Fight for Love (My Wounded Soldier #2)

by Diane Munier

“Well, I planned to try out that new bed tonight…see if it can hold.” I had my hands splayed each side of the screen.

  She giggled some and looked around. “Sounds like you have romance on your mind,” she said.

  I nodded. “Pert near all the time. With her.”

  “You know how handsome you are Tom Tanner?” she whispered.

  Well, it always gave me deep pleasure she saw me this way and told me often. I wanted it…I could not hear this enough seemed like.

  “Tell me,” I said prideful.

  She looked over my shoulder a minute. “Hmm. I look out these windows and see you going too and fro and into that bath house, or washing up back there where I can see…and you know what it does to me, your shirt off and your back and shoulders, your arms, the strength…I say, “My man.” And I think I will die inside it is so sweet to know that I can put my hands on you,” she whispered this intense.

  She leaned closer yet, and so did I until our heads were nearly touching each side of the screen. “What will we do in that bed tonight I wonder?” she said. “For I cannot wait to be with you, my sweet husband. I ache to be with you all the day.”

  I groaned again. And I was eager when I said, “Guess I need to remind you how it is with us…those other times…what we do when together and nothing to stop us or hold us back. I want you to think on it…think on me all day long. I could spend whole days…wrapped up with you…and it wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Hmm. The same,” she said.

  “On the outside…calm and purposeful all-day…patient…but inside…I am thinking of you…all the time.”

  “Thinking what?”

  “About that swell,” and my eyes drop to her breasts against that thin cotton, “those skirts moving like music…the secrets I know…girl…you in your wild glory.”

  “Tom,” she whispered.

  “So you do your motherly things…I will be counting down that clock.”

  She licked her lips and it unhinged a groan in me. “I can’t wait,” she whispered.

  And Willard and Johnny did show up then, and she cleared her throat and got to it, and I cleared mine and Willard helped me carry in that bed and we did set it in place and there it waited for the approaching exercises it would soon know and I set those dowels firm and they would hold. Years out…our nest…our love.

  Addie had prevailed upon Johnny to enter three of his drawings in the fair. He had done one of Jimmy with the black. Another of Allie and the baby. The third was of his Grampa in his chair, leg propped.

  They weren’t perfect, but they had something. An eye, Addie called it, a way of seeing, and that summed it right.

  Addie made bread, egg bread, potato bread, soda bread. She took jams, blackberry and wild strawberry. She took pickles.

  Johnny took a melon. I took them…my family…for there was not a category for big new house and new barn else I’d have my ribbon.

  Well, I felt my oats, so to speak, but I knew enough to enjoy the sweet times, milk them to the last drop, for life’s journey changed terrain quick. If you were in a bad spot, it was comforting to know, but if you was in a good one, it was just a matter of time. So one day, drink it down, lick the plate, squeeze it hard. Then be ready. And like Jimmy said, don’t let anything stop you. For there was always a way.

  Tom Tanner

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Fair Time: Part One

  I watched her waiting for that judging, standing aside in her quiet way. I held Janey and that one did wiggle to get down and run it out with the other little ones about. One thing this gathering did show…things had changed. The war brought a passel of births. We had them all sizes everywhere you looked.

  Well, I watched from some back, rocking our baby back and forth. “Look at Mama,” I said.

  And Janey said, “Mama.”

  “That’s right,” I whispered in her sweet baby ear. “That is your mama and she is special.”

  I did not watch the judges at all, I watched Addie. And I was laughing quiet. She was looking hopeful as they tasted her red jam. She bit her lip the way she did when a thousand things were pressing. She wore a pale blue dress for she had left mourning behind, and a blue shawl over her arms, and her hair braided in back and pinned glossy and fat behind her bonnet, and her little hands so graceful folded as if in prayer, and her so small making me feel like a giant. And her face, made just for me seemed like, and I appreciated every line and curve.

  When they put that blue ribbon in front of her jar, her hand went over her heart and she flushed a rosy pink. They said her name among themselves as they filled out the card there by the ribbon. They called her name and the ladies around did clap. “Addie Tanner,” they said, and I had a kick to hear it. She was my wife. Now that ribbon and card would set by that jam for the rest of the fair.

  Her egg bread also won the blue. To have two ribbons was something. I was laughing some for she’d gone against Ma on that and won. Ma was over at cakes acting the judge, so she did not yet see.

  When Addie was done she was looking for me, her face all smiles. She danced to me all the way and kissed me. Time was I’d of hung at the fair, back of some tent with stocks or plows passing a bottle and smoking a cheroot Ma would have shoved down my throat and listening to the big talk, that last time about the war.

  But not this fair this day. I was a grown man now. I carried our baby and walked with Addie holding my arm, my steps shortened and slow to match hers for we were in no hurry in this sunshiny patch of time.

  She and I went to the fruits and vegetables tent. Johnny was to meet us there, and he did come running in, his cheek scratched and his clothes showing disarray. I’d been in too many scrapes myself not to recognize mayhem. Addie went for him, but I pulled her back gentle and put my arm around her waist. “Looks like he fought a war to get here, but he’s on time,” I said.

  Seeing he was saved, Johnny was contrite for a few minutes. Well the judging got to the melons, and they thumped and smelled and even picked them up and gave them a shake. That damn Bimer such a showboat.

  We waited patiently. Came to looks, Johnny’s melon held its own. Then they sliced into it and pulled it up and that red melon did quiver looked just right to me, and Addie looked at me hopeful, Johnny standing there, mouth open, desperate for a win.

  Well, he got second place. A young one beat him out, a girl no older than him looked like, her blond and dimpled, and chin held up as she strutted past to take her blue. Hers had a pound on Johnny’s but was still solid through. They did taste but it was still sugar sweet. Well we’d get her next time and I told Johnny so, but a boy his age first time out coming up second was something. But he didn’t seem to care so much, his eyes on her.

  “Johnny Varn,” she smirked at him as she passed.

  And he had not a thing to say but he could blush like his mother and he did now.

  Me and Addie were so proud. Well he was too once he let the notion of first go and he did I suspected soon as he saw the winner. If he had to get beat those blue eyes were some consolation seemed.

  We walked around for a bit then. I saw folks I had not seen since the war even after all this time home. I was proud for them to see my family but I found this kind of talk painful so I did not get my foot in anyone’s snare for long.

  There were games to play and we watched young boys throw baseballs at milk cans, and younger boys and girls bob for apples. Old and young played Beano, a game where someone called out numbers and you covered that number with a bean. If you got a row of numbers across or down, you called out ‘Beano,’ and won a prize. Ma would hit this once she saw to her ribbons.

  Further down the fairway a big attraction was a high striker someone had built with a wooden frame. This test of one’s manhood was surrounded like a preacher might be at revival.

  Every once in a while you could hear a bell ring then the shouts of the crowd. The striker had a twenty foot tower and when one would strike the seat at the base of this structure, a wooden dis
c would fly up toward a school bell sat atop it. If one was strong enough that disc would go all the way to ring the bell and the crowd would go wild and a man could win a ribbon for his sweetheart.

  We were on our way to meet Gaylin and Rosie for a picnic, and Janey was riding my shoulders, but I was drawn to that tower as was Johnny and we pulled Addie along. When we got close enough to see, there was Gaylin getting ready to hit that seat, that sledgehammer overhead and brought down hard and that disc flying up and ringing that bell for all the world. Rosie stood close, jumping up and down, three pink ribbons already pinned on her dress. And now she had four.

  One thing about Rosie, crowds of menfolk meant about nothing at all. She was jumping around right into Gaylin’s arms, kissing him and she didn’t care who looked. And they were looking. I did not know if it was Gaylin’s strength or Rosie they were more admiring of.

  Beside the striker tower was a chalkboard set up. Seemed there were some champions already, their names listed in order of where they placed. Gaylin’s name was first. He had four wins. I knew a couple of those listed under. There were six names. So it was afoot.

  Johnny was already begging at me. “Pa…Pa…Pa…,” sounded like a crow.

  We watched a round so I could get a feel. Gaylin handed off to Jacob Colson. Colson had four, but this was not a win. Right away, you did not hit it square you had no shot. Well we had all split wood. We could hit precision. But Colson was off. The crowd must be overcome as well.

  So it went down the line. Shirts came off and they went again. Now you could see the muscle. One more round and the winner was called. Gaylin earned the blue. So Rosie had them pinned like a general, the five pink ending in the blue. Hadn’t seen her so happy in a while.

  Next team was signing already, every man it seemed having a stake. Forward they came. Gaylin made his way to us. I shook his hand. “Have a go,” he said. “End of the day the winners play one another.”

  “Who are the winners?”

  “Jimmy, of course. Some giant from Hillsboro. Then me. Get on the list.”

  Johnny again, “Pa, Pa, Pa.”

  Well, the crowd would fire Jimmy. If he had his old strength, he would be fierce.

  Yet he’d never made me run. I took Janey off my shoulders and handed her to Rosie. That one was crowing about Gaylin. I looked at Addie. “Go on,” she said, “you know you are dying to.” Then she stepped closer, “But I am the one gets to ogle you and now these women will see what I’ve got and I’ll have to get me a Derringer like Rosie’s.”

  Well, I did laugh at that. I kissed her out there and went forward and they cheered for me and I waited in line and signed. My go was an hour from now so I could eat and get myself ready. For I would win this with that woman of mine looking on if it killed me.

  Tom Tanner

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Fair Time: Part Two

  I spit in my hands and rubbed them together. I grabbed that handle, balanced my feet solid and lifted that hammer high smashing it down and ringing that bell. That was one. I could hear Johnny going wild and he stood there proud and I took that ribbon to my Addie and pinned it on her dress. “This where you want them?” I asked as my big hands fumbled with that pin.

  “That will do,” she said, and she kissed me bold as Rosie might.

  Well Lord, I wasn’t gonna argue. So we went three rounds, six of us, four lasted. Three more rounds of those and I came out front and my name was on the final round with the champions.

  Time we went to look at the drawings. They had closed the tent to the home-arts for the judging, but it was open now. Well, I had barely broke a sweat, so I was in pretty good fettle, my muscles warm, and me more sanguine, the way I could get when I finally let down.

  I put Janey back on my neck where she loved to ride and we did go to that tent and Johnny ran ahead, and there was a gentleman waiting round the artwork, and Johnny ran to his drawings and they were in collections of two drawings each, and one collection wore the red, the other the blue. He had expanded his collection with a picture of his pup and that was in the blue ribbon pair. It was his best.

  I could scarce believe it, and that man from St. Louis a teacher of drawing at a college there and he wanted to meet Johnny. Well that young one did rub his hand up and down on the leg of his pants before shaking this man’s hand. Then that teacher asked if we were the parents, and Johnny come to and said, “Oh, yes Sir, this is my mother Mrs. Tanner and this here my pa Mr. Tom Tanner he’s called.”

  This teacher fellow was dressed the way one does who is more student of life than man works with his hands, but his hands were not the idle kind, they had callous and did know a creative pursuit, I could feel it.

  He said Johnny had uncanny ability for one so young, and I just knew. The way he saw things…well Addie said it. And this was his bent and I knew it was our job to know the bent and encourage such, for every child had one according to the bible. Here it was already.

  The man’s name was Jessie Ferris. He was a professor, he said. He wore a white coat and a straw hat over long white hair. He had doffed his hat to Addie, but he kept it on. He had a stomach some got when old, and he had some years but eyes still bright, skin more fleshy than wrinkled. He spoke with verve and he believed in Johnny and wanted us to keep him up on Johnny’s progress, he said, and Addie vowed she would.

  We looked long and thoroughly at the other entries and they were all grown folks. Well some talked to Johnny about his pictures. He was proud and explaining things and me and Addie had to keep a lid on our grins a few times. Well when the blonde one came through with her mother, the one who had beat him at melons, his chest puffed like a rooster’s and he kept arranging those pictures and those ribbons, and that gal got stuck there. “Did you draw these?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said, but it almost didn’t come out. So he cleared his throat and said it again.

  Well she studied them more, her hands clasped behind her back. “You’re always drawing at school,” she said.

  He didn’t know what to say to that.

  “These your folks?” she said since we were standing there by our protégé trying not to embarrass him too much.

  “Um yes,” he said waving his suddenly stiff hand. “This is Ma and Pa and Janey,” he said.

  She gripped her skirts either side and curtsied. “How do,” she said bold for one so young.

  I nodded, but Addie said, “Your name is?”

  Johnny said, “Violet,” same time the girl did.

  Violet’s mother stepped up then, and I moved off slow. Addie and this mother spoke some. Time I made the rounds and spoke to some womenfolk who made over Janey, Violet and her mother had moved off. Addie reminded me then of the tournament I was in, so I handed her Janey and she promised to meet me there directly.

  So over I went, an eagerness building in me. Johnny was running behind calling for me to wait up. I did wait and put my arm around him. “I’m proud of you,” I said, for I was. “Mayhap you keep that drawing going you’ll end up studying in that big school like Seth in seminary.”

  “Mayhap,” he said grinning. “I didn’t know I had uncanny….” He didn’t know what, but he was surprised to have it nonetheless.

  So we walked proud to the striker, and it was something to see how many had congregated for this. Well hell, William had championed his round sometime after me. I knew that was Jimmy’s doings. He would dearly love us neck and neck. I laughed to see my pard there. I did not know there was a fifty dollar purse for this. The hundred dollars a man might take at the race that afternoon was all the talk, and now we had fifty dollars for this?

  Well besides Jimmy, Gaylin, William and me, there were two others, one from Hillsboro, one from Springfield. They were sizeable, but then we all were. They let us each have a go. I threw it off for I only wanted the movement. Best let them think I didn’t know my own precision.

  We were to go in order, Jimmy, Hillsboro, Gaylin, me, Springfield, William. Gaylin took his shirt of
f first and the crowd hooted. Rosie was a wild enthusiast for this brother of mine. Jimmy had missed the warm up and was nearly late. He came up to us, shook the hand of each man waiting his turn, took the hammer, rubbed his hands, found his feet and his mark and rang the bell. Then he slapped hands all around. Well they loved him pretty much.

  Hillsboro was next, built like a wedge, and bald too-boot. He hit solid, but I did not like the way he placed his feet. The way he stood took from his hit and I did not think he would last.

  I was next, and Jimmy talked it around me. “Oh Tom boy, straight from the war and his many heroic acts brought down by a high-striker at the county fair. Well we all got our dragon,” he was saying, and I had blank him out and hit strong and I did and Johnny went as crazy as his aunt Rosie had for Gaylin.

  I looked at Addie and it was all I needed, for she was the deepest rose for me. Well we had an artist in the family, and she was everything a man could want. That’s what I said to her in that quick look and back she said I was hers.

  So it went that way for four rounds. We were barely feeling it seemed like. Then Hillsboro made a mistake and he was out. Another round and we lost Springfield. Round six Gaylin, and that did surprise me. He was mayhap an inch away even with the off-center hit.

  So it was Jimmy, and I saw how quick his hand went to his side after he swung. That wound was getting touchy. Oh, I could sense a weakness in a man. I hit a little off but it rang from sheer force. William though he had anger behind. He did not smile or cajole. He stayed flat and he hit hard.

  Jimmy stumbled on the up next round and it cost him. William and me would both have to fail for him to stay in. I hit solid as did William. Now they lost their hero, but William and I had merit too, so they divided along us. I hit. William hit. I hit. William hit. I heard that ring so many times I heard it days after. But now, I hit. He hit. I hit. He hit. And I looked at him, and he at me and I could see he had no limit for it was them he struck, their cussedness, their bullheadedness, their way of seeing, there way of being, the love he had, and the hate, and the sick, and the tears.