Born Rebel and The Guns of Livingston Frost - Two Short Novels

by Ardath Mayhar

  They climbed up the split log steps and settled onto hickory splint chairs on the wide porch. Everybody seemed to be talking at once, but before they were done, Martin and Mittie understood the situation and agreed to hold the wedding, then and there.

  “Seems a shame not to have more to do over it, but I guess you do what you can with what you have,” Mittie mourned. “I’d purely like to have a dance and a shivaree for you two, but I reckon if Oscar Medlar may be coming after you, you’d better get hitched and light out.”

  Her husband nodded. “That man has a mean streak that we hear about, even way over here. He killed one of his slaves for skinnin’ up one of the riding horses, they tell me, just up and whacked him to death with his walking stick. I wouldn’t let a dog of mine live with him, much less one of my daughters. Your Pa must not....” He caught himself before he insulted Judith’s family.

  “My Pa tried to sell me for some land,” she said, her tone dry. “David has saved my life, I suspect. Preacher Martin. Now let’s get this done so we can light out for Texas.”

  * * * * * * *

  Formally witnessed by Mittie, her grown daughter Letitia, and their neighbor Josh Tate, Judith’s wedding took place in the front yard of the small house, surrounded by flowering jasmine and growing herbs. Joseph and Callie watched, too, and Judith wondered if they thought this sort of pairing was any stranger than their own informal but binding rituals.

  Somehow, jumping over a broomstick had a more daring ring to it...but she shook aside the thought and answered the preacher’s question with a resounding, “Yes!”

  Once the vows were made, Martin painstakingly wrote out their wedding lines in find copperplate script, with the date, the place, the minister, and the witnesses all properly listed. He copied it for his own records and when that was done, the newly wedded pair left, amid good wishes and a few tears.

  Mittie had been inconsolable. “The least we can do is cook up a wedding meal,” she protested, but Martin was as firm as David.

  “Medlar won’t stand around and wait. As soon as he knew Judith was gone, I know he must’ve started figurin’ a way to follow her and stop them. I can’t think of anythin’ worse than havin’ her carried back to Newberry, leavin’ David dead behind her, to suffer the vengeance of that evil man. Let ’em go, Mittie. We’ll pray for ’em. That’ll do a lot more good, in the long run.”

  Judith agreed. Her blood chilled in her veins at the thought of what might happen if Medlar or one of his henchmen overtook them now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jonas Bluth

  When Oscar Medlar’s slave Sully rode up to his shackledy porch, Jonas was dozing in the shade, his feet propped against the front wall of his shanty, his head drooping over the edge of the uneven boards. After a drunk, he could sleep on a rock with a snake, he’d decided long ago.

  But Sully wouldn’t go away, even when Jonas shied a loose board at him. “Marse Oscar, he wants to see you right now, Suh,” the man said. “Said he’s got a job for you that’s got to be did right off, if it’s did a’tall.”

  Jonas opened one eye, hoping his bleary glare would frighten Sully into the next county, but Sully had long experience dealing with white men, and he didn’t budge. Knowing Oscar’s mean temper, Jonas couldn’t much blame him.

  He sighed and heaved himself into a sitting position. “What in tarnation does the old man want now?” he grumbled, scratching under his armpit. “He’s got more money, more land, and more gall than anybody I know. What might he need that he ain’t already got?”

  “A wife.” Sully grinned, his teeth shining in his ebony face. “Miz Judith, she up and run away wid de McCarrans’ youngest boy. Right there on her weddin’ day. I ’spect Marse Oscar wants somebody to go atter ’em and bring her back. Course, I don’t know for certain, but seems as if it’s in his mind.”

  Jonas let out a snort of laughter. He’d wondered if that high-headed DuBay woman would stand for being traded off to old Oscar for the tract of land next to her pa, and it seemed he was right. He’d caught her in the woods one day picking up hickory nuts. When he tried to kiss her, she’d knocked him flat with her snake stick, and run so fast he never came in sight of her till she stopped at her own porch.

  Oscar Medlar ought to be glad she was gone. If he’d made her mad, she might’ve done even worse to him.

  He spat into the bushes that had grown up along his porch and rose slowly, pulling up his pants to a decent level. “Be right with you,” he said to Sully. “You ride on toward home, and I’ll come behind, soon as I ketch old Mossback.”

  “You go an’ do what you needs to do,” the slave replied. “I’ll get yo’ horse for you. He still kep’ in the lot out back?”

  Jonas nodded and turned to get his shirt and hat. It’d be nice to have a slave to do your work, he thought. But then you’d have to feed the bastard, and sometimes it was as much as he could do to feed himself. Last good pay he’d had was when that new slave of the De Peysters ran off and he tracked him down. Maybe Oscar would pay well for getting his runaway bride back.

  Jonas grinned as he put on his filthy shirt and his sweaty hat. The sooner he got there, the sooner he’d know.

  * * * * * * *

  Sully had Mossback saddled and ready when he went outside, though the gelding was snorting and stamping with irritation. When Jonas got drunk, the horse always had a couple of days of idleness, and he evidently didn’t like this change in his habits.

  “Giddap!” Jonas kicked him in the ribs and they moved at an easy pace toward the Medlar farm. It would be twilight before they arrived, so he could look forward to a good supper and a soft bed for the night.

  He found he was wrong. Medlar was waiting on his veranda, his frog mouth turned down at the corners and his eyes squinted with fury. “You’ve got to catch those two,” he roared as soon as the riders came into view.

  “Bluth, you go round to the kitchen. Mary’s got you a pack of provisions and a couple of blankets. You got to ride tonight. I know they’ll move fast. That McCarran bastard’s got more sense than most, even if he is a thief. You’ve got to bring that woman back to me. I’ll make her crawl before I’m done.

  “Nobody leaves Oscar Medlar at the altar, with the whole neighborhood standing around snickering and making jokes. I’ll make her regret the day she got on that horse and rode away from me, and her Pa won’t raise a hand to save her.

  “He’s disowned her, though that woman he married told me to my face she was glad her daughter was gone. I wouldn’t have thought she had the nerve, and I’ll bet Rupert beat her good once everybody left.”

  Jonas stared into the narrow black eyes. “Better I get going than stand here talkin’,” he said. “You know which way they planned to go?”

  “That girl Susan said McCarran told her he was headed to Texas. That’s a long way, with no law to speak of between here and there and no regular road to give you any idea of how they intend to head out. They’ve prob’ly crossed the river by now.

  “If you don’t catch ’em before they get married, you kill David and the slaves and bring Judith back to me. Or kill her, if that’s the only way, but scalp her for proof. That way anybody that takes notice’ll think the Injuns killed ’em.”

  Jonas’s grin was genuine, now. “What’re you goin’ to pay for this hard and dangerous job?” he asked. “I don’t put my neck in a noose for anybody, without they make it worth my while.”

  “I got gold to pay with. Lots of it, and here’s the first half in this sack. I’ll make you a gift of my Halbach pistol when you get back. Here’s enough coin to travel with, and the rest’ll be waitin’ for you.”

  Jonas’s heart warmed. “The pistol with the eagle on the butt cap?” he asked, trying to mask the enthusiasm in his voice.

  “The very same. What do you say?” Medlar’s wicked eyes squinted, and his mouth tried to look friendly but failed.

  “I’m gone already.” Jonas suited his actions to his words, moving Mossback around to t
he kitchen of the sprawling house. There Mary, the cook, handed up a heavy pack, which he arranged behind his saddle.

  When he rode away along the dusty road in the moonlight, he took a quick glance back. Medlar wasn’t watching. Must be satisfied that his job would be done right, Jonas thought with satisfaction. Which it would be.

  Jonas Bluth had never failed to take his man or woman. This time would be no different.

  He kicked Mossback into a lope and headed for the river. That was the first holdup, and he might just catch them there if they’d had some mishap along the way. If not, there were a lot of miles betwixt here and Texas, Even if he didn’t cut their trail for a while, he’d come up with his prey someplace along the way.

  The thought of scalping Judith DuBay appealed to him more and more. Oscar’d never know whether it was necessary or not, and if he killed the rest first, he could tend to her at his leisure, leaving the scalping until last. Teach her to be so high and mighty!

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lucy McCarran DeWitt

  The McCarran porch was a billow of skirts, as the six quilters sat about the frame, finishing off the quilt in progress. As the busy hands stitched, the tongues were even busier discussing David and Judith, who had eloped to Texas just a week before. The fact that three of the quilters were David’s two sisters and his mother didn’t spare him.

  It was bad enough having your youngest brother take off for God-knows-where, Lucy decided, but for him to leave behind the kind of hornet’s nest he did was unforgivable. She’d been grateful when that high-headed Judith refused his proposal...the McCarrans were gentlefolk, not like those DuBay riffraff, too poor even to own slaves to do their field work.

  She looked down at the soft hands holding her needle, proud that they had never pulled a weed or touched a hoe. This allowed her to avoid Mama’s eye, of course, and to keep from showing her shame at her brother’s irresponsibility. Just like him to run off and leave her to face the gossip.

  That hussy Judith occupied her thoughts, too. The idea of running away from a bridegroom with the land and wealth Oscar Medlar possessed in order to go with a man she wasn’t married to (and might not ever be, as far as Lucy could tell) was abhorrent. The buzz of voices around her never let that subject rest for long, and Lucy felt hot and uncomfortable, though she managed to hide it.

  Husband Robert had declared their position in the matter as soon as they arrived and found what had happened. “We shall simply ignore the entire situation,” he told his wife. “Even if your own mother wants to speak of it, you will refuse, Lucinda. I forbid you to discuss it or to acknowledge the existence of that shameless pair.”

  That suited Lucy to a T. She had no desire to face the storm of criticism now leveled at her brother and potential sister-in-law. Only with her sister Anne, who had also arrived to take part in this annual family gathering, would she have liked to speak of the matter.

  She would find an opportunity, she felt certain. What Robert didn’t know he could not object to. She had kept other secrets from him in the four years of their marriage.

  She had a suspicion he had not been entirely candid with her as well, though that was, of course, a man’s prerogative. A woman had to be content with what a husband granted to her, and Lucy had never understood how her mother could be so resistant to that idea.

  Even now, Elizabeth was saying, in her quiet drawl, “If I’d been Judith, I’d have run away, too. Oscar Medlar is a libertine. I’ve delivered more than one of his get to unmarried women around here, not all of ’em black.”

  How could she! Lucy felt herself blushing to her very toes. Mama was simply not a part of the world Lucy approved or understood. She thought of the jar of wild carrot seed Elizabeth had set into her hands as she and Robert drove away on their wedding day.

  “Don’t have children you don’t want,” her mother had told her. “Take a spoonful in water every morning, until you’re ready to conceive. No use being pregnant all the time like poor Caroline DuBay.”

  The very idea had shocked Lucy profoundly. You had babies when God sent them, Preacher Bogard taught his flock. Anything else was unthinkable.

  She’d dropped the jar quietly into a ditch and never thought about it again, except when they came back home for a visit and saw the tangle of lacy white blossoms there in the ditch where the jar had landed. Now that she was pregnant for the third time, with the baby only four months old, Lucy had begun to wonder if she hadn’t been a mite hasty.

  Anne’s voice brought her out of her reverie. “I think David may do well in Texas,” she was saying. “My Faron knows a family who went in that direction a year past, and there’s been word from them just recently. They squatted on land they say will sprout seeds so fast they’ll hit you in the face, if you don’t back up fast enough.

  “The letter that came by way of a wagoneer was full of praise for the place. Said the Spanish give them no trouble, so far, being busy with a rebellion on their home ground, and the Indians haven’t made any ruckus to speak of.”

  How could she? Lucy suddenly felt a surge of nausea. Morning sickness was still plaguing her, and she excused herself to go to the side yard and throw up into the cape jasmine bush. It wasn’t enough to be sick and miserable, to have to nurse a baby with another one tugging on her coat tail, but she had to be faced with this sickening disgrace. It was just too bad.

  She felt a cool hand come over her shoulder to touch her cheek. “So you’re hatching again,” said Anne’s calm voice. “I thought that might be the problem. It’s almighty hot, and that always makes it worse. I’m glad I haven’t decided to stop taking the seeds yet.”

  Lucy, stunned, turned to face her sister. “You mean you took them? After what the preacher said? It’s next door to a sin, I’d say.” She wiped her face on her handkerchief and gulped a deep breath to quiet her stomach.

  “How do you think Mama got away with just having four, instead of the scads of children all the other women hereabout have?” Anne asked. “She did the same. It’s no man’s place to tell me how many children to have, if I can manage to have just what I want and no more.”

  Lucy felt she was the only one in the entire clan who cared a jot what either Man or God might think of her behavior. But she said nothing. Arguing with a McCarran was like butting a stump. You got a headache from it, and the stump never changed its position a bit.

  As she returned to the porch and her interrupted patch of quilting, Lucy was filled with resentment. Lacking a more accessible object, she focused all of it on Judith DuBay. Even if David married her—and why should he if he could have her without marriage? She would never accept the woman as a sister, no matter what happened.

  She hoped she’d never see or hear of her again. And if she ever had a chance to give back a bit of the pain this disgrace had caused her, Lucy was sure she’d not hesitate a minute.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  David McCarran

  Grandsir McCarran had settled in South Carolina before the War for Independence, when David’s father was a boy. Hard work, sensible wives, and industrious ways had resulted in the family’s present prosperity. When Fleming McCarran married Elizabeth MacArdle, he had possessed hundreds of acres, dozens of slaves, and a solid house that had already stood for almost a half century.

  Having the good sense to consult with his wife before making changes, Fleming had found his wealth growing and his problems diminishing. No longer was there a problem getting his slaves to work willingly; the treatment Elizabeth insisted upon for them made them healthy and happy, and he learned that was all it took to have good workers.

  His sons George and David learned the lesson well, and by the time Fleming died the farm was running smoothly. It had never been David’s intention to work with his brother, knowing George intended to use him as an overseer while depriving him of any share in the profits or the land, even those acres their mother had brought to the marriage.

  Elizabeth would never have allowed this to happen, if women had po
ssessed any right in their own possessions, but under the law they were property. Father might have listened to her, but early in his life he had decided primogeniture to be the only way to keep the great stretches of the combined properties together. George inherited, and David resolved to leave as soon as he could.

  His mother understood fully. It had been she who made sure he would have his slave Joseph and his mulatto wife, as well as enough gold to make certain he could buy what he needed on the journey to Texas and to pay for land, if necessary, once he got there. Who knew if the news about grants from Spain were true? It was best to be prepared for whatever came.

  George would have objected, if he dared, but Elizabeth had secured to herself a store of gold, using methods even David never managed to guess. And now he was on his way, with extra mounts, supplies for a very long journey, and his two valued slaves.

  He had never really dared to hope that Judith would change her earlier decision, far less that she would accompany him as his wife. The hard trail he had faced was suddenly easier. His life, which had seemed likely to be both lonely and gloomy, suddenly brightened.

  She had come down the shadowy path, answering his call, her thick coil of auburn hair glinting in occasional shafts of sunlight, her steady gray eyes raised to his in inquiry.

  Would he marry her and take her with him? What a question! Only after they were well on their way, after their brief wedding, did David begin to worry about how to approach his new wife. She was so much like his mother that he never considered forcing himself upon her, no matter how much he might want her. As it turned out, this was not a problem.