The Owen Family Saga Sampler

by Marsha Ward

  Julia was up, tending the fire and baking bread for the day. She looked up at Carl, then down at his feet.

  “Hush, Ma, I’m sorry. I forgot to wipe ‘em. I ain’t used to living in a house, but I’ll try to keep the mud in the yard where it belongs.”

  Albert came into the room, yawning and stretching, and looked accusingly at Carl. “You left me a-sleeping. I got critters looking to be fed.”

  “You was up late, and looked like you were relishing your sleep. I took the liberty of doing your chores this morning. Set and eat.”

  “Thanks, Carl. Don’t mind if I do.” Albert sat and attacked his breakfast.

  Rod came into the room, looking pleased with himself. He carried a list of purchases to make as soon as the Yankee money passed into his hands. He sat and greeted his family.

  “Morning, Julia, boys. Fine day. Carl, you make ready to ride into town with me after breakfast. We’ll fetch back your sisters to help your ma get the foodstuffs together.” Rod paused to chew a mouthful of cornbread, then turned to his youngest son. “Albert, who did you say was willing to leave the Valley on account of his place was wrecked?”

  “That would be Andy’s pa, Angus Campbell.”

  “Pa,” Carl broke in ahead of Rod’s next speech. “How are we going to get out to Colorado? Me and my outfit blew up so much track hereabouts, I reckon the railroad’s useless.”

  “I been studying on that, son. We’ll take wagons, like those who went to Oregon in the early days, and the Mormon folk in the forties. I reckon we’ll keep off the northern trails. I can just see a Yankee farmer taking pot shots at us, calling us wild Rebs. Likely we can get through Kentucky and Missouri on the back roads and hit the Santa Fe Trail at the city of Kansas. We’ll follow it along the Arkansas River into Colorado, then turn north and strike out for Denver City to find your uncle.”

  “We’re getting a mighty late start.”

  “I know, and wagons are slow, but I figure we can haul more goods for less cost that way. I reckon we’ll need four, five months on the trail, but the weather should hold pretty fair until then.” Rod turned his head to his wife. “We’ll take that old box of Jonathan’s to him.”

  Carl’s gaze shifted from his father’s face to the leather-covered strongbox on the mantel. Uncle Jonathan brought it with him when he returned from his trip to the Territory in ‘Fifty-nine. He told his sister it was hers if they ever got word of his death. Then he went back west to his gold fields. The box had never been opened, and sat, padlocked and dusty, where he’d placed it.

  “How long since you heard from Uncle Jonathan, Ma?” asked Carl.

  “It’s been a couple of years, but mail has been real chancy with the war on.”

  “It’ll be good to see him again.” Carl rose from the table. “I’ll saddle the horses, Pa.”

  “I’m nearly through here.” Rod paused to wipe his mouth. “Albert, you’d best get to shelling the corn. Your ma will need to make it all up into cornmeal before we leave.”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Chapter Three

  Carl rode with his father down the Valley toward Mount Jackson, feeling a wrenching in his gut at the desolation and ruin in the homesteads they passed. These folks had worked for years, generations even, and now everything was gone, wiped out by the advance of Sheridan’s army. Some of these farmers might listen to Pa’s plan to go west.

  As they rode through the gray mist and green trees, they approached Mount Jackson, which sat near the Shenandoah River. The damage here was not so heavy. Old stone houses still lined the streets of the residential section, where the town folks were scratching out a post-war living. An occasional empty lot in the business district gave testimony of a wooden building gone up in smoke.

  Rod pulled up his horse at an intersection and turned to Carl. “We’ll go to Rulon’s house first, let the girls know to pack up their bundles. Then I’ll go talk to Randolph Hilbrands. He could make a pile of money with a store in Colorado, and he’s always been partial to money.” Rod chuckled. “Let’s see how long it takes me to convince him.”

  Rulon lived on a quiet back street in a brick house owned by his father-in-law, the same Randolph Hilbrands. Rulon and Mary had lived there since he was sent home to die.

  As Rod and Carl rode up to the door of the house, someone pulled aside the curtains of a window on the ground floor and peeked out. The men dismounted and tied their horses to the fence, then the door of the house was flung open, and out boiled two young females.

  “Papa!” Julianna, fair colored and exuberant, with the energy of eleven years, threw herself into Rod’s arms.

  “It’s Pa,” squealed Marie. “And Carl’s here, too!” Forgetting the decorum she had gained in sixteen years, she wrapped her arms around Carl, nearly knocking him off balance.

  “Whoa, hold up there, Sis.” He put out his hand to steady the two of them against the fence. “You’ve growed up,” he said, astonished.

  “Sure have.” Marie giggled, tossing her dark head. “And you’re a man, looks like.” She backed away for along appraisal.

  Carl went hot with embarrassment. His sister was looking at him with woman’s eyes.

  “I’m just real skinny,” he protested. “It makes me look taller.”

  “Wait ‘til the girls get a look at you,” laughed Marie. “You’ll have to drive ‘em off with a hay fork. It’s been a long time since we’ve had any suitors around.”

  “Suitors! You and your friends ain’t never had no suitors. You was just babies when us men went off to fight.” Carl took a deep breath, on home ground now that he was bantering with Marie.

  “That’s all you know,” she replied.

  Julianna dragged Rod toward the house, so Carl grabbed Marie’s hand and followed.

  Mary Owen stood in the doorway, offering her hand to her father-in-law, who gave her a bear hug instead. She looked pale, and a crease appeared on her forehead as she endured the hug.

  “Roddy,” she called to a small, dark-haired child playing by the hearth. “You come over here. Your granddaddy just came. Give him a welcome.”

  The boy looked up, then jumped to his feet.

  “Poppy!” he cried, and ran over to grasp Rod by the knees. Rod bent down and boosted him up onto his shoulders. The boy whooped, and held on to Rod’s ears.

  Julianna plumped a pillow in the best chair in the house, saying, “Papa, come an’ set down.”

  Rod put the youngster on the floor, and Roddy scampered off to play with his blocks.

  “Pa, it’s right nice to see you again,” Marie said, hugging her father. “Carl, come over here and set a while,” she urged her brother, placing a chair for him.

  The men sat, and Julianna tiptoed behind Carl, then ambushed him with a big hug, startling him into standing again.

  “Jule! You’d best not surprise a man thataway. I might’ve hurt you.”

  “Carl’s home, Carl’s home,” she sang, dancing her way around the room, heedless of his discomfort.

  Rulon, hearing all the uproar, came down the stairs, leaning against the wall for support. Upon seeing his father and brother, he lowered the pistol he carried and entered the room. Mary glanced up and gave a little cry of alarm, but he waved aside her concern.

  “I’m fine, Mary,” Rulon grinned, sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes. He tucked the pistol into the waistband of his trousers and held out his hand to his father. “Just the sight of my kin makes me feel strong.”

  Rod arose and took Rulon’s outstretched hand, then passed him on to Carl, who carefully embraced him.

  “You look a mite thin, Rule, but likely you’ll never get as skinny as me.” The younger brother measured himself against the older, found himself to be taller, and grinned with delight. “Seems you’ve shrunk a mite, too.”

  “Taller don’t make better, Carl. I still outweigh you in a wrestling match. Wait ‘til I get my strength, and we’ll have a go at it.” Rulon stepped back to look at Carl’s spare frame. “‘Pea
rs to me you’re healthy. Did you catch any Yankee lead?”

  Carl grinned. “Colonel Mosby kept us riding fast enough to beat the bullets. That’s not saying we didn’t lose a few men here and there.” His expression changed. “We lost more than a few. I reckon we paid a powerful price.”

  “Amen, brother.”

  “Leastwise, you made it home, Rule. Pa just told me about Ben yesterday. That’s a mighty blow, I tell you.”

  Rulon nodded, clapped Carl on the shoulder, and took a chair. “Pa, what brings you into town in the middle of the mornin’?”

  “I’ve come to fetch your sisters home to help your ma. We’ve got a right smart job of work to do in the next fortnight. Well, so do you, come to think of it.”

  “What’s that you mean, Pa?”

  “I’ve sold the farm, and we’re going to the Colorado Territory to hunt up Uncle Jonathan. I aim to thumb my nose at these Yankees, light a shuck out of here, and make a new life growing cows for all them miners to buy.”

  “Do miners need lots of milk and butter, Papa?” asked Julianna. She looked around, confused by the hoots of laughter that greeted her question. “Well, do they?”

  “I don’t mean milk cows, daughter. We’re going to raise beef critters.”

  “Are you asking us to go with you, Pa?” Rulon asked.

  “I’d like it, Rulon. It’d be best to keep the family together. You need good clean air to help you mend proper, and Mary here could use a change, her feeling so poorly just now.”

  Mary sank to her knees beside Rulon’s chair, looking anxiously up at him. “I don’t feel like I can leave Pa and Ma and go traipsing over the countryside dodging Yankees, Rulon. Please say ‘no’,” she implored him.

  “Don’t you go to fretting, Mistress Mary,” Rod chuckled. “I aim to fix things with your pa right now. Marie, you girls gather up your things into a bundle and get ready to leave with us.”

  Rod turned to Rulon. “I’ll leave Clay to help you get things together. He’s a handy young’un, for his age.”

  Marie wagged her finger at her father. “Pa, don’t let Clay hear you talking like that. He’s done more than his share of the work since Carl took off to ride with Mosby. Then when James got drafted, well, he was the man on the place, and he’s mighty proud of the job he done.”

  Rod laughed and tipped his hat onto his head. “Comin’, Carl?”

  “Ready, Pa.” Carl rose to his feet and accompanied his father through the door.

  “We’ll go over and catch Rand in his store. He won’t know what hit him.” Rod laughed as he mounted his horse.

  ~~~

  When he entered the Hilbrands Mercantile a few minutes later, Carl sniffed the spicy odors of the candy counter, just as he had in years past. This was a friendly place, as well known to him as his home or his saddle.

  Rod walked in as though he owned the mortgage, moving with an easy, strolling gait. “Rand,” he greeted his friend, hand outstretched.

  “Well, Rod Owen, you old nag-rider, you found you another son.” Randolph Hilbrands took

  Rod’s hand and shook it. “Seems like a new one comes home every day.”

  “Just got in yesterday. Colonel Mosby kept his boys in after school let out.”

  “You, with five sons left to you, you can joke. Me, with five daughters, and only one married, well, I’m past laughing.” Rand stroked his thin black moustache.

  “Now Rand, it hardly seems likely that your girls are all of a marryin’ age. Why, wasn’t Amanda just having a child about the time I left for the fighting?”

  “That would be Eliza. But Ida, now. She fancies herself quite a lady, and her not yet seventeen. Always going around worrying about when she will marry. I’m afraid Mandy’s filled that girl’s head with a mess of nonsense.” Rand shook his head and eased his tall, fleshy frame back onto his stool.

  “She’s just the age of my Marie. I reckon she’s the same way.”

  “Not like my girl Ida. You never heard the like of the plans she makes to catch her a beau. It’d curl your hair, Rod.”

  Carl felt the heat of embarrassment creeping into his face, and turned away from Mr. Hilbrands’ somber description of his daughter’s antics. Looking around at the displays to find one out of earshot, he bumped into the saucy Miss Hilbrands herself, who had just entered from the street.

  “I declare, you are the clumsiest—” As Ida got a good look at the object of her verbal attack, she backed up a step and started over. “I am so sorry,” she drawled. “Silly me, can’t help but trip on this old floor. Now let me think. You must be Carl Owen, Rulon’s brother. I declare, you have grown up so nicely.”

  Carl stared at her, hoping his mouth wasn’t open. Ida Hilbrands had grown up very nicely herself. Above a pair of merry blue eyes was the blondest, silkiest mop of curls he had ever seen. Her nose was tiny, with a hint of mischief to its tilt. Her mouth looked as though it laughed a great deal of the time, and was just now curled upward as she smiled gaily at her prize.

  Ida threw back her head and gave a little sigh, and Carl became aware of other curved portions of her body.

  “Carl Owen, I declare, has the cat got your tongue? You haven’t said one little word since you bumped into me!” Ida smiled encouragingly, tapping her foot.

  “I—I’m truly sorry, Miss Ida. I’m not used to being home yet, and in the company of such a pretty little thing as yourself. You have surely changed since last I saw you.” Carl recalled a vague person with long braids and knee-length skirts.

  “Have you been home long?” Ida inquired sweetly.

  “I arrived last evening. Got my parole last week near Charlottesville.”

  “All this talk of paroles! Makes our men folks out to be a passel of criminals.”

  “We was prisoners of war. The paroles mean we’re on our honor to come home and wait for an exchange. I got my parole, like I said, then snuck me a Yankee rifle. Almost got caught, but I slipped away.”

  “Well, I never heard of such a thing,” Ida exclaimed. “Why on earth would you want a dirty Yankee rifle?”

  “Because it’s an almighty good one, a repeater. I needed me a good firearm.”

  “I don’t know anything about rifles and such,” Ida murmured, looking at Carl with dreamy eyes.

  “I have to see if Pa needs any help,” Carl gulped, anxious to be away from the gaze of those eyes. “It was wondrous fine to see you again, Miss Ida.”

  “You’ll have to come around and see us from time to time, now that this nasty war is over,” she countered.

  “I’d be pleased to,” Carl nodded. He looked down and stared at his boots.

  Ida tossed her head, greeted her father, and went into the back room of the store, sending one last smoldering look towards Carl.

  He dropped a sigh of relief, then walked over to where his father and Ida’s were deep in discussion.

  “I’ve got my store,” Rand said. “I can make a living. You go ahead on. I’ll not set the Yankees to your trail.”

  “I hope you’ll give it a bit more thought, Rand. You’ve got goods here for a store in the Territory. Look around you and see the conditions hereabouts. Folks are starving, and all you can do is hand out credit and pray they’ll get a good crop to repay you.” Rod paused to scratch his nose. “Those miners in Colorado Territory have good hard money, gold dust and nuggets, mostly, and dug fresh out of the ground by their own hand. The things they lack are the goods you have right here. It don’t seem right when you could make a bunch of money, were you in Colorado. It’s not fair, somehow.”

  Carl wondered how long the silence would last. He glanced at Rand, and nearly laughed out loud at the hungry look that came across the older man’s face.

  “Gold dust and nuggets, you say?” Rand passed his hand over his face. “I’ll go with you Rod, but with all this inventory and my house goods, too, I’ll be needing an extra driver, and I’m willing to pay a good wage. Will you give me Carl, here?”

  Rod turned to his son
, eyes twinkling. “Will you drive Mr. Hilbrands’ wagon, son?”

  “I reckon. You’ve got help a-plenty with the other boys.”

  “It’s done then, Rand.” Rod shook hands with his friend. “Have your wagons ready to go in a fortnight. We’ll meet at my farm, and get an early start.”

  “Good. I want to get out there before some other merchant garners all the business.” Rand chuckled, and rubbed his hands along his apron front.

  Rod waved good-bye and left the store, followed by Carl.

  “Well, Pa,” the young man said, once they were outside. “It didn’t take so long to change his mind.”

  “I reckon I saved the best for last, son. I knew Rand Hilbrands could never stand the thought of good hard gold a-slipping through his fingers.” Rod mounted his horse.

  “It surely was comical to watch his face change.” Carl swung into his saddle. “Who else do you aim to see here in town, Pa?”

  “I’m going over to speak with the blacksmith. I hear he’s been itching to go west since his wife died last winter. If he goes with us, Tom can take his little ones along, not leave them with the Campbells.”

  “Isn’t Tom O’Connor some kind of kin to the Campbells?”

  “Closer than most. Mistress Molly is Tom’s sister. Now if Angus will agree to go with us, the whole passel of them can stick together and make a new start in the Territory.”

  “Why don’t I go give the girls a hand, Pa? You don’t need me to talk to Mr. O’Connor.”

  “Have them ready to go when I get back. Look, there’s Angus Campbell himself, crossing the street up yonder. I may be gone for a while, son. I’ll see you back at the house.” Rod nudged his horse into a trot, and little puffs of dust arose as he went up the street.

  Carl turned off toward Rulon’s house. The sun had come out bright and strong, and it felt good and warm on his back. He grinned. “Hush, we’re going west.”

  As he reached the corner, Carl saw a group of mounted men dashing up the cross street in front of him. Panic rose in his throat as he recognized the Yankee patrol that had jumped him, and he wheeled his horse to find a place of concealment. Then he realized where he was, turned Sherando again, and tried to calm his pounding heart. The soldiers were probably racing through the streets of Mount Jackson to make a ruckus, and he felt foolish to be caught in their trap.