The Delivery

by James Edwin Branch

  “It wouldn’t do a man much good to be out here without some protection,” he said as he turned towards Millicent.

  Uriah nodded at Millicent, and she rode off to the west as quickly as she could with Uriah only a second behind.

  The three men scrambled to get themselves together. The wounded Virgil groaned as he hollered out commands.

  “Find that other horse, let’s get after them.”

  Rafe checked Virgil’s wound and tried to calm him.

  “We can’t do that. We need to get you to a doctor, Virgil. That woman shot you good, if we don’t find help, you’ll get infected and die.”

  “He’s right, Virgil, if we don’t get you to a doc soon, you’ll be in trouble.” Harvey resounded Rafe’s concern and reaffirmed what he’d said.

  Virgil gave in to Rafe’s request and waited painfully while they rounded up the lost horse. The animal had only wandered a few hundred yards from the cabin so it wasn’t long before two of the three lit out on the only remaining horse. Rafe held the reins while Virgil held on tight behind him.

  They rode north in search of a doctor and a chance that they could save Virgil’s life. Harvey McGinty would wait behind at the cabin until they returned. On Virgil’s word, he told Harvey they would return in no more than two days.

  Millicent and Uriah rode west for several miles before turning south. About ten miles out, they came across a creek and stopped to water the horses and rest. Both of them were confident that they had escaped the men and for the moment, they were no longer in any danger.

  Once they dismounted and let the horses drink, Uriah watched Millicent cautiously. His curiosity was overwhelming. When he could no longer contain himself, he finally spoke up.

  “I can hardly believe what you just did for me,” he exclaimed. He noticed that she was trembling all over.

  “You risked your life; you could have been killed trying to free me.”

  Millicent didn’t answer at first; she cupped some water in her hands and she drank from the stream. After she had her fill, she washed her face and pulled her long brown hair back.

  She pulled a tie loose and worked her tresses until they were pulled tight and smooth. It was obvious she wasn’t comfortable with the conversation that was coming.

  “I couldn’t leave you in there with those men, Uriah,” she began, her voice crackling as she spoke. “I had to help you. I didn’t have a choice. I was so scared; I thought we both might get killed.”

  Uriah listened and watched her facial expression as she was speaking. She was beginning to calm down now and wasn’t shaking as bad as she had been.

  “I guess I just don’t understand why a woman like you would help a man like me.”

  Millicent broke down and began to cry. It wasn’t something that Uriah expected. He felt helpless and confused. He wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Was it about the man she’d shot, or was it because the shock of what she’d done had just hit her? He wasn’t sure what was happening. He only knew he was grateful to her, and for some reason, she was crying buckets of tears.

  The three men might have killed him if she hadn’t interfered. It was a courageous act to Uriah, one he wasn’t sure even he would have tried. It was also one he would never forget.

  She could have been discovered in the cabin at any second. That’s why he’d pushed her out the rotted hole in the wall. He thought the three men might take advantage of her and do her serious harm. Then, she threw caution to the wind and came in to save him on her own. He was in awe of what a brave woman she was.

  She seemed to compose herself and finally decided to answer his concerns. She dipped her head slightly as if she were ashamed.

  “I have to admit to you that I come from a family that could have been like those men. I always hated the way my Daddy talked and acted. I told myself that if I was ever in a situation where I was required to take a stand that I’d stand on the side of right.”

  Uriah smiled at her and touched her chin gently. As he raised her head slightly with his hand, they came eye to eye.

  “I suppose if we’re going to become friends, we should be able to talk about such things.”

  She nodded and seemed to relax.

  “We’ve got lots of time,” Uriah told her, “We’re still days from the state line, even on horseback.”

  “What about those men back there?” she asked, “Do you think they’ll come after us?”

  “I’m sure they’d like to, but after you ran off their horses and shot their leader, they’ll have to get him to a doctor to save his life. It ain’t always the bullet that kills a man out here; it’s just as likely the infection that comes from getting shot.”

  “You mean I might have killed a man?” she asked. Her face seemed to change and the reality of what she’d done began to sink in.

  “You didn’t have any choice, Miss Millicent. Those men would have done harm to both of us if they had been given the chance.”

  She nodded, but the look of dismay remained on her face. Uriah could tell that even though she’d exhibited such courage, she’d never been in such a dangerous situation before.

  Chapter 6

  Friends and Enemies

  Considerable time had passed, and the missing train was beginning to cause a stir from Pittsburgh to Atlanta. When the train failed to make its next scheduled stop, the army telegraph wires lit up with the news.

  Patrols were dispatched from the north and south ends of the train’s route. The patrols were sent to ride along the rails following the train’s path in an effort to discover its fate and the condition of its passengers and crew.

  With an Army payroll on board, the military had considerable interest in finding the train as quickly as possible.

  While the patrols began their search along the rails, the events in southern Virginia continued to unfold.

  Uriah and Millicent had made camp several miles from the cabin and taken the time to water the horses and consider their situation.

  They’d narrowly escaped the McGinty brothers and were actually a little better off than they’d been before. With the brother’s supplies and the two horses, they now had the means to speed up their travel time.

  Millicent was willing to go, on but Uriah was concerned about the effects the cabin incident had on Miss Millicent. She seemed shaky and distraught. Having to shoot a man, even though it was in self-defense, had changed her somehow.

  Uriah could see that the day’s events had taken a heavy toll on her. He decided they were safe enough to camp for the rest of the day. Maybe a little rest and a warm campfire could soothe her.

  Despite her pleas to go on, Uriah knew they’d be better off if they took the time to gather themselves together. It was early, but with all they’d been through, they did need the rest. Besides, he was still reeling from being struck on the head with Virgil’s pistol.

  Virgil had struck him hard enough to render him unconscious for quite some time, and his head felt like he’d been stomped by a buffalo.

  The McGinty brothers were no longer an immediate threat and there was enough distance between them. Uriah believed it allowed them a reasonable night’s rest and the time to recover.

  Although they’d both gotten some sleep in the cabin, the brothers had interrupted their rest in the early morning hours causing considerable wear.

  Millicent had barely gotten warm from her exposure to the elements that she’d already suffered. Now they had two of the brother’s bedrolls and enough equipment to be fairly comfortable.

  After searching the saddlebags, they’d grabbed from the men. Uriah found they had the makings of a fair campfire meal as well.

  By the time a couple of hours passed, Uriah had a meal of some beef jerky and beans ready. With the campfire roaring, they settled in for an early evening.

  As the evening progressed, they both began to open up to the other. Millicent had some questions she wanted to ask Uriah. She was even more curious about him than before.

  “I
don’t know if you want to tell me about it, but I was wondering what kind of upbringing you had?” Millicent said, and then added, “It seems like if we’re going to be friends, we should talk.” The remark made Uriah drop his guard and open up.

  With Uriah’s newfound respect for her, his story slowly began to roll off his tongue. He watched her eyes twinkle in the firelight as he told her about his youth.

  “I was born outside Atlanta, Georgia on a cotton farm.” Uriah began. “I’m not sure what year it was, but I remember they told me it was the year Andrew Jackson was reelected president.”

  Millicent smiled as she watched Uriah speak of his birth.

  “I don’t remember much about my childhood until I was about 6 or 7.

  My parents both died early and they placed me in a community of slaves that lived there. Some of the women took me in and gave me place to sleep and food to eat.

  That’s when I started working in the fields. Those were long days, seven days a week when the crops came in. The master would loan us out to other farms in the area to help get their crops in too.”

  Millicent seemed to lose her smile when she heard him talk about the man he called the master. Uriah saw her face change and responded to it.

  “It wasn’t all bad, Miss Millicent. We always had good food and a warm place to sleep in the winter. Unlike some of the men that had slaves, the man that owned us treated us kindly.”

  She shrugged and tried to respond positively, but it just wouldn’t come out.

  “I’m sorry you had to live through that, Uriah.”

  “It was hard, ma’am, but it ain’t much better since Mr. Lincoln freed us.”

  “What do you mean, Uriah?” she asked.

  “Well, before that I knew where I belonged and how things were going to be, but now being a free man, there are all these choices, and I never know whether I’m making the right one or not.”

  Millicent tried not to laugh at Uriah’s confusion. He saw the tips of her lips turn up and questioned her intent.

  “Does that seem like a humorous thing to you, ma’am?”

  “Well, kind of Uriah. You see, that’s the way it is with all free folks. There’s no certainty, it’s always a gamble on which way a person should go.”

  “Oh, I understand that. I see it in what you’re doing.”

  Millicent wondered what he meant and listened as he continued.

  “Here you are going off to marry a man you don’t even know except from the letters you’ve gotten from him. He could be considerably different than he says on those papers he sends you.”

  Millicent felt strange. She thought about what he was saying. Deep down, she knew he was right.

  She, like Uriah, was traveling into the unknown. The subject left her feeling unsure of herself. It was a feeling she didn’t like, and one she wasn’t quite ready to share.

  She wanted to change the subject and suddenly something came to mind.

  “1832,” Millicent announced.

  “What’s that mean?” Uriah asked.

  “It was the year Andrew Jackson was reelected. It was the year you were born.”

  Uriah put his head on his borrowed bedroll and turned away from her.

  “Thank you Miss Millicent, I never knew that.”

  “I’m grateful to you, Uriah,” she said softly, “I’d don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t come across you on this trip.”

  As she waited for his reply, she heard a muffled snore come from his direction.

  She smiled and cuddled up in her blanket to get some sleep. Across the camp, Uriah’s eyes closed gently as he smiled at her sincerity. He had heard her words and they softened his heart.

  Uriah thought that the Texan who had ordered her for a mail order bride was a very lucky man. This was a very special woman.

  Later when Uriah would tell this story, he often related it could have been that very moment when he decided that no matter what, he would deliver her to the man she’d put so much stock in.

  Some twenty-five miles north of them, Virgil and Rafe McGinty had ridden all that day to the northern Virginia town of Bensonville.

  It was just getting dark when they arrived. Virgil was weak from the loss of blood. Rafe helped him to the doctor’s office and knocked loudly on the door until the doctor opened.

  “My brothers been shot in the shoulder and needs your help,” Rafe exclaimed to the sleepy looking doctor.

  “Bring him inside and get him up on my table,” the doctor commanded with a yawn.

  As they began to get Virgil ready for surgery, neither one of them paid any attention to the man standing below the steps of the building.

  He was listening to their conversation and making sure the doctor was okay. After listening for a little bit, he stepped back across the street and sat in an old wooden chair on the walk. He propped his legs up on the rail and tipped his hat down over his eyes.

  The man in the chair was Ira Beckam. He was the town marshal of Bensonville and quite a character. The people of Bensonville never knew quite what to think of Ira.

  There were stories of his speed with a gun and deeds he’d accomplished, but they didn’t come from Ira. He seldom talked about himself. More often, the stories came from people passing through who recognized him.

  Rumor had it that Ira Beckam had come to Bensonville to avoid some dime novel writers that had it in their minds to make him famous. It was the sort of fame that Ira did not want. Settling down in the quiet town of Bensonville was just fine with him.

  The marshal’s badge and a steady income in a quiet town were just too much to pass up. When the previous marshal retired, he recommended Ira for the job. In those days, it was hard to find a man who wanted the town marshal’s position.

  Most men weren’t gun hands and the pay was small with the possibility of trouble always lingering on the horizon. It was small pay with risks involved for a man without gun experience.

  An experienced gunman willing to work for the law did it more for the respect than the money. Ira had the respect of the town’s people and took his job seriously to a fault.

  Ira would often sleep on the boardwalk in a chair with his feet propped up. Tonight, he was across from the doctor’s office. It wasn’t unusual for him to do something like that. He had become the protective spirit of Bensonville and all its citizens.

  When daybreak arrived, he intended to have a little talk with the two men that arrived in the early evening hours. Since he’d overheard the doctor say had to pull a bullet out of one of them, he knew they weren’t going anywhere for now. Ira planned to get a little sleep.

  It would be a few hours before Miss Sullivan opened the café. Ira was right outside the front door, and he was destined to see her first. Although he was really watching the two strangers, it wouldn’t hurt to get the day’s first look at Miss Sullivan. For Ira, a glimpse of her seemed to make nearly everything worthwhile.

  Though he had these feelings welling up inside him, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to take the next step and let her in on the revelation. Ira wasn’t really afraid of anything these days, but a rejection from Miss Sullivan was probably as close to fear as he could get.

  It was nearly dawn when he heard familiar footsteps coming down the walk. He never moved but stayed there sitting in the chair with his feet propped up on the rail. His wide brimmed Stetson was pulled down over his eyes. With his hat over his eyes, she was unable to see the corners of his mouth turn up slightly as she stopped behind him and put her hands on her hips.

  “I know you’re not sleeping, Ira Beckam,” she began. “If you’ll go wash your face and shave that stubble, I’ll have you some fresh coffee made and a couple of fresh biscuits ready when you get back.”

  She walked over to the café door and let herself in. She lit the nearest oil lamp and turned back towards the door. When she got the café all opened up, she looked out at the walk. The chair was empty and Ira was gone.

  She smiled and pulled her golden h
air away from her eyes. She was beginning to understand Ira these days. She didn’t know much about his past, but he was a man that intrigued her.

  When she’d walked up, she could see that his arms were crossed, and his right hand was resting on the butt of the Colt he wore on the left side of his belt. He wore it with its handle turned outward. It always seemed ready for his right hand to release it from its leather restraint. She’d heard there were seven notches on its inner handle, but she’d never seen them and Ira never spoke of them.

  Though she knew each notch stood for a man that he’d killed, she would never ask him how they came to be. Ira was a man that never bragged of his exploits and never discussed his past. Not taken to boisterous behavior, Ira was what they called the real deal.

  She’d known him for a few years now, and from everything she’d seen, he was a levelheaded man filled with common sense and a will to do the right thing no matter what it required.

  She also knew that he had that dangerous side to him. That side now kept him alive in his role as town marshal. She wasn’t fond of that side of him, but she understood the importance of it in his life as a lawman.

  Whether he’d killed men before with that custom Colt he wore didn’t mean much to her. It was the man that he was right now that mattered to her. She didn’t like knowing that he spent most of his nights asleep in a chair watching over the little town.

  He had an office and a comfortable bed that he seldom used. Despite her curiosity, she had a feeling that someday he’d tell her all about his past, if she’d just wait until he was ready.

  She went about her business, built a fire in the old stove, started the coffee, and began baking some biscuits. By the time they were ready she knew Ira would be back in the chair out front waiting for her to call him.

  Ira could be an extremely aggressive man, but he never acted that way with her. She always had to take charge with him. As she got to know him, she realized he was sweet on her.

  Earlier in the evening across the street at the doctor’s office, Virgil had gritted his teeth as the doctor pulled the piece of lead from his shoulder.