannah joins me in my prayers for you, for your family. This Mr. Morgan sounds like a good man. I pray he will help you now that I cannot.

  He got the “man as miserable as me” correct. The harsh reality of the last paragraph hit Wande like a bucket of cold water.

  Now that Mama had recovered and Papa had found a wagon, they could no longer take advantage of the Morgans’ hospitality. But neither could they go to Neu-Braunfels.

  Where would they go?

  Wande didn’t come out for supper either. Jud watched as Marion closed the door to her room behind her and brought her one finger to her lips.

  “I left the plate by the side of the bed. She’s resting, poor thing.” Marion had changed into her dressing gown. “I don’t want to disturb her.”

  Another door opened, and Jud turned his head. Mr. Fleischer emerged, still dressed in his day clothes. “May I join you? We have plans to make.”

  They sat at the kitchen table. Ma poured everyone fresh cups of tea, then stirred in sugar. “We need sweetening tonight. It’s been a difficult day.”

  Wande’s father sat across from Jud, his eyes locked on some internal vision. Jud didn’t know how to start the discussion. He didn’t have to.

  “Did you know that Nadetta means courage of a bear?” Meino said. “That is my frau. She attacks anything that threatens us. It is a good thing that Konrad is far away.” He chuckled. “She is reading to Alvie now. We will keep Alvie with us tonight so Wande can sleep.”

  Jud sent up a prayer of thanks that Meino spoke passable English. At least they could discuss the problem without constant translation from German to English and back again.

  “Meino, are you sure you want to go on to Neu-Braunfels?” Ma finished one cup of tea and poured a second. “There is a nice-sized German community right here in Victoria.”

  “We have land, but I hear it is far away, even from Neu-Braunfels. We hoped to meet up with Konrad before we decided what to do next.” Meino shrugged. “But perhaps God wants us to stay right here, where we had the accident.”

  Something in Jud’s expression must have betrayed his ambivalence.

  “Not here on your ranch,” Meino said. “But perhaps there is a little haus we can rent.”

  Jud pushed back his chair. “On Sunday, let’s talk with the preacher. He’ll know who can help.”

  Wande’s life had been uprooted in just a few days: the wagon accident, the Morgans’ hospitality, Christmas with new friends, now New Year’s Day and Konrad’s betrayal. After reading the letter on Friday, Saturday passed in a blur. Since she still didn’t feel well, she stayed home from church on Sunday.

  Papa sought out a German Lutheran church in town. He came home wreathed in smiles. “Tomorrow morning, we will all go to Victoria. There is someone I think you should meet.” He smiled so widely that for the briefest moment, Wande hoped Konrad had appeared in Victoria after all, ready to take her before the preacher and get married.

  Just as fast, her memory asserted itself. For Papa’s sake, she assumed a pleasant expression.

  Monday morning, she dressed in her Sunday best and took extra care with her hair. She wanted to look her best to greet the start of their future. Since she could not return to Offenbach, she would embrace Texas with a smile on her face—if not in her heart.

  Papa took them to a half-timbered structure in town, one with a wooden cross rising from the steeple. A simple sign read “Lutherische Kirche St. John.” Their home congregation in Germany bore the same name, and homesickness wrenched Wande’s heart.

  A man wearing a clerical collar appeared at the door. “Willkommen! Welcome to Victoria! I am Pastor Bader.”

  Wande blinked back the tears at the familiar German greeting.

  “Herr Fleischer, how good to see you again.” The pastor greeted each member of the family in German. “And now this must be Fraulein Wande, ja?”

  When Pastor Bader clasped Wande’s hand, some of the missing joy returned. She felt God’s love reaching out to her, caressing her spirit like a gentle breeze.

  “We are going just next door.” He led them to a compact house next to the church. It was built like the church, an unexpected mixture of styles from the old world and the new. “This was built for a parsonage. But I am only a single man and have no need for so much space.” He smiled—a smile as full of sunshine as the day’s sky—and opened the door.

  Light flooded the open space. “When so many of the Verein started coming through Victoria, I decided to move into a smaller place and use the parsonage as a guesthouse.”

  Mama sighed, and Wande could imagine the pictures running through her mind—of Papa’s favorite chair sitting there and the table Drud had made over there …

  “God’s timing is perfect. Our last guests moved out right before Christmas, into their new
home. Now you have need of a place to stay. We hope you will accept this house as your home until God moves you elsewhere.”

  Alvie raced from room to room. “We have a bedroom to ourselves, Wande!”

  The familiar aroma of sauerkraut wafted from the kitchen. A pleasant woman with a wrinkled round face stepped from the kitchen. “There you are! When Pastor Bader told us a new family was moving in, I knew you must be hungry for some real German food, ja?”