The Christmas Trespassers

by Andrew J. Fenady

  “It’s just a place,” Shad finally responded to Ben’s remark.

  “Shad, my friend, we’ve come nigh a thousand miles, I guess. Across half a dozen states, hills and streams, rivers, valleys and fields. Never saw anything or anyplace to compare to the Shenandoah.”

  Shad stiffened at the word. He had neither heard the sound of it, nor mentioned it since the day he left there.

  “Sheridan!” Ben Warren bit into the name again. “If I could get my . . .” he looked at the pinned-up left sleeve then held out his right arm, “. . . my hand on him . . .”

  Benjie had brought his mother a package. She began to untie the string attached to the plain wrapping paper.

  “Ben,” she said, “you can’t blame General Sheridan. He was a soldier. He . . .”

  “He laid waste to the most beautiful valley on God’s earth to where it’ll never be the same—he scorched the land and everything on it—and may he rot in hell forever. He . . .”

  Ben stopped when he looked at Shad’s face. Shad Parker stared at the unwrapped object in Esmeralda’s hands as if he had been struck a knife blow.

  He was looking at a shawl.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “Molly loaned it to me when I was carrying Todd. Never did give it back to her. I thought you’d like to have . . .”

  Shad’s eyes were on fire. He rose and whirled to the door, opened it, and bolted into the darkness.

  Esmeralda went to the door he had left unclosed and looked out after him. Ben was on his feet. He went and stood next to his wife.

  “What happened, Mom?” Benjie asked. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Nobody answered the boy.

  “I better go after him,” Ben said. “He’s liable to . . .”

  “He went into the barn.”

  “Is he sick?” Todd tugged at his mother’s dress.

  Ben took a step toward the door, but Esmeralda stopped him.

  “Ben,” she said softly, “I’ll go.” She handed her husband the shawl.

  Chapter 20

  The shadowy form of Shad Parker leaned with both forearms and elbows against a stall, his head buried in his arms.

  Oh, Shenandoah, I hear you calling . . .

  The words burned in his brain along with the image of Molly O and Sean and Shannon when he left them for the last time. Jubal Early’s brigade was already on the march. He held her closer than he had ever held her before.

  * * *

  “You’ll miss your brigade . . .”

  “I’ll only miss you, Molly O.”

  “Come back to us, Shad.”

  “You be here, Molly O, and I’ll come back.”

  * * *

  He came back to their graves.

  The fields, the orchards, the barns, the house, and every living thing in them. Gone.

  All the others had left that part of the valley early that day. Molly had promised Esmeralda that she would leave the next day. Shannon had taken sick and needed rest before he could travel. The boy was weak and delirious.

  The Yankees thought that the entire valley had been evacuated. That night they swept south, a burning swath of hellfire and devastation. It was reported that when they heard the screams from inside the house the soldiers tried to enter. But it was too late.

  * * *

  Esmeralda, carrying a lantern, came in through the open barn door. The animals reacted to the light. One of the horses nickered.

  Shad turned toward the light from the lantern, which cast a wavering amber pall. Through the quavering haze Esmeralda appeared like a ghost. Her resemblance to Molly O startled Shad, but within that same moment he regained much of his composure.

  “Shad. It doesn’t do any good to go on torturing yourself.”

  Silence.

  “I know how you feel. When . . .”

  “Do you?”

  “Some. Molly was my sister. Shad, you were away. There was nothing you could have done, but I was there. How many times, day and night, since then have I blamed, no cursed, myself for not making her leave? But she was afraid to move Shannon, and nobody knew how fast the Yankees were moving, how close they were. But I’ve lived with that, too. I loved her.”

  He wiped at his eyes but said nothing.

  “Shad, you can’t run away from what happened.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing, running away?”

  “That’s what you’re trying to do—by leaving the Shenandoah—us—everything and everybody you’ve ever loved. But, Shad, it won’t work. It can’t. Keep the memories, treasure them—but that’s what they are—memories . . . You’ve got to start again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ve still got a life ahead of you . . .”

  “What kind of life?”

  “You’ll find someone . . . There’s got to be something. . .”

  “Something! Can’t you understand? I don’t want to find anybody or anything. I don’t want to feel anything. I don’t even want a pet hound. Nothing! Not ever again!”

  He turned away. Esmeralda moved closer.

  “Shad, the only time you stop feeling anything is when you’re dead.”

  “I am dead. I want to stay dead.”

  “Can’t anything touch you?”

  “I won’t let it.”

  “What happened was the will of God . . .”

  He turned again, now facing her, a fierce anger in his face, but his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “Don’t talk to me about God. Just don’t.”

  “Shad, when Ben lost . . .”

  “And I don’t want to hear about what Ben lost. What did Ben lose? His arm? What’s an arm or a leg or his damn Shenandoah Valley? What’s anything? He’s got you. He’s got his kids.”

  “Yes, he has . . . for a little while.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Why do you think we’re going to Yuma? Can’t you tell by looking at him, your best friend? Don’t you see? The doctor said . . . in a dry climate Ben might last a year . . . maybe two. He can’t help thinking about that every time he looks at us.”

  “Es . . .”

  “And that’s why he wanted to come by and see you, for the last time.” She held back the tears. “Please . . . come inside.”

  Shad nodded.

  Esmeralda set the lantern on a box and walked to the door. She paused there, framed in the moonlight.

  “And, Shad . . . don’t let on to Ben that I told you.”

  * * *

  As Shad and Esmeralda walked into the wind-brushed night, from the barn toward the house, there was a muffled cry from the hillside. Esmeralda did not react because she did not hear. Her thoughts at that moment were filled with pleasure, because Shad walked beside her and for that night at least, what was left of the two families from the Shenandoah would be together.

  But Shad Parker heard and reacted. Cougar, coyote, or wolf? Shad could not tell. The sound came again, and fought the wind, it did not sail with it.

  Cougar? Coyote? Wolf? Shad tried, but could not define it. But something was up there, and not far from the cave. Nor far enough.

  Shad glanced back and upward.

  There was a faint circular glow from the hillside. The trespassers were still there.

  * * *

  Peg poured water out of the tin can Austin had found and she had used to boil the two eggs. The can had cooled enough for her to hold it by the lid still hinged on top.

  There were two thick slices of hard bread on a stone, and Austin was cutting an apple in half with his pocketknife while Davy sat watching and shivering a little.

  “I’m cold.”

  “Take my coat,” Austin said. “Have a piece of this bread.”

  Davy took the coat and the bread.

  “You ought to eat something, too.” Peg cracked the shells of the eggs and started to peel them.

  “Stuffed myself at the Davises. Sure wish I coulda taken more’n a couple slices of bread and that there apple. But there wa
s so many of ’em and someone kep’ watching me all the time.”

  “This’ll do fine, Austin.”

  “Well, it looks like we made it through one more day.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “Yeah, but tomorrow we got to start all over again. I can’t go back to the Davises.”

  “Don’t think about it tonight. Are you . . .” All three heard the animal sound. “There it is again. What do you think it is, Austin?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Remember Soldado? How he used to howl sometimes at night?”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t sound like that. Pa said he thought Soldado was part wolf . . .”

  “Tell me about Soldado,” Davy said as he bit into the egg.

  “I told you before.”

  “Tell me again, Austin. I’m tired of hearing them stories about knights and dragons, tell me about Soldado, about how you and Pa went hunting that day and . . .”

  “Look here, Davy, you want to tell it?” Austin winked at Peg. “Or you want me to tell it?”

  “You tell it, Austin, go ahead.”

  “Well, I wasn’t too much older’n you are right this minute. It was in the fall, sometime before Thanksgiving, don’t remember exactly. Pa had his rifle and took me along, course I didn’t have no rifle. We was going out to hunt quail and Pa spotted some birds, but they weren’t quail, no, sir. Even from that distance I could see they was way too big to be quail or ordinary birds.”

  “Buzzards is what they were, right, Austin?”

  “That’s right. Buzzards, circling and waiting to pounce on something dead and eat it. But they was circling and waiting ’cause there was something else out there that wasn’t dead . . .”

  “Soldado, right?”

  “You might as well go ahead and finish up the story, Davy.”

  “No, I don’t remember it all. Go ahead and tell it, Austin, it’s way better’n them knights and dragons and besides it’s true.”

  “All right. Well, Pa and I went to the spot where the buzzards was flying over and laying there was a dead ol’ dog and standing right beside her was another dog, a big ol’ brute he was, looking up at them buzzards and growling to keep ’em away. He seen us coming, looked like he was making up his mind whether to run away or stand his ground.

  “Well he didn’t run. Pa smiled at that dog, then he lifted his rifle and shot up at the buzzards. They scattered into the clouds and Pa shot once again to keep ’em going. That dog barked at them buzzards till they was outta sight.

  “Pa pulled out his hunting knife and I asked him what he intended to do. He said he was gonna dig a hole and bury that dog so he wouldn’t get eaten . . .”

  “Just like the man did with the cougar,” Davy couldn’t help interrupting.

  “Not exactly. Pa didn’t skin the dead dog. Well, he dug a hole with his knife while the other dog and I watched. That dog seemed to know what Pa was doing and why. He just stood there and watched. Pa talked to him some, called him Soldado, told me that meant ‘soldier’ in Spanish—’cause that dog had been standing guard like a soldier.

  “When the burying was done, Pa piled on some rocks and we left Soldado there and went about hunting us some quail. Got some, too. Pa was a good shot.

  “Next morning right outside the door to our house, there stood Soldado. Guess he’d followed us at some distance ’cause neither Pa nor I had spotted him. Came up close to the house but never came inside.

  “All through that fall and winter he’d show up. Pa wouldn’t let us put out food for him. Said that Soldado had to stay independent. If he started to get fed he might start relying on it and he’d lose his hunting ability. But I don’t think that Soldado wanted or expected to be fed. I don’t know, I guess he just craved company of some kind on account of he lost his wife. Sometimes at night we could hear him howling out there. It went on like that through the winter and into the spring.

  “And then one morning Soldado was gone. For days, I guess weeks, I waited for him to come back, even cried some ’cause I was still little. But he never did come back. Pa said it was all right. Soldado probably found himself another wife and he was out there where he belonged and we should be glad for him . . .”

  “You think so?” Davy asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You think he found another wife?”

  “Well, Davy, every story’s got to have an ending. Might as well be a happy ending. Sure, I do.”

  “That was a lot better story than knights and dragons.”

  “Well, don’t expect me to tell it to you every night.”

  “I won’t. Just once ’n a while.”

  Peg smiled at Austin. She had enjoyed the story as much as Davy and probably needed it more.

  “I wish we had some more chicken,” Davy said as he finished off the egg.

  “Yesterday you was wailing for an egg.” Austin shook his head.

  “That’s before I tasted that chicken.”

  “You’re getting spoiled.” Austin smiled.

  “Davy,” Peg said, “be grateful for what we’ve got.”

  * * *

  Shad and the Warren family sat around the dinner table. The Warrens’ heads were all bowed, but not Shad’s as Ben said the words.

  “Lord, we thank Thee for the food before us—and for bringing us safe this far. We thank Thee for guiding us to our friend Shad Parker . . .”

  Shad Parker was staring at the shawl neatly folded on the ledge of the fireplace.

  “. . . look upon us all with grace and goodness and bless this house. Merry Christmas. Amen.”

  * * *

  In the cave Austin, Peg, and Davy had already finished their meal and were getting ready to go to sleep.

  Chapter 21

  At the Lewis house Homer Keeler and Kathy Lewis had been talking for the better part of the night. Homer had ridden out after he left the sheriff’s office and Mr. and Mrs. Lewis had asked him to stay for supper. Hardly anything was said after the prayer and during the time they ate.

  When they finished the missus suggested that Kathy and Homer might want to go into the front room and “talk a spell” while she and the mister cleaned things up in the kitchen.

  The “spell” had lasted over an hour and the conversation finally was winding down.

  “Homer, you know I don’t believe in violence . . .”

  “Neither do I, Kathy. But I believe in working and earning a living. I’m good at this job. Elwood said so. We’ve got to have food to eat and a place to live. Maybe it wouldn’t be much of a place at first . . .”

  “We could live here. There’s plenty of room and you could work with Pa. He could use some help and there’s . . .”

  “Kathy. I’m not going to sit at somebody else’s table and sleep with my wife on somebody else’s bed. Whatever we eat and wherever we sleep is going to be ours, yours and mine . . . and the baby’s. That’s got to be the way it is if we’re going to be together . . .”

  “But what about when we’re not together? What about when I’m alone with the baby and wondering if you’ll be coming home at night or if you’re out there between two people who want to kill each other and one of them kills you instead? Or if you get shot for no good reason of your own and end up crippled?”

  “I could get crippled falling off a horse.”

  “Not as likely, isn’t that right?”

  “Sure it is. But I can’t be living off your father just because I . . .”

  “Just because you what? Got his daughter in trouble and married her out of pity?”

  “It’s not pity, Kathy. I said I loved you and I meant it. But don’t try to bend me too much. I ain’t geared to too much bending. Let me be myself, at least till I find out a few things. We’ll see how it works out. Elwood said we’d both have to do some compromising . . .”

  “Who am I marrying? You or Elwood? Is that why you’re here? Because Elwood told you to come?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to,
no matter what anybody told me. Kathy, please let’s try. Elwood . . .”

  “There you go again with Elwood . . .”

  “Listen! I’ll be getting five hundred when we turn over those two to the federal marshal, thanks to Elwood. Five hundred. That’ll more than get us started. I’ve got some saved. And it’ll be you and me . . . and the baby together, not beholden to your pa or anybody. Kathy, will you do it? Will you marry me?”

  “And that badge?”

  “That might not be permanent. But you and I will be, Kathy.”

  “I guess . . . you’d better ask Pa for permission.” Kathy Lewis smiled.

  Homer Keeler kissed her and they called in Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, who happened to be standing just outside the door.

  * * *

  Deek Keeshaw, smelling again of lilac toilet water, figured that this was his lucky night, and not at cards, although he had been sitting in at the poker game with indifferent luck since after supper at the New Heidelberg.

  There was the usual gathering at the Appaloosa with the usual card games and smoke and Francine Needle and Stella Bright had made about the usual amount of ascents and descents up and down on the stairway to the second floor. But Deek Keeshaw figured that the change of luck on his part occurred when he saw Yellow Rose enter the Appaloosa less than a half hour ago.

  She had walked, and Deek couldn’t help but react to the way she walked, over to Hooter at the end of the bar and engaged in solid conversation since then.

  Goshin, the other bartender who filled in part-time, was seeing to the needs of the customers who weren’t interested in being served by Francine and Stella.

  Deek was slightly disappointed in the way Yellow Rose was dressed that night. Her outfit was obviously more subdued and considerably less revealing than the garments she usually wore. But Deek wasn’t nearly as interested in how Yellow Rose looked dressed as how she’d look upstairs.

  He played the game and bided his time until she’d be finished talking to Hooter, then he’d make the play he’d been waiting for since he first laid covetous eyes on her. More than once he had to be reminded by Chris, Tom, Bart, or one of the other two gamesmen at the table that it was up to him to “bet ’em or fold ’em.” No matter which Deek did, it was wrong.