Solitary Horseman

by Camp, Deborah

  “Me?” Della spread a hand at the base of her throat and her eyes widened in surprise. “Why, that’s sweet of you.”

  “I wish men could get along like we’re getting along,” Mrs. Bailey declared.

  Della patted her hand. “Well spoke, Mama Bailey.”

  Ann tossed the blouse she was mending into her sewing basket. “I will speak to my husband and my other kinfolk about the violent acts of late. If I thought that any of my kin had anything to do with Altus Decker’s murder, I’d . . . well, I don’t know what I’d do.” She shuddered.

  “I’ll let my feelings about it be known, too,” Teresa said. “To anyone who will listen. I intend to speak to Pastor Vancroft, as well. I want him to know that I won’t be attending church until he publicly repents for his activity with law-breakers and murderers.”

  “I won’t be needing those lemons,” Ann said, smiling sadly at Banner. “I’m no longer in the mood to bake a cake.”

  The sounds of an approaching rider drifted into the parlor and Banner stood and looked out the window. “It’s my brother,” she said. “He was supposed to make himself scarce this afternoon.”

  By the way Hollis swung out of the saddle and bounded up the porch steps, Banner knew something was wrong and alarms rang in her head. He stepped inside the parlor, hat in hand, his eyes wide. Pink color stained his lined cheeks as he glanced around at the women. When he spotted Banner, he motioned for her to come toward him.

  “What’s wrong, Hollis?” she asked, her voice tight and higher than usual.

  He looked around the room again, obviously uncomfortable with the audience.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” Banner waved at Hollis to have him follow her out of the parlor and into the kitchen. “Tell me,” she insisted, pivoting to face him.

  “Masked riders circled Ki and Mary’s house last night and tried to set it on fire, but Ki and the boys shot at them and scared them off. They did manage to burn down the chicken coop and outhouse.”

  “Did anyone get hurt?” Banner asked, her eyes already stinging with tears.

  “Everyone’s fine.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “I rode over to the Latimer ranch. Me and Shane are feeding the herd this afternoon. Old man Latimer said that Ben was there bright and early to let them know about what happened.”

  In her mind’s eye, she could imagine Mary’s fear and Ki and his sons fighting to save their homestead and their lives. With a huff, she marched back into the parlor where she examined each expectant expression. “Ladies, the cowards struck again last night and tried to set fire to the home of friends of mine. I have no doubt they also meant to kill them.”

  “Whose home?” Della asked.

  “Ki and Mary.”

  “Oh.” Ann swallowed hard. “Indians.”

  “Yes.” Banner stared hard at her. “My friends. Mary is one of kindest women I’ve ever known. Her husband and sons are all mannerly and hard workers. I hope you don’t think the color of their skin makes what happened to them acceptable.”

  “Of course, we don’t.” Teresa gave Ann a sharp glance before addressing Banner again. “However, with all the trouble Indians have caused lately, it’s more understandable why they were singled out.”

  Banner felt her mouth drop open in utter dismay. “That makes about as much sense as saying that all women with freckles have loose morals because the saloon’s painted lady is freckled!”

  Teresa made a placating gesture. “I didn’t say it was right. I just said it was more predictable. These night riders are going after Yankees, carpetbaggers, former slaves, and Indians.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Banner cautioned herself to be calm. She needed these women as allies.

  Della pushed up from her chair. “We have our work cut out for us, ladies. We need to start squawking and squawking loud!” She planted her fists on her hips. “Everybody knows that even the cockiest rooster will run from a mad hen.”

  ###

  Feeling helpless and useless and so full of rage he felt his body might not be able to continue to contain it, Callum stood in the front room of Mary and Ki’s cabin and looked from one face to the next.

  “You should come live with me and Pa until these men are caught and hanged,” he said, knowing that they would all shake their heads in firm denial – which they did. “They’ll be back. You know they’ll try it again.”

  “We will be ready for them,” Ki said, folding his arms against his chest, his broad face set in stern lines. “We will keep watch all night. We will take shifts. We have rifles and bullets.”

  “They have numbers,” Callum said.

  “We shoot fast,” Ki rejoined. “We will not run like frightened rabbits. We will stand our ground like mighty bears.”

  Mary’s smile was forged from sheer determination. Callum knew that any further discussion of them leaving for safer ground was futile. He kicked at the curled edge of the rag rug at his feet, wishing he could kick the teeth out of just one of those jackals who had tried to burn Ki and Mary’s place to the ground with them in it.

  “I’d stay here with you at night, but I can’t leave Pa alone.”

  “And you shouldn’t. This is not your battle,” Mary said.

  “Oh, but it is,” Callum bit out. “When they left that sign on my barn and now they mess with my friends, it’s damned personal. And one of them probably shot at me and stampeded my herd. They’re a bunch of cowards.”

  “I thought you’d decided that was all done by Jeb Johnson or Russel Baines,” Ben said with a deep scowl.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Still wound tight as an eight-day clock, Callum gripped the brim of his hat and turned toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything. Lumber, nails, anything. I’ll bring it right over to you.”

  “We have plenty around here to rebuild the coop and outhouse,” Ben said. “But, thanks.” He gripped one of Callum’s shoulders and walked out onto the small porch with him. “Don’t worry about us, Cal. We can handle this.”

  “You’re like family to me, Ben. I’m going to worry. I’ve taken all I can take from those yellow-bellies. I’m going to rip the masks and hoods off them and make them look me right in the eyes. Then I’m going to make sure they hang.”

  “All by yourself?”

  “No. I’ve let the sheriff know my intentions and I’ve sent word to the Texas Rangers about what’s going on here. But if they don’t back me up, then I’ll do what I have to do. I’m not turning the other cheek, Ben. I’m not made that way.”

  Ben nodded, grimly. “Yes, this I know about you, Cal.”

  “If you want to stay close to the house the next few days, it’s okay by me.”

  He shook his head. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Callum clapped Ben on the shoulder before making his way to Butter and swinging up into the saddle. As he turned the horse around, squawking chickens and a rooster with singed wings scurried out of his way. His gaze swept over the burned lumber and ashes where the coop had been and his blood boiled anew. Tapping his heels against his horse, he sent her at a canter toward another homestead on his land.

  His temper was still simmering even though the sun had been swallowed by gray clouds and the wind had picked up, making his eyes smart. Twenty minutes later he reined Butter in front of a small clapboard house. Lilah stepped out on the porch, tugging a big wool shawl tightly around her and smiling prettily at him.

  “Why, hello there, stranger,” she cooed. “What brings you here on a Sunday afternoon?”

  “I’m looking for Eller.” He pulled off his gloves and yanked his kerchief from around his neck, using it to swipe at his eyes. He couldn’t help glancing at her mid-section. She wasn’t showing yet. Her blue and white checked dress clung to her lithe figure and the dark blue shawl clung to her high breasts and narrow hips. The way she looked at him from beneath her lashes, all coy and confident in her beauty, made him feel antsy and aggravated. Stuffing the kerchief into his coat pocket, he di
verted his gaze from her and noticed Eller’s horse in the small corral. “Where is he?”

  “Right here, cousin,” Eller said, coming into sight as he stepped from the house and onto the porch. He slipped his suspenders up over the shoulders of his wool shirt and grinned like a possum. “Something going on with the herd?”

  Callum dropped from the saddle. “I want to talk to you. Just you and me.” He wrapped the reins around one of the porch posts and walked toward the corral, away from the house, away from Lilah. What he had to say wasn’t for her ears.

  At the corral, he stopped and waited for Eller, who had gone back into the house for his coat. He approached Callum with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Callum glowered at him, wiping away Eller’s amusement in the blink of an eye. Was he looking at a man who would hide his face and try to burn out a family that he’d known his entire life? Was he staring into eyes that were as dark as the man’s soul?

  “Masked men tried to burn out Ki and Mary’s place last night.” Callum’s jaw felt like it was made of hewn rock and his pulse pounded in his ears as he scoured Eller’s face for the slightest hint of guilt or pride. “You know anything about that?”

  “Yeah, I heard.” Eller stamped his boots and hunched his shoulders against the cold. “I heard that they’re all okay.”

  Callum shook his head, disgusted by the man’s obvious lack of interest. Eller really didn’t give a damn. “Are you in cahoots with the weasels behind what happened to Decker and last night at Ki and Mary’s?”

  Eller’s gaze bounced to Callum’s and held. His eyes darkened to the blackest black and his lips curved in a smirk. “Are you so blinded by your high and mightiness that you can’t see how folks around here are fed up with being disrespected? Run off their land? Laughed at by Yankees and darkies? You don’t think they have a right – no, a duty to fight back?”

  “Fight back?” Callum repeated with derision. “Just what the hell do you know about fighting, Eller? You’ve always had other people bleed for you. Even in the war, you found a way to wear a uniform without seeing battle.”

  “That’s a goddamned lie!” Eller fumed, the veins in his neck and forehead bulking up.

  Callum stared at him, unimpressed. They both knew who was lying and who wasn’t. “You have a duty to your wife and unborn child, Eller. If you were part of what happened at Ki and Mary’s place, you pack up and get.”

  Eller swiped his hand through the air between them. “I’m not standing here listening to threats.” He would have swung about and headed for the house, but Callum grabbed him by the coat collar and flung him back against the corral fence. Eller’s face reddened and his mouth twisted into a snarl. “Watch it, cousin! Keep your damn hands off me.” He jerked out of Callum’s clutches.

  “What has Mary and Ki ever done to anybody?” Callum demanded. “You work with them and their sons every day. How can you turn against them?”

  “I haven’t! But the Indians around here are stealing horses and cattle.”

  “Says who?”

  “Everyone!”

  “Bob Taylor is everyone now, is he?” Callum nodded when Eller snapped his jaws together. “Yeah. That’s right. Bob Taylor. Your head is so far up his ass—”

  “You don’t want to get me mad, Callum,” Eller growled.

  “—Taylor lets wind and you call it perfume,” Callum taunted, then ducked as Eller swung at him. Eller’s fist whizzed over his head, throwing Eller off-balance, so that he stumbled. His mid-section collided with Callum’s right hook, taking the air right out of him. Callum wrapped a hand around Eller’s shoulder to keep him upright. “Don’t ever swing on me unless you mean to be put down – hard,” he said as Eller struggled for breath. “This is the last time I’m talking to you about this. I’m going to deal with the men who tried to burn my friends’ house down and who took a shot at me and left that message on the side of my barn. If you’re one of them, it’s best if you and Lilah clear out now because all of those bastards are either going to go to prison or die.” He pushed Eller away from him and stalked across the hard ground to where he’d left Butter.

  He didn’t look back as he rode away, but he could feel Eller’s treacherous glare on his back, seeping under his clothes, under his skin, and he knew that Eller Hawkins was now less his kin and more his sworn enemy.

  Chapter 16

  A light snow had fallen Christmas night, but the sun was shining brightly the next day as Banner and Della Dyersburg sat side-by-side in Della’s buggy, heading for the Rugged Cross Baptist Church for Sunday services.

  “Bob wasn’t too awful happy about me going to this church,” Della said, cutting her big, dark eyes at Banner. “The only reason he didn’t kick up too much dust about it was because I was meeting with you and we were going together.”

  “Did you tell him how kind Rev. Beauchamp was preaching at Altus Decker’s funeral?”

  “I did, and he was right impressed with that. But he knows that Rev. Beauchamp is a Negro and he thinks us going to that church is asking for trouble.”

  Banner was quiet for a few moments, letting that settle. “And what do you think, Della? Do you agree with your husband?”

  “I think it might be like poking a sleeping bear, but then again, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with what we’re doing.”

  “We’re just going to church on a lovely Sunday morning.” Banner buttoned the top of her heavy coat and was glad the sun was bright and melting the snow.

  “You don’t get a little twinge when you see darkies owning land, opening businesses, and the like?” Della asked. “I admit it gets my goat sometimes. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. Just doesn’t seem right.”

  Banner measured her words carefully, not wanting to offend Della for telling her truth. “I imagine most people around here feel the same as you. I took care of some prisoners during the war – Negro soldiers fighting for the North. They were bright and brave. They were just like every other soldier I tended to. I suppose that’s when I changed my way of thinking. I decided to judge a person by actions rather than by how they look or dress or talk. We’re all struggling to find our footing in this patched together country of ours.”

  “I suppose . . .” Della heaved a sigh that made her ample bosom slide up and down. “You didn’t get with Callum yesterday?”

  “Hollis and I went to the Latimer’s Christmas Eve and exchanged some gifts with them, but we stayed home Christmas Day.” She gripped the side rail of the buggy as the vehicle bounced over some icy ruts and her thoughts bounced back to Christmas Eve. Callum had been in a pensive mood. She could tell that his mind wasn’t on the holiday and he wouldn’t talk about what was bothering him. He and his father had given her a lovely silver-handled mirror and brush set. They’d given Hollis a new harmonica.

  Smiling, she recalled Callum’s tender smile when he’d examined the new shirt she’d made for him. She’d sewn a new pair of heavy, cotton socks for his father, who had been as proud as a peacock over them.

  It had all been over too quickly. In her woolgathering, she’d imagined that Callum would kiss her under the mistletoe, but there had been no mistletoe and no kisses. She’d returned home thinking that she and Callum should be getting closer, but she felt as if she’d drifted farther away from him.

  “Why are you frowning like that?” Della asked, rousing her from her dark musings.

  “What? Oh. Nothing.”

  “Something’s troubling you. Are you having second thoughts about visiting this church?”

  “No. It’s not that.” She straightened, realizing they were almost to their destination. It was right around the next bend in the road. “I’m looking forward to—” The rest of the words melted away as she stared, aghast, at the charred remains of a building. A small crowd of people stood next to the destroyed church and she spotted the tall figure of Rev. Beauchamp among them. “Oh, no.”

  Della pulled on the reins, stopping the buggy and set the brake. “When did this h
appen?” she called out, and Rev. Beauchamp raised a hand and stepped forward.

  “Must have been sometime last night. The flames were out and there were only embers glowing when I arrived here a few hours ago.” His brown eyes glimmered with sadness and he looked tired and dazed. He gestured at the destruction. “As you can see, there is little left of our chapel.”

  Banner stared, slack-jawed, at the sight before her. Sickness writhed in her stomach and up to her heart. How could anyone with a soul do such a thing on Christmas weekend? The people appeared forlorn and lost as they stood beside the half-walls of the church where they had worshipped. Whiffs of smoke curled up from the blackened ruins. Pages of hymnals blew across the snowy ground and a large wooden cross that had graced the front of the church had fallen sideways, half of it burned to ashes, and the other half broken in to several pieces. Banner felt broken, too. Broken of spirit.

  “Why do we do this to each other,” she asked in little more than a whisper as emotion tightened her throat. “How could they do this?”

  “Nobody was hurt?” Della asked.

  “No, ma’am. Thank the Lord.” The minister clasped his hands and glanced up. “We all live to worship another day. We just have to find another place to worship in.”

  “You’re welcome to use my home until you find somewhere more suitable.”

  Both Della and the minister stared at her with undisguised surprise. Rev. Beauchamp spoke first.

  “That’s very kind of you. I’ll certainly consider it. For now, we will conduct a short service here and pray for peace among our neighbors and friends. Tomorrow we will decide what we’ll do next Sunday.”

  “Let me know if I can help you in any way,” Della said. “If you aim to rebuild, I do believe my husband has some lumber we could spare.”

  “Thank you. Would you join us, ladies?”

  Della glanced at Banner and Banner nodded. They alighted from the buggy and made their way across the snowy ground to the dozen or so people huddled beside what was left of Rugged Cross church. Theirs were the only white faces among the congregation. Della fidgeted beside her, clearly uneasy. Banner looped arms with her and gave her a smile of encouragement. It seemed to work because Della smiled back and then bowed her head as the preacher led them in a short prayer for understanding and forgiveness.