"They’s in the house, I reckon."
"Get them out here, now, boy." The man commanded eyeing him as though he were the scum of the earth.
"Yes suh." Jacob answered, not liking the way the Ranger insisted on things, nor the tone he used to do it with.
Josey and Rose came out on the porch and stared into the coldest blue eyes they had ever seen. They wrapped their robes tighter and stared at the man and his men on horseback.
"What can we do for you?" Josey asked.
"I’m Lieutenant Smith of the 38th patrol. We are after a man name of Talbot. Would you know where he might be?"
"Our name is Anderson, sir, and no we don’t know where he might be. I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Talbot once, when he fixed my ma’s buggy. That was some time ago. Why, what’s he done?"
"He’s an abolitionist sympathizer and refuses to take up for his country. He’s a runaway, and anyone helping him, is guilty of the same. Do you understand?" The lieutenant asked his mustache twitching as he spoke as though his nose tickled.
"My sister done told you we haven’t seen the man, Lieutenant. As you can see by our state of dress, we just got up, and were fixing breakfast." Rose said sweetly, batting her lashes at the man. "Do you honestly think we’d entertain a man in our robes?"
The man was unaffected by Rose’s charm. His hooded glance went over both of them thoroughly. "Where’s your help about the place? I see no one about, is this all there is?" His authority seemed to excuse his bad manners, as his eyes scanned the horizon.
"No, we’ve two other men on the farm to help. They are about doing chores I expect, as they are both old enough to know them without being told." Josey snapped.
"I see no movement at all about the place. Are they in the habit of going off far?" He scrutinized them.
~*~
Just about that time Hank and George came in from the east, the opposite direction of which they took Mr. Talbot. Josey couldn’t help but notice their deliberate way of throwing the Ranger off. She smiled. Hank was wiping the sweat from his brow, George unhitched the horse quietly, giving the Ranger a once over, sharply.
"Where might you two men have been?" The lieutenant demanded.
"Pullin’ a tree down that was laid across the road after the storm we had last evening." Hank explained, looking as though he had been hard at work for some time. He eyed them for a minute then asked. "Who are you?"
"I am Lieutenant Smith, and I’m here about Mr. Talbot a neighbor. Have you seen him?"
Hank eyed the lieutenant closely, and then shook his head. "Lieutenant, we have lots of work to do, we don’t have time to socialize. This farm is shorthanded as is. The storm last night tore up more than it helped, so we’ve been kinda busy."
"Pray tell why you are not enlisted in the Confederate Army, sir?"
Josey watched Hank's expression harden on the man. These men were as demanding as the Federals and she didn’t like their attitude, but she remembered quickly how Leroy had explained that using courtesy would be a better way out of a bad situation.
Hank must have remembered too.
"We are sorely needed on two farms at once sir, my ma’s and Mrs. Anderson’s farm. At the time the war broke out, I was to help both places, as I was the youngest. I have done so as this is a sizable farm. But my brother, Leroy Van Houghton has been with the Confederate Army for some time, I believe he fought at Sabine Pass, the last I heard."
The lieutenant seemed satisfied with Hank but he eyed George now. "And this man?"
George looked at them with a strange frown. Josey wondered if anyone had ever asked him about signing up. "Ain’t nobody ever asked me that, Lieutenant, but I’m a farm hand, that’s all I am. I’m fifty-seven years old and I got bad eyes, they wouldn’t take me."
Josey and Rose looked at each other.
"All right…but I must tell you if I find this is not true, I’ll be back to take you in." He countered.
"Suit yourself." George replied.
"Very well. Miss Anderson…is it?" The lieutenant asked.
"Yes." Both girls replied.
"One must be careful these days, as there are jayhawkers and carpetbaggers and all manner of men on the roads. Some mean no harm; others will loot the place and kill you for food. If you have guns I suggest you keep them loaded and ready. These are dangerous times and sometimes we must do things that are rather unpleasant. If you encounter any of these sorts, get a hold of me at the Denton headquarters."
For all that she didn’t like, Josey felt as though his warning was meant to help them, and she smiled at the lieutenant. "Thank you sir. It is good to know that our own men are out there and watching out for us."
"Yes ma’am, but we haven’t enough men to watch every farm, that’s why I warn you, to be careful. A jayhawker would just soon split your throat as look at you. Right now, we have an insufferable amount of men deserting, and those men can be very dangerous as they are on the run for their lives. After all, they’ll go to prison if we catch them or hang them. They steal anything, and don’t mind killing. I’d advise you to remember that."
"Thank you sir, we will take your warning to heart." Hank reached up to shake hands with the lieutenant.
"Very well. We’ll be moving along then. Good day." He tipped his hat and moved out of the yard with his small troop.
As they left Rose sighed aloud. "When will this dreadful war end, Josey? It just keeps going on."
"I know. However, despite the fact that I didn’t like the man, his warning was a good one. We need to be on guard. Did you get Mr. Talbot away from here?" Josey asked Hank as he came toward them.
"We hid him good. They won’t find him unless he gets out of there. And if he doesn’t stay, it’s on his shoulders. He’ll be safe there for a while."
"Well, we can’t check on him and see about him. He’s on his own now. It's simply too dangerous to try to hide him out." Josey said. Rose hung her head.
"I hope he makes it…a man should have a choice."
Hank smiled at Rose and marveled at how being with child seemed to agree with Rose these days.
Since their mother had died, they had all become even closer and the men seemed more protective of them.
George shook his head. "The spoils of war…that’s what all this is about."
"What do you mean?"
"We got Rangers wanting to arrest our own people for not joining, we got deserters able to kill anyone that gets in their way, we got Yankees if they make it over the Red…they’re all around us. Seems like this war puts us in the middle of everything." George whined. "Whether we want to be or not."
Josey eyed him. "Was that the truth…about the eyes?"
"Not so much, but enough to keep my butt out of the war." George laughed. Josey nodded and smiled. "Good."
However, as George would have led Hard Tack to the barn he grunted out loud. "Blood on the blanket. I hope they didn’t see it."
Hank bit his lip, and added to the lies already told, "Don’t fret, if they come back and ask we’ll say you cut yourself on pulling that log out of the road. That’s all."
George seemed to think about that a minute then nodded in agreement. "Good as any." He mumbled. "Damn Rangers…"
Chapter Thirteen
Major Shoals, a short stout man with craggy brows and a keen sense of what needed to be done, glanced up from his paperwork at Leroy. In his late forties, his hair was still dark, his beard heavy. His voice literally boomed, but his heart filled his words. "Lieutenant, I want you and your men to head north, by way of Poison Springs, Arkansas. I have direct word that Major General Frederick Steele and Banks is planning on a campaign against the Red River Valley. If they get a stronghold on Shreveport, it will be detrimental to Texas. We mustn’t let that happen.”
Leroy frowned up at his commanding officer. "Arkansas has taken a beating, so have our men in that area. You think my small platoon will be of much help?"
"Actually, after your gallant work in Sabine
Pass, I’m sure they will. General John Marmaduke is planning quite a surprise for the Federals. He’s gathered a good size army there. However, we can’t take any chances of the supply wagons getting through, and your men have shown great gallantry in that area. I figure you will complement his troops. Arkansas has been heavily plundered since the Yankees took the state. It’s time to stop them. They’ve taken enough, and cost Texas a lot of men. It’s time we turned the tide, don’t you agree?"
"Yes sir. When do we leave?" Leroy asked, his eyes scanning the mapped area of which they spoke.
"Right away. And Lieutenant, Good luck." The commander smiled sadly. "If we turn this into a victory, it'll bolster the South’s ego a bit. And right now, we could stand that." He looked around his tent and grabbed for his bottle of cognac. "Would you join me in a drink, sir?"
"Yes sir, thank you sir."
Later, as Leroy made his way to his own tent, he pondered what his commanding officer had said. He grimaced as his boots squished in the mud from the constant drizzle of rain left from the storm of the night before. He’d grown used to his socks sucking up the leavings of the ground through his holey shoes. He walked slowly toward his tired and weary men. Taking in their ragged clothes, the worn boots and shoes, he hated to tell them they had yet another battle to attend, not only that but a sizable march to look forward to. However, their raw courage and quick wit always saved his biggest dreads. Despite the fact that they were bone tired, their spirits didn’t lack for gusto. Because so far, Texas had barely been touched by the Federals.
"Don’t look like the news is that good, boys." One of his men smiled sardonically, as he laid his rifle on his lap.
The men chuckled then grew quiet.
Concerned, Leroy stared at them. He grew quiet for a moment, and bowed his head. "Men, I know you were hoping for a little rest, and maybe some good home cooking." He paused looking into their faces thoughtfully. "But…" He grimaced, pursing his lips. "We’re headin’ for Arkansas."
He heard a few heavy sighs for they had all known of the defeats in Arkansas. The men looked at each other, one swallowed his chew, his face paled, and he gagged.
"Arkansas?" One of them blurted.
Everyone hung their heads, knowing that some of the bloodiest battles of the war had been fought there, and lost.
Leroy stood his ground, nodded, and hiked one leg on a fallen trunk of a tree as he stared around the campfire. He leaned his arm on his knee and watched the flames thoughtfully. The fire crackled about them, making a popping noise. "This war has gone on much longer than I ever anticipated. Killing more men than you or I could imagine. For the ones of you that were at Pea Ridge, you understand what I'm saying. However, let me remind you of the battle there, all totaled, the South lost nearly five thousand men. The North a little more than that. Three days of constant battle and ten thousand lives lost. The Federals won Arkansas. Despite the deaths. Imagine, if you will, five acres of nothing but dead men. Imagine the burial detail. Imagine the spirits of the men who dug those graves. Gentleman, those men didn’t die in vain. Now we can prove that point."
He waited as that grim picture sunk in. "But we’ve done a good job of holding Texas, so far. And the Texans like us that have had the supreme pleasure of holding them off on this side of the state line have been fortunate enough not to lose too many men."
He glanced around at their anxious faces. "While some of the men from Sabine are going on to Galveston, we march for Arkansas. Moreover, the reason is simple, to save Texas once again from a massive invasion that is planned. If the Federals get hold of the Red, which by God, they are trying their best to do, Texas will lose. And knowing you all as I do, you don’t want that. We've come too far, seen too much to lose the Red now. As always we must protect and defend her. Arkansas as you all know has taken a beating and the Federals control most of it. However, there is hope this time."
Several of the men perked their ears to listen. "Major General Marmaduke has gathered forces and we aim to stop the supply wagons from getting into Camden where the Federals are controlling. Obviously you men have earned that right at capturing supplies." The men chuckled. "It’s our chance to take back some of Arkansas, and keep Texas safe. We have on our side, the element of surprise, as they won’t be expecting such a force, and we aim to block that supply wagon train. If they can’t get supplies in, maybe we can force them out or back a ways. Just as we did at the Red before. Don’t misunderstand, this is a very strategic move on the Federals part, and if they succeed, Texas will fall to them, just as Arkansas did. We can’t let that happen, gentlemen. So now, it’s up to us to see they don’t."
"Texas ain’t gonna fall, Lieutenant." One of his men announced proudly as he spit his tobacco. "And for the men that died at Pea Ridge and several other Arkansas spots, we’ll learn ‘em not to mess with Texas."
Leroy smiled now, the first real smile he had in days. "I’m not going to tell you how proud I am of all of you. You're damned good men, best sharpshooters in Texas, I’ll wager. However, this won’t be a picnic and we have to gear ourselves up for the battle. But this time, we have considerable men and artillery on our side and the element of surprise. They aren’t expecting us. And better yet, they don't know what we're capable of."
"All I got to do is remember that pretty little yeller haired gal of mine at home, and I get all fired up" one of the men said with a chuckle.
Leroy liked the fact that his men were good-natured. And he had a girl he wanted to go home too, even though she didn’t know it yet. He could conjure her up any time he wanted in his memory. She wore a plain gray dress, with her hair falling around her shoulders, and the warmest brown eyes he’d ever gazed into. He wished he could snuggle up to her now. Dear Josey!
"There’s a pile of used boots at the supply tent, check 'em out. They were taken from the Yankees. Use them if you can. We’ll be marching at sunup."
The men sipped their water, and dreamed of the coffee they might have had, if this war hadn’t spoiled so many dreams. They put their tobacco away and readied their guns. They filled their haversacks and went to check on the boots in the supply tent. Leroy watched and listened for a long time to his men, enjoying the friendships they'd made.
Some were lucky enough to find some boots they could wear, others had to make do.
"Well Herman, if yor feet weren’t so big, you could have worn these." The private held up a pair of shiny black boots to the corporal who was barely past twenty.
"They look as if they just came out of a dry goods store. That’s okay; they dang sure ain’t broke in." He laughed.
“Wish we would run into some Indians, I bet they’d have some mocs we could use." The other one huffed.
“Yeah and I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t thrown your blanket away when we had so much marchin’ to do, either. I told you not to…"
"Hey, ain’t we got trouble enough without worryin’ ourselves about Indians and blankets?" Another man called out.
"What kind of name is Marmaduke? Sounds like a dog to me." One of the soldiers scoffed as he tried on another pair of boots.
"I don’t care what his name sounds like, as long as he knows how to whip those Federals’ butts, I’ll call him Abe Lincoln if he wants me to." Another man joined in.
"Shore wish we could go home about now…and have some red-eye gravy and ham hocks with red beans."
"Shut up, do you have to make us all hungry too?" The old soldier snarled.
Laughter peeled from the tent as they readied for the march. Leroy smiled to himself. He'd never worked with so many good men.
"Why didn’t they just leave us up at the Red."
"Well, if you weren’t such a good shot, they probably would have." Another laughed.
Jokes and hee-haws went around for another half hour, and then they began the long trek north this time. Leroy led them on foot, refusing to ride his mount while his men walked.
There was still a chill in the air, but April was approaching and warm weath
er was on its way. Still, the March winds could chill a body to the bone, and there were few coats and blankets left as they lessoned the burden of marching. Some had learned the hard way that leaving a coat or blanket behind because it was less cumbersome could be the death of them.
As they marched they sang, "The Yellow Rose of Texas", and some even shed a tear thinking of their sweethearts, but all in all they were in a jovial mood, and Leroy was glad he didn’t have to bolster their ego.
The terrain was often rough, the weather somewhat unpredictable this time of year. Several storms had made the passage harder on them as they had to move big trees that had fallen in their paths. Half the work of marching was clearin’ a path.
However, it was reassuring when at night the crickets were out singing and the creeks began to run clear water, not ice.
More than once they missed their coffee, and dreamed of the hot liquid scorching their mouths, so they could fuss.
A particularly bad storm hit them about midway of their journey. A twister was headed straight for them. Most of the men took cover as best they could, clinging to trees, brush, or just the hard earth. Two men died. Leroy took it hard as both were very young, and they were the first casualty in his command. However, no one could fight Mother Nature and win.
After eighteen days of nothing but marching and clearing the path, they reached the Red and camped beside the riverbed. The water was up from the rains and swollen to the banks.
"Lieutenant don’t you have a home not far from here?" one of the men asked. "Yeah…I do…" Leroy cleared his throat.
"Well, sir, we wouldn’t be lookin’ if you took off and went to see that gal you’ve been moonin’ over." One of the old timers said.
"I can’t do that." Leroy shook his head, as the wistfulness of home called to him.
"Well, you said yourself we were gonna be here for a couple of days till we meet up with the Major General. And the corporal could look after things while you was to git." The older man smiled.
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