by Ann Rinaldi
We sat a small distance from the fire. Crazily, I concentrated on the sparks it sent up into the night. Crazily, I wondered if Sue Mundy had told Seth yet that she was really a man.
"Did he hurt you in any way?" Seth questioned softly.
His eyes bore into me. I said no. He'd just swung his belt at me because I wouldn't do as he wanted.
"What did he want?" Seth asked carefully.
There was no lying to Seth. He could smell lies five miles away. "For me to take my clothes off and go into the pond of water and wash," I said.
I saw something come into his face, something hard and fierce. "And? I have to know, Juliet. If he dishonored you at all, I have to call him out."
"You mean duel?"
"Yes. It's still the order of the day, amongst men who care about their women. So tell me."
"Course not, Seth. He had it fixed in his head that I should, that there's a war on and that means there're no more rules of civilization."
"Said that, did he?"
"Yes."
He reached out and touched the side of my face, gently. "And that's when Sue Mundy came to your rescue?"
"Yes, but I knew she was there. We both saw her for a whole day before, though he didn't know who she was. I knew I couldn't fight off Bill myself. I kind of knew that at the right time Sue would come and save me. But just the same, I picked up a big shell and threw it at him. Hit him in the head, too. Made him bleed."
"You're a good girl, Juliet. I'm proud of you. Did he hurt you in any other way?"
I fell silent and looked at the fire.
"You can tell me," he pushed. "You can tell me anything. I have to know, child."
I faced him square, then. There were tears in the corners of my eyes. "All right, you want to know, I'll tell you. He hit me once because I said I would scream. He made me drink whiskey. Taught me how. And you know what, Seth? I was throwing up because of the wild rabbit he made me eat, and the whiskey settled my innards."
"What else?"
"Made me skin the rabbit."
"The dirty low-down son of a skunk. I'll kill him."
"You can't kill him. Not on my account. Or you'll be as bad as he is then."
"I can't kill him because I'm married to his sister. Don't you think I know that? But I can beat him up enough to make him wish he were dead." He got up and helped me to my feet. We walked back to where Sue Mundy was frying some bacon. It was all she had in the way of food, but it smelled so good my stomach hurt. Seth's house was but a mile away but none of us wanted to drag Martha into this now.
"Sue will see to you," he told me. "Do as she says. I do believe she's got some nice warm clothes in that saddlebag of hers."
Sue Mundy and I exchanged looks. Hers said, don't worry, it'll be all right. Mine said, you saved my life twice, I trust you.
Seth took out his revolver and untied Bloody Bill, then Seth took him off to the woods, which were all charred and blackened because of the fires the Yankees had lighted. They went down a hill, and I said a prayer that Seth wouldn't kill him. Sue found me some warm clothes because it was more chilly here than in the desert, and then I had supper of bacon and bread and coffee.
Chapter Twenty-three
IT CAME to me from other sources, I don't recollect how—on the night wind, I suppose—that Seth Bradshaw beat the purple demons out of Bill Anderson, although Bill Anderson did his share of destruction to Seth, too.
What made it all worse was that Seth and Bill had been friends since childhood. They had sown their wild oats together. They had drunk themselves into oblivion together. They had taken part in horse races, in playing cards, even courted the same girls.
Neither had a brother. What more could be said? When they came back to camp that night, I was supposed to be sleeping in the tent Sue Mundy put me in. Half groggy from the laudanum she'd given me, I listened behind its canvas wall.
It took me no time at all to perceive that Seth was, at that very minute, sending Bill off to Texas. "And if you come back to these parts too soon, consider me the enemy. Just as much as if I wore blue."
He supplied him with beef jerky, water, his horse, and one blanket. Also his Sharpe's rifle.
I knew my brother well enough to understand that you never wanted to be considered his enemy. It was worse than being shot with a Sharpe's rifle. I felt bad. And I didn't know how to act with Seth now. Did he blame any of this on me? And when word got to Martha, as I knew it would, how would she regard me? Would she say I'd teased Bill? That was the ultimate sin a young girl could commit hereabouts. To be a tease to a nice, decent boy like Bill Anderson.
I had to let both of them know I wasn't. And, I decided, I had to let Seth know tonight.
That was one problem I had facing me. The other was simple enough: I had to keep Sue Mundy from sleeping in the tent with me.
I didn't want Marcellus Jerome Clark cuddling me. So how would I manage this?
I decided that the lies we all had between us were going to kill us before the Yankees did, and so I got up, wrapped a blanket around myself, and went out into the starlit night as if to my own execution. I might, I decided, have to tell Seth the truth about Sue Mundy, again, to save my decency.
My moon was growing darker.
"What are you doing up? You're supposed to be sleeping."
"Seth, I have to talk to you."
He gave me a look. He was seated by the fire, holding a wet cloth just below his left eye. When he took the cloth away I could see the bruise, already turning purple. There was also a cut on his bottom lip and on his forehead. "Something you forgot to tell me before?"
"No." I knew him well enough not to mention his wounds. "But something I should tell you now."
Go on.
"I just want you to know that I didn't tease Bill Anderson. I never sashayed around him like a cheap saloon girl."
"What do you know about cheap saloon girls?"
"Seth, you know what I mean. I just didn't want you thinking that."
"I don't. I know you better. You couldn't sashay if your life depended on it."
"I'll have to tell Martha that, too."
"Go easy with Martha. I don't know how I'm going to tell her about her brother and what happened yet. Is there anything else?" He threw a log on the fire.
"Yes. I don't want Sue Mundy in the tent with me tonight." I looked around for her. "Where is she?"
"Washing out some clothes at the end of the springs. God, that water has got a sulphur smell to it. So why don't you want her?"
"Seth, don't scold now. Or get mad. Promise?"
"Honey, I'm so glad to have you back in one piece, I couldn't get mad at you tonight for anything."
The words warmed me. I sat down next to him, gathered my blanket around me, and leaned on his arm. "I can't have her in the tent with me because she's a man, Seth. She told me she was."
"I know."
"You know"
"Yes. I've been around her enough to figure that out. Your old brother isn't that dense when it comes to women."
"Did you tell her you know?"
"Course not. Her work all depends on her keeping it a secret. How you got it out of her, I'll never know."
"She wanted me to tell you. Because you were smitten with her. And she didn't want that. And that's why she, or he, kissed me. To prove she was telling the truth."
He gave a deep sigh. "I'm not so certain that was the whole reason. You sure there isn't anybody I can marry you off to, at twelve?"
"I'll be thirteen soon."
"God help me."
"Seth, she told me on the way here that nobody must know she's a man. She said she has no currency with the Yankees as a man. That they'd kill her. But that they like her as a woman. If we give her away, Seth, she's dead."
"But she fights with us as Lieutenant Flowers. I suppose that's all part of the act, and as long as the Yankees know it's an act, they are intrigued by her. Just think, Juliet, someday we'll be able to say we knew her."
&nbs
p; I hugged him wordlessly.
He kissed my forehead. "You're a dear little thing for keeping her—his—secret. There's something about you, Juliet, everybody confides in you. I think it's your eyes. They're so sad."
"It's 'cause I got you for a brother," I teased. "Always bossing me around."
He smiled. "Go to bed," he said.
Chapter Twenty-four
AT FIRST there was some discussion about Seth coming back to his place with us at all. Since the destruction of Lawrence, Kansas, the 450 men in Quantrill's band had been on the run, setting up camps in different places. They were pursued by home-guard units, civilian posses, cavalry troops, and militia who were out to kill them.
These Yankee searchers combed woods, fields, houses, and barns. They came upon men at their supper tables and shot them dead. They, who criticized the method of killing employed by Quantrill's men in Lawrence, hanged men working in their barnyards, whether they had taken part in the Lawrence killings or not.
By the end of August they had killed at least eighty men. They took no prisoners. Now, in September, the military had run out of ammunition, their horses were worn down, and the officers were discouraged and disorganized.
But still, a meeting between a Yankee and any member of Quantrill's band meant certain death for one or the other.
Seth wanted to seek out and rejoin Quantrill, who had established a new camp on the Stanley farm, which was soon discovered by the federals. So he moved to a new site on the east fork of the Little Blue River, only to be discovered again. All the time he was out searching for me, Seth kept getting intelligence, via a messenger, as to where Quantrill was. After all, Seth was important to Quantrill. He was a captain.
Next, Quantrill bivouacked at Joe Dillingham's farm, a good hideout because it had only one route in. Still, just about the time we set off for Seth's farm, Quantrill passed the word along that his men should meet on September 30 at Captain Perdee's farm on the Blackwater River in Johnson County.
Having received that intelligence, Seth decided to go with us to his place. After all, he did yearn to see Martha. And it was only September 12. There was time yet to meet up with Quantrill.
The first thing Seth did was change his clothes for the trip home. Off came the gray Quantrill shirt with the red stitching. The baggy trousers, another sign of Quantrill's men, got pulled out of the high cavalry boots and the four revolvers worn around the hips were reduced to two.
He had Sue Mundy cut his hair, after which she started off to join Quantrill. Most of the Raiders had longer hair and Seth had his cut to look more conventional. He had started growing sideburns and so he shaved them off. The hat with the round brim went and was replaced with a Confederate soldier's cap, which he'd kept in his saddlebags.
Now he was ready.
We rode through what was already being called "the burnt district," the area that had been put to the torch by the Yankees. Everything, all the forests and hills, the fenced-in pastureland, the bushes and trees, was burned to a crisp. Not to mention the farmland and the barns and houses.
Some of the barns and houses still smoked. The district went on forever, it seemed. And it made one want to choke with the smell of it.
WHEN WE got to Seth's place, it was like coming upon heaven itself after days of traveling through hell. The world turned green again as we went down the only path in the burnt woods leading to it. Of course, the whole house being made of logs and concealed by trees, you could scarce see it. And you had to cross a creek to get there. But once in the holler, it was like another world.
Seth led the way, right down to the barn. And for an instant it was as if there were no war. All around me I could see crops in the fields, crops being brought in, wood being stacked for the winter. Seth dismounted and paused, his hands on his hips. "Maxine," he said, "gave orders for the winter wheat to be planted, and brought in the corn and potatoes, and has seen to it that the hogs got fattened. I saw some of it when I brought Martha home. But now it's harvesttime."
And then he saw a large figure in men's clothing coming out of the barn. "Maxine? It all looks beautiful."
"Sure does, Master Seth. Somebody had to see to it or these lazy nigras you have here would spend all their time playing cards."
"How many people are left, Maxine?"
"Eight, not countin' me."
"So you're the overseer now?"
"Glad to give the job back to whichever fool wants it," she said.
"The Yankees been about?"
"They come once. Took two cows, so we got no milk, 'ceptin' what we gets from those two nanny goats of yours. Juliet, what trouble you got yourself into now?"
A nigra took the reins of our horses. Seth turned toward the house. "As long as the war is on, Maxine, this place belongs to Sue Mundy. She's a favorite with the Yankees. If they knew it was mine, they'd burn it. How's Martha?"
"She's tolerable, Master Seth. Walkin' 'round a bit more every day. Missin' you somethin' fierce. Juliet, you look like that bandage on your head went to war, too. Master Seth, Martha's on the couch in the parlor. She has a powerful yearnin' for some milk, real milk, sir. Know anybody who's got a cow to sell?"
"No. Look, I'll be overseer for the time I'm here. You care for the women."
"How long would that be, sir?"
"Two weeks, I'd say, but it'll give you a break. Juliet, why don't you go inside with Maxine and she'll fix you up. Maxine, this little piece of baggage here needs rest. Put her to bed."
"Seth!" I whined.
"No back talk, Juliet. I have enough troubles."
It was the roughest he'd talked to me since Sue Mundy had brought me back.
MARTHA WAS still hurting in her side and on remedies to help her heal. She was so glad to see us that I thought she was going to squeeze the lifeblood out of Seth, she hugged him so. Right in front of me, too. I have to say that Seth did his share of squeezing and kissing.
I didn't leave the room because Martha didn't want me to. I waited patiently. And when they were finished with this decorous hello, Martha pointed to a pile of clothing on a nearby chair. "I've been working on all that," she said. "And it's for you."
There were two dresses, two chemises, two nightgowns, and some underthings, all made out of the softest cotton. I thanked her and gave her my own hug, and she showed me a dress she was working on for herself. Then Seth sent me upstairs where Maxine was waiting to help me clean up and give me remedies for the cuts on my face.
He came up to see me when I was in bed in the room he had designated for me. He had something in his hand, held half behind his back. "I wanted to give you this," he said.
And he handed me the rag doll that had belonged to Charity McCorkle Kerr. The one Bill Anderson had taken from me. My eyes widened as I held my hands out for it. By now this doll had become more than a doll for me. It was the symbol of all I had been through, all I'd learned and suffered.
"But Bill took it from me," I said.
"I found it in his possessions when I sent him on his way. I took it back."
I hugged it close. "Thank you, Seth."
He came over and kissed my cheek. "Want you to stay in bed a couple of days," he said with another kind of roughness now, a roughness that meant fondness, a fondness he was almost ashamed to admit. "Hear me?"
"Yes, Master Seth, I hear you."
He tugged at my hair. "You get better," he said. "Those are orders from the captain. And oh, listen. I just told Martha what happened to you, how Bill kidnapped you. She's really upset over it. Don't bring the subject up unless she does." He touched his eye. "I had to admit that Bill and I had a fight. Just be careful what you say to her, all right?"
I said yes. I would be careful.
Chapter Twenty-five
I STAYED IN bed a full day to keep Seth happy. Then I got up and put on the robe that went with the gown Martha had made me. It lay at the foot of my bed. I felt so grateful for life, sitting on the edge of my bed, for the good people that surrounded me, for a
friend like Sue Mundy, who somehow was always there to save my life, for a sister-in-law like Martha and a brother like Seth, both who looked out for me at every turn. I must be better to them, I decided. At least I must stop back-talking Seth.
Maxine wouldn't let me help in the kitchen, but I did set the table for supper so Martha could sit down.
***
"MR. ADDISON, down the road, has the only spread not touched by fire," Seth told us at supper a week after we'd arrived. "I hear he wants to barter for some things. I suggest we stay away from him."
"Why was he spared?" Martha asked.
"He's a Yankee sympathizer," Seth said.
"Does he have a family?" Martha pressed.
"Two boys, about eight and ten, and a little girl about three," Seth answered.
"What does he need for them that he wants to barter?" Martha seemed very interested.
Seth sipped his apple cider. "Two bear cubs," he said.
"Seth," Martha said sternly, "don't even tease like that."
Just after Seth and I came home, two baby bear cubs, hungry and motherless, had wandered into her kitchen garden where she was working. Martha delightedly took them in. But we had only goat's milk to give them and they did not fancy goat's milk. Maxine concocted a mixture of honey with the goat's milk, hoarhound tea, and catnip tea. The bear cubs scarcely drank of it and were losing weight. Martha worried the matter to the bone.
I fell in love with those bear cubs. Martha let me name them. So I called them Frisky and Tubby.
"To answer your question, dear," Seth told her, "he wants play-pretties for his three-year-old. Toys."
"Does he have a cow?" Martha asked.
Seth gave a short laugh. "I doubt he'd trade off livestock. Even if we did have play-pretties. Everything Juliet had was burned. Right, Juliet?"
I shook my head, yes, while inside my head I screamed no, no. There are things. I have things. And Mr. Addison has a cow. Last I heard he had three cows!
