by Caryl McAdoo
Levi got within ear shot. “Mr. Titus, I’ve got a question.”
“Hey, now.” The man set his broom against the front post. “Good morning, Captain, Sergeant. How can I help you?”
“I was wondering. Is there another mercantile in town?”
The man looked surprised then a little insulted. “Well, yes. Matter of fact, there’s two.”
Levi ordered his lips straight. “Would you be so kind to give us directions?”
He hooked his thumbs in his shopkeeper’s apron and stared hard at him. “Why would you be wanting directions? Best store in town is right behind me.”
“Well, it’s Wallace here. He’s got some gold coins that are burning a hole in his pocket and seeing how our money isn’t good here, I figure we best go elsewhere.”
The man smiled. “You put it that way, guess I’ll be proud to sell you men whatever you want.”
Horrible nausea hit Rose. She swallowed then willed herself still. She hated throwing up more than anything she could think of. She swallowed again. If she could lie without one movement, sometimes it would pass.
The sunlight peeking through the lace curtains cast bright designs of light on the far wall. Charley snuggled in closer. She feared a new wave, but it didn’t come. Laura and Lacey appeared to sleep soundly.
Wednesday morning. Tomorrow afternoon, Levi would be home with his family for Thanksgiving dinner. Seeing Rebecca and all the little Buckmeyer ladies would be wonderful.
Hopefully, they would have news of her mama and brothers. Would they have stayed in contact with Charles? Probably not; what reason would they have?
Charles, Charles. What would it be like to see him again? Could she stand next to her husband and watch Levi ride away? She could hardly bear to even think of such a thing. Was she able?
And what about her son? God love his little heart; it wasn’t fair that he kept being ripped away from the men he loved. But what else could she do?
An image of her husband waiting in front of the house with open arms for her and Charley flooded her soul. That place, that life seemed a hundred years ago.
Oh, God, what should she do?
She didn’t even know anymore if she could let Levi ride out of her life. Didn’t seem possible to live any part of it without him, not now.
She forced herself to stop thinking about the day after tomorrow. Today had enough trouble of its own. Isn’t that what the Bible said? She eased out of bed, dressed, and slipped out.
The door to the other bedroom stood barely opened. She knocked twice softly then cracked it a little more. “Morning.”
No reply came, so she stuck her head just inside. Empty. She resisted the urge to make the bed. Lord knew she’d paid way too much of Levi’s gold for the rooms.
For a while, she debated with herself then decided to find the rangers. Charley would sleep at least another hour, maybe two, if no one woke him.
She spotted Levi at Titus’ place carrying a tow sack to the wagon. She tousled the near mule’s long ear on the way by. “Good morning.”
Levi tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am, and even better now. How are you this fine day?” He smiled and glanced over his shoulder eastward. “Or is it afternoon?”
She wanted to pick up on his playfulness and punch him or something, but that couldn’t do anything but worsen the bad situation. Besides, she was getting pretty close to home.
One never could tell who might be watching. She couldn’t let anything happen that would fuel the gossips’ acid tongues; for Levi’s sake as much as her own.
No more touching. Not until things were settled.
She forced herself to return his smile. “I’m good.”
He set his load in the wagon then eased closer and took her hand. “You don’t look too good. I mean – you’re beautiful, always, but –”
“Stop.” Now her smile came natural. “Truth be known, I’m not feeling very well. Woke up all queasy, but at least I didn’t throw up.”
“That’s probably for the best.” He leaned in close. “I might not have been able to restrain myself if you weren’t so green around the gills.” He leaned back. “Is Laura and our babies awake?”
Her breath caught, and she wished for one fleeting moment that he wouldn’t restrain himself, green gills and all. “Not yet. Want me to get them?”
“Better, I figured on making Cuthand today.”
At the mention of the settlement named after the old Indian scout, a shiver ran up her spine and stabbed her heart. She’d been to the trading post there many times and played under the big oak in front of the blacksmith forge at the livery. Cuthand was a part of her childhood. Her stomach rolled.
Almost home, she didn’t know if she could stand it. A part of her wanted to beg Levi to take her and Charley and run the other direction, but instead, she steeled her resolve and prepared herself to march back to the boarding house and get her boy ready to go.
She hated that day so many years ago. Being stolen still impacted her life – and now her son’s – every day in such negative ways.
Remembering the horrible incident, revulsion rose up in her heart toward Swift Arrow and Little Beaver. Her mother had taught her the importance of forgiveness.
From her childhood days to just before she got married to now, her words still echoed - refusing to forgive is like petting a rattler and expecting the other guy to get bit. Only hurts the one holding tight to the evil doing, never the evildoer.
Rose had truly tried in earnest to forgive them, made a conscious effort, but then when she thought of that day....
Through breakfast then packing up to get back on the trace, she swallowed the dread, forced it down where her morning sickness lived. Then finally aboard the gelding and on the trace, she rode toward her fate.
The ache in her heart grew with each step the horse took. Back to Charles. Levi leaving. She couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t do it. Any of it.
Around midmorning, without a word, her ranger reined Shooter to a stop. For several heartbeats, he looked around as though lost in thought.
She waited a long time silently then thought better of it. “Something wrong, Levi?”
He focused on her. “No, just remembering.”
She studied him for a moment, then an old conversation with her little girlfriend wormed its way up. “After you got back from Tennessee, and the whole of Red River County celebrated your aunt and uncle getting married, Rebecca told me about a skunk guy you had to shoot when that old charlatan tried to rob y’all. This where it happened?”
He nodded. “Right over there.” He threw his chin toward a spot a little off the trace. “First man I ever shot.” He shook his head. “Heard later Littlejohn, that’s the thief’s name, left Skunk up on Sugar Hill. Guy got gangrene and died, just like I wished on him.”
She did the mental math. “What were you then? Fourteen?”
Nudging Shooter back into a walk, he chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Thought I’ all grown up.”
“Amazing how young we were when you look back. Only fifteen when I married and got stolen.” The gelding matched the stallion’s pace. “Seems like we both had to grow up too fast, don’t you think?”
“Life does that sometimes, especially in Texas.” Another wry little chuckle danced from his smile. “That night, I saw the real Henry Buckmeyer for the first time.”
“I remember Rebecca talking about that, too. She was so proud of her new daddy. Bragging on how he pointed his pistol at that guy…” She looked to him.
“Littlejohn.”
“Yeah, him, the one holding a knife to your aunt’s throat.”
“Yes, ma’am. I can still see Uncle Henry when he told Littlejohn.” Levi looked at her, clinched his teeth, and made a horrible face. “I’ve killed seven men. Beat one of them to death with my bare hands. You’ll be number eight if you spill one drop of her blood. Now let her go.”
Silence reigned for a ways, then it struck her. “Life repeats itself, doesn’t it?”
She waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t she spoke up. “What did he say?”
“Aim high and shoot.”
She smiled and rubbed under the edge of her bonnet. “I never told you, but when you shot that yap, you singed some of my hair.”
“Did I now?”
“Yes, sir, but I sure am proud you knew what to do.”
“So am I. Never dreamed I’d ever have to use that piece of advice, but, well.” He shrugged. “If it wasn’t for my Uncle Henry, Wallace and I would’ve been dead men a long time ago.”
She thought about that for a while, searching her memory of any stories Rebecca had told about her daddy, Levi, or Wallace Rusk, and nothing came to mind. “So tell me true exactly what you’re talking about, mister.”
He laughed. “About what?”
She loved his stories, especially about the part of his life she knew nothing of. The sound of his voice soothed her troubled heart. She could listen to him talk the rest of her life and never tire of it.
“You and Wallace and Henry, him saving you two.”
He looked off like either seeing the past or trying to decide exactly what or maybe how much to share. Why were men like that? So guarded all the time, acting like if they let someone know the real them, it’d be over.
While Charley worked his filly in his normal double time circles, Levi told her about him and his Uncle Henry finding Wallace on the road to join up with Sam Houston.
“I was eighteen. Wallace was sixteen, and neither one of us knew anything about war or what to expect.”
“You and Wallace have been riding together for eight years?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s the brother I never had, maybe even more than that.”
She smiled but made no comment. Shortly, he went back to his story about the battle of San Jacinto and Uncle Henry saving the two of them. From there, he told her of his early days of rangering.
How and when he first met Ward. He continued, in a strange, very matter-of-fact manner. He didn’t have Wallace’s flare for gab, but did make her believe she was right there.
He stopped at the edge of a creek, turned around, and looked at the wagon. “We best wait for Wallace to cross.”
“Why?” She giggled. “He’s a big boy.”
He dismounted and went to pulling his boots off. “This is the worst branch of White Oak Creek. We spent a day and a half being stuck right here.”
Wading into the shin-high water, he walked back and forth close to the bank then stepped out and drew two lines in the dirt leading into the water. He tiptoed to a nearby pine and leaned against it putting his boots back on.
She noticed a hole in one of his socks. Would she have the chance to sew it up?
Despite the distraction of his reminiscing, the dread still hung over her heart like a death shroud and threatened to erupt from her core, rising again and again, burning her throat.
Life without Levi would not be one at all. But how could she go against God? He hated divorce. Maybe it could be true that Charles, thinking she’d been killed, remarried and loved a new wife and fathered a passel of kids with her.
But who would he choose? Her or the new lady?
Shortly, Wallace drove the wagon into the creek exactly at the spot Levi marked. Maybe only half an hour later, he did it all over again on the second branch of the White Oak. The trace sloped down into the Sulphur River bottoms where the oaks and pines gave way to bois d’arc and scrub.
She’d spent two weeks late one summer helping her brothers and father gather the big green horse apples. What? Had to be ten years ago right there in those very bottoms.
That shroud, like a storm cloud, darkened and weighed heavier on her heart the closer she got to the river. It tried to smother all hope. The twisted and gnarly trees that lined the trace reminded her exactly what her life would be if she had to spend the rest of hers with Charles.
Oh, Lord, please make a way.
Then she was there. As though it was nothing, Levi waded Shooter into the slow-moving flow. Charley burst past her on his filly splashing through and caught up with his partner.
Like the gelding could sense her trepidation, he stopped and stood on the shore. Levi turned in the saddle and looked at her from the other side.
He smiled and beckoned her with a slight nod.
No denying he was right. No matter how hard, left with no choice but to face her husband, she would do what she must. Not for her sake, but Charley’s—and Levi’s.
Be strong for them. At least, that wouldn’t come until the day after tomorrow. She nudged her heels into the gelding’s ribs.
Home.
A chill bit at Laura, but sitting the hard wagon bench wasn’t as hurtful as it’d been a few days ago, and she sure was thankful for that. She snuggled Lacey in tighter. “This here the Sulphur?”
Wallace glanced over. “Yes, ma’am, sure is.” He went back to his mule skinning. “Isn’t much farther.”
That didn’t comfort her one smidge. How could she stand to see her Wallace spooning another girl? Probably no doubt Rebecca were beautiful as the captain claimed ‘cause she never heard him lie.
Would her fella take one look at his dream lady then never have eyes for her or Lacey again? A knot rose in her throat. She swallowed hard, but it pushed the tears out anyway. She swiped at her cheek.
Maybe the woman would already have her a beau, anyways. If only. She looked toward the blue sky.
Oh, Lord, please let it be so.
The tears kept on coming, more than before, and she wiped more seriously at ‘em.
He glanced her way. “Something wrong?”
She ducked her head and went to tucking the purty little baby blanket tighter around her sleeping daughter. She wished she could stop the tears, but they just wouldn’t quit.
And she couldn’t quit wondering if he loved Lacey enough or believed her when she told him what a good wife she’d make him.
Even if she had a chance, she wouldn’t do nothing to try and sway him. He had to make up his own mind, and if he chose Levi’s sister, then Laura would accept it as best she could and never do or say anything to make him feel bad about his choice.
Still, the thought hurt her heart bad. Where would she go?
He bent over and tilted his head toward her. “What’s the matter? Are you crying, Laura?”
She straightened up shaking her head pretty fast. She wiped a cheek again then smiled at him still crying. A Bible verse she been studying on came to mind. “No, I be just fine.”
Wallace shook his head. “Thou shall not bear false witness.” He raised both brows. “It’s one of the big ten; means don’t tell a lie.”
She dropped her jaw. How dare him. “I ain’t fibbing. I’m good.”
“Then why were you crying?”
She didn’t want to even admit it, much less tell him, but he was right. Her soul really wasn’t all that good. “Well, maybe I stretched the truth just a smidgen.”
“Alright, so what were you crying then lying about?”
She took a deep breath then looked him in the eye. “Oh, I just been pestering myself ‘bout Rebecca and all.”
“What about her?”
“Oh nothin' 'bout her, really. More about you, I guess.” She fingered the blanket to shade her daughter’s face. “See, I done know God has a plan. For me and my little girl here. Just ain’t sure it matches up with mine. That’s all.” She looked up into his eyes. “Lacey wants you to be her pap so bad.”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Wallace nodded at Laura and looked back to the trace. For the next quarter mile or so, he didn't speak. He wanted both of his baby girls, but he couldn't pull the trigger on asking her to marry him.
He'd wanted to be Levi's brother and Henry's son for so long now, and winning Princess Rebecca would make all that
so simple. But then Laura came along complicating everything.
"Lacey tell you that?"
Laura tilted her head. "Sort o’.” She smiled. “Mostly it be how she looks at'cha. Her little peepers all wide eyed, like she hoping hard you's her pap."
"I want that, too. But for right now, let's wait and see how things shake out. You may even change your mind. Who knows what tomorrow holds?"
For a ways, she didn't say a word then went to wiping at her cheeks again.
He leaned over and looked. "Why are you crying again?"
She sniffed, swiped some more at her cheeks, then shook her head. "It be that mare, ain't it? How I bought ‘er."
He hated to think about her and the livery man and didn’t care to conjure up any mental pictures. Was that part of why he couldn't agree with himself to marry her?
"Oh, I don't know about that. I've done a bunch of things I'd like to take back myself."
She ducked. "Would you and Captain of gone and stretched my neck iffin I had of stealed her?"
"Maybe. You saying that’s what you really did?"
She shook her head. "No. I pondered hard on it, but reckoned the good Lord’d be the one to forgive me quicker than the law iffin I’s to take her without paying something." She shrugged. “My goodness gracious, didn’t know what t’do, Wallace. Only that I had to get out of there.”
The trace sloped steady upward. While mostly bois d’arc and scrubby trash trees shaded the bottoms, they gave way to tall straight pines, stately oaks, and a smattering of sweet-smelling cedar as Levi led the way north.
He loved home being so close, but downright hated the thought of facing Charles Nightengale.
He’d been rehearsing exactly what he’d say for days, but how could he tell the man that he was in love with his wife?
A dog-run cabin surrounded by a good ten acre block of black land—laid by, waiting for spring planting—caught Levi’s eye and pulled him from his ruminations. He faced Rose. “You pick much cotton?”
“Some, but shucked more corn than anything.”