“Berto said to figure on rain,” Hannah offered. “My grandfather had terrible joint pains that always grew worse when it was about to rain. Maybe that’s why your leg is hurting more.”
“Could be.” He didn’t offer anything more.
Hannah put aside her ledger. “I want to thank you for what you did for us the other day. I should have told the children about our father’s disappearance. Mr. Lockhart had no way of knowing that I’d kept it from them.”
“Even so, he should have held his tongue once he realized the truth.”
She couldn’t have agreed more. “That’s why I’m grateful that you asked him to leave.”
“I didn’t really ask,” he said, limping to help himself to a cup of coffee.
“No, I suppose you didn’t. But in any case, I am grateful.”
William poured the coffee and leaned back against the counter. “Lockhart never cared much for my family, and in turn I never cared much for him. Seemed to me he was always trying to swindle someone out of their land.”
“I suppose some folks might feel that way. As a manager of real estate he could give that impression. I know people suggested the same of my father. I don’t think they truly mean to cause harm, however.”
“You’re gracious to say so.”
William sipped his coffee and seemed to stare right past her. Hannah felt uncomfortable, but didn’t know what to say or do. She looked back at the closed ledger and let the heavy silence settle over her.
“So your people were from Vicksburg?” William asked.
Hannah looked up. “Yes. I was born and raised there. My father, as well. My grandparents had a very nice place near town. We all lived together and some of my best memories are of those days.”
“How was it your father decided to come here?”
“He was lost in grief. My stepmother, Andy and Marty’s mother, died giving birth to Marty. Father was beside himself. A friend wrote to encourage him to move to Dallas, and that convinced my father. He was desperate to leave Vicksburg and all that reminded him of what he’d lost. My grandmother encouraged him to allow us to remain behind with her, but for reasons I still do not understand, Father insisted otherwise. He wanted all of his children to accompany him, but my brother Benjamin refused. He remained with my grandparents.”
“Is he there still?”
Hannah swallowed the knot in her throat. “No. He died during the battle. My grandfather, too. My grandmother took ill shortly thereafter, and that is why my father was making his way back. He figured to either bury her or get her well enough to return to Texas with him.”
“And you’ve had no word on his whereabouts?”
“Only what Mr. Lockhart was able to find out. We knew it would be a grave risk, but we had figured that since Father wasn’t a soldier and had planned only to care for his mother, perhaps the Yankees would leave him be.”
“Perhaps Mr. Lockhart’s information is incorrect.”
Hannah looked up to find him watching her. “I suppose that is a possibility. I tell myself that at least a few dozen times a day. Even so, there has been no word, and it isn’t like Father to be gone all these months without getting us even a brief message.”
“Unless someone was headed this way, it would be hard to get word through. The lines of communication aren’t exactly in good working order. The mail routes were all canceled, many of the telegraph lines have been disabled, and the South has had to focus on the war efforts rather than repairs. I had a difficult time getting down here myself.”
“I hadn’t thought about that. I suppose it was very hard trying to make your way with a wound as bad as yours.”
He shrugged. “The wound had healed as much as it could. The limp and pain will always be with me. Still, it was harder than I figured it’d be. Probably the worst of it was speaking with a drawl in Northern country and avoiding the conflicts between the two.”
“Berto said you made your way through part of the Indian Territories.”
“Yes. I traveled mostly at night the entire length of my journey, so it seemed as reasonable to pass there as to try and make my way through Arkansas and Louisiana.”
“Were you in grave danger?” Hannah asked.
“There were a couple of times when I was nearly found out,” he admitted. “I had taken up camp near a river and an entire band of Kiowa happened to come there for watering. I hid in the brush for over an hour while they refreshed themselves and their mounts.” He blew out his breath rather loudly. “It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Kiowa and Comanche can hear a mouse running across an open field. I figured for sure they’d hear me breathing.”
Hannah shook her head, trying to imagine such a frightening experience. “I suppose hiding from the army would be much the same.”
“Not exactly. Those boys aren’t trained that way. Some of the best officers are great at strategy and planning, but they have lived a life of ease otherwise. They’ve either never been trained to live off the land or they’ve forgotten what they knew. Then you have the enlisted men, a hodgepodge of farmers, bankers, clerks, and students. No, I found it far easier to avoid army encounters.”
“I had hoped my father would have the same ability, but he wasn’t raised to live off the land, either. He grew up with a lawyer for a father and followed in his footsteps.” She bit her lip for a moment, wishing she’d not said anything about him.
“Well, some men have good instincts. Your father must have had a great deal of wisdom to bring you all here and settle in Texas. It’s about the best place in the world, you know.” He smiled. “Lockhart probably has it all wrong. I wouldn’t fret overmuch about it until you hear something reliable.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Hannah got to her feet and tried hard to control her wavering emotions. She thought she might start to cry if she thought too much longer on the hopelessness of the situation.
“Do you have other family?”
“No. I suppose that’s why this all seems . . . I . . . it’s . . .” She buried her face in her hands, no longer able to hold back the tears. It was terribly embarrassing to break down in front of this man she hardly knew. But it was even worse when he took hold of her and pulled her into his arms.
Hannah wanted to push him away but found she couldn’t. It had been so long since anyone had offered her comfort and reassurance. For so long she’d been required to be strong—to resolve problems and issues that weren’t hers to solve. She slumped against him like a wanton woman and sobbed. What was she to do?
“It’ll be all right,” he whispered against her ear. “You aren’t alone in this.”
She felt him stroke her back, and the warmth of his touch left her feeling rather breathless. She pulled away and looked into his face.
“I want to believe that everything will work out,” she murmured. His face was just inches from hers, and Hannah couldn’t help but notice the fullness of his lips.
“Miss Hannah?”
Hearing Juanita’s voice, Hannah dried her eyes on the edge of her apron. If the housekeeper hadn’t interrupted them just then, Hannah wondered if she might very well have kissed William Barnett.
She tried to offer Juanita an explanation. “I’m sorry. I was a bit overcome by thoughts of Father.”
Juanita’s look was compassionate. “You have a heavy burden to bear, Miss Hannah. Best to let God bear it for you.”
“I know. I’m trying to do that,” Hannah admitted. She looked to William, who was already back to drinking his coffee. Apparently the moment had meant little to him.
“I need to go check on the children. Hopefully they’ve finished their arithmetic.” Hannah left without another word. She hoped that she hadn’t made too big of a fool of herself. The last thing she needed was for Mr. Barnett to think her a silly woman given to tears at a moment’s notice.
She heard Marty’s screams before she could see what had caused them. When Hannah entered the living room, however, she was unprepared for what
she saw. Andy had pinned Marty to the floor and was sitting on top of her.
“What in the world is going on?” Hannah asked, crossing the room. “Andy, get off of her.”
“Not until she takes it back,” Andy demanded.
Hannah looked to Marty, who’d stopped screaming by this time. “Takes what back?”
“She said our pa was dead. That she saw his ghost.”
Hannah rolled her eyes and yanked Andy up by the arm. “Marty, is that true?”
“True that I said it,” Marty replied, jumping to her feet.
Hannah shook her finger at the girl. “You know very well that telling such tales is a lie. God does not look favorably on lying, Martha Dandridge.”
Marty’s lips puckered. “I’m not lyin’. I saw it when I was sleepin’.”
“So you dreamed it?” Hannah questioned. “Dreams are not the same as real life. A person can dream about a great many things that never come to be. In the future, if you should have any more dreams of our father, perhaps you should share them with me first. Then we’ll decide if they need to be told to Andy.”
She looked to her brother. Hannah could tell by the set of his jaw that he was still quite upset.
“Andy, if you’re done with your sums, I could use a hand,” William said from the archway.
Hannah glanced over her shoulder at the man and then back to her brother. “You can help him if you’d like.”
Andy nodded. “I wanna help.”
Once again Hannah was grateful for Mr. Barnett’s interference. He seemed to have a way with the children. She sighed and pulled Marty close. “Come on. I’ll read you a story.”
10
Hannah was less than delighted when Herbert Lockhart showed up with the sheriff at the Barnett Ranch. Rain had softened the hard-packed dirt, and Hannah and Juanita had been busy tilling a new area of land that they hoped to put into garden come spring. With another bank of clouds moving in fast, Hannah had hoped they might get the ground dug up before the rain started. Now it looked like that effort would be for naught. Wiping her hands, Hannah left Juanita to continue the work while she went to see what the men wanted.
“Good morning, Miss Hannah. You know the sheriff, of course.” Herbert Lockhart tipped his hat and the sheriff did likewise. They climbed down from their horses in unison and tied them off at the post.
“To what do I owe this visit, gentlemen?” She continued trying to clean her hands on her apron. “As you can see, I’ve been quite busy. We’re making plans to double the garden and had hoped to finish before the rains set in.”
“A wise decision given the way the war is going,” the sheriff replied. He was an older man whose dark eyes seemed to take in everything at once. “Of course, there’s also the Indian wars.”
Hannah nodded. “We seem to be faring all right for the time.” She looked at them both, wondering again why they had come.
“We need to speak with Mr. Barnett,” Lockhart said, looking around. “Is he here?”
“I’m afraid most of the men are working at their chores, and Mr. Barnett has gone from the ranch to hunt.”
“When will he be back?” the sheriff asked.
“That I cannot say. He and Berto have gone to see about bringing us home a wild boar.”
“When did they go?” Lockhart asked.
“Yesterday. Can you maybe tell me what this is about?”
Mr. Lockhart came closer. “Perhaps it’s just as well he is gone. I have my concerns that he has imposed himself upon you here. I brought the sheriff along so that we could force him to leave. He’s trespassing here, and there is no need for you to feel obligated to take him in.”
Hannah felt a wave of anger course through her as it usually did when some man tried to tell her how to live her life. She stiffened and put her hands on her waist. “I haven’t felt obligated in the least, Mr. Lockhart. Mr. Barnett is here because, frankly, we found his presence useful to us. He is working as an extra hand, you might say.”
“So you aren’t being coerced to endure his presence? He hasn’t forced you to allow him to live here?” the sheriff asked.
“Not at all,” Hannah assured him.
“And he hasn’t tried to take back the ranch?” Lockhart pressed.
“No. He has made it known that he believes the land to have been stolen from his family—wrongly taken as spoils of war. He has never desired to be anything but a Texan, and therefore he believes his loyalty is and always has been with the state.”
“He fought for the Union,” Lockhart all but spat out.
“He fought, because his father insisted. It wasn’t his desire to go off to war, Mr. Lockhart. And because of that, I can’t help but believe he has a good point.” She hated to admit this—and she wasn’t at all sure that she would say as much to Barnett himself. But for the sake of putting Mr. Lockhart in his place . . . Well, in this instance she had no trouble.
“If his point is valid,” the sheriff replied, “you will be the ones trespassing. Are you prepared to leave the property should Barnett find a way to regain control?”
Hannah knew the question was inevitable. “Yes, I am considering several options, Sheriff. However, Mr. Barnett assures me that he has no desire to see my family out of a home. We have each agreed to work with the other and see this matter through until my father returns.”
“And when is that expected?” the sheriff asked.
Lockhart was the one to answer this. “We can’t be sure he will return. My sources suggest that he may even be dead.”
The sheriff looked at him as if this were news. “What sources are those?”
Hannah wondered what Mr. Lockhart had said or done to get the sheriff of the county to make a trip all the way out to the ranch. Perhaps he had lied or touted his concern for her safety. She wasn’t surprised the sheriff would question Lockhart’s news about her father.
“I have men who are, you might say, spies for the Confederacy. They travel extensively, and when they pass through, they are good to give me information. For a price, of course.”
The sheriff nodded. “Of course. And these men suggest to you that Mr. Dandridge is dead?”
“I’m afraid so.” He looked at Hannah. “We can’t be certain yet. I’ve paid one of the men to investigate further. Mr. Dandridge was supposed to attend his mother in Vicksburg, but he never made it there and there has been no word from him since.”
“Is that true?” the sheriff asked Hannah.
She could see that his question irritated Mr. Lockhart, but she didn’t care. “The only information I’ve had at all has come through Mr. Lockhart.” A few sprinkles of rain began to fall. “Why don’t you gentlemen come inside? It would appear we’re due for another storm.”
“This is a fine place you have,” the sheriff commented as they moved into the house.
“Thank you. The Barnetts worked hard to put the ranch together, as I’m sure you know. I’ve only done what I could to add personal touches here and there. If you’ll both take a seat in the front room, I’ll excuse myself to wash up. I’ll have Juanita serve you some refreshments, as well. Do you prefer coffee or tea?”
“Coffee for me,” the sheriff answered, “if you have it. The war’s put an awful hold on things I took for granted. Coffee is one of those things. If we weren’t able to get it smuggled in from Mexico, I doubt we’d have a decent cup to share amongst us.”
Hannah had never really taken a liking to the strong liquid, but her father loved it. She always tried to keep a pot on when he was at home.
“Yes, coffee sounds good,” Mr. Lockhart replied.
Hannah nodded and smiled. “I’ll be right with you.”
She went to the kitchen and found Juanita just stepping inside as the rain began to pour in earnest. “I check the children,” she said, slipping off her shoes at the door. “They are with Pepita in the barn cracking pecans.”
“Sounds like a good thing to keep them busy. The sheriff and Mr. Lockhart are in the front room
awaiting my presence. I wonder if you might bring in some refreshments.”
“You want I should serve them dinner?”
Hannah glanced at the clock. It was nearly noon. “Oh, I hadn’t realized how late it was getting. Yes, I suppose we must offer them something substantial. I don’t want the children to have to endure Mr. Lockhart’s comments about Father, however. Would you mind giving the children a picnic in the barn? I’m sure they’ll find it to be great fun.”
Juanita smiled. “I will. I have frijoles and tortillas ready, you want that I should open some cans of peaches and maybe fry some ham?”
“That sounds fine. The gentlemen would like coffee, so after I finish washing my hands, I’ll take them each a cup. That should hold them until you announce the meal.”
“I will be quick.”
Hannah dried her hands and poured two cups of coffee. She hoped they liked it black. Mr. Lockhart generally asked for his that way, so she took a chance that the sheriff would do likewise.
“Here we are,” she said, entering the living room. “I have told Juanita that you will stay for dinner. I hope you won’t make a liar out of me.” She handed the sheriff his coffee first and added, “Besides, by the time we finish with our meal perhaps the rain will have moved on.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, Miss Dandridge. I reckon I would be much obliged.”
“Dinner sounds fine.” Mr. Lockhart gave her a smile. “All the more time to spend in your charming company.”
Taking a seat, Hannah motioned the men to do likewise. “Juanita will come for us when dinner is ready. In the meanwhile, Sheriff, perhaps you have some ideas on how I might get additional information on Father.”
“I will certainly do what I can. When I return to Dallas I can send a telegram. Some of the lines are down, of course, but we might luck out. I can wire Shreveport and see if we can confirm he made it at least that far. As headquarters for the western troops of the Confederacy, there will be checkpoints there that could very well afford us some information.”
“I already have my man checking into this,” Mr. Lockhart assured them. “There’s really no sense in going to the extra effort. My man will return soon enough with information or he’ll wire it to me should it prove necessary.”
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