Lone Star Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  Jud guided the horses away from another deep rut. The town came into view, and the hoof beats sounded on empty streets, emptier than Sunday mornings during church. The sole person Jud saw on his way to the cemetery, Dr. Treviño, waved them down.

  “Are you well out your way?”

  “So far,” Ma said.

  “You must be on your way to the funeral for young Drud.” The doctor shook his head. “Such a shame.”

  “How many dead does that make now, Doc?” Jud said.

  A faraway look came into the doctor’s eyes. “Too many. And we haven’t seen the end of it yet. Get your family back home as soon as you say good-bye—and stay there.” He paused. “Unless one of you gets sick.”

  Jud nodded. “If you’re headed for the funeral, climb on board.”

  The doctor’s shoulders slumped. “I wish I could, but duty calls me elsewhere. Give the Fleischers my condolences.”

  The doctor trudged toward the center of town while Jud turned aside for the cemetery. Every here and there he spotted fresh mounds with crude wooden crosses.

  Death had come calling on the people of Victoria.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Is there anything else?” Jud dusted his hands after he loaded the last chair onto the wagon. He shaded his eyes and peered into the parsonage. “That is all.” Meino tipped his head back and studied the belongings piled onto the two wagons. “I do not know how we carried everything from Carlshafen on a single wagon.”

  Jud chuckled. “It was piled pretty high.” He jumped off the back of the wagon. “And you’ve acquired more furnishings, it looks like.” Everything pointed to the Fleischers’ industry.

  Fleischer managed a smile. “God has been good.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “He has provided for all our needs. And now we get to be neighbors. That is another of God’s good gifts.”

  Jud forced a smile, although he didn’t entirely agree. When he’d offered to help them move, Fleischer had asked if he could make it on Thursday. “We want to get out of the city as soon as possible.”

  Ma offered to keep Alvie at the ranch until they settled in their new house—maybe to keep Marion’s mind off Tom.

  “Ma said she’d have dinner waiting for us, so let’s get going. Pastor Bader, you’re welcome to join us … if you want to,” Jud said.

  “Danke, Jud. But I offered to take Wande and some of the smaller packages in my buggy,” the pastor said.

  Fleischer helped his wife onto the wagon beside Georg, then surprised Jud by climbing onto the wagon beside him. “I will ride with you.”

  Jud motioned for Georg to go first. The cow, Elsie, and her calf were tied to the back of Jud’s wagon, so their trip might take longer.

  The streets of Victoria remained deserted, with the exception of a procession headed to the cemetery. Fleischer turned his head and didn’t speak until they left the outskirts of town.

  “I have something I wish to speak with you about.” Fleischer turned his hands over. “Wande tells me you intended to buy the Walford farm for your sister and her betrothed. And this caused hard feelings when we bought the land instead.”

  “Wande talks a lot.”

  “She spoke only because she wants us to be good neighbors. And she feels terrible that Tom has broken his promise with Marion. You understand.”

  Jud did. He remembered how hard Wande had taken the news that her Konrad had married someone else. She knew from personal experience how Marion’s heart had scattered in pieces around the ranch.

  “I don’t blame you,” Jud said, “for what Tom did.”

  “I did not know you wanted to buy the land. Herr Walford mentioned another interested buyer, but never mentioned your name. I thought he was bargaining with me. That he wanted me to pay more money. It is often done that way in Germany.”

  The reins pulled on Jud’s gloved hands, and he adjusted them. The team wanted to move a little too fast for the calf. What Meino said made sense. He grunted an acknowledgment, not quite ready to release his resentment.

  “The Verein promised us land. It is far away, farther even than Neu-Braunfels. But I would like to sell you that land since you did not get the farm.” Fleischer chuckled. “I would give you the land, but my wife says you have pride and will refuse a gift. That all men have pride, even Amerikaners.”

  That caught Jud’s fancy. He threw back his head and laughed. “Ma would say especially American men. She fusses at me for being stubborn.”

  “It is the way the good Lord made us, is it not? We must be stubborn to make the crops grow out of the soil that would rather grow weeds.” Fleischer smiled. “But when we are stubborn with our women, it is not always good.”

  “No … it’s not. So, what price are you asking?”

  Fleischer mentioned a fair price. Jud knew of some early German settlers who had given away their land for a milk cow. Here Meino offered to give him land for no other reason than he’d bought the land that Jud wanted for his family. The temptation to gain a threshold in the New Germany appealed to Jud. He looked to either side of the road. This place, with its gently rolling hills and dark clay, had been his home for as long as he could remember. He worked the ranch to support the family, but also because he loved horses. Calder couldn’t wait to get away, but Jud never felt the desire to roam.

  Jud no longer had a reason to give Tom any land. He closed his mind to the curses he wanted to rage against the man who had hurt Marion.

  And if Jud left Victoria … and the Fleischers stayed here …

  “I appreciate your offer,” Jud said, “but I’m not interested. Keep the land for yourself. Who knows, Georg and Ertha might want to move there one day.”

  “Very well. So there are no hard feelings?”

  Jud slammed the door against his mixed feelings. Germans were Germans, but the Fleischers were a different matter. “No hard feelings.” Reluctantly, he stuck out his right hand and they shook on it.

  “This house is smaller than the parsonage. The Walfords had only the one boy. Don’t you think you’ll feel cramped?” Marion fluffed pillows on the bed Wande would share with Alvie. For the time being, Georg would sleep in the barn.

  Wande laughed. “At least it is our house. And we will add to it. We will have to, before Georg and Ertha get married this fall.”

  Marion’s hand stopped in midair. “They’ll need a place other than the barn.”

  Wande put a hand over her mouth. “I am sorry. I did not mean to make you feel sad.”

  Marion plumped down on the bed. “It happens.” She plucked at some threads dangling from the cuff of her brown calico dress. She didn’t think she’d ever again want to wear either of her yellow dresses or her new buttercream dress. Every time she saw them in the closet, she thought of Tom. Maybe she could give them to Wande.

  Wande sat and hugged her. “I know how much it hurts. You try to act brave and pretend it does not matter, but inside you wonder what is wrong with you—that he chooses not to marry you.”

  Marion sniffed. “I feel silly crying about Tom when you just lost your brother.”

  “It is not silly. In some ways it is harder. Drud did not choose to die, but Tom made a choice. He is the silly one.” Wande reached into the pillowcase and pulled out a handkerchief. “Use this. It has seen many tears.”

  Marion hiccuped and blew her nose. “How do you stay so … happy … all the time? You have been through so much.”

  “So many good-byes.” Wande ran her hand over the quilt. “My Oma made this for me. I do not expect to see her again before we get to heaven, with Ulla, and Drud, and Opa.” She leaned toward Marion. “But I have many new friends. I have met you, and Georg has met Ertha, and Papa is happier than he ever was in Offenbach. And Alvie loves Texas.”

  Marion saw the flaw in Wande’s argument. “But that’s everyone else. How has Victoria been good to you, Wande?”

  Wande looked out the window over the land that stretched ahead, already turned over and ready for planting
the fall crop. “I have learned that God goes with me everywhere I go. And that is enough.”

  “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death …” The words came automatically to Marion’s lips.

  “‘I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.’” Wande finished and leaned back. “But that does not mean it is easy. We will not get the house ready by sitting here.”

  “No, we won’t.” Marion sneezed into the hankie and crumpled it into a ball, looking for a place to put it. Wande wouldn’t want it back in her pillowcase. She dropped it into the box carrying the dirty linens from the old house.

  Marion followed Wande into the kitchen, where they helped Mrs. Fleischer organize her things. Her face brightened with each item she uncovered. Wande wiped down the china before placing it in the cabinet, together with a few figurines they had brought from Germany. She cradled one in her hands, a gentle shepherdess carrying a lamb. “This one was Ulla’s favorite.” She sighed. “The lamb’s ear has broken off.” She kissed the broken spot. “But I still love it.” She set it on the shelf.

  “I have a teapot one of my ancestors brought from England.” Ma was in the kitchen filling the vegetable bins with corn and sweet potatoes raided from their kitchen. “It’s cracked from top to bottom, but I treasure it.”

  Mrs. Fleischer rummaged through the box of china. “Here it is.” She held up the ear and set it next to the lamb. “Everything will be all right. We will get the right glue to fix it.” She ran a hand over it, then returned to setting the kitchen to rights.

  Things were important, Marion knew. Think of Jud’s fuss last week when she played the piano. Things reminded you of people and places and memories.

  Grunts reached them from the living room. The four men had to work hard to find a place for all the furniture. Jud, Mr. Fleischer, and Georg did most of the heavy lifting while the pastor gave directions.

  “I will see what is the problem,” Wande said. Marion followed.

  The men squeezed Mr. Fleischer’s desk into the corner, behind one of those comfy chairs Marion loved to sit in. “I have room for a chair in my bedroom,” Wande said. “It will not be so crowded in here.” She grabbed the chair. Pastor Bader reached out to help her.

  “Stop a moment, Liebchen. Herr Morgan wants to speak with you.”

  Marion looked from Jud to Wande to Pastor Bader and couldn’t decide whose face was turning a brighter red.

  “I, uh, spoke too soon when I said we didn’t need your help any longer at the ranch. The truth is, I’d be right happy if you’d come back to work. Georg has already agreed.” Jud hurried ahead, as if afraid Wande would refuse. “We’ll adjust your hours, of course. You’ll be needed at your home as well. But I’d welcome any help you can give us.”

  The color slowly faded from Wande’s cheeks. “Danke, Jud. I will be glad to work for you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  When Wande returned to work at the Morgan house on Monday, she felt as if a month had passed, not just a week. How lives could turn upside-down in such a short time. Wande turned aside to see the garden, and Alvie skipped along beside her. Someone had tended it well in her absence. She bent and checked the plants. A few cucumbers and okra plants still showed promise, but the tomato vines had withered. She had not gathered anything for last Saturday’s market. The people of Victoria would not stir out of doors until cholera loosened its grip on the city.

  “I took good care of the garden, did I not?” Alvie pointed to the thriving plants. “Mrs. Morgan cooked some of the okra. I told her you would not mind. She cut it into tiny pieces and stirred it in cornmeal and fried it. I liked it.”

  This okra was one of the new vegetables Mrs. Morgan had recommended for the garden. “I will remember that so I can tell our German friends how to eat it.” She straightened her back. “Now remember. I am here to work, so I cannot play with you.”

  “I know.” Alvie drooped. “But Marion promised me another piano lesson.”

  “We will see how the work goes. I will tell you if you may ask her.” She hoped Alvie could play the piano. Her sister had talked of little else—when she spoke at all. She had been quiet, as if afraid her cheer might make everyone around her feel sadder.

  “Drud will never get to hear me play.”

  “I imagine in heaven he and Ulla will sit down to listen every time you play.”

  “Do you really think so?” Alvie grabbed the valise Wande had packed for their overnight stay and went inside. “No one is here.”

  “Take our bag upstairs while I look for Mrs. Morgan and Marion. They must be out back doing the laundry.”

  As she rounded the corner, Wande heard Marion singing one of her favorite hymns, “Amazing Grace.” She rejoiced that her friend felt whole enough to sing. A man’s voice joined Marion’s, a pleasant baritone singing in harmony. It could only be Jud. She waited, out of sight, and listened to the harmonies. “Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come. Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”

  Tears sprang to Wande’s eyes. “Thank You, heavenly Father, that Your grace has seen Drud safely home. And You have brought me safe so that I did not catch the illness.” She whispered the words with thanksgiving and gathered herself before going around the corner.

  Jud saw her first. “I’ve put what you taught me about washing clothes to good use.” He lowered his voice. “Ma’s back went out last night, and she wasn’t up to hanging the laundry today.” His mouth lifted at one corner.

  “I am sure she appreciates your help. But you do not need to stay now that I am here.”

  “Chasing me away from my own house, are you?” He picked up a tub of wet clothes as if they weighed no more than a towel and brought it to the clothesline. “That should keep the two of you busy. Did Georg go to the bunkhouse?”

  Wande nodded, and he walked away, whistling the melody they had been singing.

  “That is such a beautiful song,” Wande said.

  Marion nodded. “It’s as old as the hills, but I still love it. You can’t help but praise God when you sing it.” She burst into song. “When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we’ve first begun.”

  “Amen.” Wande’s heart began to feel lighter. “It is good to remember heaven. It helps me when I think of Drud and Ulla.” She and Marion took a sheet and flung it over the line. “But it did not help me when I learned Konrad had married someone else. I could only think I would have to share heaven with Konrad and his wife. That did not make me happy.”

  Marion laughed. “You’re so funny. I confess I’ve pondered how I could make Tom suffer. Send a bee his way or something.” She shook her head. “Then I remember I’m supposed to forgive him. Ma keeps reminding me, but it’s so hard. As for Jud …”

  “He says nothing, but looks like he wants to send the entire hive after Tom.”

  Marion laughed. “Yes, something like that. I think he’s fighting a bad case of the ‘I told you so’s.’ So he holds his tongue instead of saying anything.”

  “Papa was the same way. ‘I never thought Konrad was good enough for you.’ As if that made me love him any less.” Wande slipped a couple of clothespins over the sheet and grabbed a pillowcase. She glanced up and saw Jud at the door to the barn, staring in her direction.

  Jud whirled and headed back into the darkness of the barn, angry with himself for staring at Wande like an addlepated boy in love. Love. That wasn’t possible.

  Georg had slipped back into their routine as if he had never been gone. He took on extra chores, the few Tom used to do, without needing direction. He was a keeper.

  But something had changed in the quiet young man. In a word: Ertha. Georg couldn’t stop talking about her. “I am glad you let me go home in the afternoon. I want to make a room where we can live. I do not wish to have to wait until next year.” The boy blushed, from the straggly hairs on his chin to the roots of his hair
.

  “I don’t blame you.” Not that Jud knew what it was like. The closest he had come to finding a gal was giving Betsy Jones a peck on the cheek behind the schoolhouse on his fourteenth birthday. “There’s more than one way to get that done. Ma could whip together a house-raising faster than she could churn butter.” There was no reason those two should have to wait any longer than necessary to get married. Of course, they didn’t need a whole new house, just another room.

  Georg continued in much the same vein, punctuating his work with sentences beginning with “Ertha did this” or “after I am married.” The chatter kept Jud from having to contribute much to the conversation.

  “Do you think that is a good idea?” Georg leaned on the rake and looked at Jud. He must have asked a question.