Hurrying inside, Suzanne joined Dorothy and Mary who were talking with a small group of other women, dragging Charles with her when he made to go off with Tom.
He eyed the women and remembered sneaking a kiss from Becky Hawkins--after she’d caught him stealing one from Mary. She gave him a flirtatious smile, but at least two or three of those young’uns scampering about had called her Ma. And there was Sweet Sue, a few years younger than Mary. Most faces he recognized but there were a few new ones to whom he had to be introduced before he could break away to join the gentlemen. His brief eye contact with Suzanne let her know that he knew he’d been set up.
He’d turned to go but only got a step or two before two arms wrapped around his waist.
“Unca Charles, Unca Charles, I’m going to be an angel!”
“You’re already an angel, my poppet!” He reached down and swung Melody up, her legs wrapped around him and his arm under her behind as she flung an arm about his neck. Standing shyly off to the side, and looking scandalized, was a slightly taller and quieter version of the hoyden in his left arm. He extended his right arm to her.
“Don’t your remember me, Harmony?”
Her eyes filled with tears as she stood there and nodded slightly, then rushed forward to fling her arms around him, too.
The men who’d been moving forward to greet him paused a moment while Charles consoled his cousin’s daughters. Holding them both snugly, he leaned toward Harmony and kissed the top of her head. “So if your sister is going to be an angel, what role do you have?” When she just buried her head tighter, he gave her a squeeze and reminisced, “They usually made me a shepherd, along with your Dad and Uncle Tom. But one year they had us playing the wise men. I got to wear a turban. None of us ever got to play Joseph, though!”
Harmony’s head popped up as Melody piped, “You were in the pageant, Unca Charles? I didn’t know they let grownups be in it!”
Shouts of laughter brought his head up and he grinned at friends and neighbors he hadn’t seen in years, then turned back to the girls.
“Do you see all these big men?” They nodded. “Every one of them—all of them—were boys once!”
Harmony sniffed and stepped back, standing tall, looking haughtily at her baby sister. “I knew that, silly!”
Melody giggled and scrambled down, seeking out Tom for a big hug. “Were you a boy, too, Unca Tom?”
“I most certainly was, sweetie!”
More laughter ensued as Dorothy slid over and put an arm around each of her daughter’s shoulders. Before she could ease them away, having cast an apologetic glance at Charles, Harmony leaned toward him and crooked her finger. He bent over and she whispered in his ear, “I’m going to be Mary!”
Cupping her shoulder and looking her in the eye, he responded softly, “Congratulations, Harmony! That is an important role and I know you will be able to do it very well!”
Her beam of pride, as her mother dragged the girls off, touched his heart.
Turning back to the men, he cheerfully endured the teasing about robbing the cradle, along with numerous hearty handshakes and slaps on the back, as Charles greeted friends he’d known since childhood. Some he’d grown up with, others had seemed old as long as he’d known them but these were his people, his townsfolk. He was home.
On the fringes were a number of older boys, mumbling his name in tones of awe. He also heard “Major Cooper” and a few other names of men with whom he’d marched off to war. One of them sidled up to him.
“Major Barnett, is it true you captured a battalion all by yourself?”
Charles eyed the youth—he looked familiar. “Joe Sackett? Peter’s youngest brother?”
The youth ducked his head embarrassed at his own presumption but proud to have been recognized by his hero.
“Yes, sir!”
“Son, I was involved in a lot of action over some of the longest, hardest years of my life, with a lot of brave men who marched and fought alongside of me. My company was the one to which the vastly depleted battalion surrendered; I just happened to be Company Captain and accepted their Major’s sword. They were brave lads, but starving, threadbare, and even barefoot, and had just about run out of ammunition.”
He looked around at the boys and men who’d stopped chatting to listen. “War is hell. There is no glory to it and in the long run it doesn’t prove much more than who had the better supply lines. I pray to God that none of you ever has to experience it.”
Somber heads nodded as the pastor strolled over.
“Speaking of God, why don’t you all take your seats? Welcome home, Charles.”
“Thank you, Reverend. You cannot know how good it is to be back.”
~~~
After the service Charles managed to slip away to the cemetery for a few moments to visit his parents’ graves. Tucked next to their headstone were two smaller ones, his infant sister who had succumbed to measles before he was born and a younger brother, lost to scarlet fever. Beyond them lay his grandparents, his grandfather flanked by two wives, the older of whom was his grandmother Helen, his father’s mother, who had died giving birth to his Aunt Florence. He’d never known her but remembered fondly his other Grandma Barnett and her sugar cookies.
His mother’s family were from Missouri and they’d visited on occasion but he hadn’t grown up with them nor had the closeness. He bowed his head, saying a quick, heartfelt prayer, and then, raising his head, saw Dorothy a few rows over by a newer marker. Slipping quietly between the stones he joined her, his fingers tracing out the letters:
“In Loving Memory
Beloved Husband
Reginald K. Cooper, Jr.
Major, 1st Kansas
1836-1863”
Tucked next to his father’s marker was a tiny stone engraved:
“Reginald Kenneth Cooper III
1856-1864”
Placing his arm over her shoulders, Charles gently hugged Dorothy, who briefly rested her head on his arm, then straightened herself, letting his arm slip down.
“I know he’s buried in Pennsylvania but it comforts me to have the stone here, next to his son.”
The two turned and walked away from the graves and rejoined the others, making plans for the upcoming Christmas festivities, and offering farewells as they climbed into their buggies, carts, and wagons, or onto horses.
CHAPTER NINE ― Sunday Dinner
Mary, Dorothy, and her daughters, tucked snugly under a blanket in their buggy, followed the Kenner clan home for Sunday dinner. The children were seated at a separate table with admonishments of “no kicking,” “no teasing,” and “no pinching,” followed by a sharp “behave!” from Ma, at which silence descended, albeit briefly, among the youngsters. Then talk began about the upcoming pageant. Nick had been named “Joseph,” and Harmony ducked her head when teased about being called to play “Mary.” Reggie was going to be “the best shepherd ever,” he declared.
The adults listened to the children indulgently but soon became absorbed in their own discussions on how to merge the three parallel tracts, all along the creek, as was the Bar K.
“Just to be clear, I’ll be glad to work with you and help any way I can getting you all set up, but I want to keep the Bar K independent for my boys,” Tom said.
Suzanne added, “We have talked about this a lot, as you may well imagine, and while I think a co-op or grange might be helpful, we’d like to keep separate ownership.”
“That’s a good point,” Mary spoke next. “Dorothy still owns her house and an acre around it, maintaining her water access and garden area for her household animals, but we didn’t purchase the rest of the land outright. She will continue to receive a share of profits so she maintains an income—and she’s agreed to keep handling the books. She’s been doing that for us all along.”
She smiled pertly.
“I can count cattle and horses but put it on paper and my eyes start crossing. You remember how arithmetic always got me into trouble.”
Mary colored prettily. “I didn’t. Henry’s wife, Margaret Sue, does . . . did for us. I spent most of my days in the saddle with Robert, ” her face tightened in sorrow, as she paused a moment, “and afterwards, at least until . . .” she glanced down at her missing waistline, and then blushed again.
“Oh, don’t mind Tom and Charles,” laughed Suzanne. “You know you think of them both as big brothers. I sort of did, too, until I figured out I didn’t want Tom for a brother.”
It was Tom’s turn to blush, but he reached over and gave Suzanne a kiss, right on the mouth, right in front of everyone. And she colored up, but kissed him right back, even with the children staring open-mouthed at them.
“Married folks are allowed to do that,” she admonished the children, “but you be sure you wait until you are married before I catch any of you doing more than offering an arm for escort!”
“Mama! As if I’d want to be touching a girl!” the boys declared. The girls chimed in, “Yeah, boys can be really horrid!”
“Well I’m going to marry Unca Charles and he’s not horrid!” Melody declared.
“But I can’t marry you, pumpkin! Your father and I were cousins so I’m also your cousin!” exclaimed Charles hastily.
“Caitlin’s sister married their cousin,” objected Harmony.
“But they’re only cousins by marriage, not by blood,” said Dorothy firmly. “And I think that is the end of this discussion. If you’ve all finished eating, you may clear the tables. All of you.”
“You have got to teach me that ‘look’!” Mary mumbled under her breath.
Suzanne heard her and whispered back, “You’ll be surprised at how natural it feels the first time you use it!”
CHAPTER TEN ― Barn Raising
Unbeknownst to Charles, when Suzanne had dragged him over to meet the ladies at church, Tom had hurried over to the gentlemen and quickly filled them in on the condition of the Barnett farmhouse and barn. While aware the place had been razed by the Bushwhackers, most hadn’t seen for themselves the extent of the damage. They all agreed it was too late in the year to attempt to rebuild the house, but a barn raising they could manage, especially since the stone walls were still intact. Only the loft and roof needed to be replaced, with some interior walls for stalls, and perhaps a shed with kitchen on the far side to give him living quarters.
The blacksmith agreed a crane could easily be forged, and a spare spider and cauldron were offered to supplement whatever gear Charles would have carried with him for cooking while on the road.
Tom laughed, admonishing, “You’d best clear that with your wife, Seth, before you go giving away any of her pots and pans!”
Conspiratorial glances were shared and then the fellows had headed toward the ladies to rescue Charles.
~~~
Winter means the harvesting and haying have been completed and branding and dousing will await the spring roundup. This is the time of year that mending and repairs that have been put off by the press of seasonal chores can finally be attended to. So it was only two days later that Tom casually suggested to Charles that they check out his farmstead to see what would be needed to make it habitable.
Feeling he’d been imposing on their hospitality long enough, Charles was quick to agree. As they came over the rise and through the trees, the ruins of Charles’ farmstead, on their own rise above the creek, came into view. Along with at least a dozen wagons, myriad horses, and what looked like the entire congregation of his church, plus a number of other townsfolk and neighbors.
Charles pulled his horse to a halt, stunned, and looked over at Tom, who grinned back at him.
“You old horse thief! This is what you were whispering about while the ladies held me hostage at church on Sunday?”
Facing his head forward, Charles blinked his eyes rapidly and took a few deep breaths to clear the choking emotion flooding through him. He couldn't believe his friend had organized what must be a barn raising. For him!
“Charles,” Tom drawled, “you've known most of these folks your entire life. You'd do the same for any one of them, and actually have on a few occasions in the past.”
Someone below had spotted the men and raised an arm to wave to them. Pulling off his hat Charles waved back widely, then, settling the hat firmly back on his head and leaning forward on his mount, cantered down the hill toward the group, Tom in his wake.
Tom's son Nick came over to his dad and uncle, reaching for the reins of their horses.
“I'm in charge of the picket line,” he declared proudly, and trotted off with a horse on either side of him. Charles turned his head in the direction he was heading and saw several young boys were unsaddling, rubbing down, and otherwise seeing to the needs of the livestock. Farther over were a few oxen who had clearly been put to work hauling the heavy timber wagons. And more wagons and buggies and riders were still arriving!
As the men set up saw horses and prepared to re-erect the barn, the women and girls were putting up tables, gathering around the homestead’s fireplace and chimney, all that was left standing of the house. Conferring with the experienced builders, they had decided it was sturdy enough to use and safe for food preparation, saving having to set up a tripod.
Someone pressed a mug of hot coffee into his hand but was gone before he could turn around to thank her. But he caught a glimpse of black skirts swishing away from him and realized it had been Mary. He tucked that kindness away to return later, and strode with Tom toward Big Hank, who’d been put in charge.
Hank turned to Charles after directing Sam to move his wagon closer to the barn to offload his materials. Fumbling in his pocket, he drew out a somewhat crumpled piece of paper on which there was a drawing of the barn.
“Might as well check to be sure this is going to be useful to you when it’s finished, so let’s go over some of these details. Since we are working with the remaining stone foundations and walls, we won’t be changing what’s already up, but here’s what I was thinking about the loft and stalls, and I thought we could use this wall here” he pointed “to add the living shed for you until you can get the house rebuilt. If we do this,” now he pointed to some other lines on his sketch, “it will be really simple to expand it into a bunkhouse down the road.”
Deeply touched by the care and thought Hank had put into the plan, Charles studied it thoughtfully and then looked from the drawing to the barn and then to the surrounding site and then, finally to the creek.
“Hank, this is amazing! I think most of the details are perfect, but if we shift the door here, we can open it to the prevailing breezes in summer to keep it a bit cooler.”
Hank nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right! I did this from memory of what was here but didn’t have the time to come over to check the site. And I don’t think your Grandpa thought about the breezes when he first built this. And look, if we do this,” he pulled a stub of pencil from his pocket and drew a few lines, “we will be able to extend the roof here and add a porch to the bunkhouse facing the creek, down the road—but not today.” He shook his head regretfully. “Too much detail to try to do in one day. For today, let’s just get you some shelter and a useable barn.”
The men shook hands warmly and Charles reached up and clapped Hank firmly on the shoulder. “Thanks,” he mumbled gruffly.
Hank just ducked his head and then turned to yell at some of the boys to help Old Sam with his unloading.
~~~
Despite the brisk wind, most of the men had shed their coats as they climbed and pounded nails and sawed and passed lumber and tools to one another. A clanging bell caught all their attention midday and they clambered down from their perches heading first for the pump and trough to clean up a bit, then to wherever their coats had been tossed, before heading over to the tables where most of the ladies were waiting to serve them.
As
he looked around, Charles realized that a couple of the “fellas” were actually women! Hank’s daughter, Charlotte Sue, was sitting next to him, chatting with Mary who was pouring out cider from a pitcher into the glasses and mugs along the table.
Mary grinned down at him and winked. “I’d have been up there with a hammer, too, were it not for . . .” she glanced downward. “As it is I’ve been just steppin’ and fetchin’ for the other ladies since not a one of them trusts me with a cooking spoon.”
General laughter arose at that.
“Charlie Sue,” Charles said with a grin, “I’ll swear you were no higher than Mary here when I left.”
Charlie laughed delightedly. “Charley Jim, I done growed up. I help Paw now, cuz Maw threw me out of the kitchen when I burnt a pie. You went away before you could teach me how, the way you promised.”
“Why you two-timer!” giggled Mary. “You promised to teach me to bake a pie, too!”
“Now, ladies, I will fulfill my promise to all of you,” he made eye contact with a number of his former classmates, and a few other titters burst out, as soon as you’ve finished building me a kitchen!”
“I wouldn’t mind learning that trick myself!” declared Jim Brown, a lifelong bachelor.
“Well that’s put the fox among the chickens,” Suzanne said as she came up with a platter of sandwiches. “Come county fair, we’re going to have to compete against the fellas, now, too!”
“Don’t know as it would be fair to you ladies,” Hank called out. “I remember tasting some of Charles’ pie when his Maw was teachin’ him and Abigail. She always said a feller should l’arn to do for hisself with women scarce as hen’s teeth in these parts.
“His came out better’n hers on his first effort.” He paused a second to reflect. “That was when your Paw put on the extra stalls for the horses he wanted to breed.”
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