* * *
“Imagine that,” Kate said, laying down her weeks-old newspaper. “Just get on a coach and ride all the way from St. Louis to San Francisco.”
“How long will it take?” Jamie asked.
“About a month. The coach goes from St. Louis to Memphis then down to Texas then over to Los Angeles and San Francisco.”
“I want to ride the steam cars,” Jamie said. “Preacher said they were fearsome things. He said they can roll along faster than a puma can run and do it all day long and all night long without ever stopping.”
“Preacher tells big wackers, too,” Kate said, adjusting her reading glasses.
“He swears it’s the truth.”
Kate laid aside the newspaper and picked up a catalog, staring disbelieving at a full page ad of ladies modeling the latest in corsets and bustles. “That’s disgraceful!” she said.
Jamie leaned over for a peek. “Looks pretty good to me.”
Kate hit him in the head with the catalog and knocked him clean off the porch.
* * *
In 1857, the last mile of track was laid connecting New York City with St. Louis, Missouri.
In May of 1858, Minnesota was admitted to the Union. A modern mowing machine was patented, as was a machine that could bundle grain.
In 1859, Oregon entered the Union, the thirty-third state and the eighteenth non-slave state. Nearly everyone east of the Mississippi River now sensed that a terrible war between the states was inevitable. “Pikes Peak or Bust” became the new slogan as gold was discovered in Colorado. Jamie found that mildly amusing; for the past four years he had been steadily mining his claims and caching the gold. Using just a fraction of his wealth, he bought up all the twin valley that had not been staked out and much of that which had been claimed. At the opening of the National Women’s Rights Movement in New York City, Susan B. Anthony, in her address, stated, “Where, under our Declaration of Independence, does the white Saxon man get his power to deprive all women and negroes of their inalienable rights?” Sam Houston became governor of Texas.
The Rocky Mountain News began publication at Cherry Creek, later to be called Denver. The Weekly Arizonian began publication in Arizona.
In 1860, the Pony Express was started and Abraham Lincoln was elected president of the United States.
* * *
In the spring of 1860, Morgan rode into the valley for a visit. After his brothers and sisters and all their kids left the homestead, Morgan said to his mother and father, “Falcon’s gettin’ quite a name for himself.”
“As what?” Kate asked.
“A gambler and a mighty slick gunhand. Killed two men during a card game up at Cherry Cheek. They accused him of cheatin’.”
“Was he?” Jamie asked.
“No. He don’t need to cheat. He’s that good with a deck of cards.”
“Did he take any lead?”
Morgan laughed shortly. “Hell, Pa, them ol’ boys didn’t even clear leather. He’s swift, mighty swift.” He fell silent, staring out into the night.
“Say it all, Morgan,” Kate told him.
“I don’t know what you mean, Ma.”
“You want me to slap you?”
Morgan chuckled. “No, ma’am. I shore don’t. You always could read me like a good book. It’s Falcon. He’s says when war comes, he’s fightin’ for the Gray.”
“The Gray?” Kate asked.
“That’s the color of their uniforms, Kate,” Jamie told her.
“The Blue and the Gray,” Kate whispered the words. “But Falcon never expressed any dislike for negroes.”
“Oh, he doesn’t dislike negroes, Ma. How could he, him growin’ up here? He just says the federal government don’t have the right to tell states what to do, that’s all.”
“I agree with Falcon,” Jamie said, after a moment’s pause.
Morgan stirred uneasily in his chair at his father’s words. The exploits of Jamie Ian MacCallister were already the stuff of legend. Books had been written about him and songs had been sung. A play about his life was still running on stages all over the country. Morgan knew that the Union Army wanted his father to join their ranks as a scout.
“But I’ll not fight against the Stars and Stripes,” Jamie finished it. “I’ll just not fight at all.”
Morgan relaxed somewhat.
“That’s a very wise choice,” Kate said, patting her husband’s arm. “You’re getting entirely too old to be traipsing around the nation fighting.” Jamie and Kate were both fifty. “Is Falcon going to come home for a visit before he goes off to join the southern army?” Kate asked.
“No, ma’am,” Morgan told her. “By now he’s in Texas. He said to tell you both that he’d come home after the war.”
“Too old?” Jamie questioned.
Morgan smiled and Kate ignored her husband. Except for some gray in Jamie’s hair, he had not aged much in twenty years. There still was not an ounce of excess fat on him and he could still work men half his age right into the ground and then some.
“I’m too old?” Jamie repeated.
“Hush, dear,” Kate said. “The war will be over and done with before the first news of it reaches Valley.”
How wrong she was about that.
* * *
“You’re a damn fool!” Anne Woodville told her husband. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”
Cort stood before her, resplendent in his tailored uniform of gray and gold. He had been commissioned a captain in the Army of Virginia.
“It’s something I had to do,” Cort defended his actions. “Besides, the war will be over and done with in no time. The Yankees can’t whip us.”
“What about Ravenwood?”
“What about it? You’re doing a fine job of running the plantation. You’re a good businesswoman, Anne.”
“Thank you for that, Cort. Would you like to see your daughter?”
Cort hesitated. “No. I think not. I just stopped in to see you and to say goodbye. I’ve received word that we are being mobilized. Texas has seceded from the Union. Virginia can’t be long in following.” He stepped forward and took her hands in his. “Goodbye, Anne.”
“Goodbye, Cort. Cort? Be careful. And take your scarf, please. You know how easily you catch cold.”
Cort nodded and turned away, walking out the front door of the grandest plantation house in all of Virginia.
* * *
On March 31, 1861, a contingent of Texas troops, with Falcon MacCallister as scout, attacked Fort Bliss, and after a brief battle, the federal troops surrendered.
On the 12th of April, Confederate troops opened fire on Fort Sumter, South Carolina. The Civil War, as it was called in the North, begins. In the South, it was known as the War Between the States.
Less than a month later, Sparks rode into the valley with a message for Jamie.
Jamie looked at the sealed envelope. It was from the White House. He carefully broke the seal and read the letter twice. He handed the letter to Kate. She read it, then nodded her head and stood up.
“I’ll go pack some things for you.”
“I reckon so, honey,” Jamie said.
Neither one of them knew quite how to refuse a request from Abraham Lincoln, the president of the United States.
Notes
1 “Jist pie” was called that for years. It is better known now as “chess pie.” Legend has it that in Illinois in the early 1840s, a weary settler came in from working his fields one evening and after supper, asked about dessert. His wife had no apples or peaches or berries in the cabin but she did have plenty of flour, sugar, cream, fresh eggs, and spices.
When she replied that she had pie, her husband asked, “What kind of pie?”
She replied, “Oh, jist pie.”
JIST PIE: 3 egg yolks, 2/3 cup sugar, 1 tbsp. flour, 1/2 tsp. salt, 1 1/3 cups whipping cream, 1 tsp. vanilla.
Beat together yolks, sugar, flour, salt. Then fold in whipping cream and vanilla. Bake at 350°
until top is golden brown, usually about fifty minutes.
Dreams of Eagles Page 33
