Caught Between Love And Duty

by Clarice Mayfield

  “Daddy, can we ask you something?” Georgia said.

  “Yes, of course, Pumpkin. Go ahead.”

  “James and I were wondering if you think it would be a good idea to invite Mama and the boys to the wedding. We’d understand if you think it might be too dangerous around here right now for her to come to Sonora. She’s got such a delicate constitution and all.” She looked at her father hopefully and waited. Still holding hands with James, he felt her grip tighten in anticipation of the answer.

  Charles stared down at the chessboard for a moment and then looked up at James. “What do you think, Sheriff? Would my family be in any immediate danger if they attended?”

  “I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety, of course. There ain’t no guarantees in life – let alone out here in the Wild West,” James drawled in his best Texas twang; remembering how Georgia’s father said to him on arrival that the west was no place for a debutante from Boston. “But if your wife and sons are up to making the trip then we’ll take all the precautions we can to make sure they’re safe and sound in Sonora. Ain’t that right, David?”

  “You bet, brother. And not only that, we’d love to meet ‘em, Charles,” he smiled.

  “Well all right then,” the older man grinned back, “if the McCloud brothers are looking out for them, what is there to worry about? They cannot be in better hands. I’ll send Emilia and the boys a telegram first thing tomorrow.”

  “Thank you so much, Daddy!” Georgia said, stepping forward and giving her father a warm hug and kiss as he sat in his chair. “I’m so excited to see them all again.”

  “Me too, Pumpkin,” he said, “I just hope your mother can handle the stagecoach ride with old Sam Kimball.”

  “Yes,” she laughed, “please tell them to bring lots of pillows to make Mama as comfortable as possible on the stage. And maybe some earplugs too.”

  “Speaking from experience, I don’t think that it is possible to be comfortable riding in a stagecoach,” her father chortled, remembering his own jolting journey from San Antonio. “At least, not in this wild corner of Texas,” Charles said, throwing James a teasing glance. “But it won’t hurt to try some pillows I guess, Pumpkin. And those earplugs will save your mother the shock of hearing Sam cuss at every bump in the road.”

  * * *

  The next morning Charles and James saddled their horses at dawn and rode off together toward Sonora. They split up when they got into town: McCloud going to his office and Warton to send a letter to San Antonio.

  “Good morning, Tony,” Charles said brightly as he walked in the door of the post office.

  “Good morning, Mr. Warton. Good to see you, sir,” the postmaster replied. The two men had gotten to know each other in the course of the communications sent back and forth to Boston via San Antonio.

  “I’d like to mail another telegram request to the Western Union office in San Antonio, my good man,” Charles said. “We’ve decided to invite the whole family to come to Sonora for the wedding. My wife, Emilia, and our two boys.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful, sir,” Tony replied, receiving the envelope from the older man. “I’m glad y’all will be getting together here to celebrate the happy occasion. I’ll get this letter onto the first outbound mail stage.”

  * * *

  On his lunch break, McCloud walked over to the Sutton County Hotel to talk with Arthur. He found him busy in the office doing paperwork and noted with concern that his friend looked tired and haggard.

  “How are you doing, Arthur?” James asked.

  “Howdy, James. I’m well, thanks. Have a seat. How are Aunt Martha and Georgia doing? I heard they had another encounter with the Comanche.”

  “Yep. Martha winged him with her scattergun and drove him off. The ladies are doing fine. Auntie’s as full of vinegar as ever. Georgia’s doing great too; didn’t panic or anythin’, she kept her nerve and the horses steady while Martha got off a shot.”

  Richards didn’t look impressed or pleased. “That’s good,” he said flatly.

  “You okay, Arthur? You’re lookin’ mighty tired and worn out.”

  “Yes, yes,” he replied impatiently, “I’m fine, James. Like I told you before, the strain of the pace around here is just running me ragged. But I’ll be okay. Are you here on business or have you favored me with the pleasure of a personal visit, Sheriff?”

  “Personal, my friend. I’ve got some news that might cheer you up a little. Georgia and me have decided to take you up on your offer to have the wedding party here. We’d both be much obliged if you’d host it at the Sutton.”

  “Yes, okay,” Arthur replied, brightening a little. “What made you change your mind? I know this wasn’t your first choice. You like things more down home and simple. Did Georgia employ a little feminine persuasion?”

  James chuckled. “No, it weren’t that. Though she’s got plenty enough feminine to persuade me any day of the week. We just thought it might ease your mind a bit, partner, help you forget about the business strain for awhile if you’re the host of the happy occasion. I know you like that kinda thing.”

  Arthur sat in his chair looking thoughtful for a moment and then uttered a simple, “Thanks.”

  James continued, “I know you’ve been snubbed a couple times on the way up by some of the money families in the county but you’ll see that the Wartons ain’t snobby folks. They got the Boston manners and all but they’re as down home as you and me when it comes right down to it.”

  Richards became annoyed. “Speak for yourself, James! I’ve worked very hard to educate myself, to rise out of poverty and bring some culture to Sutton County. You know that. And what did I get in return from the money people around here? They turned their back on me like I wasn’t good enough for them, like I could never be one of them.”

  “It weren’t all of them did that, Arthur.”

  “Yes...you’re right, James. Now that you mention it.”

  “A few bad apples don’t mean the whole barrel is rotten, does it? And the Wartons aren’t that kind. Believe me. Georgia and Charles ain’t sittin’ up there on their high horses. I’ve gotten to know ‘em and it’s just not their way.”

  Richards thought about what his friend had said for a moment. “Well, thank you for that, James. I do appreciate it.”

  “No worries, amigo. You’re gonna enjoy meetin’ all of ‘em.”

  “They’re coming for the wedding?” Arthur asked.

  “Yep. Georgia’s ma and her brothers are makin’ the journey! Charles just mailed a telegram to San Antonio this morning with the invite. You’ll see,” James said confidently, standing up and putting on his Stetson. “They’re good people.” He eyed the door leading directly out to the alleyway. “Mind if I use your personal exit to leave?”

  “Be my guest,” Arthur replied.

  “Thanks. You should ease up a bit, Arthur. Take some time off or somethin.’ You’re lookin’ mighty tired these days.”

  “Feel like it too. But I trust things will get better soon, one way or another.”

  James gave him a friendly wave and stepped out into the alleyway. What the devil did he mean by that – ‘one way or the other’? As he walked back toward the street he dismissed the question with a bemused grunt, giving it no further thought. Just old Arthur bein’ dramatic about things like always.

  * * *

  “What do you figure, gal?” Martha asked. “Are you and James gonna have a weddin’ breakfast or a weddin’ supper?”

  “What is a wedding breakfast, Auntie?” Georgia replied. The two women were sitting at the large table in the Golden Lane’s kitchen, discussing preparations for the celebration. Both were enjoying a strong cup of ranch coffee and making notes with pencil and paper.

  “You never heard of a weddin’ breakfast? Well, it’s just like it sounds, girl: a great big feast of a meal in the mornin’. Folks usually serve a lot of the same grub you’d have for a fancy dinner: ham, turkey, scalloped oysters, shrimp and chicken salad...hot rolls, p
ickles, olives, cheese...angel food cakes, figs, ice cream cakes...”

  “Stop it, Auntie, you’re making me hungry!” Georgia laughed. “Do you really have all that cuisine at weddings here in Texas?”

  “Oh, that and more. You’d be surprised, gal. I understand the new-fangled way is for folks to have a... what do they call it? A ‘reception’ in the evening. But we could still have all of them goodies if you want.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Martha. Yes, please. James and I have decided to have an evening reception at the Sutton Hotel.”

  “Then an evenin’ reception it is,” the older lady said as she penciled a note on the paper. “How come you two changed your mind about havin’ it at the Sutton?”

  “James thought it would be good for Arthur if we did. He’s been feeling very run down with the business lately and maybe hosting the happy occasion would get his mind off other things.”

  “Great idea. Yep, Arthur’s in his element playing the host. Before you know it he’ll be havin’ a fine time and just relax.” She paused for a moment. “Hey, how ‘bout a good ‘ol square dance after the supper? That’ll give your family a real taste of Texas.”

  “Oh, that would be fabulous, Martha! I’m sure they would love it. Thank you.”

  “No problem, gal. Once the musicians crank up their fiddles and accordion all your kin will be kickin’ up their heels and havin’ a grand old time.”

  “That sounds great. I’m sure it will be a night they will never forget. I can’t wait!” Georgia said excitedly.

  “Don’t you worry about a thing, I’ll handle all the arrangements. We’ll get the best fiddlers and musicians in the county and dance up a storm ‘til the wee hours.” Martha scribbled another note with her pencil, scratching out the names of local musicians that she knew.

  “What about my trousseau?” Georgia asked.

  “Ah yes, the trousseau...hmm. We do have a good selection of linens and blankets here at the ranch but they need a lot of sewing, Georgia. Are you up for that?” Martha grinned mischievously.

  “Very funny, Auntie, very funny! You know I can’t sew very well. So don’t rub it in, please,” she laughed.

  “Shucks, it ain’t never too late for a gal to start gettin’ handy with a needle – especially if she’s gonna be married in a few weeks. We could have us a little sewing bee: you, me, and Biddy. I’ll give you a few pointers to help you get started again.”

  “I did a bit of sewing in deb school but, oh, it’s been a long time. You’re right, Auntie, I should brush up on it. Frankly it’s a little embarrassing to think about picking up a needle after...you know, after what happened. Pretending to be a seamstress and all,” Georgia said.

  “Not to worry, my dear. We might ‘needle’ you a little bit at the start but we all make mistakes in life; we ain’t holdin’ it against you.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Martha,” Georgia said warmly, reaching across the table and taking the older lady’s hand. “That means a lot to me. It really does.”

  “No worries, gal. Everything’s gonna work out just fine. You got the heart for livin’ in this country and that’s what matters most. All the rest of it can be learned in time, no problem. But a person’s got to be cut out for it. They got to have the grit and the spunk. I’ve seen that in you from the start.”

  “Thanks,” Georgia said humbly. “What was it like when you arrived on the Texas frontier in the old days, Auntie? Was it hard for you?”

  “Oh, they were wild days, girl! Besides the Indian wars that you’ve heard tell about, we had to break sod and build everything from scratch. I didn’t know scratch about Texas when I came here as a girl but folks learn fast when they need to. So I pitched right in alongside my family and we got it done.”

  “Where did your family come from?”

  “We Gaineys hail from back east in Kentuck.”

  “Kentucky you mean?” Georgia asked.

  “Naw, Kentuck’s how we say it, ‘Kaintuck’ is how we spelled it. We lost the ‘y’ somewhere’s along the way there! Mountain folk. Used to workin’ hard and livin’ off the land. But of course when you move to a new part of the country you got to adapt to the situation too. It took us awhile to get our bearings here but we did all right.”

  “Did you have a beau when you were a young girl, Auntie?”

  “Oh, yes. There were boys who took a shine to me. But it’s funny: once I took up raisin’ David and James that changed. After awhile folks just naturally assumed that their daddy Josiah and I were a couple. It weren’t that way between us but the beau’s never came a-callin’ after that.”

  “Do you wish it had been different and you’d married?” Georgia asked.

  “I wonder about it now and again, what it would’ve been like havin’ youngsters of my own. But no regrets, gal. Life’s too short to be wastin’ time on that. It don’t do a body a lick of good wishin’ for what might have been. Besides I had my hands full raisin’ them boys and takin’ care of the household. Josiah always treated me good and we had us lots of great times as a family over the years even though we weren’t man and wife. He was a fine man; just couldn’t see his way fit to marryin’ again for some reason.”

  Martha paused for a moment then chuckled, “Once the boys started callin’ me ‘Auntie’ he probably figured there weren’t no point anyway – the die was cast! Everyone was happy with the situation and we just carried on livin’.”

  “That’s beautiful. Such an amazing family. Did Josiah McCloud live to a ripe old age?”

  “You might call it a ripe old age for them days on the frontier, yes. He was sixty-four when he passed on. Life was very hard in Texas back then, girl. It was a good life but a hard life, no doubt about that. It aged the menfolk fast with all the tough work there was to do. Josiah was a strong and vigorous man, enjoyed life right to the end. His sons are like that. They have a real passion for life and, thankfully, the character to match. Folks like them have made this country what it is.”

  “And you have too, Martha.”

  “Thank you, gal. That’s kind of you.”

  “I am inspired every day by your spirit and your spunk, Auntie.”

  “Shucks, now you’re makin’ me blush here, gal! I’m just glad to do my part as well as the good Lord lets me. He’s given me good health through the years and right up to today. For that I’m thankful. That and the chance to see them boys grow up to be the men they are today. Lord willin’ I’ll live long enough to see some of Josiah’s grandchildren too.”

  Now it was Georgia’s turn to blush. She smiled and looked down at the tabletop. “I look forward to raising our children here in this beautiful land, Auntie. I’m so glad that James and I met. Life has opened up for me in so many ways since I’ve come to Sonora.”

  “That’s wonderful, gal. I can see the changes in you, too. And believe me, meeting you has been good for that boy as well. You’re helping each other grow in ways nobody else ever could have. I’m glad to be around to see it. James spent years gettin’ over the loss of Margaret – as you know – and he worried that he might never find another like her. Well, he was right in one way: there ain’t never been two folks alike in this world. We’re all different. Thank God for that! It’d sure be boring if we was all the same, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Georgia laughed heartily, “it certainly would be dull.”

  “You ain’t like Margaret and don’t never try to be. You’re your own person. Like I says, you and James fulfill each other in ways that no one else ever could, including her. And that’s all right. It’s one of the blessings of life.”

  “Thank you so much for that, Martha. That is profound and beautiful. I shall always remember it.”

  “Well, you know we don’t stick around this world for sixty years without pickin’ up a thing or two, girl,” the older lady smiled. “You two have got a lot of wonderful years ahead of you, and like everyone you’re gonna have lots of challenges, too. Any way I can help you kids, I’m here for you both. How
‘bout some more coffee?”

  “Yes, please,” Georgia smiled, thankful again for knowing this remarkable lady who had grown up on the frontier and so freely shared the things she had learned.

  18

  On a hot and sultry day in July the winds brought high levels of humidity up from the Gulf of Mexico to Sonora. By eleven o’clock this had made the ninety-degree heat feel like one-hundred and ten. In his small and cramped office, Sheriff McCloud sat at his desk doing paperwork and sweating. After an hour he threw down his pen and wiped his brow for the seventh time that morning.

  “Whew, it is one hot day,” he said to Deputy Leary. “I can’t push no more paper, Ben. I gotta get out for awhile and breathe some air.”

  “All right, Boss. I’ll hold the fort while you’re gone.” Leary always seemed to take the heat in stride and it didn’t affect him as much as other people. In fact he seemed to barely break a sweat; a trait that his boss wished he himself possessed when the sub-tropical summer was in full swing.