by Mari Collier
“We can't leave our ranch to the mercy of them.” Anna was adamant.
“By ourselves, we could lose. I want ye and the wee one safe. If it twas just us two, aye, we twould make our stand there.”
“Why not come straight into Schmidt's Corner then?”
Kasper's question caused a strained silence. He did not see his sister's cheeks redden.
“I have been gone for over a year. I have missed our wee one's first steps and first words.” Such a thing twould nay have happened in Thalia, but he did not mention it. “I want one night in my own house, one meal with my wife and wee one, and one night in my own bed that tis built for someone my size.”
Chapter 55: Home
It was a brutal pace for the horses, but they pulled into the Rearing Bear Ranch a day early. Kasper knew he had to discharge his passengers, water the horses, and head towards Schmidt's Corner. Daylight would slip away within three hours and he wanted to be home.
Mina had been fussy all day. It had done little good to pass her between MacDonald and Anna. When they pulled into the yard, Mina tugged at her mother's sleeve.
“Mein potty, Mama.” Mina would mix English and German until she started school lessons with Uncle Kasper.
“Ach, she has not been for three days.” Anna picked her up and ran for the outhouse.
MacDonald tossed his satchel and cane over the side. “Did ye wish the rifle or the shotgun for yere drive to town?”
Kasper shook his head. “No, I wouldn't be able to hit anything with either one. I do have a shotgun at home. Maybe if they attack there and I know Gerde is in danger, I would be able to shoot someone.”
MacDonald grabbed Anna's shotgun and boosted himself over the edge of the cart. His leg was on fire and dropping to the ground added to the pain. He needed Anna to clean the wound and apply the salve that he knew was in one of the kitchen cabinets. That is, it would be there if Anna had not used it for some other purpose. He was also hungry and kenned that his lassie twould be too. It twould be better to eat and have Mina in bed before Anna tended to his leg.
He hobbled into the house carrying the shotgun and rifle. Kasper followed behind him with his bag. It was an annoyance to MacDonald that he could not carry everything at once, but he needed the support of the cane. It took another trip back-and-forth to bring in Anna's bag and the cooking utensils.
Anna still had not returned with Mina when Kasper drove off. MacDonald pumped water into the bucket for the evening's drinking water and began carrying in wood for the kitchen stove and fireplace. Then he saw that Anna had carried in the wood before leaving. He started the fire in the kitchen stove and the fireplace in the great room. He heard the kitchen door close.
“We wash our hands now,” came Anna's firm voice.
She appeared in the doorway speaking German. “Bread and clabbered milk are in the springhouse. The bread will be dry, but there are still some jars of the applesauce I made from the last shipment of apples that Papa was able to send. Do you want some coffee?”
“Nay, save that for morning. How do ye still have coffee?”
“We don't,” retorted Anna. “It is nothing but chicory and bark.”
He grimaced at her retreating back. Mina was standing in the doorway watching. She decided this was a good time to toddle to this huge man who had held her so much of the way home so she wouldn't feel the bumps and jolts of the wagon.
MacDonald caught her with a flourish and held her over his head while she went into gleeful giggles.
“Now wait patiently whilst yere fither finishes starting this fire to warm the home. Then I twill get a blanket to warm our bones till it tis warmer in here.” He was well aware that this was an inefficient way to heat a room, but that was all they had. Another small iron stove was in the bedroom, and he planned to start that after dinner.
Anna returned to the kitchen and then left again. He picked up Mina and the cane and started to follow her outside when he realized she had taken the extra bucket. She planned on washing the dishes this evening. The woman didn't stop. MacDonald considered. He couldn't carry Mina and the bucket right now. He decided to set the table in the kitchen. The iron stove would put out heat faster than the fireplace. He set Mina down.
“Be patient whilst yere fither helps yere mither.”
Mina was too young to realize that men in this world didn't set out bowls and utensils when there was a woman around. MacDonald was opening the applesauce when Anna returned. She frowned at him, but dumped the water into a metal dishpan sitting on the back of the stove.
“I did nay object as ye twill need hot water to clean my leg once Mina has gone to bed.”
Anna nodded and slipped off her coat. ““Why did you set the kitchen table, Zeb?” She was puzzled. Breakfast was the only meal eaten here.
“Tis warmer in here for me and the wee one.” He picked up Mina and sat in one of the chairs.
“Yere fither shall have the pleasure of holding ye and feeding ye…” His voice trailed off as Anna carried in the highchair and lifted the tray section upward.
“She feeds herself, Zeb. She isn't an infant.”
He shook his head. “The wee ones grow so fast here, but on the trail we twere feeding her.”
“That made sense and less dishes.” She tied a bib on Mina and sat. She folded her hands and launched into a prayer thanking God for the food and for bringing them safely home.
After dinner MacDonald started the fire in the bedroom stove while Anna dressed Mina for bed. Mina's crib was in their bedroom against the west wall and several feet from the stove. Mina would sleep in their bedroom until she was older. Then her bedroom would be in the room across the hall until she was old enough to be upstairs. This room would become the formal living room and the other bedroom theirs.
MacDonald had the pleasure of holding his wee one, telling her some nonsense story, and putting her into the crib after she fell asleep. He checked the fire, put in another log, and returned to the front before collapsing into the rocking chair.
Anna appeared with a washbasin of warm water, a roll of bandages, and a towel.
“I twill need the salve in the blue can if ye have nay used it.”
“Ja, it is in my apron pocket. You need to drop your britches.” She smiled as she used his word.
MacDonald stood and undid the canvas flap and let the britches fall down around his ankles. Anna noticed the bloodied bandage. The bleeding must have stopped once they were out of Arles for it had not come through on his trouser leg.
“Zeb, you have been bleeding. Is it safe to use this salve?”
“Aye, tis the other one that heals the scars. This one twill pull out any infection and help it to heal whole.” He looked at the small container. “I hope there tis enough; else I twill need to return to the Golden One. I did nay wish to do that till the danger tis over.”
“Stay where you are and I'll get my scissors. I need to cut that bandage away. If you sit down I won't be able to clean it properly.” When she had her scissors, she cut away the bandage and set her lips in a straight line before she began cleaning and bandaging the wound.
Anna looked up at him as she tied a knot in the bandage. “There, that should hold it. I'll clean up and you rest. Mina should be sound asleep by then.”
She rose and picked up the dirty bandage and towel. She turned more slowly than normal to keep from spilling the water and went into the kitchen and then outside to toss the water.
MacDonald shook his head. She had to be as tired as he was from that trip, possibly more so and now that the salve was soothing the wound a more pressing need arose. He picked up the scissors, returned them to the sewing machine drawer, and grabbed his coat before stepping outside. Ye gods, Anna had carried the water clear out to the garden. She was running back.
“What are you doing outside?” Moonlight streamed around them.
“I'm going to the outhouse before bed.”
“Ach, you could have used the pot.”
“
I prefer this, and ye need to put on a shawl or coat ere ye come out here.” He rushed off toward the small building set below the garden.
* * *
He entered the bedroom while Anna was putting the dishes away. After he disrobed, he considered putting on what Anna called a nightshirt, but rejected the idea. He would just need to remove it in a few moments. He put another log into the fire and looked down at his sleeping wee one. How he longed to show her to his elder Lamar.
Anna entered and began removing her clothes. The moon provided sufficient lighting and she was undoing the button on her last long slip when she realized a very nude MacDonald was looking down at their child.
“Zeb, what if she sees you?” The horrified words hissed out.
He turned, a wide smile creasing his face. “She tis too young to remember.” He walked over to her.
“Let me help ye with that.”
“Zeb, we might start the bleeding again.”
“Ye twill have to be gentle with me my love. I have been too long away from ye.”
Chapter 56: Raid
MacDonald stirred the fire in the iron cook stove. Rolfe had not been at Schmidt's Corner. He'd left Anna and Mina there after warning everyone of an impending raid and went in search of Rolfe. This was the third day. Time was running out and Rolfe was nowhere to be found. He didn't think anyone could afford to hire a wolf hunter now. Had the man gone off to the Comanche tribe he visited? If so, there was nay telling when Rolfe twould return. He needed to be in Schmidt's Corner with his counselor and lassie. He felt the raiders would burn his place, but they would be too many for him to defeat by himself. He threw a handful of chicory into the coffeepot and headed for the outhouse.
On his return he saw the outlines of men and horses on the road to the south. He veered to the north to be positioned behind the washhouse. If they rode this way, he would have just enough time to get inside and grab his Henry. He had braced it against the kitchen table. Why had a Thalian Warrior left his weapon? He could hear Rolfe saying, “Dummkopf!” The words Rolfe had used when he had erred in the early days.
The seven men out on the road saw the smoke coming out of the chimney. They had missed seeing MacDonald stepping behind the washhouse.
“Burn it,” two of the men muttered.
“He's there.”
“He can't stop us.”
“He can kill enough of us or slow us down. If we burn this now, it will alert the people in Schmidt's Corner. It would be better to hit there first and then get this ranch on our way back. Besides, he might have some liquor stashed away somewhere if that fence sitter Owens doesn't have any.”
The group continued towards Schmidt's Corner. They did slow their mounts and look down towards the first place Rolfe had created for his ranch before bringing out his wife. It was a simple hovel dug into the side of a bluff that once fronted a much larger, swifter moving river. A timbered roof extended outward to keep off the sun. A small campfire in front of the roofline had a coffee pot swinging over the fire.
“Well, he's somewhere. Let's keep going. We'll pick up the pace when we're closer to the damn Yankees. We don't want to roust him. He's probably out in the bushes somewhere.”
They walked the horses for two miles and then broke into a fast trot. They were a quarter of a mile out of Schmidt's Corner when the leader pulled a white, homemade mask over his head and neck and raised his quirt. The other six emulated him and a harsh yell broke from their lips as they spurred forward.
No shots from the Rolfe home greeted them and three men dismounted long enough to set fire to rags and place them alongside the house. The rest started firing while riding through town. Ben Jackson slung his hammer at them and they shot him. Then they began to shoot up his house. Slugs tore into Owens's Tavern and the Phillips's home. Jesse was standing at the backside of the tavern and started to yell, “I'm a Southerner,” when he saw three men setting fire to the Phillips's place. He ran into his tavern, ducked down behind the bar and came up with his shotgun. If they wanted a fight, by God, he was a Southerner and knew how to shoot.
Anna was in the garden weeding and wishing she was home weeding in her own garden. Mina was playing on a rug placed a few feet away. At the first shot, Anna stood, bent over, picked up Mina, and ran bent low to protect Mina. She could hear yells and galloping horses as she ran for the house. Gerde and Kasper were standing wide-eyed in the kitchen, both incapable of moving. Anna shoved Mina into Gerde's arms.
“Here, put her behind the big chair.
“Kasper, where is your shotgun?”
He pointed towards the hall. It was impossible to tell if he meant the office or the front of the store. Anna whirled and took her shotgun down from over the kitchen door. She went nowhere without it. She would not be defenseless if Comanche struck again.
“Get it!” Anna was yelling. She clawed at the box with the shells and stuck two of them into the breech.
Her yells woke Kasper and he ran towards his office.
Anna heard someone come into the store and she stepped through the kitchen door into the hall and fired both barrels directly at the man in the store.
Kasper appeared in the office doorway.
“Mein Gott, Anna, you've killed a man.”
Someone grabbed the downed man by his boots and pulled him out. More bullets sprayed glass from the windows and Kasper ducked down.
“Get back!” This time he was yelling at anyone who might be near.
The smell of smoke began to fill the air. The Phillips's place was burning rapidly. The raiders had ridden out of range, but they turned and came roaring back into town.
Olga was pulling Young James by the hand and running for cover to the barn. Flames were licking up the front of their house and she feared for their lives.
No one heard the hooves of two more horses as MacDonald and Rolfe barreled into town. They had met up in front of Rolfe's dirt home and pushed their horses the six miles into town. Both had their Henry rifles out and were guiding their horses with their knees.
Rolfe was screeching a war scream and no one understood MacDonald's bellow of “Thalia!” One slug took out the raiders' front rider and another raider felt the smashing pain in his leg that began spurting blood. The Henry slug kept going and the rider's horse went down. They had set the town on fire and knew it was doomed. Three of their men were down; one badly wounded and the other two dead. Bullets were firing from six different locations. They turned, rode behind the Phillips's house, and then headed back towards Arles. They were not young fighting men. They were men in their late forties and fifties that preferred town life over ranching or farming and offered quick access to a saloon.
MacDonald and Rolfe fought the urge to charge after them for Rolfe's home and children needed saving. The fire was rapidly spreading upward.
“Mama's organ. It's in there. You can't let it burn. It's Mama's!” Olga's screams angered Rolfe
“Shut up. Ve're trying to save der house!”
“We can't, Friend Rolfe.”
By this time everyone had grabbed buckets for carrying water from the river to keep the fires from spreading. MacDonald threw his hat on the ground, dumped the bucket of water from Anna over his head, pulled his kerchief up over his nose, and ran into the house through the kitchen door. Smoke filled the place and seeing was difficult in the haze. He knew where the organ was. It sat against the back wall of the room a few feet in front of him. His long legs carried him to the doorway. Sunlight filtered through the small front window creating a greyish yellow smoke blanket that hovered in the room. He pulled the organ towards him and the door. It had not broken into flames, but the wood was heating up. Once he had the rosewood organ into the kitchen, he pushed it toward the door.
At the kitchen door he stopped. It was narrower than the front door and he needed to enlarge the opening. MacDonald kicked at the doorframe several times, the blows landing solidly, and chunks of wood began flying outward. It left a jagged line of lath and plaster, but now
he could barely breathe and he felt the heat increasing at his back. He pushed the organ outside, hefted it to his shoulder and staggered across the porch. He grabbed the post by the steps leading to the ground and felt fresh air enter his lungs. From somewhere came the sound of cheering and Rolfe's voice.
“Mac, get the hell out of there. Vhat's der matter mitt du?”
He looked out at the men and women cheering, took another deep breath, and straightened his back before walking down the steps while trying to ignore the pain in his left leg.
The buckets of water were futile. The Rolfe home and the rest of the contents burned to the ground. One charred stud remained a defiant finger sticking upward.
“Keep the Jackson's place from burning. The fire twill spread if we dinna.” MacDonald bellowed after placing the organ nearer to the barn.
“An ember has hit Smitty's stable.” Jesse reported on a trip back from the river with a sloshing bucket. Everyone ran to refill their buckets. If the stable hay caught, there would be no Schmidt's Corner by nightfall.
Every man and woman was sweat-soaked and smelled of smoke by dusk, but the fires were out. The back portion of the stable had been spared. The front portion was blackened and they tore the charred timbers away from the rest of the structure. The store and the rest of Schmidt's Corner remained.
Rolfe and MacDonald nodded at each other and both went for their rifles and horses.
Chapter 57: Taking Stock
“Tante Anna, where are they going?” Olga pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, smearing smoke-stained sweat across the side of her face.
“They are going to track the men who did this and check on our ranches.” Anna let herself look to the south. She took a deep breath when she saw no smoke.
Olga swallowed. Her home was gone along with their clothes and linens. She had saved her mother's china, but that was all. There was no food. She started to walk forward and then stopped. Where should she go? To the barn? The thought of sleeping there made her skin itch. It was dirt floors with hay in the middle portion and manure covered the stable area.
