by S. B. Moores
“How awful. But how does that concern my father’s cattle—Oh! You think Toby stole the cattle to pay off his debts? That’s a very tenuous supposition.”
“It would be, if I hadn’t seen Toby doing it. He didn’t see me, but he was herding some of Henry’s cattle the day I left Ridgetop.”
“Odd, to be sure, but not that odd, given my father’s fondness for the Johnsons.”
“But odder still since it was barely sunrise and raining that day. Tobias isn’t one to work in bad weather without a compelling reason. And, shortly after seeing Toby, I passed Bailey and Smith riding hell-bent for Sunday toward Ridgetop in a buckboard.” He looked at the sky. “Of course, I don’t really know what business Toby had with Henry’s cattle, or if it had anything to do with Bailey and Smith, but any business they were mixed up in can’t be aboveboard.”
Abigail shivered and held her arms around her shoulders. “You make a compelling case, since Toby wasn’t anxious to come with my father, except to see that you receive justice.”
“I’m sorry to tell you these things, Abby. Sorrier still that you’ve come all this way and you’re now in danger.”
She shook her head. “To think I almost married Tobias.”
“Almost?” Justin grasped her by the arms. “You haven’t married?”
“No.” She looked up into his eyes. “I couldn’t marry Toby. Not after what we . . .”
He held her to his chest again and then let go. “That’s wonderful! But how did you and Toby not marry?”
“I wanted to talk to you before you left, to tell you I would face my father’s wrath before I’d agreed to his plan. I was waiting for the right moment and trying to find the courage, but you left before I could act.”
“I couldn’t live in Ridgetop without you. Can you imagine me watching you marry and raise someone else’s children? I’m ashamed to admit I came to Texas thinking I might die and end my suffering. Now, seeing you again, has made me a happy man, even if Henry has me hanged. I’m glad you traveled all this way, but why? You’re in danger here.”
“I came because I had to. I couldn’t believe you were a cattle thief.” She touched his arm lightly. “And I have news for you.”
“News? What news? Is my family all right?”
“Your family is worried about you, to be sure, but they’re all well enough. Your parents don’t know this, nor does my mother yet, but your family is about to grow a little larger.” She placed his hand on her stomach.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Justin’s eyes grew wide with wonder. “You’re with child?”
She nodded.
“And it’s mine?”
She nodded.
He saw tears spring to her eyes and held her tenderly, but he was grinning from ear to ear. “My love, my love, my love. I have never received better news.”
She sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m so happy to finally tell you.”
He released her but still held her by the arms. “You’re in danger. You have to leave here at once. All of you.”
“No. I will not.” She shook her head slowly. “I will never leave you again. Not as long as I have any say in the matter.”
“But—”
“Abigail!” Henry’s voice boomed. He stood at the base of the wall, hands on his hips. “Get down here this instant!”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Not again, Henry. Never again.” He’d had enough of Henry Whitfield. He looked down at the older man without letting go of Abby. “Hold your tongue, Mr. Whitfield. I won’t let you talk to Abigail in that manner. Not anymore. She’s to be the mother of my child, and if you try to keep us apart any longer, I will thrash you within an inch of your life. Do you understand?”
“What?” Henry dropped his arms to his sides. “How can—I won’t—you can’t—”
“Not another word, man! Listen to me. Your only duty now is to see that Abigail is safely away from this place, as soon as you can mount your horses. Do you understand?”
Henry ripped his hat off and bowed his head, a defeated man.
At that moment a small fragment of the adobe wall near Justin splintered, followed by the crack of a musket shot. Other shots sounded. Justin looked over the wall and saw a small contingent of Mexican troops arrayed in the field, not more than two hundred yards away.
“Mexicans!” he shouted. “We’re under attack!” One of the mission’s cannons boomed, breaking up the Mexicans’ tentative advance. More muskets fired as the defenders rushed to the wall and stockade. Justin pulled Abby toward him and helped her down a set of wooden steps to the ground.
“Go to the chapel,” he said, pointing at the rounded façade of the mission. “It’s the safest place. Look for Susannah Dickenson. She’ll help you.”
Abigail nodded. “I love you. Be careful.” She kissed him on the lips. She kissed her father on the cheek, then she turned and ran across the compound toward the chapel. Justin and Henry watched her go, then rushed back up the steps, side-by-side.
“Lord help me, I’m a father,” Justin muttered. “I’m a father, I’m in love, and I’m in the middle of a war.”
The Mexicans had attacked with only a small advanced guard, to test the American’s defenses. For the next few days, similar attacks occurred, but they were easily driven off with few serious injuries to anyone inside the Alamo. The main body of the Mexican army had not yet arrived, and it was still possible for someone to escape, but the noose was tightening around the impromptu fort. Colonel Travis sent riders in search of Sam Houston and others, requesting reinforcements, but everyone knew that time was running out. A bigger fight was coming, and the Americans would be significantly outnumbered.
As night fell, Abigail, Justin, Tobias, and Henry finally met as a group to discuss their situation. Abigail saw concern, anger, and confusion flash across her father’s face in quick succession. Apparently he didn’t know which problem to focus on first: the fact that his daughter was pregnant, that all their lives were in danger, or the idea that his cattle had been stolen either by the man who’d got his daughter pregnant or the man who was supposed to marry her.
“Justin is right,” Tobias said. “We must leave at once.”
“Yes, but leaving now will be dangerous, too.” Justin pushed a cloth-cleaning patch down the barrel of his musket. “You should go at night, when it will be easier to avoid the Mexicans.”
His reference to “you” going startled Abigail. “I’m not leaving without you, Justin.” She clung to his arm and silently defied her father to object, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Right now we may be safer within the walls,” Henry said. “The Mexicans didn’t put up much of a fight today.”
“They’re waiting for reinforcements,” Toby said. “It’s not our fight, and it’s crazy to stay here when we can still escape.”
“I’m not anxious to leave,” Justin said, “if leaving means I’ll be tried for stealing cattle.”
“What about your child?” Abigail said.
“Yes, I want my child to be safe. You and Henry should leave now, but I won’t be much of a father if I’m hanging from a gallows.”
“We can sort that out at a later time,” Henry growled.
Her father’s grudging statement gave Abigail hope that he wouldn’t pursue his claims, but it still angered her that he entertained the slightest notion that Justin was a thief.
“Toby,” she said. “Do you know a man named Bailey? Hutchison Bailey?”
“What?” Tobias gave her a startled look. “What do you know about Hutchison Bailey?”
“I’ve heard of the man,” Henry said. “He’s a no good. Makes his living gambling, preying on people who should know better.”
“Apparently he’s acquainted with Toby,” Abigail said. “He came to visit you after the county fair horse race, when you were still unconscious.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tobias said. But Henry gave him an appraising look, one that said his opinion of his almost so
n-in-law had changed.
“Have you had business with Hutchison Bailey?” Henry asked.
“Cattle business, perhaps?” Abigail added, but Justin put a restraining hand on her arm.
“Of course not,” Tobias said. “I’ve spoken to the man once or twice. That’s all.”
“I remember you spoke to him just before the county horse race,” Justin said.
“Yes, yes, I admit it.” Toby wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “But I’d never do business with him.”
Henry rolled his eyes and looked at Abigail as if he was sorry he’d ever considered that she marry Tobias. “We can argue about all of this later,” he said. “Right now we’ve more important problems to deal with.”
“That’s right,” Tobias said. “I’m in favor of leaving.”
“I gave my word to Colonel Travis and the other men that I’d help them.” Justin examined the cloth patch he’d pulled from the musket barrel for soot. “I think you should leave at once. Tonight, if possible. But I’d be considered a coward if I backed out now.”
“Nobody would think you were a coward under the circumstances.” Abigail placed a hand on her stomach.
“Perhaps not.”
“Well, the rest of us haven’t made any promise to fight,” Tobias said.
Henry took off his hat. “This is all too much for an old man to contemplate. Let’s get some sleep. We can reconsider our situation in the morning.”
They all agreed.
Her father suggested that Abigail bunk with Major Dickenson’s wife, Susannah, but Abigail would have none of it. Besides, Susannah and her infant daughter, Angelina, were quartered with the major. So Abigail stayed with Justin in a private corner of the low barracks, shielded by a blanket she strung on a rope. Seeing Abigail’s determination to remain with Justin, Henry was finally beyond objecting.
Sometime during the night, Abigail awoke to the sound of half-a-dozen distant gunshots coming from somewhere outside the fort. Then silence.
“It’s nothing,” Justin said. “The Mexicans are probably shooting rats.” He put a comforting arm around her shoulders and they went back to sleep. In the morning they found Toby’s bed empty. It was reported that he had gone over the wall during the night with one or two other men.
He did not come back to the fort.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ridgetop, Tennessee, March 5, 1836
It had been a week since Browning arrived at the Whitfield farm. Henrietta had explained the circumstances of Henry’s absence to him, and that she was glad not to wait alone for his return, but Browning still felt uncomfortable. What would Henry think when he arrived and found Archie camped out in his own house, alone with his wife? Not alone, exactly. There were plenty of servants and farmhands around. And not in the same bedroom. Henrietta had set him up finely in a small guesthouse.
Still, Archie could imagine Henry’s frame of mind, having just tracked down a cattle thief. He might demand a duel. Swords or pistols? Neither appealed to Browning. He could have taken his leave after that first cup of tea, but he wasn’t able. Not after finding Henrietta. If Henry wanted a duel, so be it. That would at least settle things once and for all, one way or the other.
Henrietta appeared to be happy for his company. It was as if she’d been deprived of good conversation for heaven knew how long. She beamed as she recounted for him almost every minute that had passed since they were separated. If he had listened to any other woman’s history, he’d have been bored to tears after the first ten minutes. But every moment of Henrietta’s life, and Abigail’s, fascinated him. It was much as he imagined it would be, with her living in comfort at the Whitfield farm, raising their daughter. Their daughter. Sweet Abigail. It was the life Browning had hoped to provide Henrietta himself. He couldn’t have done it as well as Henry, but in a sense, by his absence, he had.
When she tired of telling about her life, he stepped in and told her about his. When he spoke, he merely hinted at the crushing heartbreak and longing he’d suffered for so long. After all, his purpose in coming was to make amends, not to steal Henrietta away. He doubted that was even possible after so much time. But he was happy finally to be able to explain himself to his long-lost love, not to rekindle that love in her heart.
One day, Henrietta unexpectedly reached across the small table at which they sat and clasped his hand. Feeling her hand on his, he dared not move.
“I’m so glad you found me,” she said. “But I’ve unburdened my heart to you, and that I never intended to do. You must forgive me.”
“I must forgive you?” Browning was astounded at the kindness of the woman. “It’s you, Henrietta, who must somehow find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“We both did what we had to do, I suppose.”
“And you’ve done well with Henry,” he said.
“I could not have asked for a more comfortable life.” Her gaze went out the window, as if she anticipated Henry’s return, and the end of their unfettered conversation.
Before that happened, he wanted to talk about a less personal subject. “I am curious about some of the other families in the valley,” he said. “From a professional viewpoint.”
“Oh, which families would those be?”
“Specifically the Johnsons,” he said. “And the Sterlings.”
“Do you know them?”
“No, not personally, but I learned about them from my father, who was also a surveyor. His work brought him here in an earlier day, when the families were first settling the valley. Henry’s father among them.”
“How interesting that you have such a connection to us,” Henrietta said. “But what of the Johnsons and the Sterlings?”
“My father told me an odd story about the families. In part, it’s what sparked my interest in surveying. It’s a profession that demands as much precision as possible, to prevent any disputes over property that might arise.”
“Disputes? Were there many disputes among our families? I thought Henry’s father kept a certain peace with the other landowners.”
“There are no disputes I can see from the official records, but it’s what may not be in the record that concerns me. My work has revealed some inconsistencies. Not in the record as it is kept by law, but in the story I was told by my father. I wonder if you could confirm or dismiss the details for me, if you know them.”
“I can try. I’ve heard many stories from the days of the first settlers here, but I am not aware of any that call into dispute our property boundaries.”
“And yet those very boundaries are at the heart of my story.”
“Truly? You must tell me this story. Henry will be interested, too, if it concerns Whitfield property.”
“Very well. Pour me another cup of tea, and I will tell you what I know.”
Justin accepted a plate of corn pone and beans from the garrison’s cook and sat at a long table in the kitchen. He’d just come off guard duty and he warmed his hands over the hot bowl before taking up the spoon. He’d taken his first bite when someone sat across from him at the table. Henry Whitfield.
“Good morning, Henry. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather I finished my breakfast before we come to blows.”
“I’m not here to confront you. I’m here to make amends, if I can.”
Justin looked at Henry, then he swallowed. “You’re always welcome to have your say.”
“I realize Abigail had a hand in, well, certain events that led to her being with child.”
“It does take two, as you know.”
Henry started to slap the table but stopped himself and lay his hand softly in front of him, palm down. “You’re not making this easy, boy.”
“I’m sorry, Henry. It’s just that I’ve been in love with your daughter all my life, from the first moment I ever set eyes on her. And many’s the time I thought you’d dedicated your own life to keeping me away from her.”
“I did, at that.” Henry grinned. “Don’t get me wrong about the Sterlin
gs. I’ve always admired your father. Walter’s taken the worst land in Ridgetop County and turned it into a fine farm. He’s a good man. And, in truth, so are you.”
“Thank you. Even though it’s late in coming, that’s good news to my ears.” Justin offered the plate of bread and beans to Henry, but the older man waved it off.
“I know my Abigail’s had her eye on you, too, ever since we moved to Tennessee. Why else would I have done what I did? But she’s no slouch when it comes to sizing up a man. Lord knows I’ve given her plenty of practice with other young men.”
“And you did a fine job of it, up to a point.”
Henry clenched his fist, then relaxed and reached for a biscuit from a wooden bowl on the table. “It’s all for naught, since everything’s changed. Look, Justin. We’re in a proper fix here, you know that.” He bit into the biscuit. “The Mexicans have got us fairly surrounded.”
“It would only have been me in this fix, if I’d had my way. Not you and Abby.”
“Yes, and I’m to blame for that, too. That’s why I’m talking to you, Justin.”
Justin dropped a half eaten piece of bread on the plate and pushed it aside. “What is it you want from me, Henry? I haven’t stolen your cattle, and I will not apologize for loving Abby. I wish to the stars above that we’d had your blessing long ago, but I love her and I won’t apologize for fathering her child.”
“None of that. I’m the one who’s apologizing, if you’ll give me the chance. Let’s look at the cards we have on the table. One or both of us may not survive this little encounter with the Mexicans, and I don’t want to die without making amends.”
Justin lowered his head, considering his options. For all the trouble Henry had caused him in his life, he might rightfully reject the old man’s overtures, but he would take the high road for Abby, if not for himself. He looked Whitfield in the eye. “I forgive you, Henry. I do. I only wish it had never come to this.”
“As do I, son. But let me be clear. I’ve always wanted the best for Abigail. That’s why I’ve done what I’ve done. You know that.”
