The Roswell Women

by Statham, Frances Patton

  He moved forward into the doorway and cleared his throat. "Good evening."

  Like a startled deer, Allison looked up and saw the tall, dark man, dripping wet, with a poncho covering his body and his hair plastered to his head. He was the Dark One, with his blackness surrounding him, his massive frame and his expressive dark eyes bringing a dim remembrance to her out of time and place. She felt his strength emanate and spread into the room like some visible entity, filling the corners and empty spaces and calling upon the room to be a witness to his presence.

  "Major Meadors?"

  He nodded and stepped inside the threshold. "At your service, ma'am."

  She was visibly relieved at his identity; for she was alone in the house. Immediately, she rose from the table. "My name is Allison—a member of the family your brother hired to look after Bluegrass Meadors. Welcome home, Major."

  He gave a curt nod to acknowledge her welcome. "Has my brother arrived yet?"

  Allison hesitated. There was no need to keep it from him. "He was here a week ago, and then he left again."

  "And your husband? Where is he?"

  Again Allison hesitated. "One of the colts jumped the fence. Flood has gone out to find him and bring him back."

  She watched the major walk to the sideboard, where he poured a glass of golden liquid from the decanter and downed it in one large draught. Then he poured another and carried it toward the hearth. He took one sip, but instead of finishing it, he placed it on the mantelpiece.

  "Have you had anything to eat?" Allison asked.

  "No."

  "Then I'll go to the kitchen to prepare a plate for you."

  "Thank you."

  He was tired, as evidenced by the monosyllables of his speech and the stiff movements of his muscles as he knelt by the hearth and deliberately rubbed his hands. He stared into the fire as if to conjure up a burning mirage hidden within the flames.

  As she reached the door, Rad Meadors's voice stopped her. "Take your time. I'll change into dry clothes before I eat."

  "Of course."

  Allison left the room and sped toward the kitchen. The kettle hung over the dying embers, keeping the soup warm; and the freshly baked bread, its odor still permeating the air, was wrapped in a linen napkin, the same as it had been each night that week—an extra portion reserved for the owner of the house in case he came home without warning.

  Outside, the wind rose, whistling and flapping against the back door like some uncouth clod at a country barn dance. The rope and pulley of the well in the middle of the herb garden creaked and moved back and forth in a squeaking rhythm. And down by the creek the rising water already covered the trunk of the old, low-lying willow tree where Rebecca had first met Big Caesar.

  Allison looked out the kitchen window and strained to catch some sight of Flood and Rebecca returning from the creek. When she didn't see them, she said another prayer for their safety amid the terrible storm outside.

  Waiting for Rad Meadors to reappear, Allison began to worry about Morrow. So she took the candle from the kitchen table and tiptoed up the backstairs to the attic to check on the child, who was afraid of storms.

  Morrow slept peacefully in her small bed. With her thumb in her mouth and the rag doll Allison had made for her lying on the pillow, she looked the picture of serenity, without a worldly care.

  Touching the angelic face, Allison bit back the tears. It wasn't fair. Coin, the baby's father, should have been the one returning home from the war that night. They would have given him such a joyous welcome—all the love they had stored up for father and husband. Instead, the child was fatherless and the man downstairs was a total stranger to Allison.

  Tenderly, she removed the thumb from Morrow's mouth, tucked the quilt around her, and then walked downstairs again. Once Allison had reached the kitchen, she heard Rad Meadors's step in the other direction—coming down the elegant winding stairs that still showed the signs of an indented hoofprint on one of the risers. When Allison had first seen it, she wondered which of the brothers had once ridden his horse into the house and up the stairs.

  And she still wondered as she walked into the dining room with the bread tray. When she returned with the tureen of soup, she saw that the man was already seated in the chair at the head of the table, the place where Coin should be sitting.

  Allison knew that it was wrong to resent this powerfully built stranger. The war was over, but there was a part of her that could never forget or forgive. She had lost too much to be magnanimous in defeat. But she disguised her feelings as she served him; for it would not do for him to realize how she felt about him.

  After serving him, Allison replenished her own bowl, which had grown cold, but instead of sitting down at her original place, she began to walk out of the room.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Back to the kitchen."

  "But you haven't finished your own meal. Sit down."

  Allison glared at him. He had given her an order as if she were one of his lackeys. But in the end she did as she was told.

  He paid no attention to her but took the fresh sweet butter she had churned and slathered it on large chunks of bread. He finished his bowl of soup in record time and Allison, without asking if he wished another serving, laid down her napkin, got up, and took his bowl to the sideboard where she ladled a second helping, equally as large as the first.

  Halfway through the second bowl of soup, Rad Meadors spoke again. "The barns are gone."

  Allison refused to be intimidated by the accusation. "The cottage, too," she said without apology.

  "And last season's tobacco crop—what happened to it?

  "It was lost, also."

  The major's face became a thunderous image, a twin to the one raging outside. "My Lord, I didn't get much protection for my money, did I? Is there some other disaster waiting for me to uncover?"

  Less than two years before, the man's tone of voice would have devastated Allison and brought tears to her eyes. But too much had happened. She was a totally different woman, tempered by the events that had taken nearly everything from her. But she still had her pride, if nothing else. And if the man seated opposite her were not able to treat her as a gentleman should, then she had no recourse but to set him straight.

  In the candlelight, her eyes took on a fierce glow. Her head lifted and she stared directly at the man. "There are certain things that you will find out soon enough, Major. I had hoped that, as a gentleman, you would wait and discuss it with my…with Flood Tompkins. But since you chose to accuse me to my face, I think there are several facts that you should know."

  Surprised by her attack, he laid down his soup spoon and stared at her.

  "I understand that you were in the regiment of cavalry that killed Major John Hunt Morgan. In direct retaliation for that crime, the Paw-Paw Militia came in the night and burned the barns and the tobacco crop that had been harvested. The wind swept the sparks toward the cottage, so we were unable to save it, as well. And the only reason you're sitting in your house tonight, Major, is because the militia didn't choose to destroy it, too, out of respect for your brother, Captain Meadors."

  "Well, perhaps I was hasty—"

  "Just a moment, Major. I haven't finished."

  Once Allison had started, there was no stopping her. She rose from her chair and continued, "As to your paying us, we have not received a single picayune from either you or your brother. When he hired us, he left without giving us anything. And when he returned last week, we expected to be paid for our hard labor—for the harvesting of the tobacco last August and for the planting of the new crop in April, Instead, he left again in the dead of night.

  "But tomorrow, I'm sure you'll be able to settle with Flood so that we can be on our way south. I don't use the word home because we don’t know whether our homes are still standing.

  "Oh, and by the way. Since the cottage was burned with our few possessions in it, we have been staying in the attic rooms and wearing the old clothes found in a
trunk. But Flood will discuss anything we might owe you, when you settle with her…him tomorrow."

  Throughout the entire barrage against him, Rad Meadors sat dumfounded. Then the cry of a baby changed the heated atmosphere. Allison's attention was diverted.

  "Please excuse me, Major. I must see to my child."

  He stood up. "One answer, please, before you go."

  "Yes?"

  "Just where did my brother find you?"

  "In the military prison in Louisville."

  Rad Meadors groaned as Allison left the room. He might have known. His brother had done it again—put him into an extremely unpleasant situation and left it up to him to set things right again.

  Rad walked over to the mantelpiece and took the unfinished glass of whiskey and downed it. But he felt no better. His homecoming was spoiled.

  Now his tiredness overwhelmed him. He left the dining room with the candelabra and walked slowly up the stairs to the master bedroom. Overhead, in the attic, he could hear the baby still crying, while outside the thunder and lightning continued.

  A lantern flickered in the meadow as Flood and Rebecca returned with Standing Tall, the unrepentant colt. Seeing the two, with the colt, pass under his window, Rad was thankful, at least, that the colt had not been lost, too.

  He closed the window, locked his door, and went to bed. At his side, he laid his loaded revolver. If he had to sleep in his own house with a bunch of criminals, then he would be prepared in case they came to murder him in the night.

  While Allison waited for Flood and Rebecca to return, she cleaned up the dining room and the kitchen, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to go to bed until she knew the other two were inside the house.

  Finally, the back door opened, and Allison was immensely relieved to see the two women. "Did you find the colt?"

  "Yes," Flood said, shaking the rain from her cap before she stepped inside. "He was down at the creek."

  Rebecca came into the kitchen directly behind Flood. She removed the wet shawl and hung it on the peg beside the door. Looking at Allison, she announced, "There's another horse in the barn. Has the major come home?"

  "Unfortunately, yes."

  Flood frowned. "Why do you say that, Allison? Isn't that what we've been hopin' for ever since the captain and Madrigal left?"

  "He's a hard man, Flood. Tomorrow, you'll have to be extra careful when you talk with him. And don’t let him intimidate you. Just get our money so we can leave right away."

  "You didn't like him, Miss Allison?"

  "I hated him on sight, Rebecca."

  "Seems to me you didn't much care for Captain Forsyth, either, the first time you met him."

  "That was entirely different, Rebecca. At least, he was a gentleman. There's a world of difference in a Yankee."

  "But they still bleed the same as a Rebel, don’t they, Miss Allison?"

  Allison turned on her servant. "I don’t know what's gotten into you, Rebecca. It sounds as if you're trying to take up for the man when you haven't even laid eyes on him."

  "I guess that will be remedied tomorrow," Flood said. "Unless he wants to see me tonight."

  "No. He's already gone to bed. And if you'll both excuse me, I think I'll do the same."

  "Guess we'd better go, too, Rebecca. Tomorrow will be comin' much too soon to suit me."

  "Well, not for me. The sooner, the better. And I think I'll pack my few things tonight."

  With Allison holding the candle, Flood and Rebecca followed her up the backstairs to the attic. And once in the attic, Allison walked along the hall, lighting each one to her door.

  "Good night, Flood. Good night, Rebecca."

  "Good night, Allison."

  She went inside her room, checked on the sleeping baby, and then climbed into bed. During the night, the storm gradually subsided, but the hours until dawn were filled with unpleasant dreams. When a tired Allison finally awoke, she blamed the major for her restless night.

  Chapter 32

  Rad Meadors awoke with a start. He grabbed for his revolver and then, realizing where he was, relaxed. He was not hiding in some bivouac, with the enemy surrounding him. He was at home, in his own bed.

  Slowly, he arose and looked out the window. The sun was shining again, but the debris and tree limbs scattered on the ground served as a reminder of the previous night's storm.

  The words spoken by the woman at the dining table had haunted his dreams. All during the night, they had laced in and out of his consciousness—the indictment for his part in the capture of his friend, Morgan, who had chosen to fight on the losing side.

  In earlier days. Morgan had been like a brother to him, with none of the rivalry that marked Rad's relationship with his younger brother Glenn. He hadn't been surprised when Glenn had gone over to the Confederates. But with Morgan, it was different.

  Somehow, as the two had left home to go in opposite directions, Rad had felt a foreboding that the next time they met it would be a battle to the death. Thank God he hadn't been faced with fighting his own brother. The trauma of the battle with Morgan would forever be a scar in his mind and his side. That was enough. He didn't need Glenn's blood on his hands, too.

  Rad walked to the ewer basin and poured some fresh water into it to splash on his face. The only thing that mattered now was Bluegrass Meadors. And the sooner he started to bring it back to its former glory, the better. His first priority was to settle up and get rid of the family whom Glenn had hired.

  With that in mind, Rad shaved and dressed for the day.

  In the early light before the sun had time to drink up the moisture from the plants, Rad, dressed in jodhpurs and shirt, with his comfortable old black riding boots, walked to the stable, saddled his horse, and took a tour of the land.

  He carefully noted the condition of the young tobacco, the whitewashed fence, the paddocks and meadows, and the sites where the cottage and tobacco barns had once stood. Despite their loss, the situation could have been much worse, as the woman had pointed out. He would concede that, at least. But there was so much to be done—things that only an owner would see to after three years of neglect.

  The smell of the meadow, the shape of soft morning clouds beyond the rim of sun brought an excitement to Rad. It was always that way, after he'd been gone—as if he were seeing the place for the first time. How he loved the land and the horses that had once grazed in the pastures and raced in the derbies—fast as the wind, bringing honor to Bluegrass Meadors. If he were lucky, it would be that way again.

  Once the tour was completed, Rad galloped back down the lane to the barn, and a few minutes later, he returned to the house.

  The odor of bacon frying wafted through the house and drew Rad toward the dining room. Once he'd eaten, he would go over the books with the Tompkins man, dig up the strongbox from the herb garden, and then take the family to the train station in Louisville. While he was in town, he would hire some good help to bring back with him. And it certainly wouldn't be a bunch of convicts.

  "Good mornin', Major."

  Rebecca was in the process of setting the dining room table when the man walked in. "Your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, sir."

  He noticed there was only one table setting as opposed to two the previous night. His curiosity caused him to ask, "Where is Mrs. Tompkins this morning?"

  "If you're talkin' about Miss Allison, she's in the kitchen with the baby."

  "And Mr. Tompkins?"

  "He just left to go to the tobacco field to inspect the damage from last night's storm."

  "After you bring my breakfast, I'd like for you to go and get Mr. Tompkins. I won’t be needing him after today. You can tell him to be in my office in half an hour, with the books."

  "Yes, Major."

  A worried Rebecca walked into the kitchen where Allison still sat at the table, holding a glass of fresh milk for Morrow. "Well, Rebecca, what did you think of him?"

  "It's not so easy to tell, Miss Allison. He appears hard, but somehow I
believe there's a softer side to him, too."

  "Well, we certainly won’t be here long enough to discover it. Has he asked to see Flood?"

  "Yes'm. Right after breakfast."

  "Good. Then I suppose after their conference, we'll be on our way."

  "I reckon so."

  As soon as Morrow finished breakfast, Allison took her upstairs. The quilt for Royal Freemont and his new suit of clothes were ready. Now, all she needed to do was to get them to him before they left. Perhaps if the major sent the three women to Louisville in the carriage, they could stop off at Mr. Freemont's house.

  While Allison began to pack her few items of clothing and the little rag toys she'd made for Morrow, Flood Tompkins, with the ledger in her hand, walked into Rad Meadors's office.

  She removed her cap and stood before his desk. "You sent for me, Major?"

  "Mr. Tompkins?"

  "Just call me Flood. Everybody does."

  "Have a seat. We need to come to an understanding as to money owed. I presume you kept good records?"

  "All transactions are listed in the ledger, Major." Flood proceeded to hand over the book to Rad.

  She remained silent while he scanned one page and then another. Puzzled, he looked up at intervals, turned to another page, and then looked at the previous page. "I find this highly irregular."

  "In what way, sir?"

  "It seems you've been on a barter system ever since you got here. Tell me what this entry means: 'Money advanced from Royal Freemont.' Am I to understand that you borrowed money from my neighbor?"

  "You'll have to take that up with Allison, Major. She's the one who dealt with him. She purchased the cow, too, with her own money."

  "Damn! If you expect to charge me for some poor cow Royal unloaded on you, I won't pay. What's the cow's name? Daisy Belle?"

  "I don't know, sir. You'll have to ask Allison."

  Rad Meadors's temper got the best of him. "What are you, man? A henpecked husband? Don't you even know what went on these past eight months? Will I have to take it up with your wife to get to the bottom of all this?"