River Bend

by Barbara Shepherd

  “And I shall do likewise for yours.”

  Belle faced him. “Oh?”

  “I shall be gone a long time, and Texas is becoming more dangerous of late.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The Mexican government wanted settlers, but they are no longer kind to the immigrants. Comancheros are moving farther east, as well, so you and River Bend could suffer attacks at any time.” Jake no longer spoke in an accusatory tone but sounded concerned for her welfare.

  “We shall be mindful of strangers and take notice of anything unusual.”

  “Be more than mindful. Stay alert, Belle. Should you feel threatened, take Johnathan through the tunnel to the windbreak.”

  “Over by the oak grove? A tunnel opens up way out there?”

  “It does, but it’s well hidden.”

  “How do I enter the tunnel, Jake? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “The entrance is under the butler’s pantry. Old Bailey will lead you.”

  Sitting in silence for a while, Belle envisioned what an adventure Johnathan would think they were experiencing if they raced into a tunnel.

  Despite Trader Jake’s buckskin apparel, he remained a southern gentleman, standing when she rose from the table and excused herself for the rest of the evening. Afraid to spend more time with him, she hurried upstairs. I can’t get too close to the man because I don’t want to see him injured again. Men in my life tend to wind up in the doctor’s office, fighting to survive.

  Alone in her room, she wrote in her journal. Before bed, she added his trip to her prayers.

  The next morning, Jake had left for Horseshoe Bend by the time Belle woke. Hearing the ring of hammers, she hurried down the hall toward the rear of the house. From its second floor window, she saw George and Daniel Campbell nailing timber together to frame a new barn.

  What a lovely sight. Progress for River Bend and father and son working together. Having no siblings and her father dying early, she had missed out on family camaraderie. Except my mother. Belle spent most of the morning planning the design for a quilt.

  Whole-cloth quilts still dominated America’s quilt styles, whether decorated with heavily stitched medallions or precise leaves and blossoms in applique. She wanted to try a different approach. Choosing fabric from several packets proved to be more difficult than her desire to create something new and different. Once she narrowed her choices down to five fabrics, she did the unthinkable. Using her sharpened shears, she snipped into the fabric!

  After snipping along one side, precisely three inches apart, she laid the shears aside and tore the cotton fabric into a long strip and gasped. There was no turning back. With each tear at each snip, her confidence grew. So did her excitement. Fresh-cut timber for the barn mirrored the pattern circling inside her brain. Continuing to snip and tear brought her a new-found peace.

  Later while watching her son play, she sat in a rocking chair and sewed strips together, making sure no two came from the same piece of fabric. When Johnathan tired, she put him down for a nap. Inspired by her creative activity, she returned to her chair and completed several pieces for the quilt top, stopping often to rethread her needle.

  Laying her sewing aside, she wondered how many tiny stitches she had sewn that afternoon. Walking downstairs for the evening meal, she laughed and said, “Too many to count.”

  “Count? Oh, no. I shouldn’t have been sewing today. How many are coming to the wedding reception? It’s the day after tomorrow.” She raced downstairs.

  “Old Bailey, we have to plan a reception!”

  “Yas, missy. Soon’s you eat.”

  “Now. We have little time.”

  “Yas, missy.” He pulled out a chair for her at the dining table, refusing to move until she was seated, and served her at his normal speed.

  Feeling his pleasant firmness, calmness enveloped her. Without hurrying the delicious bounty presented to her, she enjoyed the meal and realized plans for the reception began to form in her mind without the frenzy she had anticipated.

  “Has Johnathan eaten and bathed?”

  “Yas, missy.”

  As if on cue, Johnathan came up behind her and tickled her neck. She turned in her chair and gave him a hug.

  Before dark, she and Johnathan skipped down to the site for the new barn where George and Daniel were finishing up for the day.

  “Three logs high on the back half,” George said.

  “And foundation for the floor,” Daniel said, beaming. “Did most of that myself.”

  “That’s amazing you’ve come along so fast,” Belle said. “This barn’s going to be huge. When I met you, George, you didn’t tell me you were a carpenter.”

  “No, because I’m a farmer. When you farm, you find ways to build the things you need.”

  “Or repair them,” Daniel said, and his father nodded.

  “I’m confused,” Belle said. “I understand the layout, but the floor doesn’t cover it all.”

  “No need to add flooring under the stalls,” George said. “Fresh straw on top of this sandy soil will work fine where the animals are kept.”

  “Got to get this floor finished by tomorrow,” Daniel said. “My floor. Lots of people coming to see it before long.”

  Belle arched her eyebrow. “How’s that, Daniel?”

  “Wedding,” he said. “Can’t have a wedding without a dance.”

  “Dance,” Johnathan said. “I can dance. Toby taught me.” He tapped his feet and clapped his hands before he twirled around and almost fell. When everyone giggled, he bowed, causing them to laugh at him again.

  Dance. This reception is practically planning itself.

  Two days later, Belle and Old Bailey took the buggy into the settlement.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  With weddings in the remote areas of Texas so rare, a double wedding meant big news. Word of mouth among the trappers and fancy women spread the details to rendezvous participants and to those traveling on Red River and the waterways it intersected.

  “Trader Jake,” Samuel said, “I thought me and my bride would stand in front of the preacher and get hitched. Never suspected such a big commotion.”

  Jake slapped his friend on his broad back. “The ceremony will be that simple. You’ll just have a bigger family in attendance than normal. As you know with rendezvous ending, most of these trappers would have already left. They’ve stayed to witness two marriages and enjoy the food and dancing afterward.”

  Samuel nodded. “Makes me want to whisk my bride away right now.”

  Jake laughed. “My friend, you can’t do that. The Atkins women expect a real wedding. If I were in your boots, I wouldn’t disappoint either one of them. You and Benjamin are lucky to have found brides that seem as taken with you old grizzlies as the two of you are with them.” He winked.

  Samuel chuckled and walked away.

  Jake winced and stepped down from the front porch of the hotel as Old Bailey pulled on the reins to bring the mare to a stop. “Good to see you, Old Bailey.”

  “Yas, suh.”

  Offering a hand to Belle, Jake helped her down from the buggy. “How lovely you look today, Mrs. Strong.”

  Taken aback since Jake hadn’t called her Belle, she responded in the same formal manner. “Why, thank you, Mr. Owens.” Seeing Jake clench his teeth, she thought better of it. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it, Trader Jake?”

  His jaw relaxed. “Yes, ma’am. Perfect day for a wedding. How about two of them?”

  “I know,” Belle said, unable to conceal her excitement. I don’t want to fight today.

  Jake helped Old Bailey unload tied packages and small valises from the buggy, placing them on the porch. Belle collected the armload of wild flowers she had plucked on the way in and handed them to Old Bailey, who carried everything inside.

  “We’ll have the weddings behind Doc’s place,” Jake said.

  “I don’t understand,” Belle said. “I thought the hotel parlor would be the perfect place for a wedding ce
remony. Doc’s building backs up to the forest.” Has the man gone mad?

  “Not any more, Jake said. “I had a portion of it cleared. Those two trappers have a passel of friends who want to see them get hitched, and the hotel is way too small for that.”

  “So you want to see those two women, dressed in bridal finery, get married outside? In a field? In front of a crowd of leering men?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said, releasing an aggravated sigh. “Let me explain.”

  Belle waited, with her hands on her hips.

  “The spot we cleared is as big as a city block, like I once saw in New Orleans with a statue in the middle of it, where families came for outings.”

  “And a statue appeared right here in Texas.” Belle lifted her arm straight up. “Like manna from heaven.”

  Jake paused a moment before continuing. “By the way, these men will not be leering at a man’s wife, today or any other. They may ask her for a dance after the wedding, but they will be respectful. Instead of a statue, our city block if you will, has a gazebo in its center—a perfect place for the bridal party to feel privacy for their vows but open enough for everyone to witness the event.”

  The man does have a soft spot in his heart.

  “A gazebo, Jake? You know we have those in the Carolinas.”

  “I know. That’s why I chose to build one here.” He turned and strode toward the saloon.

  By noon, a huge crowd circled the gazebo. The preacher sat on one of its side benches while the two bridegrooms paced in the tight space left in front of the structure, its fresh-cut wood giving off a pleasant scent. The men stopped pacing when a buggy rounded the corner.

  Trader Jake, dressed in light pants and a burgundy frock coat with matching cravat, helped Belle alight from the buggy. Gold threads in his brocade vest glistened as he led the matron of honor to the gazebo, parting the crowd as they proceeded. Having discarded her mourning wardrobe, Belle looked radiant in a day gown of rose velvet, its skirt and petticoat reaching her ankles. She carried a small bouquet of wildflowers left over after she assembled the bride’s bouquets. Once inside the gazebo, she tucked her bouquet into a ribbon she had tied around her wrist so her hands would be free when the brides handed her their bouquets later.

  Jake greeted the preacher and took his place as best man in the gazebo and motioned for the bridegrooms to stand beside him. They wore new buckskin, soft and supple in the color of rich cow’s cream.

  “Looks like you’re a slab of butter standing here—a big slab,” Jake whispered to Samuel.

  Chuckling, Samuel nudged his best man with his elbow. “Butter’s better than berry juice. Fall in a barrel of it on your way here?”

  Benjamin joined in their soft laughter until the brides’ buggies came into view. The men stood straight and silent.

  Catherine came first, driven by Old Bailey. Amelia came next with Burcham as her driver. After escorting the brides up the steps of the gazebo, Old Bailey went back to help manage the horses while Burcham joined his wife and children in the audience.

  Leg-of-mutton sleeves and cone-shaped skirts made the women’s waists look smaller than they were, and cashmere gloves added elegance to their gowns. They both wore silk brocade, heavily embossed, Catherine in a sky blue and Amelia in buttercup yellow. They stood beside their husbands-to-be as close as each bride’s three petticoats and skirt allowed.

  Jake leaned over to whisper to the grooms. “When they chose America to find husbands, they packed for a wedding. I would never have guessed their trunks were stuffed with such finery.”

  As the brides joined hands with their grooms, Belle saw how Samuel beamed, his pride in Catherine returned with her genuine smile and a tight squeeze of her hand. Benjamin looked so excited he could jump up and down even though Amelia rewarded him with a slight nod of her head.

  The brides gave each other in marriage, and the itinerant preacher performed the ceremony that bound each couple together. After the “I do” times four, the audience whistled, clapped their hands, yelled congratulations, and headed for the saloon.

  Plenty of liquor and a little sarsaparilla flowed over the worn, wooden planking where the bartender poured. Drinks were served to the crowd that day by the fancy ladies, wearing their best and brightest dresses that appeared shorter than usual because of the extra petticoats the women had worn to the wedding. Talk of that day’s double ceremony dominated the conversation, some of it already exaggerated.

  When the married couples made their appearance in the saloon, they were greeted and congratulated all over again. Music and dancing in the street followed.

  After a couple hours of revelry, Jake and Belle wedged themselves into the crowd and succeeded in getting the married quartet separated from the crush of dancers, like cutting calves from a herd. They loaded up, and the party made a quick exit from the settlement. Resembling a miniature wagon train, buggies and buckboards transported the married couples, the Campbells, and the Burchams to River Bend for another reception. Trader Jake rode his roan ahead.

  About halfway there, When The Eagle Speaks and Laughing Maiden joined them, both wearing buckskin with ribbon inserts and fringe. He also wore a magnificent breastplate of four rows of hair pipes, shiny shells, and ermine fur wrapped around its leather neck strap.

  Jake held up his hand to stop the wagons and greeted his Comanche friends. Since her buggy was right behind him, Belle also greeted them.

  “Those golden cowries,” Jake said, “make for a more impressive breastplate than the conch shells our trappers bring for trade from the northwest.”

  “This is true,” When The Eagle Speaks said as he looked down at his ornamental armor. “My gratitude is yours for the gift of cowry shells.” He pointed to Laughing Maiden. “Ehawee also wears them—around her neck.”

  “The necklace is almost as beautiful as your wife,” Jake said. “But I won’t be bringing more cowries to America.”

  Belle admired the egg-shaped shells that looked like porcelain. “Why is that?”

  Jake turned to face her. “I seldom sail to Africa where you find most of this type of sea snail,” he said. “These came from one of the Fiji Islands in the South Pacific. I traded for them with an islander who paddled his drua out to my ship.”

  That doesn’t answer my question. “Could you not trade with anyone on the island when you sail again?”

  “Not if I want to live. Indians here,” Jake said and winked at When The Eagle Speaks, “take your scalp.” His demeanor became serious. “The Fijis are cannibals. I would lose more than my hair if I went ashore.” He wheeled his horse around and led the group the last few miles to River Bend.

  Transformed into a garden setting, River Bend’s front lawn exploded in color. Instead of laundry, a dozen woven baskets held bouquets of wild flowers mixed with tropical blooms from the greenhouse. Rows of temporary tables, made from fresh-cut wood for the barn, were covered with wide strips of an off-white fabric.

  From this distance, those new cotton sacks my staff and I sewed up in a hurry satisfy the need for party tablecloths. Tomorrow, we can wash them, sew on the shoulder straps, and have them ready for the cotton fields.

  Jake rode on ahead and reached down to pick up an excited Johnathan to ride behind the saddle on the sweating roan. They rode back to the buggies, the child chattering about all the food waiting for them.

  “Lizzie outdid herself with this bountiful offering,” Belle said to Old Bailey when they pulled up at the edge of the lawn.

  “Yas, missy. Plenty vittles to eat.”

  “Indeed, there is. Plenty for everyone. Let all of the workers know they’re invited to join in.” She smiled at the old servant’s surprised look. “Yes, the newly married couples agree with me that everyone on the plantation should share in their joyful day. Now, go. Spread the word.”

  Jake dismounted to help Belle down from the buggy. “Follow this woman’s orders, Old Bailey,” he said. “Now, git.”

  Old Bailey paused before he took
off in a run.

  “Well, that old coot,” Jake said, shaking his head. “The way he pads around inside that big house hides his real speed.”

  Phineas waited at the nearest table. “All my reports are in the box.”

  “I’ll get them,” Jake said. “Read the earlier ones last time I came out, but this is not the day to discuss business matters.”

  Phineas waved his arm toward the tables. “Lot of food from the plantation’s pantries on those tables. Kind of a waste to entertain trappers, don’t you think?” He glared at Belle.

  “The lady managing the big house can and should entertain anyone she chooses, especially friends and family.” Jake crossed his arms. “Mind your manners and your position. I expect you to concern yourself with managing crops—not how plantation funds are disbursed.”

  With his cheeks reddening and the scar on his neck turning whiter, Phineas walked away.

  Oohs and ahs from the wedding party kept Belle from saying something she might regret that would change the tone of the event. The group filled their plates with smoked ham, fried catfish, roasted chicken and gravy, cornbread stuffing, red beans and rice, hushpuppies, sauerkraut, brandied peaches and pears, charred onions, and wedges of bread. They found chairs and steps to sit on while they devoured the feast.

  Phineas returned to fill his plate and ate in front of the carriage house. Although he sat on a bench close enough to see the lawn, he did not join the jovial guests.

  Belle motioned to Old Bailey who came up to her. “None of you have filled your plates,” she said.

  “No, missy,” he said. “Not now.” He eyed Phineas.

  One table held sweet treats, including mince pies, dried apple pies, and two Bride’s Cakes. Each cake was one round layer of delicate artistry, iced in white and adorned in the center with green leaves and white blooms from gardenia plants in Stephen’s greenhouse. Tea cakes, the stiff batter rolled out, cut into small circles, and baked to a crisp, were piled high on a platter. Johnathan grabbed one, giggled, and scurried away.

  Belle cut the Bride’s Cakes she had baked early that morning into thin slices. I raided the larder for this, a pound of butter and twenty egg whites for each cake plus the white wine and rose brandy from Stephen’s wine cellar. I refuse to count how much sugar loaf I used. Without staff’s help, I could never have broken off enough lumps with a hammer and chisel and pounded it for these cake batters. She served the cake on small, flowered plates, rimmed in gold, with matching cups and saucers for coffee. She did not carry a piece of cake to the carriage house.