Chasing the Sun

by Tracie Peterson

  “How did she die?” Hannah asked.

  “She took sick one winter. I think it was early December. Some sort of grippe. Will’s pa and brother were off dealing with some calving cows. They’d left Will to break some horses, but instead, he was with her the whole time. She died with him at her side—holding her hand.”

  Hannah could well imagine Mr. Barnett—William—sitting beside his mother, trying his best to nurse her back to health. “My mother died when I was fourteen,” she murmured. “I was there when she passed on. My brother was, too. He was twelve. The doctors said she had a ‘poor constitution.’ I think it was their way of saying they didn’t know what killed her.”

  “How long ago was that?” Marietta asked.

  “Ten years—1853.”

  “Why, that’s the same year that Will lost his ma. You two have a great deal in common.”

  Not wanting to hear about common ground with William Barnett, Hannah hurried to change the subject. “The Barnetts fought for the North. Wasn’t that rather strange?” Hannah nibbled on the corn bread Marietta had slathered in butter and pretended the answer wasn’t important.

  “It isn’t so strange considering folks in Texas can be pretty diverse when it comes to where their loyalties lie. Mostly folks here are for the preservation of Texas. Those that have been here as long as Ted and me remember when Texas was its own country. If you take a good look around, you’ll see that there are a good number of people supporting the Union. Some quite boldly and others in a more covert manner. Sometimes whole towns are favoring the North rather than the South.”

  “My father definitely supported the Confederacy. Of course, now he may be captured or even dead.”

  “Will mentioned that on his earlier visit. I’ve been praying for your father ever since.”

  “I have no idea of what I’ll do if he’s dead.” Hannah shook her head. “Especially if the ranch goes back to Mr. Barnett.”

  “Well, it is his ranch. The state had no right to take it from the family. I think once this war is settled it will be set right again.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, too. And if my father is gone, that leaves me with my brother and sister to raise. I have no way to support them.” Hannah had no idea of why she was telling Marietta Terry, very nearly a complete stranger, all of this information. Somehow the woman just put her at ease and it felt right.

  “Mr. Lockhart of Cedar Springs has proposed I marry him. He said he would take care of us, but I don’t love him.”

  “You shouldn’t ever marry a man you don’t love. Hard times come in every marriage, and if you don’t have love to hold you together you’re going to have a bad time of it.”

  “Mr. Lockhart has implied that my father had approved him as suitor and husband. I couldn’t say if that was true or not. My father changed a great deal after the death of my mother, but even more so after my stepmother died. A kind of bitterness overtook him, and the man I knew was suddenly more demanding and far less kind. Even my grandparents were shocked by his behavior and choices. I don’t think I knew him at all these last few years.”

  “Death can certainly change a man,” Marietta replied. “I know losing his mother was hard on Will. He bore a heavy sorrow in her passing.”

  Hannah nodded. “It must have been hard for him, especially if his mother was the one who truly understood him.”

  Marietta put aside her crochet work, tucking it into a small basket at her feet. “William needs a good woman in his life. The war was hard on him. He had no heart for it.”

  Hannah frowned. “I suppose no one really has a heart for it.”

  “But Will less than others. He’s always been a man of peace. He wasn’t given to fighting and drinking with the other men. His father and brother could be quite the ruffians when they chose to be, but not Will. He always seemed far more sensible. I think his father worried this made Will soft, but I think it just made him considerate. And that goes a long ways with me.” She shook her head. “The War Between the States has separated a lot of good families from their loved ones. I’d expect you’ve probably lost someone, as well.”

  “My brother and grandfather were killed defending Vicksburg.”

  Marietta gave her a sympathetic smile. “You have endured so much for one so young.”

  Hannah finished with the tray and leaned back against the pillows. “It amazes me still that you can have both Yankee and Confederate support in the same state. I was born in Vicksburg and they were most decidedly in favor of the South. I thought—and upon reflection I can see the naïveté in my thinking—but I presumed if a state sided with the Confederacy, the people would also.”

  Marietta picked up the basket at her feet, then hoisted up the tray and smiled. “That would be logical thinking in most states, but Texas isn’t most states. We’re still more like a country all our own. If you stick around, you’ll learn that for yourself.” She smiled. “You get some rest now. I’ll check in on you later and make sure you’re warm enough.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And Hannah,” Marietta said, pausing at the door, “don’t be marrying someone just out of fear for the future. You need to remember that God will provide. You and your brother and sister can always come here and stay a spell with Ted and me. We like having folks around. Our children are all grown and living elsewhere now, so your little family would be a welcome addition.”

  Hannah could hardly believe that this woman would extend such an invitation to a stranger. Marietta’s kindness touched Hannah’s heart and gave her a reassuring peace that defied words.

  “Thank you.”

  Marietta nodded, then blew out the lamp and, juggling her basket and the tray, managed to close the door as she left.

  Hannah slid further down and felt the warmth of the quilt wrap around her like loving arms. It had been so long since she’d slept in a bed. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and thanked God for being clean and fed and warm. Then, with a memory of the soldiers marching the Comanche off to the reservation, Hannah frowned.

  I wish I could have stopped them. I wish I could have done something to save the Numunuu. O God, she prayed silently, Night Bear looked so weak and betrayed. Father, please strengthen him and help him to understand that we didn’t want this any more than he did.

  The memories of the battle were almost more than she could handle. The scenes replayed themselves out over and over, and when it was all done there were no more than eight living souls who survived the attack, ten counting Mr. Barnett and herself. What would happen to them now?

  “What will happen to any of us?” she whispered in the dark.

  William was glad to be home at last. He’d felt a sense of unrest ever since the attack the previous morning on the Numunuu camp and longed for the solitude of the ranch. Tyler and the soldiers had also recently returned from collecting cattle, and were more than a little anxious to begin their trek east with the animals.

  “Now that you’re back, we need to leave as soon as possible,” Tyler told him. “It’s getting more and more dangerous, and if this is going to work, we need to get a move on.”

  “I know. I was already figuring that. What I can’t understand is how the soldiers found the Numunuu camp.”

  “Well, it’s good riddance, I say.” Tyler’s lip curled in anger.

  “I can’t figure out how they knew we were there in the first place,” William continued. “They didn’t call us by name, but they knew there were white people in that village. After the fight, the captain told his men to find the white hostages. I heard it myself. Later, when the captain learned our names, he wasn’t surprised by it or wondering where we’d come from. Instead, he tried to bring up how my family fought for the North.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. Miss Dandridge interceded by pretending to have the vapors or whatever it is women have when they faint dead away.”

  “She fainted?”

  “No, but she gave a good impression of heading tha
t way.” He smiled. “She really is something else.”

  Tyler laughed long and loud. William saw Berto headed their way and elbowed his friend to quiet down. “I don’t want to have to explain to Berto what it is that’s amused you—especially seeing as how I’m afraid to know the reason myself.”

  “We are glad to have you returned,” Berto told William. “We were not able to read your letter in full, until Mr. Tyler come here. Mr. Lockhart, he would not tell us what you said.”

  “What do you mean?” William asked.

  “It seems Lockhart was here when the letter arrived via your Comanche messenger,” Tyler interjected. “Berto told me he read the letter, threw it to the ground, and left.”

  “Well, maybe that explains the soldiers.” William shook his head. “Lockhart hates the Comanche only mildly more than he hates me. That letter explained our whereabouts and Lockhart probably called out the militia.”

  “If that’s the case, we’d best leave with our steer tonight. No telling what he’ll do if he sees what we’re up to.”

  “I can’t imagine that a strong Confederate supporter like Lockhart would interfere with such a patriotic task. He might hate me, but I doubt he would extend that hatred to the Confederacy. After all, he’s in this war for what he can get out of it. I heard that he’s been buying up properties all around.”

  Tyler nodded. “Yeah, he tried to approach my family about our ranch, but like Grandpa told him, the ranch is mine now—even if there’s nothing but charred remains.”

  “Still, I wouldn’t expect resistance from him when it comes to our efforts to help the starving Confederacy.”

  “There’s no telling,” Tyler said. “I do know I’ve worked too hard to see this fall apart now. If we can make this work, it can become a regular run, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll see to it that you get paid, of course.”

  William ignored the comment. He wasn’t at all certain he wanted to get into a routine of sneaking cattle to Louisiana. He sighed as he realized his plans for sleeping on the ranch that night were all but a dream. “Berto, can we have things ready in order to leave tonight?”

  “I think so. You tell Juanita that you will need food and supplies. She will pack them. I will go help Mr. Tyler get the other things you will need.”

  “I guess we’ll head out once it’s dark.”

  He made his way to the house. Inside he found the children working on their studies in the front room. Andy jumped up at the sight of him.

  “Hey, Will. I heard Hannah telling Juanita that you saved her life when the soldiers attacked the Indians. You’re a hero like in a book.”

  William frowned. “Not exactly, Andy.” He didn’t want to dwell on the horrors of that battle. “I need to talk to Juanita, but I wanted to tell you it looks like you did a fine job of taking care of the house and family. The ranch looks to be in good order.”

  Andy seemed to grow a foot. “I did what you said. I was real good.”

  “I was, too,” Marty declared. “I filled the water barrels every day.”

  “You did not,” Andy countered. “You helped us once. You cried the whole time about how hard it was.”

  Marty’s lower lip started to quiver and William could see a good cry was on its way. “Whoa there, Andy. I’d say Miss Marty did a good job to help even once. I don’t like the womenfolk having to go down to the river so far from the house. It’s not safe.” He reached over and gave Marty a pat on the head. “You did real good, Miss Marty. When I get back, Andy, we’re gonna have to see if we can’t get a new well dug. It’s a lot of bother to have to get our water from the river.”

  Marty seemed appeased and Andy had something new to think about. William found that he liked the brother and sister duo more than he wanted to admit. They were well brought up—Hannah had done a good job with them. She’d make a great mother to her own children one day.

  The thought startled William. “You two get back to your studies now. I won’t have your sister saying I kept you from learning.” With that he left and headed down the hall to the kitchen, trying hard not to think of Hannah with a babe in arms. Reaching the kitchen, he could hear Hannah and Juanita discussing something quite intently and paused at the open archway to listen in.

  “Mr. Lockhart, he was mad that you were gone with Mr. Will. He would not read the letter to us. Andy helped us to know some of the words, but Mr. Tyler had to read it to us later.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Juanita. I honestly didn’t even think about the fact that you can’t read English. I should have written it very simplistically so that Andy could read the entire thing. Anyway, Mr. Lockhart is only angry because he supposes that he will lose the chance to marry me if Mr. Barnett spends too much time with me. I’ve tried to explain that Mr. Barnett is not at all interested in me nor I in him. Still, Mr. Lockhart has proposed marriage.”

  “But you do not love him.”

  “I know that.” Her voice sounded sad, almost resigned. Her next statement confirmed this to Will. “But if Father is dead, I may have no other choice. For the sake of Andy and Marty, I may have to forget about love and marry in order to keep them safe. Mrs. Terry said some things that make me more convinced that the ranch should go back to Mr. Barnett. If that happens, I don’t know what I’ll do. Mrs. Terry said the children and I could stay with them, but I hardly think that’s the right thing to do.”

  “It not the right thing to marry a man you do not love.”

  With this William decided to interrupt. The idea of Hannah marrying anyone, much less Herbert Lockhart, was more than he wanted to contemplate. “Ladies, I’m sorry to cut in like this, but Tyler and I have decided we need to move the cattle tonight. We’ll need supplies made ready.”

  “But you’ve only just returned from a wearying journey. You labored ceaselessly in the Numunuu camp, and I know your leg has been bothering you,” Hannah replied.

  “It can’t be helped. Tyler and I feel that if we don’t move out, we may get caught before we can get away.”

  “I already work to put together food for your trip,” Juanita said, smiling. “I have it ready.”

  William smiled. “I kind of figured you might. We’ll leave when it gets dark.” He turned to Hannah. “With all of us gone, you’ll no doubt feel like things are back to normal.”

  “I’m not sure what normal is anymore, Mr. Barnett. I’m not sure at all.”

  19

  December 1863

  Gentlemen,” Herbert Lockhart began, “we are visionaries, and as such we are often called upon to take great risks. The war will be over soon enough, but until that time we must take advantage of our circumstances.”

  He smiled at the six Dallas businessmen gathered in his office. “The area surrounding Dallas will no doubt see a huge boom after the war, and we will be a part of that. By securing the real estate surrounding the town proper, we will be in a good position to make a fortune.”

  “But every day we’ve seen more and more people pull up stakes and leave,” one of the men spoke up. “The town is becoming deserted.”

  “True,” Lockhart admitted, “but the end of the war will bring significant change. Now, we might not see that fortune for several years, but I have to believe it will come quickly enough. However, with our currency continuing to be devalued by the rest of the world, we must act now to secure our position.”

  Walking to his desk, Lockhart picked up a stack of papers. “I have reviewed the reports that you brought. It looks like we’re doing quite well. The most important pieces of property have been secured. I have had Mr. Wentworth draw up a map revisiting the possible routes for a main railroad line as well as the spur lines. Mr. Wentworth, if you would be so kind as to explain.”

  A middle-aged man got to his feet and tucked the watch he’d been checking into his pocket. “I believe after the war we will see a huge development in Southern railroads. The political talk definitely focuses on this one issue more than others. For us, the most important lines will be those
that can connect Dallas to our capital and to the seaports, as well as to our sister states in the East.”

  “And where will the funding for such a project come from?” one of the other men asked. “Even if we manage to secure our position as the Confederate States of America, we will be steeped in war debt.”

  “That is true enough, but . . .”

  Lockhart took his seat and ignored the ongoing debate. His mind was on more pressing matters, such as when and how he would tell Hannah Dandridge that her father was dead. So much time had already elapsed and here it was early December. The young woman had to already realize the likelihood that her father was deceased. However, he would make it easy on them all and let them know this fact for certain. It would be cruel to keep them guessing. Besides, Hannah might never consider his proposal seriously unless she knew there was no other hope of survival.

  He had altered his plans several times, even creating another letter supposedly from her father. In this latest version the letter suggested that someone else had written it on behalf of her dying father. Thus, the handwriting needn’t be an exact replica of John Dandridge. This had greatly relieved Herbert, who found his forging abilities better for small tasks such as signatures.

  The Christmas season would only serve to enhance his position. He knew this would be a time of great family focus for the Dandridges. Hannah would be heartbroken over the loss of her father. She would need his comfort and strength. She would need a strong man to take charge of the situation.