“All right, I’ll do it!” Adam said and inclined his head. “God, thanks for this food and make it good, ‘cause I sure am hungry. And thanks for these nice people. And our new jobs. I hope we get to keep them. And thanks for sending Samuel to save us…And…”
“And bring my husband Baldy, Stephen, and Samuel safely back to us,” Melly concluded, no doubt thinking that Adam might not be stopping any time soon.
They did have a lot to be thankful for.
“Amen!” the three Wyllie boys said in unison.
“Amen,” Adam imitated.
Chapter 9
As they rode away from Billy’s place, Samuel, his father, and Baldy were all dirty, tired, and emotionally spent. Earlier, his father had dug down into Billy’s grave a ways and then added Billy’s scalp to the grave. It gave Samuel a small measure of comfort. What gave him more comfort, though, was the fact that the brave who’d displayed it was now dead. And the Indian would receive only what they called a sky burial—a burial by vultures.
Surrounded by the men at the settlement, Baldy had conducted a heart-rending service at the gravesite that left all those hardened men near tears.
Samuel tried to listen but spent most of the service agonizing over what had happened to his friend. He’d had to draw in slow, steady breaths to keep his anger at bay.
As soon as he could, he mounted his horse. He wanted to get away from this place. But as he rode, with his father and Baldy riding their mounts on both sides of Samson, anger continued to roll around inside of him like the dark clouds of a furious thunderstorm. Not wanting to talk, he mentally withdrew and remained quiet until they returned to the settlement.
Most of the men hurried to Mabbitt’s and Wetmore’s trading posts to stock up on weapons and ammunition. All except the two that were wounded who went with them to the tavern to have Baldy tend to their wounds.
As the group of them made their way inside, a lame man named Claude O’Neil, too fond of the bottle, snored in the corner. An old leather hat covered his face and his arms were crossed in front of him. Baldy once tried to determine if the man’s lameness was the cause of his fondness for alcohol or if it was a physical or mental weakness, but Claude would have none of it saying he didn’t trust doctors. Even so, he always seemed grateful when Baldy and Melly would sometimes bring him a plate of food or fresh warm clothing. When the fellow was awake and reasonably sober, he could saw on the fiddle though. Those who enjoyed his music would tip him a coin or two.
Over the long counter that served as the tavern’s bar, the owner had hung a sign upon which he’d chalked in large letters, ‘Pay to-day, trust to-morrow.’ And since ready money was in short supply in the settlement, a stack of skins stood behind the bar. For deerskins, coonskins, and beaver were as good a legal tender in the West as a New York shilling any day. And so the obtainability of a man’s strong drink pretty often depended upon his keen eye and a good gun.
Baldy ordered and paid for a whiskey for both wounded men, one for himself, and one to sterilize the wounds. His service during the War of 1812 had given Baldy a great deal of experience treating battle wounds.
Meanwhile, his father ordered a whiskey and a double one for Samuel. Taking a table well away from where Baldy worked, the two of them took seats.
“I see more anger than grief on your face, Son,” his father said.
Samuel stared into the amber-colored liquor in his glass. “I felt grief, lots of it, while I retrieved their bodies and dug their graves.” He took a long sip. “But then, as I laid them in the graves and stared down at them in those cold holes in the ground, my grief turned to rage. Right now, I hate Indians. They murder and steal and make our lives here miserable. How can they expect us to live in peace with them?”
“I’m not sure they do. We think peace is always the goal. But it’s not. They count coup anytime they even touch an enemy.”
“Count coup?”
“A war honor. A blow struck against an enemy counts as a coup, but the most prestigious acts include just touching an enemy with the hand, bow, or coup stick and escaping. Also stealing an enemy's weapons or horses.”
“They did a lot more than touch Billy,” he swore.
His father nodded somberly. “I would hope that one day we can have peace, but I think that is likely to be many years off.”
“You should have seen Billy!”
“I’m sorry you had to.”
Samuel squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t get that image out of my head!” His voice broke with huskiness.
His father sighed. “It may take a long time for it to fade. But it will.”
“When Louisa’s father came to our place, he said some horrible things about Indians. He hates them and believes they should all be killed.”
“Hardin said pretty much the same. He would have ridden into a likely trap just to satisfy his lust for Indian blood.”
“I urged Pate to exercise restraint and caution, but now, I wonder if he might have been right,” Samuel said. His mind reeled with confusion.
“You don’t believe that. Not really. You’re too good a man to believe that way.”
He peered at his father. “I was. I’m not so sure anymore.”
“A man can’t live well or long on hate.”
Mr. O’Neil woke and sat up. Blurry-eyed, he glanced around. When he noticed Baldy, he stood up on shaky legs and hobbled over to him. “Dr. Grant, can you buy me a whiskey? For medicinal purposes, I mean. I’ll play you a tune.”
Baldy placed a coin on the counter. “Whatever it is that’s making you drink so much, Claude, you need to let me help you.”
His leathery, despondent face twisted as he shook his head. “There’s no help on earth for what ails me.” He tossed back the whiskey and then hobbled over to his fiddle case.
Baldy shook his head and buckled up his medical saddlebag as O’Neill started playing and singing a forlorn tune.
“When she left me it broke my old heart.
I shed a tear for every mistake I ever made.
Don’t worry about me, I’m just living under a dark cloud.
And these days, I can’t tell the difference
Between the whiskey and the shade.”
Samuel emptied his glass. He was in no mood for sad songs. “Baldy’s finished. Let’s go.”
While they were on their way home, Samuel told his father and Baldy about the rest of his encounter with Mr. Pate. “The man expressed concern for one thing only, the loss of his possessions. He didn’t express thankfulness at all that his daughter and son lived through their ordeals. In fact, he heaped nothing but anger upon them.”
“He probably panicked,” Baldy said. “Losing your weapons, food, and household goods on the frontier can mean disaster.”
“But that’s no reason to treat your flesh and blood so poorly,” Samuel protested. “He’s a cruel man and my instinct tells me he’ll mean trouble for Louisa. He intends to marry her for profit.” The thought made Samuel’s anger escalate even more.
“So what happened?” his father asked. “Did he take his children?”
Samuel hesitated a moment. “Well…no.”
“No?” his father and Baldy both asked.
“When Louisa told him she would get a job to help pay for the supplies they would need to replenish, he ridiculed her and made her feel useless.”
“What did Louisa say?” his father asked.
“She just looked hurt and defeated. It was Melly who took offense at what Pate had said. She especially didn’t appreciate him ridiculing you, Baldy, because you’re a preacher in a Catholic land and doing the devil’s bidding. He said you weren’t fit to sing a hymn to a dead horse.”
“That’s offensive in more ways than one,” Stephen said.
“Offending my Melly is not something any man should dare do. If she didn’t give him what for, I will,” Baldy swore.
Samuel nodded. “I wanted to knock the man off his high horse and teach him better manners. But b
efore I could, Melly heaped coals of kindness on Pate’s head.”
“How?” his father asked.
“She gave both Louisa and little Adam paying jobs,” he told them. “She told Pate that she would give him their salary every Friday.”
“Jobs?” Baldy asked.
“Yes. Louisa is going to help Melly with laundry and other chores. And Adam is supposed to help you, Baldy.”
Baldy’s dark eyes widened. “How is a little boy going to help me?”
“That’s up to you,” Samuel said. “But I suspect Melly has some ideas.”
“That wife of mine…” Baldy said with a grin and shook his head.
“She was desperate to keep Mr. Pate from taking his children away,” Samuel explained. “So was I. It was obvious to us that the man was a brute. There’s no telling what he would have done to Louisa when he got her home.”
“At least while they’re with us, they’ll eat properly,” his father said. “The two look as though they’ve missed more than a few meals.”
Samuel had a feeling they’d missed a lot more than just food. He suspected they’d known little happiness and even less love.
Just as they were finishing eating, Louisa turned toward the front of the house at the sound of horses galloping up.
“Riders!” Steve said. “They’re back.”
“Thank God!” Melly said.
The three huge brothers leaped up and raced out the door.
Louisa guessed they were eager to hear what had happened at the settlement. She glanced at Melly. “Should we go out too?”
“No, let’s let them have a few moments. They’ll need to care for the horses before they do anything else. Adam, please shut the door. It helps to keep the flies and the dust out.”
The light in the cabin abruptly grew dim as the sun fully set. Daylight was dying faster now in late September.
Melly lit a few candles and several oil lamps while Adam trailed behind her like a shadow.
A sense of calm filled Louisa for the first time in a long, long while. She gazed into the flickering candle on the table and let the moment’s peace sink in. The candlelight soothed her all the way from where the soft rays touched her face to the deepest part of her. Was it possible that this moment was a new beginning? Possibilities meant hope.
How her life had changed in just one day. She’d experienced despair and desperation this morning and then kindness, and even joy, since coming here. But was this comfort merely temporary? Would her friendship with this family be short-lived? Would this small taste of happiness be ripped away? She feared it would be, and soon.
Her father still regarded her as a bargaining chip to gain a profitable alliance. He cared nothing for her happiness. He merely wanted to reap the benefits of having a daughter who men considered beautiful. And he would demand respect and obedience to his will. She swallowed her bitterness. She couldn’t fathom being forced to marry a man she didn’t love or even know. She also couldn’t imagine defying her father.
But if her life could change this much in a day, perhaps her future would change too. Although she’d worked hard all her life around the numerous homes her father had moved them to, for the first time she had a paying job. Even though her father intended to take all their wages, at least here they would have a comfortable place to live and food. And here she could experience some measure of freedom and even a little happiness. She could also learn much from Melly and Adam could learn a great deal about medicine from Dr. Grant.
For Adam’s sake, and for both their futures, she would do everything she could to make this opportunity work. For eighteen years she had survived living with her father’s anger, resentment, and undeserved punishments. If she could withstand that, she could do what she must to earn a living and provide for herself and her brother. Despite her father’s low opinion of her abilities, she believed she was strong and reasonably smart. She could learn. She could make something of herself.
As she watched Adam with Melly, she wanted so much to keep her brother this happy. But could she? Her father had left them here for now. But he would soon grow tired of taking care of himself and doing his own chores. The day would come when he would demand that they both return to him.
And they would have to.
She had never stood up to her father’s wrath. Ever since she could remember, when he became angry, she would simply do as he wished and keep her mouth shut. She would swallow the words that she desperately wanted to fling at him. She’d learned early that even a pout or a cross glance at him would cause him to explode into an unpredictable rage. A rage he would take out on both her and Adam.
So, for Adam’s sake, she carefully avoided doing anything that would cause his temper to flare.
She wanted her family to be peaceful, normal, happy. But it never would be. Her father didn’t care about love, but he demanded respect. Not the kind of respect born of admiration or earned. The kind of respect born of fear.
And even though her fears often made her want to cry, she would never let him see her tears—not since that time when he’d hard-heartedly ridiculed her for crying. He’d heartlessly scoffed at her tears and made fun of her. Ever since, with a gritted jaw and a clenched heart, she kept her tears inside.
Now, there was nothing he could do to her to make her weep openly. But she soon learned that tears shed on the inside stung so much more. Perhaps because they held so much bitterness.
When the time came for her to marry whoever it was her father selected, she would do as he commanded. For Adam’s sake.
Only for Adam’s sake.
Chapter 10
After several sorrow-dampened days and dark nights with little sleep, the tightness in Samuel’s chest finally eased as he and Thomas rode together. They were on their way to the settlement to purchase supplies. The spectacular scenery along the trail that meandered alongside the Red River lifted his spirits. He inhaled the clean scent of pine wafting off the tall woods to the south and east and let the fresh air ease his grief.
In the distance, they saw two enormous black wolves jogging by, but they were at too great a distance to reach the predators with their rifles. And wild turkeys and deer repeatedly crossed their path, running as though they were in a great hurry to get somewhere.
From a bluff along the Red, they looked down upon a drove of about a hundred wild horses watering along the trickle that was left of the river. They stopped to admire the herd and watched as the horses ascended the opposite bank having been refreshed by the water.
They needed to buy coffee, flour, and some supplies for Baldy. Samuel also intended to buy Louisa at least one dress and some clothes for Adam. The boy was still wearing only Steve’s shirt.
Both Louisa and Adam had settled in nicely and seemed to enjoy working for the Grants, although Louisa sometimes seemed troubled with her pinched brow and tense jaw.
During the last four days, while Thomas and Cornelius watched over the herd, Samuel and Steve built a split rail fence for a new large holding pen. The work was taxing, but he’d found the process of digging holes, planting posts, and laying the rails in an interlocking zig-zag fashion a welcome distraction from his thoughts of Billy. When Adam came by with a bucket of fresh water for them, he’d called it a snake fence because of its twisty pattern.
After evening meals, Samuel found himself looking forward to Louisa’s company. They’d spent the last four evenings together talking on the porch for hours. The more he talked to her the more he understood how difficult her life was. He’d learned that although she was young and beautiful on the outside, inside she was old and worn. Her soul crushed by unhappiness. Her heart heavy with despair. Her mind troubled by fear. Especially her fear that her father would soon come for her and her brother. After having met Mr. Pate, Samuel could certainly understand that worry.
Despite her difficulties, Samuel sensed that within Louisa, welled untapped courage and strength. And if given half a chance, she could be a vibrant, happy woman. She was full
of life, but that life was imprisoned. She needed to be freed.
It would take a great deal of strength to stand up to her father. Could Louisa rise above the rubble of her wretched life? Could what was beaten down inside her be brought back? Could he help her free herself? He certainly hoped so, for she seemed to be a fine person who cared deeply for her younger brother. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to know and the more he wanted to help her. He’d sought out opportunities to see her as often as he could. He wanted to learn all about her—her thoughts, her dreams, her hopes.
Lately, when she was near, he found himself keenly aware of her female appeal. Whenever she smiled at him, a sudden heat would erupt within him and he would long to hold her in his arms. And whenever she left to go back to the Grant’s cabin, an undeniable melancholy would grip him inside.
Up ahead, they saw two men riding toward them. Relieved that they were not Indians, Samuel waved a greeting. But his relief was short-lived because he saw that it was Pate and another man who appeared to be a military man based on his attire.
He and his brother drew their horses up when they met the two on the trail.
He noted that Louisa’s father was wearing what appeared to be a new suit of good quality. Had he used the silver Melly gave him to try to pass himself off as a man of means? A man of means with a young, beautiful daughter. A daughter of marriageable age in a land with exceedingly few unmarried women.
“Mr. Pate,” Samuel said with little sociability in his voice. “This is my brother, Thomas.”
Pate grunted and gave Thomas a slight glance but said nothing. Neither did Thomas.
The other man, who rode a quality thoroughbred spoke up. “I am Herman H. Long, a lawyer and plantation owner from Louisiana. I am also the commander of Texian forces at Camp Freeman at Nacogdoches.” The impeccably attired man appeared to be around thirty and would be considered good-looking by women. His shirt of fine white cotton had a tall standing collar and his wide cravat was tied in a soft bow. Over the shirt, he wore a waist hugging coat with long tails in the back. Tightly fitted leather riding breeches reached almost to his boot tops. A red silk sash was wrapped at his waist and an expensive-looking sword hung at his side. His tall black boots of the finest leather gleamed in the sun.
Red River Rifles (Wilderness Dawning—the Texas Wyllie Brothers Series Book 1) Page 10