Lone Star Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  “Them Fleischers already bought the Walfords’ farm.” Tom’s scowl matched his tone.

  “True.” Jud drew in a deep breath. “But they’re not the only ones looking to sell. I’ve found another place. It’s a little smaller, but it’s got everything you need to make a go of it.”

  Tom settled back in his chair. “Which one is it?”

  “The Eggers’. They’re going on to Neu-Braunfels.”

  “The folks that built one of them half wood, half rock houses? Out on the north side of town?”

  “The very ones.”

  “The Eggers are moving?” Marion didn’t understand the importance.

  “Yup. And I’ve bought their land.” Jud grinned. “As a wedding present for you and Tom.” He leaned across the table and clasped her hand. “Congratulations, Marion.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Heat flooded her cheeks and she turned to her fiancé. “Isn’t that wonderful?” It was more than most couples had when they got married.

  Tom didn’t look pleased. In fact, a scowl marred his face. “I thought the Walford farm was a done deal.”

  “I thought so too. I was going to add some money of my own to what you had saved, but the Fleischers got there first.” Jud looked like he was going to say more, but he glanced at Alvie and stopped.

  “I’ve seen the Eggers’ place,” Marion said. “It’s a fine gift, Tom.” She glanced at Ma, whose lips had thinned into a tight line, and at Jud, who clenched his fists.

  “It’s not what was promised,” Tom stated.

  At that moment, Marion didn’t care that the Bible said wives should be submissive to their husbands. Besides, they weren’t married yet.

  “Now, Tom.” Ma spoke first. “I’ve thought of myself as your Ma since you came here to the Running M, and I can’t abide you talking like that.”

  Marion had to speak up. “Jud’s been generous, Tom. I’m ashamed of the way you’re acting.”

  Tom glowered. “I won’t mention it again.”

  Marion had heard enough. “You should at least say thank-you.”

  Tom stood. “I can tell I’m not welcome here today.” He plunked his hat on his head and headed out the door.

  Marion jumped to her feet, but Ma stopped her. “Let the boy simmer down. And give yourself some time.”

  “My little sister. The spitfire.” Jud smiled.

  Alvie looked at them with wide eyes. Arguing in front of the child might make her think it was her family’s fault. Marion felt ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” Ma snorted. “You said what needed saying. And Tom doesn’t look good for not listening.”

  Marion forced herself to finish her meal and clean up afterward. She went outside to look for Tom, but he had gone with Jud on some errand. She didn’t get another chance to speak with him until evening.

  The men returned just before sundown. They halted outside the barn. Marion waited beneath the acacia trees, listening for what kind of mood Tom was in—hoping he was ready to listen.

  “Sure you won’t change your mind?” Jud said.

  “I already waited too long.” Tom didn’t sound so much angry as resigned. “I’ll talk with Marion tonight.”

  “Come by before you bed down, and I’ll give you your wages.”

  Marion stepped forward, then paused. Tom might not want her to overhear the conversation.

  Jud led the horses to the barn, and Tom headed in Marion’s direction. “Good evening, Marion.”

  He had known she was there.

  “Hello.” Her voice stuck in her throat.

  “Let’s take a walk.” Unlike earlier times, he didn’t reach for her hand. They walked a respectable ruler length apart. “I’m sorry I upset you so at dinner.”

  “I spoke out of hand, too,” Marion said.

  “No, you didn’t. But this whole business with the land set me to thinking.”

  Marion wanted to stop her ears. “Thinking about what? About us?”

  “Not so much about us as about me. Jud was right, Marion. I’m not ready to be anybody’s husband. Least of all yours. I’m leaving the ranch in the morning before I make things worse by marrying you.”

  “What? But Tom … I love you.” Tears formed in her eyes.

  “Would you still feel that way if I said part of the reason I wanted to marry you was to get my hands on that land?”

  Shock dried her tears. “What?”

  “That’s why I didn’t say anything before now.” His face looked as if he had swallowed sour milk. “’Cause I knew Jud planned on buying us that farm. That’s a poor excuse to marry a woman.”

  “I don’t believe it.” A part of Marion’s mind insisted she did believe it. “Please don’t do this.”

  “It’s already done.” Tom tugged at the brim of his hat. “I’m heading out of here as soon as the sun comes up.” He reached out to touch her, but let his hand fall back. “I’m sorry, Marion. You deserve better.”

  I do not welcome this answer to prayer. Less than two days had passed since Drud took sick on Saturday evening.

  All day Saturday and Sunday, Wande held Drud’s hand, willing him to hold to life. At one point during the night, when Mama and Papa were out of the room, Drud begged, “Let me go. I am ready to see my Savior.”

  Wande bit back a cry. I’m not ready. She hadn’t been ready to say good-bye to Ulla, and she wasn’t ready to lose her brother. But Drud needed his big sister to make this easy for him. “Ja, Drud. You will tell our Ulla all about this Texas.” She blinked back tears, and did not speak of it again when their parents returned.

  The three of them sat by Drud’s bed as he passed away quietly on Monday morning. The other family members had scattered, away from the house of sickness, taken in by people willing to accept the risk.

  “God is asking a high price from us in this new land.” Mama’s words sounded strangled. “First Ulla, now Drud.” Tears streamed down her face.

  Mama’s tears broke the grief in Wande’s heart, and she sobbed as well. Papa pulled both women against him and held them until his shirt was soaked. “We must remember that even though we grieve, we still have hope. We will see our loved ones again.”

  “A mother should not outlive her children.”

  Mama’s words shredded Wande’s heart.

  “Now, Liebchen, we have three other children who need us. Although our Wande is hardly a child anymore.” Kindness shone through his tears. “We must be strong.”

  “As I must be strong for you.” Wande’s promise rang false in her own ears.

  Papa held the two women a few minutes longer before he stirred. “We cannot leave him here in this heat. I must ask Pastor Bader about burial arrangements. I will ask him …” He allowed his tears to flow.

  When at last Papa pulled himself together enough to speak with the pastor, Mama also stirred. “I will prepare his body.”

  “Of course.” Wande stood, preparing to gather the materials.

  “Please. I want to do this alone.” Mama blinked back tears, but her gaze remained resolute.

  Wande hesitated. Mama should not have to do this alone, but if it was what she wanted … “I will be in the parlor.”

  The door opened as she left the bedroom and Georg entered. “I saw Papa on the way here. I have heard the news.” Georg pressed his lips together and blinked.

  “He will always live in our hearts.” The words sounded hollow even as Wande spoke them. “What of Ertha’s family? Are they well?”

  He nodded. “Thank the good Lord. But that is not why I came. I went to the ranch last night, to see if they wanted me to come to work or if I could stay in town and see how Drud fared.” His voice caught.

  During the hours tending to Drud, Wande had all but forgotten about her job. “That was wise.”

  Georg frowned. “Jud said we did not need to come back.”

  “That is thoughtful. We can take care of … things … before we go back.”

  He shook his head. “You d
o not understand. He does not want us to come back … ever! He says we will be needed on our farm.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The following morning, Marion didn’t so much wake as give up her battle for sleep. She pulled herself to the window and sat in a chair overlooking the bunkhouse. A light was lit, earlier than the ranch hands got up for the day’s work. A figure she instantly recognized as Tom left the building, a bedroll in one arm, his saddle in the other. He headed for the barn and came out leading his usual working horse, the only one he had ever successfully broken on the ranch. Every moment drew out in agonizing slowness as he saddled the horse, tied down his bedroll, and swung into the seat. Would he look at her window? See her light and change his mind?

  His head turned halfway, then he reined the horse toward the gate. Each soft clip clop of the mare’s hooves drove another nail into Marion’s soul. Her heart cried out in pain to the Lord.

  Wande clung to the seat as Georg ran their wagon over the ruts created by the winter rains. “Do you think we do the right thing, bringing Alvie back into town?”

  Georg flicked the reins over the oxen, and they lurched forward. “She will want to know what happened.”

  “She’s only a child.” If only Wande could protect her little sister from the latest grief to overtake their family. She sighed. “But old enough to understand. She will want to be at the funeral, but I worry that she may get sick.”

  “We are all at risk.” Shadows haunted Georg’s face. Since Saturday, he had slept only in snatches, alternating his time between their home and the Schumanns’. Ertha’s youngest sister had also sickened with cholera, and Georg worried as much as if Alvie were threatened.

  “I know.” The wind swallowed Wande’s words.

  They passed through the gate to the ranch. The air felt hollow, empty of sounds. Perhaps it was the early hour—they wanted to fetch Alvie in time for the noon burial. Or maybe pain had dulled Wande’s senses.

  The yard was as quiet as the road. A chill shivered down Wande’s spine. Had the Morgans brought the illness back to the ranch? She ran toward the house. “Marion? Alvie? Frau Morgan? Jud?”

  Alvie opened the door and put a finger to her lips.

  Wande sagged against Georg in relief.

  “Marion does not feel well today,” Alvie said. “Mrs. Morgan asked me to be quiet.”

  “Is she …” Wande couldn’t bring herself to voice her concern.

  “No. I think she is heartsick about Tom, but no one tells me anything.” Alvie brightened. “How is Drud? Have you come to bring me home?”

  Alvie’s words brought tears to Wande’s eyes. “Let us go inside and see if Frau Morgan will fix us some of her sweet tea.”

  “And give us some molasses cookies,” Alvie said. “I helped her bake them yesterday.”

  Wande’s laugh sounded hollow. Cookies and tea couldn’t protect Alvie from the bad news she brought. But she pasted on a smile and put her arm around Alvie as they walked into the house. Georg headed for the bunkhouse to collect his possessions.

  “Marion gave me a piano lesson yesterday.” Alvie pointed to the instrument, now uncovered, in the far corner of the room. “She said she would give me another lesson today, but I do not think it will happen.”

  Wande hesitated at the door to the kitchen. Marion sat at the table, her face between her arms. Her shoulders shook. Frau Morgan sat next to her, rubbing her back.

  “Should we go away?” Alvie whispered.

  Marion and her mother looked up. “No, come in.” Marion sat up and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “What news from town?” Her voice trembled.

  Wande shook her head and headed for the shelf that held the cups. Alvie went into the pantry and returned with the cookie jar.

  “It’s not good news, is it?” Marion’s voice was clear in spite of the tears clouding her eyes. She stood and took Wande in her arms. “Oh, Wande.”

  Wande shook herself free. “Alvie—” Her voice broke, and she held her sister and started again. “Alvie, Drud … did not get better. He is … with Ulla, in heaven, with Jesus, now.”

  The cookie crumbled in Alvie’s hand, and her mouth formed a small O. “But I prayed …”

  “We all did. But God did not give us what we asked for this time.”

  “He should. I promised to be a good girl and not argue with Drud or tease him because he does not know English very well.”

  “Oh, Alvie.” Wande’s hold on her sister tightened. “You were a good sister to Drud. He loved you.” She looked over Alvie’s head at Frau Morgan. “The funeral will be at noon today. We came to take Alvie home.”

  “Of course. And we’ll come with you. I’ll call Jud.” Mrs. Morgan grabbed the dinner bell and walked to the porch. A minute later, Wande heard the clamor.

  “And what has happened to you, Marion? No one is sick?”

  “No. And I know I should be thankful that God has spared us.” Marion’s voice shook. “Tom told me he doesn’t want to marry me.”

  Alvie stirred in the circle of Wande’s arms. “That is mean.”

  “But … why …” Wande’s voice trailed off. The pain of being jilted by Konrad was too recent. Tom and Marion seemed so very much in love. Her mind screamed for explanations, but no excuse would ease the pain in Marion’s heart. Only the Lord could, and even that took time. “I am sorry. I did not expect this news.”

  “He was angry last night.” Alvie frowned. “But I never thought he would change his mind about you.”

  Heavy footsteps announced Jud and Georg’s arrival.

  “He was mad about Jud not getting the Walfords’ farm,” Alvie said.

  “Do not spread gossip.” Wande hushed Alvie, but her mind raced. Seconds later, she looked at Jud for the first time since Papa had announced the purchase of the farm. The man she thought she knew had gone into hiding—masked by an expression of disdain.

  The hard lump in Jud’s heart softened when he saw the hollowness in Wande’s cheeks and the circles under her eyes. She probably hadn’t left Drud’s side since Saturday. “Georg told me the news. I’m so sorry for your loss. Ma said the funeral will be today.”

  “We cannot wait any longer. We will bury him in the community cemetery.”

  “We need to go.” Georg looked at the sun. “If we are to make it in time.”

  “You folks go ahead. Won’t take us longer than a minute to get our wagon hitched.” Ma turned to Marion. “Why don’t you travel with them and sit with Alvie in the back?”

  Trust Ma to think of the neighborly thing to do.

  “Of course.”

  Jud helped Marion into the back of the wagon, where she sat with her arms entwined about Alvie. Tears would flow aplenty today. But he wouldn’t allow himself to cry. He hadn’t lost his fiancé or a sibling. Not lately, anyhow. He watched the Fleischers’ wagon rattle down the road, Wande’s back ramrod straight in defiance of the burdens placed on her. He found himself wanting to comfort her much as Marion was comforting Alvie. Shaking his head, he went to the barn and led out the team.

  By the time he had the wagon ready, Ma came out of the house with a basket of food for the Fleischers. At least she found something practical to do. The hole would have been dug, the coffin prepared. The only thing left to do now was to help them move to the farm. Jud scowled. Was that another sign of God’s sense of humor, to make him help the Fleischers do the one thing he resented most? He lifted Ma onto the seat beside him and headed down the road.

  A wheel bounced in a rut and shocked Jud out of his brooding. If the horses hadn’t known the way into town, they’d be headed to Carlshafen by now. Ma would never forgive Jud if they missed the funeral.

  “Your face looks as stormy as a thundercloud.” Ma held the basket, probably full of ham, cornbread, and beans, securely in her arms. “Whatever is troubling you, Son, let it go, for the Fleischers’ sake. I can’t imagine losing two children so close together.”

  If only it was that easy. “I don’t know if I can
.”

  She snorted. “It’s not can or can’t. The Lord can do it even if you can’t by yourself.”

  Hide it, stuff it down. Jud had done so much of that, he didn’t know if he could anymore. He tilted his hat back and looked up at the sky. Lord, like Ma says, You’ll have to do it for me.

  “And if you and the Lord don’t work things out, one of these days you’re going to tell me whatever has your tail feathers all riled up. You can’t carry this burden all by yourself.”