The Other Side of Life

by Andy Kutler

“It is.”

  He examined the paper. “Belonging to the late Elias Peyton, and now in possession of his daughter, Emily Peyton Garrity?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you are?”

  “Calvin Garrity.”

  Kendricks gestured at Cal’s missing arm. “You serve, Garrity?”

  “I did. First Virginia Cavalry.”

  “Figures,” Kendricks grunted. “I need a word with you and your wife, since her name is on the deed.”

  “Why don’t we talk in the house?” Cal asked Kendricks. “It’s cooler and if I know my wife, she’s digging up something cool to drink.”

  From the adjoining kitchen she could hear Kendricks’ voice, self-assured and full of disdain, as the men entered the house.

  “Quite a nice house, Garrity. I’m surprised a Rebel home like this is in such good condition. Considering.”

  It was more than disdain. There was hostility there.

  “We’ve put a lot of work into it, Major.” She caught the strain in Cal’s voice. “It was occupied by Yankee generals during most of the war. A war, which, by the way, is over.”

  As Emily left the kitchen she could see Kendricks preparing to give his own testy response. But as she carried the tray into the room, Kendricks caught sight of her, his eyes following her. She was thankful for that as it momentarily forestalled the escalating tension between the two men. Whoever Kendricks was, Emily knew that agitating him further would not serve them well.

  She placed the tray on a nearby bureau, and felt Kendricks’ eyes on her cleavage as she bent over to serve.

  “Em, this is Major Kendricks, and Sergeant…”

  “Dalby.”

  Emily gave them a curt nod. She handed each man a glass of lemonade but Kendricks was uninterested in the refreshment, examining his glass with another frown.

  “You Rebels seem to be doing pretty well down here,” he smirked, picking up where he had left off.

  Cal put his glass down, his patience waning. “Major, on a good day, we’re able to throw some squirrel meat in a thin stew. We are trying to get this farm working again, hoping to survive the next winter.”

  “Yes,” Kendricks said dryly, “we are all hoping that you people who betrayed our country and led us into four years of war can prosper now that you have been properly thrashed.”

  There was a guffaw from Sergeant Dalby and Emily willed her husband to look at her. Remarkably, he did, and she could see his fist was clenched.

  Don’t walk into it, Cal.

  He didn’t. But his voice was taut as he turned back toward their visitor.

  “How can we help you, Major?”

  “This property and the adjacent land have been sold to private interests. My detachment has been sent here to evict you from this house, as well as your tenants, to ensure it is properly vacated before the new owner takes possession.”

  Cal’s shoulders sagged, and Emily could see Caldwell seething from the corner of the room, probably imagining how her grandfather would feel about these soldiers in his house, dictating such terms.

  “How long do we have?” asked Cal.

  “I will give you two hours.”

  Cal smiled, until he saw the man was serious. “Two hours? We have nowhere to go, Major. I have a small child here and—”

  “I don’t care if you have Ulysses S. Grant here. You have two hours or my men will forcibly remove you.”

  “You’ll need a lot more than what you brought here, you fat carpetbagger,” Caldwell grumbled, no longer able to keep quiet.

  “Gus—” warned Cal.

  Kendricks cast a quick eye to his sergeant and then glared at the older man. “What did you call me?”

  “I called you a fat carpetbagger and if—”

  Dalby suddenly took two quick steps forward and swung a right hook, connecting squarely with Caldwell’s jaw. Emily heard the sickening blow as Caldwell fell back over a chair and crumpled to the floor. Caldwell was big, but Dalby was as thick as an oak and twenty-five years younger. He reached down and grabbed a fistful of Caldwell’s shirt. As Dalby reared back with his right arm, Cal hooked it with his own and used his hip to throw the soldier against the wall. Dalby hit hard and tumbled to the floor. Enraged, he pulled his sidearm and aimed it at Cal’s head.

  “A very foolish mistake, Garrity,” smirked Kendricks. “That may not be a hanging offense, but you’ll do some time for that.”

  Emily stepped forward, seething. “That is enough, Major. I would expect more from a Union officer than to hide behind a pistol and taunt unarmed men like a schoolyard bully.”

  “Shut your mouth, woman, before—”

  “Is there a problem here?”

  It was a voice she had not heard in more than four years. The voice had not changed, but its owner certainly had. He had a trim beard now that did little to hide his hardened features as well as the fatigue that was so plainly visible among the returning soldiers. Yet Ethan Royston stood in their doorway, as calm as she had ever seen him. And from the virulent gaze that was leveled at Kendricks, as deadly as well.

  “This isn’t any of your concern, Colonel,” said Kendricks with a trace of nervousness. “Just following orders from the governor and removing these secessionists from this property.”

  “The war is over, Major. There are no more secessionists. And I know this man. We served together before the war.”

  “What is your business here, if I may, Colonel?” Kendricks inquired.

  Ethan reached into his blouse and produced a folded paper, which he handed to Kendricks, whose face fell as he examined the document.

  “I believe,” Ethan said, “that I am standing in my new home.”

  Cal looked at him, completely befuddled.

  Ethan snatched the paper from Kendricks and passed it to Cal. “I recently acquired some sixty or so acres of land in this area, plus a nice house.”

  Cal read it quietly. “Good God,” he said in disbelief, passing the paper to his wife.

  Emily read it and stared at Ethan. “You bought this land—our land—and this house, from the Commonwealth?”

  She received an impish grin in return.

  Ethan’s face quickly darkened as he faced Kendricks, who was watching the reunion unfold in stunned disbelief.

  “I haven’t forgotten you, Major,” said Ethan. “Your orders surely do not include the badgering of civilians and the striking of an elderly man. Who, I might add, happens to be the brother of Winfield Scott.”

  Kendricks’ face drained of color as soon as heard the iconic name. Scott was a national hero, the face of the American Army from the War of 1812 through the Mexican War. A native Virginian who remained fiercely loyal to the preservation of the Union, he had served as Commander in Chief of the Federal Army until ’61. He was retired now but still held enormous influence in Washington.

  “General Scott? That can’t be. I—I—I had no idea—”

  “Yes, he will be delighted to hear that you have assaulted his dear brother, who fought in the Army of the Potomac.” Ethan gestured to the red-faced sergeant, just now getting up from the floor, his revolver now holstered. “Take your dog here and get the hell out of my house before I shoot you for trespassing.”

  Kendricks grinded his teeth and moved to the door, but Ethan stepped quickly to block his path. “If I learn that you have ever set foot in this county again, I will share what I have witnessed with certain officials in Washington and see to it that you are busted down to second lieutenant and assigned to postmaster duties. Do you understand me?”

  Kendricks remained quiet but nodded, reluctantly.

  Emily could see Caldwell’s face bruising already, and blood continued to trickle from the side of his mouth.

  She stepped toward Kendricks. “Sorry, Major, I’m a little less forgiving,” she said. In a flash of movement, she slapped him across the cheek.

  The man’s eyes bulged. “I will not take—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence as Emily
slapped him again, with more force this time, knocking his hat to the floor. Kendricks’ face turned purple with rage but he kept his mouth clamped closed.

  Ethan had a roguish smile on his lips. “I would advise you to leave this second before I turn her loose on you.”

  Kendricks gave them all one last glare and then stormed from the house, Dalby following close behind.

  “Why didn’t you throw the book at him?” asked Cal.

  “Technically, I’m not a colonel anymore. I’ll explain in a bit.”

  Cal shook his head at Ethan, who looked entirely pleased with himself at the moment. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Well,” Ethan explained, “I feel like I’ve seen every inch of this state now.” He turned to Emily. “And yet I still haven’t had a decent slice of pie in four years.”

  Emily was holding on to an arm of Caldwell, who was easing himself gingerly into a chair. She pulled off her headscarf and used it to wipe away some of the blood on his face. The man seized the cloth from her, half embarrassed, half unwilling to allow a woman to lend him any aid. Emily quickly understood and turned back to Ethan.

  “The brother of Winfield Scott?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Not true? I must have been misinformed,” he said, smiling innocently.

  Emily could no longer restrain herself as she shrieked and threw her arms around Ethan, nearly knocking him to the floor.

  ***

  They sat at the kitchen table, the house dark now except for the flickering candles on the table and the soft glow from the fireplace. Sarah and Caldwell, the latter nursing a bruised face and ego, had retired for the evening, leaving the Garritys with Ethan and his sergeant major. Charlie was sound asleep in the nearby cradle.

  “Where did you get that kind of money?” asked Cal.

  “My inheritance.”

  “Your inheritance?” He put it together. “Your father?”

  Ethan nodded.

  “Ethan, I’m sorry,” said Cal.

  Emily placed her hand in Ethan’s and squeezed it. “Oh Ethan, we didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay, and thank you. I really didn’t want the old man’s money. But he left me a letter, and, well, even from the grave that man knows how to get in my head.”

  Emily turned to their other guest. “So, Mr. Kelsey—”

  “Sergeant Kelsey,” her husband corrected.

  “It appears you have done well in the Army. What do you intend to do now that the war is over?”

  Kelsey gave Ethan a quick glance. “Well, I thought I was headed to Colorado, but—”

  “I didn’t exactly put a gun to your head,” interrupted Ethan.

  “Colorado?” asked Cal. “Is that where you’re supposed to be? And what did you mean you’re no longer a colonel?”

  “It’s all pretty simple. The Army wanted me in Colorado. We were on the train, on our way there. And then I got off. Found a post office and mailed in my resignation. I figure it will take the Army a few weeks to process the paperwork.”

  “You resigned through the mail?”

  “Yep,” Ethan said, puffing his chest a bit. “Looked it up myself in the regulations. Perfectly legal.”

  “But why? Colonel is no small achievement.”

  Ethan waved dismissively. “It was brevet only. They were going to knock me down to captain again. But it’s not the rank. Hell, best years of my life were as a captain.”

  “Then why?”

  “You know what’s going to happen out west, with the war over.”

  Cal nodded. “Indians.”

  “I guess I’ve done my share, that’s all. Time to try my hand at a different trade.” He paused. “Losing Kirch was the last straw.”

  Emily looked up sharply. “Peter Kirch? He didn’t make it?”

  Ethan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Emily. You know, when TJ died, I thought that was going to do me in. First you, Cal, then Whit, then TJ. It was like we were cursed or something. Those weeks after Gettysburg, thinking about TJ pulling that trigger, it was just too much. I was lost, drunk half the time. You know who pulled me out of it? Kirch.”

  Cal scoffed, despite himself. “Kirch? Peter Kirch?”

  “Cal, you remember a boy who was scared of his own shadow in New Mexico. But sometime in the middle of all that hell, that boy became a soldier. He was one cool cookie, as Kelsey likes to say. Never left my side and never ran away. Followed orders, and even learned how to play that damned bugle of his properly.”

  “Where was he killed?”

  Ethan sighed heavily. “The boy made it through the entire war without spilling a drop of blood. Even his bugle got shot and all dented up. But the boy was untouched. Then he gets killed—murdered—just outside of our camp in Stafford. The night of Lee’s surrender, if you can believe that.”

  Emily put her hand to her mouth. “Murdered?”

  “By who?” Cal asked.

  “We don’t know. His body was found in a creek a couple of hundred yards from camp. He’d been stabbed several times.”

  Cal wrinkled his forehead. “Bayoneted? Near your lines?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Not a bayonet. It was a dagger of some sort. They found it lying on some rocks nearby.”

  Cal and Emily stared at each other.

  Emily started, “It has to be—”

  “Travers?” Cal asked her.

  She nodded. “You and Peter both knew about him.”

  “What about Travers?” asked Ethan, confused.

  “He had a dagger like that,” Cal replied. “Never went without one in his boot.”

  “Most everyone carries a knife of sorts.”

  “Not a blasted dagger, they don’t. You remember what I told you about Travers? About that kid in New Mexico? Kirch knew about it, he’s the one who brought it to me back at Camp Chance. Travers must have figured that out at some point.”

  “Whatever happened to that young man in New Mexico?” asked Emily.

  Ethan looked away as he tried to recall the name. “Peterson… Penders…”

  “Pauls,” Emily said with certainty. “Henry Pauls.”

  “Pauls, right.” Then it hit Ethan. “Damn—Pauls disappeared!”

  “Disappeared?” asked Cal.

  “Right before we decamped and headed east. No one knew what happened to him; everyone just assumed he rode out of a camp, another deserter for the South. But maybe—Jesus, you think Travers would have actually killed Pauls? And then Kirch?” Ethan snapped his fingers. “Wait—there was a letter from Kirch’s mother, she said—”

  Kelsey slammed an open palm on the table, cutting Ethan off. They all stared at him in surprise as he stood suddenly, facing Ethan. “Sir, a moment outside?”

  Ethan looked up at him. Though the words had forcefulness behind them, Ethan could also see the anguish on Kelsey’s face. He followed him out to the porch.

  Kelsey’s voice was low but stern. “Come first light, I’m going to leave here and hunt that son of a bitch down.”

  “To do what?”

  Kelsey just stared back at him.

  “And how are you going to find him?”

  “I don’t know. But I will.”

  “Are you even going to bother asking me for permission?”

  Kelsey paused and gave Ethan a hard look. “He needs to die, Colonel. It’s not just Kirch. I should have killed the bastard a long time ago. That boy might still be alive if I had done what I was supposed to. Others might…” He stopped himself. “Don’t get in my way on this one. I’ll bunk in the barn and say my farewell in the morning.”

  “And what then? After you’ve killed him?”

  Kelsey contemplated that. “Then we’ll see if everything is right again.”

  He turned and headed to the barn, leaving Ethan shaking his head in puzzlement. Figuring Kelsey just needed to blow off some steam, Ethan returned to the house and sat down at the table again.

  Cal looked at him. “Where’s Kelsey?”

  “He’s turn
ing in. He’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  “Where to?”

  Ethan looked uncomfortable. “Don’t ask.”

  Emily refilled his cup and took another turn. “What about you, Ethan? What are you going to do with your new land and house?”

  “Well first off, I’ll do just fine without the Army.” He lifted his cup of tea and blew on it. “Though I will miss Lieutenant Garrity here saluting me and calling me sir all the time.”

  Cal and Emily both laughed. Ethan joined in.

  “Come to think of it, I don’t think you ever called me sir.” He sat up in his chair, more serious now. “Back in New Mexico, I never appreciated what I had out there. You Cal, my best friend. A brother. And well, Em, you’re as close to a sister as I’ll ever have. You two are the only family I have left. I thought I loved being a soldier, maybe I did once. But I’ve seen too many good men die. I’ve taken too many lives. And I’ve followed the orders of too many cold-hearted shirkers and incompetents. I practically lost my entire regiment in Pennsylvania because of a fool’s errand we were sent on. That is what was waiting for me in Colorado. And there has to be more in this life than that.”

  Ethan placed the cup back on the saucer and a playful smile suddenly danced on his lips. “To answer your other question, Em, it’s really not my house and land.”

  His friends shared a confused glance. “What are you talking about?” asked Cal. “I saw the bill of sale.”

  “Indeed you did. But you didn’t see this.” Ethan pulled another folded document from his blouse and dropped it on the table. “I had everything deeded over to the two of you.” A grin now. “I don’t know a damn thing about farming.”

  Cal and Emily stared at the document on the table with disbelief, not bothering to touch it. Finally, Cal let out a long breath. “Well, Ethan, I guess we have only one matter left to settle.” He looked at his wife, who eagerly nodded in agreement.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m no farmer either. But a couple of old dragoons surely know something about horses, and we could use a partner here.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Emily shivered as she cradled the small bundle tightly in her arm and her feet splashed through the puddles, soaking her shoes and stockings. It would be unseasonably cold tonight, and with the rain, she was certain Sergeant Kelsey would appreciate the extra blanket and lantern, even if he was the sort who would not ask for them.