Long Trail Home

by Vickie McDonough

  Laura strode into the kitchen. “Annie—” She spun toward Mr. Morgan, her friendly blue gaze filled with curiosity.

  Mrs. Alton turned, her hands folded in front of her, resting against her apron. “It’s Riley Morgan, Miss Laura, returned from the war.”

  Footsteps tapped across the floor as Laura hurried toward their guest, a concerned look on her face. “Welcome home, Mr. Morgan. I’m Laura Wilcox. I remember you and your folks from church. I attended there too—well, you know, before it burned down.”

  “I’m obliged for the grub, ma’am.” He gave her a tight-lipped nod. “Didn’t know about the church.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss. Your parents were good people. Your father brought us prairie hens and other game whenever he’d go hunting. He’d leave more with us than he took home for himself.”

  His eyes blinked, and he stared at his near-empty plate as if he had lost his appetite. But then he shoved in the last big bite and held the plate out to Laura. “Thank you, ma’am. I’d best go fix that fence.” He snapped around and marched across the back porch and out of sight.

  Mrs. Alton shook her head. “I can’t imagine what that boy must be feeling.”

  “He’s not a boy,” Annie blurted without thinking. “Why he’s got to be in his midtwenties, maybe even thirty.”

  Laura cast an odd glance her way, a teasing smile dancing on her lips. “He’s around twenty-three or four, if my memory serves me right, but the war has aged him. He’s lost a lot of weight. You couldn’t tell by the look of him now, but he was a handsome youth back when I knew him. Those amazing sapphire eyes of his caught my fancy when I was a girl, but I was always too old for him. I believe he’s around six or seven years younger than me.”

  “We should do something to help him.” Mrs. Alton took the plate from Laura, shaking her head. “What a shame he had to come home and learn about his family as he did.”

  “I imagine it must be hard for him to stay on his ranch with all that’s happened.” Laura tapped her finger on her lips. “Hmm … We could use a man’s help around here. The place is falling to pieces. And with the danger from raiders … I wonder if he’d be willing to stick around for a time.”

  Annie’s eyes widened. Laura’s heart was far too big. “You can’t keep him. He isn’t a stray dog, you know.”

  “He fought for us, endangered his life, and missed out on the last few years of his parents’ lives. We owe him.” Laura moseyed to the back door and looked out.

  “No, we don’t. We can barely find enough food to feed the children. And besides, you don’t even believe in slavery. Wasn’t that why that wretched war was fought?” Annie crossed her arms. The last thing she wanted was that smelly man around, messing things up and making her feel peculiar. Watching her with that expressive blue gaze.

  Suddenly, Laura spun around, her eyes bright. She snapped her fingers. “I know! He can stay in the tack room in the barn. We can fix it up and give him room and board in exchange for him repairing things.”

  “I love that idea.” Mrs. Alton clapped her hands.

  “I despise it.” Annie shook her head. “He never asked for a place to stay, just a meal.”

  “But you saw him.” Even though Laura was the director and ultimately made the decisions concerning the school, her eyes begged Annie to be reasonable. “He needs us, Annie—and I think we need him.”

  “We can’t afford to feed a full-grown man. Men only cause problems.” Annie stamped her foot. “Have you two taken leave of your senses?”

  Mrs. Alton harrumphed and glared at Annie, her disappointment obvious. “Good thing Miss Laura didn’t cast you out that day you first came around pretending to be blind and begging for a place to stay. At least Riley Morgan didn’t fake nothing.” She spun around and slapped two metal plates together.

  Annie hung her head, both angered at the situation and guilt-ridden at her selfishness. How could she be so hardhearted when she had once been in the same boat as Mr. Morgan?

  No, he had a home, which was something she never had until coming here.

  And men did cause problems—and they bossed women around. They took what they wanted and then left you alone. With nothing. She hadn’t thought of her pa in a long while. His abandonment still hurt, even after so many years had passed.

  And all the time Mr. Morgan was here, she’d have to pretend to be blind. The charade had long ago grown old, but for the sake of the school and Miss Laura, she had to pretend whenever people were around. She grabbed the milk bucket, intent on returning it to the barn. She’d just have to think up some way to ensure that Mr. Morgan didn’t stick around for long.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Riley led Gypsy to the barn behind the school and dropped the reins, ground-tying the mare. His gaze roved the area that made up the Wilcox School for Blind Children. The white two-story clapboard house was in decent condition, needing only some minor repairs. The barn was another issue. Boards were missing here and there; the top hinge on the right side of the door had broken, causing it to lean sideways; and spots of light dappled the hay-strewn floor where the sun peeked through holes in the walls and roof. He rested his arm across his saddle and heaved a sigh. What was he doing here? Begging work off women wasn’t something he’d ever done before.

  If he hadn’t just wolfed down that plate of food—one of the best he’d had in ages—he’d ride off.

  But he couldn’t return home. Not yet.

  If he worked hard, maybe he’d forget about his troubles and earn another of those delicious meals. He’d worry later about where he would spend the night.

  He removed his pistol from his haversack and shoved it in the waistband of his pants then strung the bag over his shoulder. He uncinched Gypsy’s saddle and tossed it over a fence rail before removing the mare’s bridle and opening the paddock gate to turn her loose. She could keep the lone brown milk cow company and graze on the sparse grass. Maybe the Morgan mare his uncle Jud had given him could be the start of keeping his father’s dream alive—a dream of raising quality horses, but Riley couldn’t do that with just a single mare.

  Shoving away from the rail, he glanced around the yard again. Dreams would have to wait. Right now he had work to do. He removed his gun from his waistband and carried it into the barn. Leaving it behind while he worked would be almost like severing an arm. He’d always kept his weapon close for the past years, but with so many young children about, he couldn’t take a chance that one of them might happen upon it, as unlikely as that seemed. He laid it up on a high shelf near the doorway then hung his haversack on a rusty nail. Sighing again, he walked away. He hoped he never had to point that gun at another person again. His eyes closed tight as visions of bloodied bodies filled his mind. The unnatural sound of men’s screams echoed through the caverns of his memory. The stench of blood filled his nostrils as it had on so many occasions. Sweat trickled down his temple, and he grabbed hold of the paddock railing with trembling hands. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. Don’t think. Don’t remember.

  After a long moment, he swiped his forehead with his sleeve. He forced his feet into motion. Hard work—that’s what he needed. Work so hard that he’d collapse at night from exhaustion, and maybe then he’d sleep. He gulped in several gasps of fresh air and moved forward, determined to shove his awful memories aside—once again.

  Checking for broken rails, he walked the fence line along the road, as the warm Texas sun heated his shoulders. He pushed his hat up on his forehead, and looked back toward town. Sooner or later he’d have to ride into Waco and actually stop and talk to folks. He dreaded that day. Dreaded seeing the sympathy in their eyes. Dreaded hearing folks talk about how kind his ma and pa were and how sorry they were about what happened to them. Dreaded them asking about the war. He couldn’t talk about that. Not ever.

  Grief clenched his heart and a deep longing to see his parents tightened his chest. Calder and Emily Morgan had been good people and didn’t deserve what happened to them.
He blinked his stinging eyes and swiped them with his sleeves. In all the times on the battlefield and long, difficult days between skirmishes when he ached for home and thought of his family and future, he never once considered that something could happen to his parents. He’d been so focused on keeping himself alive that he hadn’t once thought about their mortality.

  Or that Miranda would marry someone else.

  With his head hanging, Riley returned to the barn and rummaged through a pile of wood until he found enough suitable to repair the fence. Tossing the pieces on the barn floor, he headed for the far wall where a sad array of tools hung. Hens roosting in nests below the tools clucked their disapproval at being disturbed from their morning nap. A huge rooster stood guard on a bale of hay that rested off to Riley’s right. The reddish-brown bird stretched up his neck and flapped his wings, looking as though he’d attack at any moment. Riley bent down, scooping up a handful of dust off the floor and flung it at the bird’s face and at the same time let out a Rebel yell. The shocked bully fell backwards off the hay, flopped around, then found his feet, and scattered the hens in his frantic effort to flee. Chuckling, Riley shook his head. It felt good to have something to laugh at, even a little bit.

  “My word, Mr. Morgan. Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  Riley spun around, staring at the pretty young woman who’d first come to the door. She held a pitchfork out as if she meant to stab him. Knowing she couldn’t see him, he grinned at the not-so-formidable sight she made. She stood straight as a lodgepole pine tree—all 5’3” of her—ready to take on the world. He yanked off his hat then slapped it back on. “Sorry if I frightened you, miss, but that rooster was standing between me and the hammer.”

  She scowled and lowered the big fork. Her chin lifted. “I fail to see anything funny. You nearly scared the wits out of me.”

  Riley ducked his head, tucking in his lips and forcing the grin from his face. She’d obviously heard the humor in his tone. “Like I said, sorry for scaring you, but I learned when I was a boy that if you don’t want trouble with a rooster, you’d better let him know right off who’s boss.”

  She set the fork down, leaning it against the wall beside a shovel and several hoes. “You can’t let out random yells like that around here. It frightens the children. They can’t rely on sight to see what’s going on and are extrasensitive to sounds.”

  The stubborn woman wasn’t about to admit that he’d scared her, but he did see her point. “I’ll try to remember that, miss. I’ve been living with rough soldiers for a long while. Don’t know much about children, especially ones who can’t … uh … see.”

  Her pert chin inched upwards. The light breeze fluttered the skirt of her dress, and wisps of light brown hair danced around her face. She was a pretty thing, not that he’d noticed.

  “They are just like any other children, Mr. Morgan. We all have to learn to live with the hand we’ve been dealt. Most of the children have been blind all their lives, so it’s something they are used to, but we still need to be cautious. It’s especially important that you not move things around. A chair left pushed out from a table becomes a dangerous stumbling block to the non-seeing. I trust you’ll keep that in mind.” Her face lowered, as if she was staring at the pile of wood he’d left in the middle of the floor.

  He winced. “I understand, miss, and I’ll be careful. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt a child.”

  She nodded but didn’t leave. His curiosity rose. He searched the crevices of his memory, trying to figure out if she’d been at the school before he left, but how would he know since he hadn’t paid an ounce of attention to the place back then. All he had cared about was himself. He kicked at a stone, sending it rolling along the ground. It plunked against the wall, and the young woman’s head turned toward the noise. Such a shame that a pretty, spirited gal like her had to be blind. Riley cleared his throat, not liking the direction his thoughts had taken him. “Did you need something, miss?”

  “Oh, uh … Miss Laura sent me out to tell you that you’re … uh … welcome—” she coughed, as if the words were distasteful “—to stay overnight in the tack room, if you want. Of course, it’s not much of a place. Just a hot, little room.”

  He cocked his head, intrigued with her obvious dislike of him. What could she have against him? Glancing at his dusty pants, he frowned. Probably his rank odor offended her. Scent was about all she had to judge him on, since she didn’t know him or his family. He peeked down at his stained shirt then sniffed his underarm and rubbed his hand over his bristly whiskers. He needed a bath—bad. But hygiene wasn’t exactly at the top of a soldier’s list of chores.

  She took a step toward the boards and pointed past him. “The tack room is back there. Behind that closed door.”

  Riley strode forward and grasped her arm. Her brown eyes widened, and she yanked her arm from his hand and back-stepped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “There’s boards, miss. On the ground.” He waved his hand at them, then realized the futility of his action. “I didn’t want you to stumble on them.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “See! That’s just what I was talking about. I could have fallen flat on my face and gotten hurt.”

  “That would be a shame.”

  Scowling, she sniffed and hiked her chin, but she then grimaced and lifted a hand to cover her nose. He ought to get to work, but he hadn’t been around a woman in so long that he just wanted to stand there and gawk at her. Long, light-brown hair was pulled back and tied with a blue ribbon. Her skin, lightly kissed by the sun, had a smattering of freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and sprinkling her cheeks. She barely reached his shoulders, but she wasn’t in the least intimidated by his size, if she was aware of it. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, miss.”

  She lowered her hand and licked her lips, drawing his gaze downward. Her thin brows scrunched together. “How so?”

  “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  Those pretty lips pursed, as if she was deciding if he was worthy of knowing her name. “It’s Annie. Annie Sheffield.”

  He lifted his hat—an action wasted on her but too much of a habit to skip. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sheffield.”

  And just how was she supposed to respond to that? He tipped his hat even though he thought she couldn’t see. The small, respectful action was unexpected, especially from a man who seemed so uncouth. Few men had ever tipped a hat to her. “Uh … thank you, Mr. Morgan.”

  Why did he have to be so nice? She suspected that he’d be quite handsome once that layer of dirt and grime was gone. Her gaze kept lifting to his intriguing eyes. “Well, I just needed to tell you what Miss Laura said. There’s plenty of work that needs done around here, so if you’re of a mind to stay for a bit, she said it’s all right.”

  “That’s kind of her to offer.” His gaze dropped to the ground, and he nudged aside one of the boards with his boot.

  Annie just wanted to say what she had to and then get away from him. His stench was turning her stomach, and the fact that she hadn’t eaten much of her breakfast wasn’t helping. She shook her head. Why had Laura insisted in offering this man a place to stay when he had a home not far away? Yeah, the house had been damaged, from what she’d heard, but it was still standing. How could someone have a home and not want to live there? She couldn’t comprehend such a thing.

  “I reckon I should get to work fixing the fence.”

  Annie nodded. “All right. Let one of us know if you need something and can’t find it.” She turned to walk away then stopped. “Just so you know, we can’t pay you anything, but Mrs. Alton will see to it that you don’t go hungry.”

  He nodded, then his ears turned red as if he just realized she couldn’t see him. Annie grimaced. Even after seven years, she still didn’t like deceiving folks, but the charade was necessary, for the sake of the school.

  “That would be nice, miss. It’s been a long time since I
had food as good as that breakfast I just ate, and even longer since I’ve had three good meals a day.”

  He could definitely use some fattening up. The man was as thin as the hayfork handle she’d grabbed and aimed at him earlier. “I’ll get some bedding for your room.”

  “Much obliged, miss, but don’t go to any trouble on my account. I’ve got my bedroll, and to tell you the truth, I don’t even know if I can sleep inside.” His ears reddened again, as if he’d said more than he meant to. “But I do appreciate the offer, miss.”

  She nodded and spun on her heel, needing to get away from him, but she purposely slowed her pace. Yes, miss. Much obliged, miss.

  And what did he mean that he couldn’t sleep inside?

  Having him around would make things so much more difficult for her. She’d have to stay on guard, always careful not to look into his eyes or walk too fast or do anything out of character for a blind person. Keeping an eye on the children would be a hundred times harder, as would gathering eggs and milking Bertha. Why had he stopped here? Why hadn’t he kept riding or asked some rancher for work?

  And why had Miss Laura insisted that she invite him to stay when they could barely feed the children?

  She flung her hands out to her side as she walked around the side of the house. Since her birthday celebration, everything had gone downhill faster than an empty barrel. First Laura hinted that she find a man and get married, and now a grungy man showed up at their door, and Laura suggested they keep him. Annie stomped up the steps and reached for the back door, then suddenly halted, the blood rushing from her face as a chilling thought galloped across her mind.

  No. No. No! Surely not.

  Surely Laura was just being neighborly.

  Annie dropped down onto the steps and wrapped her arms across her churning stomach. Could Laura have matchmaking plans?