by Mari Collier
Anna's arms were around her. “It's all right, Olga.” She looked at Gerde.
Gerde was no exception to the rest. Her clothes and exposed skin were grey and black. Strands of hair had escaped from her tight bun of rolled dark hair.
“Get everybody together and maybe a little cleaned up. We'll all eat at our place and decide what to do.” She nodded at Kasper standing by the men.
“Why are they pointing to the cemetery?”
Tears were running down Olga's face. “I saw Mr. Jackson on the ground when we ran out of the house. He—he's dead, and Tom's fighting for the South, and we don't even know how to write to him.” She hiccupped.
Anna's mind was too tired and numb to realize that Olga, almost eighteen, had a crush on the only young man in town.
“Then they are probably talking about burying him.” She turned to her sister-in-law.
“Gerde, you are right. We need to clean up and start dinner.
“Mein Gott, Mina.” She ran for the house.
“Mina, Mina, Mama's here. Where are you?”
Anna burst into the kitchen and saw nothing. She ran to the hall and hesitated. Should she look in the store or in the living room? She had told Gerde to put Mina behind the big chair when she ran into the house, but had she? If so, had Mina stayed there? Rage had swept through Anna when the attackers shot at the store and bullets came through the open door. It was the same red rage that had plagued her all her life. When it started, Anna would strike out against the opponent. It didn't matter if she used words or a weapon. All she could think of was to destroy the enemy. Today she had feared for Mina's life, but the fires started and they had to be put out. Fire was the enemy once the shooters from Arles had left.
Mina was lying beside the chair, eyelids closed over a tear-streaked face and a wooden block in one hand. She must have gone into the kitchen where the play blocks were stored in a box under the sink, and returned here. She had pulled a doily down from the little table and the Bible that had rested on it lay on the floor.
Anna scooped her up and held her tightly. Mina looked at her mother and tears started rolling down her face.
“My heart, my love, I thank God you are all right. Will you ever forgive your Mama?” It was a question that would plague her for years. Dear God, forgive me my horrible temper.
“Is she all right?” It was Gerde on her way to retrieve another towel.
“Ja, she is fine. A little frightened. I will need to hold her for awhile.”
Gerde nodded. “The fire in the cook stove went out and it will take a while to finish cooking the beans. They aren't enough to feed everyone. I've maybe enough bread and pickles. We can share the clabbered milk, but our sugar supply is getting low. The Rolfe's store of honey is gone.”
“What about the crab apple jelly Johanna sent?”
“There's some. We've tried to conserve everything. If Mr. Rolfe could get us another shipment down through Indian Territory, we'd be all right. How are your stores at the ranch?”
Anna closed her eyes before answering. “We have enough to share, but Mr. MacDonald won't think to bring any back with him when he comes—if there is anything left.”
Kasper had walked back over and was bringing Olga with him. As he stepped through the door, he spoke to them both. “We need our spade. We'll bury Mr. Jackson tonight and hold the ceremony tomorrow.”
He turned to Olga. “You and your family will stay here until your Papa decides what he will do.”
“Thank you, Uncle Kasper.” Olga's eyes sought Gerde's for a confirmation. The invitation meant her, Martin, and Young James. James was now the same age as Hans was when Hans died. Would Gerde accept him in her house?
Gerde gave a quick nod of yes to Olga and looked around. “Where is James? He can carry the bucket of water from the river for washing. We need more than what is in the basin now.”
“We'll go downstream and rinse off after we bury Mister Jackson. Tomorrow we'll see what is left of the Phillips place. I don't think there is anything more than the fencing and the back shed.”
“Why did they burn the Phillips's place and shoot Mr. Jackson?” Olga's crying was turning into wails. “They were on the same side.”
“A bunch of drunken fools don't care about that. They just wanted to destroy us. They are worse than the Comanche.” Anna began to feel her rage returning. She set her teeth. There was no one to fight.
“Olga, why don't you find Young James? He can carry the water, bring in more wood, and if necessary watch Mina.”
Gerde was busy stirring the fire in the cook stove to life. “Some more water is needed for the beans too. They soaked up all the broth.”
“I'll get the first bucket while Olga finds James.” Anything to keep Olga busy. She had lost her mother and now the house and everything in it but the organ. Anna didn't realize that Olga had managed to rescue her mother's white china. At least the Rolfe's have chickens.
Anna tried to put Mina down, but she clung to her mother's neck.
“Mama, Papa?” Mina was crying again.
“He's chasing the bad men away to keep us safe. Now you stay here with Tante Gerde like a good girl.”
Mina tightened her grip.
Gerde looked up. “You'd better keep her with you. She's different from your others.”
The words struck a cold chord within Anna. Had Gerde realized how different two of her children were? Had Gerde been around the children that much? Rather than argue, Anna nodded, perched Mina on her left hip, went out the door, and picked up the bucket she had used to throw water on the flames.
Chapter 58: News from the Front
Anna looked up from her washtub to see a lone man staggering into the yard. His Confederate uniform was tattered, a crutch under his right arm helped him walk, and the left wooden leg kept poking holes into the ground. The man wore a hat that was as tattered as his clothes and she could see the bandana underneath. The shoulders were broad, but the man was a mere shadow of a healthy adult. His worldly goods were on his back, held by leather bands running across his chest. He leaned against the fence and tipped the bill of his hat upward.
“Would it be possible to rest here on your porch, Mrs. MacDonald? I'm not sure I can make it into Schmidt's Corner today. It's been a long walk from Arles.”
“No von gave du a ride?”
Why, thought Anna, would the Rebs of Arles let a returning soldier walk?
“No, ma'am, not when they heard where I was going. It seems nobody recognizes Tom Jackson without his leg.” The man's voice was bitter and pain-filled.
“Mein Gott, Tom, I didn't recognize du. Du haf lost so much veight. Come in, come in. Some cold vater du must be vanting, and something to eat, ja?”
Tom looked ready to break down. “Thank y'all, Mrs. MacDonald. Yes, to both of your offers. I don't think I could have walked any farther.”
He opened the gate and clumped into the yard. “Do y'all mind if we go through the back door? Then I won't have to walk up the step to the front porch.”
“Ach, ja, come in, Tom.” Anna was busy drying her hands on her apron and walking towards the kitchen door. Mina was playing in the shade of the crab apple tree that had reached ten feet and the branches had started to come over the fence. Her toys were blocks of wood from Uncle Kasper. He had cut and sanded them from the lumber left over from the Phillips's place.
“Mina, come mitt Mama.”
Mina looked at Tom with widened eyes.
“This is Mr. Jackson, Mina. Come now. He ist hungry and thirsty from his long walk.”
“That your daughter, Mrs. MacDonald? I can't wait to see Pa. I haven't heard from him the last two years. 'Course that doesn't mean anything. No mail really comes to a hospital or a prison camp.”
Anna knew that she had the task of telling Tom about his father and the raid on Schmidt's Corner. That was why the people of Arles had let him walk.
“Ja, this is our daughter Wilhelmina. Ach, Tom, so much has happened.” She stood bac
k and let him precede her. It was the first week of May and already too warm to keep the door closed. She would need to shoo out the flies before fixing something for Tom.
Tom made it as far as the kitchen chair and sat. “Just some water will be fine, Mrs. MacDonald.” He wasn't sure how deep the resentment ran. These were damn Yankees. He had hoped his leg and his youth would be enough to get him back to town. No one in the South could afford anything and no damn Yankee was going to hire a cripple, and how the hell could he help Pa as a blacksmith with one leg and a shrunken body?
Anna handed him the filled water ladle and grabbed the kitchen towel and began flapping it vigorously to drive the flies from the table and counter out the windows and door.
“Now some nice bread and butter mitt coffee, ja? Und some clabbered milk mit—no, that's with some apple butter? The beans are not yet done. Then du rest and Mr. MacDonald vill take du into town tonight or tomorrow. He's over at Mr. Rolfe's. They some branding are doing.” She almost tripped on Mina who was trying to stay well behind her skirt.
“Mina,” she reproved her, but picked her up. “I must the butter and clabber go get from the springhouse.”
She disappeared out the door. It was cowardly she knew, but she was trying to figure out how to say the words. If only she could say them in German. The news would be just as bad, but she would be able to say them with clarity, and she felt, with much more compassion than she could say them in English.
Mina was delighted to be up in her mother's arms. Papa always picked her up, but not Mama. Mama was always so busy.
Anna pushed the heavy springhouse door op and set Mina down. Then she picked up the covered butter dish and bowl of clabbered milk. It was cool in here and she stood for a moment before walking back outside. She handed Mina the butter and pulled the door shut.
“Come, Mina, back inside ve go. Du carry the butter for Mama.”
Once inside the kitchen, Anna saw that Tom had his head down on the table.
“Are du asleep, Tom? Ach, I forget, du a man now are. I am sorry, Mr. Jackson.”
He had removed his hat and his dark eyes regarded her and a slow smile came on his face. “Mrs. MacDonald, Mr. Jackson is my father.”
He saw Anna blink and swallow.
“Is something wrong with my Pa, Mrs. MacDonald? Is that why I haven't heard from him in two years?”
Anna set both bowls on the table and wet her lips.
“Mr. Jackson, I vish my English vas better, but, ja, something has happened. They killed your papa vhen they tried to kill us, and I—I am so sorry, but he thought he vould be safe mitt dem.”
Tom halfway rose from the chair and sank back down, a stunned blank look on his face.
“Who killed him?” His voice rasped out of his throat. How would he live? How could a crippled man track down killers or Injuns?
The drunken, rebel fools from Arles. They tried to burn Schmidt's Corner and run us out. They vere shooting all over der place. Even Mr. Owens, the bullet grazed, and they burned the Rolfe's and Phillips's places. Embers vere flying and set fires in other places. Vone took part of Mr. Schmidt's stable and the side wall of your cabin. Thank God, Mr. MacDonald and Mr. Rolfe got there vhen they did. They chased them off, but ve fought fires all afternoon and kept vatching for them to break out again.”
Tom closed his eyes and hid his face. It was too much for a man to bear. His Pa, his home, all gone. Where would he sleep tonight? The nerves from his missing leg and the stump where the peg leg fit hurt like hell and he knew he needed to rest before going on or it was another night on the ground. Worse, it wasn't even damn Yankees that did it. It was his own countrymen.
Anna looked at the shattered man and patted his shoulder. “There vas lots of vood left from the Phillips's vainwright spare stock. The people in Schmidt's Corner used it to repair the side of your cabin, Jesse's shed, and Kasper used some for his garden fence. Mr. Rolfe took the rest to his other camp and made a place for them to live.
“I don't know how your place looks inside.” Anna's voice became apologetic. “Ve tried not to disturb anything more. Ve buried your Papa in the town graveyard. Mr. Schmidt made a vooden marker for him and ve held a town service for him. Mr. Schmidt led us.”
Tom lowered his hands. “I have a house to go to? Y'all mean Yankees did that? Why? I was killing your men—before this happened.” He nodded at his leg, his voice full of bitterness again.
Anna smiled. “Your Papa vas our friend. He vas an old man. Vhat else could ve do? Ve are Christians. Ya, it vas bad, but soon, soon, this var must over be.”
Tom's face grew tight. “Ma'am, it is. General Lee signed the surrender paper April ninth. That's why they let me out of prison. I caught part of a ride into Arles with the Union Cavalry that's setting up camp there.”
It was Anna's turn to stare opened mouth. Then she closed her eyes, folded her hands, and prayed in German. “Thank you, dear Father in Heaven. It's over. Amen.” She opened her eyes and looked at Tom.
“It's easier to pray in Deutsche. It's vhat I'm accustomed to doing.
“Miss Rolfe vill be so glad to see du alive are. She vas upset und crying vhen ve had no vay of vriting und telling du about your Papa.”
She turned and began setting out the bowl, knife, and spoon. “Miss Rolfe vas the first vone to see your Papa on the ground; she and Young James vhen they ran out of their house. It vas burning.”
Olga's crying hurt Tom to the core. Olga had just started to grow out of childhood when he left to join the Cause. He wondered if her lips were still that strange raspberry color, and why the hell think about that? What woman wants half a man? Not that he couldn't be a man, it was just most women wanted somebody whole that could support them.
Anna placed everything in front of Tom and he could not stop himself. He practically shoveled the clabbered milk into his mouth. He tore great chunks out of the bread and gulped the chicory brew she set beside him. After chewing the mouthful of bread, he took a deep breath.
“Y'all must excuse my manners, Mrs. MacDonald. I cannot begin to tell y'all how hungry I've been.” He bowed his head.
“Thanks for the food, Lord.”
“Mr. Jackson, I understand. The Comanche did not let me eat. Du enjoy and du vill for supper stay tonight.”
Chapter 59: The Dream
It was one of the few nights that MacDonald and Anna did not exercise their marriage rights. He had not returned from taking Tom into Schmidt's Corner until nearly midnight. Anna had mended after they left. Material for making new clothes had not been shipped in for over two years and it was either mend or go unclothed. Anna then set the food in one of the warming ovens for her husband before retiring.
MacDonald carried the rifle into the bedroom, set it against the wall on his side of the bed, and shook Anna awake and hugged her.
“Anna, my love, I will need to ride into Arles again. Captain Richards is commanding the Union troops there and they need beef. Nay twill sell to them so they have been confiscating cattle and causing more ill feelings. Tom says they twill be happy to buy beef from us. I twill leave tomorrow afternoon. Herman twill make sure we have horses and cattle ready to go. There tis even better news. The Blue Diamond freighters told Tom they will be receiving a shipment. Kasper twill be getting part of his last order.”
She looked at him startled. “So soon? How did that happen?”
“I dinna, but I suspect it tis because there are Union troops in Arles.” A smile lit his face.
“Anna, if we sell the beeves, I twill buy ye a present.”
She shook her head at him, but contentment filled her and she let her mind drift before falling asleep, and Anna found herself in that strange land of not awake, yet not asleep. This time the vision was sharp, clear, and in full color. It was her children and they were here, in this house! They were gathered around a small Christmas tree in the great room. Lorenz looked to be in his teens. He was skinny and broad shouldered, his hands bony, and he was smiling. For some reason
his mouth seemed to be pulled up and to the right, giving him a sardonic look. His dark hair was combed up into a wave at the forehead, but stubborn curls seem to run down the side into his sideburns.
Margareatha was a beautiful, full-grown woman with her red hair pulled up and away from her oval face. Her clothing was a surprise; rich, satiny green fabric that gave off its own glow in the lamplight. Daniel was seated in one of the dining chairs, but the height of his broad shoulders over the top of the chair told Anna that he was tall. He looked young, but there was a full mustache. His hair was straighter, waved back, but the same type of curls swirled around his sideburns. Zeb was standing there holding Mina. Auggie was not there. A ghostly presence seemed to hover between MacDonald and Daniel, but it was small. She could not tell whether Auggie lived or died for it could have been Auggie or Llewellyn Gerhardt.
Anna started to toss and moan, her sounds growing louder. She held out her arms as if to embrace the reality of the dream and then Zeb was holding her.
“Shh, tis a bad dream, my love. Ye are here, safe in my arms.”
Her eyes flew open and she was gazing into the darkness of the room and Zeb's strong arms were around her. His closeness filled her nose with his scent.
“No, no, it was a good dream. My babies were here. They will be here.” And her voice broke. She looked up at him, seeing his strong face in the shadows of night.
“But it won't be right away. It will be at Christmastime. Lorenz is only fifteen, but he will be almost a man when they are here. Mina didn't look any older. You were there and holding her. It was so strange. But you are Papa.
“Oh, Zeb, why can't it be now? I want to hold them. My Auggie, he wasn't there. There was just a whitish image of a baby. I don't know if that was him or, or the one I lost.” She hid her face in his chest.
