"Meaning what?"
"Oh, I was thinking about...about your father and me, I guess."
His gnarled hands tightened on the reins and I knew he was trying to figure out how to talk to me without me blowin' up and ridin' away from him like the wind on the prairie.
"I was wrong about many things, Will." Genuine sorrow edged his voice as he went on. "I...wrote to him so many times. I tried to tell him—" He broke off.
"He burned those letters you sent." I don't know what I expected to see when I told him that. I felt no satisfaction. Somehow, I'd always felt that was wrong of Papa. Jacobi always said you had to know all the sides of an argument before you knew who to side with. Maybe I should listen to what Grandfather's side of things was.
Grandfather just looked at me and said, simply, "I know." He drew a deep breath. "When he never replied, I figured he... Well, when I wrote to him of Nelson's death, there was no response. Although he and Nelson were never close, as brothers should be, I had expected that he would answer that letter, at least. Your grandmother passed away only six months later. I wrote to him of her passing and he never..."
Papa had rarely mentioned my grandmother at all, but when he had, he'd spoken of things that he remembered fondly; the cakes she baked, or the way she'd read to him when he was young. It made me wonder how a man could turn his back so completely on his mother...or his father. And even though Little Jake and Gabe were younger'n me, and not really my blood, I thought of them as my own brothers. I would never walk away from them, nor Merry Lee...nor even Deelie Ray. They were family.
"I don't know why he did it," I said aloud.
Grandfather gave a faint smile. "He was...angry at me. And he was young; hotheaded. Stubborn. But, though he proved a point, he lost so much in the process."
"You were proving a point, too," I reminded him. "At least, according to him, you were."
"Yes, Will. I admit in the beginning, I tried to bend him to my wishes." He nodded, as if he were thinking back over the things that had been said and done so many years in the past. "But people change. They get older...wiser."
I noticed he shifted on the seat as if to relieve his back muscles. It dawned on me then that maybe it hurt him to even sit upright and drive the wagon, but he was willing to do so in order to talk with me.
I nodded. "You thought...maybe he'd read those letters and know you were sorry. Maybe he'd be sorry too."
"Yes. I suppose so. I never thought things would end up this way."
I had learned a lot from Jacobi. And by the way my grandfather looked away and fell silent, I knew there was a mighty big hole in the story somewhere.
"What is it you're not tellin' me, old man?" My voice was strong but quiet. I wasn't sure if this was some kind of family secret or somethin' he didn't want Jack Wheeler, riding a few paces behind us, to hear.
He gave me a sharp look. "You may call me Grandfather, William. There's no need for disrespect."
"No need to tell half the story, either."
At first, he looked at me from under his eyebrows as if he'd like to take a strap to me.
But I stared right back at him.
Finally, he nodded and glanced away. "I've been so desperate to find you because...you're my only living heir. I built a ship building dynasty for my family, Will, and there's no one left but you." He cursed as the wagon hit a hole and jolted him sharply.
"My sister married a man, Josiah Compton, whose wife had died. He brought two sons to the marriage, but he and Margaret never had any children together. The boys are men now, of course. George, the eldest, is a pastor. But Ben, the younger of them, is quite a wastrel. He has squandered his inheritance and is looking for more. If you weren't...alive....well – everything would fall to the two of them. And though George is not the type to seek gain, Ben is quite a different story.
"Ben knows I won't be around much longer. But you will always be a threat, Will. I'm afraid this is going to end badly for one of you."
I thought about what he'd told me. It seemed like maybe he needed me to say somethin'. It bolstered my confidence to know that somewhere out there, Jacobi was ridin' along easy, keepin' a eye out on us. Especially, now that I'd learned this part of the story.
I looked at him straight in the face. "I'll tell you one thing. It ain't gonna be me that ends up dead."
"I didn't say that—"
"It's what you meant though, ain't it? When there's a pile of money to be had, somebody's always worried it'll get taken away from 'em. Even if he knows I don't want it, he'll be worried about it. I've killed before. I'll do it again, if need be."
His expression turned to one of shock.
I went on with what I was saying, "Ain't nobody gonna take my life over somethin' I don't even want."
He studied me openly, as if trying to decide what he should say. I saved him the trouble.
"I know you're wonderin' about it, so I'll tell you." And I did just that, from start to finish, from the day Papa and I had been out working together and seen the Apaches ride up all the way through when Jacobi had rescued me and we'd ridden out of the Apache camp together.
"We rode as long as we could, until I fell off the horse. Then Jacobi picked me up and we rode some more. When Red Eagle caught up to us, Jacobi and him fought." My throat dried up just thinkin' about how I'd felt to see Red Eagle and Jacobi locked close together, fighting with everything they had, and knowin' one of 'em was gonna end up dead.
"I killed Red Eagle. Shot him dead."
Grandfather was quiet.
"I ain't sorry for it, either. It felt good. Every time I think about what he did to Papa and Mama, I know it was the right thing. But mainly it was right because he was so dang pure evil."
"And because Jacobi is so good."
I thought of Lisbeth. That part of the story I would never tell him. He wouldn't understand, not knowing the ways of the Indians...what they were capable of doing.
"Jacobi is the best man I've ever known." I nodded at the raised eyebrow. "Yes, sir. Better than Papa was in a lot of ways."
"You're very close to Jacobi. Your father was the impatient sort. He wanted everything his own way. Jacobi seems like the kind who looks out for others before himself."
I nodded again. "There's never been a time when he didn't do that."
I'd never thought of Papa as selfish, but it came to me that by my grandfather's comments and questions, that was exactly how he'd thought of him. It all began to come clear in my own mind, as I compared Jacobi and Papa too.
So many little things became bigger, and more obvious, until I realized a truth I'd dodged for a long, long time. It wasn't my grandfather I should have been blaming for my family's death. My father had made his own choices and some of them had been foolish ones; selfish ones, even.
Coming west alone had been foolish enough, especially when he might have joined a wagon train and been better protected. Settling so far from other neighbors had been another mistake. And then, I thought of how his rigid rules had been law in our house. How he'd looked at Mama when she hugged me and Lisbeth up, and even how our dinner was served at the very same time every day. There was no room in our existence for pleasure or joy in just being alive because of his ideas of the orderliness we all endured.
I had been slowly suffocating, as had Mama and Lisbeth. I was not joyful he'd been killed, but I recognized now that Jacobi had rescued me in more ways than one.
I had my life back. I wasn't gonna spend it in Boston, and I wasn't gonna let anybody take it from me, either.
"It seems you've found...what you're looking for, here with Jacobi and Laura. I'm happy for you, Will. I wish I'd gotten to know you sooner. Been able to spend more time with you."
"I-I know. But I'm glad you understand why I can't go back with you to Boston. Laura – she's been like Mama would like to have been, if she'd been able. And I don't mind tellin' you that Jacobi an' me—" I broke off, and Grandfather finished my thought.
"The two of you have be
en through some experiences that have brought you closer than you ever might have been with Robert."
I nodded, grateful he understood. "I got the others to think of too," I said gruffly. "Deelie Ray and the babies."
Grandfather smiled. "You are truly blessed, Will. Even though you've lost much, you've gained more than you ever might have expected." I waited for him to go on, as I thought of what he'd said.
"I...view you that way, Will. Though I lost Robert, Anna, and Lisbeth, it still seems miraculous to me that you survived, and that I found you at all. Though I'd like nothing more than for you to come back home with me, I realize that would be a selfish dream. Being able to spend these few days with you will be a gift I had not expected."
I nodded. "Me too, Grandpa."
That surprised both of us, but when he broke into a wide grin of pleasure, I knew I had done the right thing.
"That's sweet music to my ears, William. I'd never thought to hear it from your lips." His gaze warmed as I grinned back at him.
"I didn't, either."
Chapter 34
That first day we traveled, we stopped often to rest the animals, and to let Grandpa ease his muscles. After the third time we stopped, I offered to drive the wagon if he'd like.
"Oh, I'd appreciate that, Will. And, it would give us a chance to talk."
I tied Arrow to the back of the wagon, and joined Grandpa on the leather seat. We rode in silence, with me keeping an eye out for ruts and holes, and Grandpa turning his face toward the autumn sun, lost in thoughts of his own.
Oddly, it was like some of the times me and Jacobi spent together. We didn't always have to be talking. It was companionable to just be together, and words were unnecessary.
The afternoon was moving on toward evening, and Grandpa and I had spoken from time to time of everyday things. I wondered if I disappointed him by my lack of interest or enthusiasm about his business and his home. I couldn't think of any questions to ask him.
He seemed to puzzle over something in his mind. Finally, he asked, "Jacobi's out there, isn't he, Will? I mean, when we separate, could you find your own way home if...if something were to happen and you were alone?"
"This is my home, Grandpa. I know my way around."
"Can you find your way with the stars? That's one thing a sea captain has to learn."
I smiled. "Guess we got that in common. Yeah, I know how to do that. Jacobi taught me."
He nodded, satisfied. "Yes. I suppose that is one thing we share. Though there are others you may not recognize."
"Like what?"
He shrugged. "Too many to name. The way you hold your head when you speak; the way you grin; our looks—" He broke off as I shot him a glance, then he chuckled. "Believe it or not, Will, I was your age once. I'll tell you a secret. I recognized you the minute I laid eyes on you. I believe you look more like I did in my youth than either of my sons did."
I nodded reluctantly. "I knew who you were, too."
He sighed and stretched out his leg to ease it. "I never thought to have this time with you, Will. It's been worth it – this arduous journey. I will never regret it."
"I'm glad, too," I said, swallowing hard. I meant those words, and I had never thought I'd say them, even as late as this morning. But talking to him, and hearing his side of things made me realize how much my ideas about him had been off-center. It was plain enough that he did love me and want the best for me, but more than anything, he wanted my happiness.
He shifted again on the seat. "I'm afraid we're going to have to make camp soon. These old bones of mine won't take as much rattling around as they used to."
"That's all right. I'm getting hungry, anyhow."
He laughed at my bluntness, and I colored, knowing I should have said something else.
"I didn't mean—"
"It's all right, Will," he said, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with a wealth of pride and love for me. I glanced up quickly.
"I'm sorry you – hurt, Grandpa."
He laid a gnarled hand on my shoulder, his gaze holding mine. "I know," he answered quietly. "You're a good boy, Will. I'm so very proud of you, son."
I nodded, and mumbled, "Thank you."
Grandpa leaned around the side of the wagon and motioned Wheeler forward. "Let's find a good place to camp," he said.
"Sure thing, Mr. Green. I'll let the others know."
* * * * *
That night, tired as I was, it took me a long time to fall asleep. Would Roy and Bill make their move tonight? I knew Jacobi was out there, but none of the men seemed spooked or upset. They'd all ridden easy all day, as if there was nothing to worry over.
Tonight, we'd made camp and eaten well – beans and jackrabbit. My grandfather had a tent the others set up for him, and when I peered in, I saw he had a soft bedroll and a warm blanket.
"Goodnight, Grandpa."
He stooped low and came out into the darkness. "Goodnight, son. Sleep well."
I nodded and started to walk away to make my own place with my bedroll.
"Will—"
I looked back at him. There was sorrow in his face, and a kind of longing in his eyes that I knew I couldn't do anything about.
"Thank you for coming with me." He looked down, and I knew he was trying to get control of his emotions.
"I'm glad to do it, Grandpa," I answered softly.
As I walked away, I realized I meant it. I'd started out this morning not really wanting to leave my place on the ranch for anyone or anything. But as the day had progressed and I'd had a chance to talk with him, my grandfather had given me some insight into his world, and a family I'd never known. This would be my only chance to ask questions of him, to get answers to the things I wanted to know. And he would be honest – he had nothing to lose now.
Lying in the darkness, thoughts swirled in my head that wouldn't stop. I began to wonder what would happen if his men didn't make their move before we reached Indian Territory, and my old home place? A heaviness settled in my heart. I couldn't let him head back East with those bastards. They'd do him in as soon as they were able, no doubt about it. I wondered if Jacobi had given any thought to that, and in the next instant knew he had, since there was never a detail that Jacobi overlooked.
I slept light, waking up at every sound. Sometime in the dark hours of early morning, I heard voices whispering. I slitted my eyes open, and could see Bill and Roy talking by the fire. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but Roy was drawing in the dirt with a sharp stick, and Bill nodded at whatever he was saying. After a few minutes, Bill rose and went out to keep watch, and Roy ambled over to his bedroll and lay down.
I drifted back to sleep. Something told me there was nothing to fear tonight. I slept hard until morning, and then awakened to the smell of frying bacon.
No matter how I worried, I was still hungry, and there was another long day of riding ahead of us. With any luck, we'd make Colbert's Ferry Station by tonight. With so many people there, Grandpa and I would be able to sleep with no worries.
Chapter 35
The day was long and tedious. Grandpa seemed more tired than he had the day before. I talked to him about the cherry pie Mrs. Colbert made and how good it was and told him about the last time me and Jacobi had come up this way.
"What convinced him to go hunt for this Laughing Wind?" he asked. "And why," he went on, raising a grizzled brow, "did he take you with him?"
"Well, he – he really didn't take me with him, Grandpa. I followed him. He didn't want to go – but when Marshal Trask showed up—"
"Trask!" He bit the name out harshly.
I nodded, not understanding his tone. "He's a marshal that knew Jacobi from a long time back."
"Good friends, were they?"
"Yes."
Grandpa had a thoughtful look on his face. I wondered if maybe his leg was hurtin' – or maybe his bones.
"Grandpa, it isn't far now," I said. "Once we get up past that stand of mesquite, it won't be but another t
hree, four miles to the river."
He smiled at me and laid a palm on my knee. "I'll last that long, Will. I'm just hoping there'll be some cherry pie when we get to Colbert's."
* * * * *
We ferried over to Colbert's with daylight to spare. I turned my attention to the churning of the river, here where it was normally calm. Mr. Colbert and two of his sons were pulling us across to the safety of the other side.
When I looked up at Grandpa, enjoyment of being on some kind of watercraft once more showed in the lines of his face. I jumped down from the wagon after Levi Colbert led the horses off to dry ground. I walked around to the other side to steady Grandpa as he got down. His legs were shaky, and I looped my arm through his.
"I used to ride the deck of a ship for weeks, rolling and pitching and swaying – and here I am, not even able to walk without leaning on you now," he grumbled.
We stood waiting for Mr. Colbert to make another trip for the other men and horses. Getting across the river somehow seemed to be an all-day affair. I breathed a relieved sigh to think how much simpler my return trip would be – and sadness washed over me with the realization that I had only two more days to be with my grandfather; then, he'd be returning to Boston.
"It's all right, Grandpa. You'll feel better after you eat."
He chuckled at my attempt to make him feel better about old age, and the fact that he was going to lose his battle with cancer before much longer. Cherry pie was never going to cure that. We'd gotten to the door of the station, and Mrs. Colbert stepped out to greet us.
"William Kane! Come in! My, look at how you've grown. Come have a seat, and I'll set you both a plate if you're ready to eat."
"Hello, Mrs. Colbert." I took off my hat, and Grandpa did, too. "This is my grandpa, Mr. Robert Green."
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Colbert," Grandpa said. "Will has been regaling me with stories of the best cherry pie west of the Mississippi – yours. I'm hoping to get a piece of it this evening."
"You're in luck, Mr. Green. I just pulled out two fresh pies a few minutes ago. Cherry and apple."
Ride The Wild Range Page 18