by Caryl McAdoo
The dog nudged his leg then looked toward the camp. A small shadow walked toward him, a bit too tall for Liberty, but definitely female. Did she know he was out there?
“Morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Izzy came closer and smiled. “Almost anyway, I suppose.” She bent when the dog jumped on her. “Get down, Stormy and behave yourself!” Rubbing the mutt's head, she looked up into his eyes. “Mister Harrell, there's something I needs to tell you, sir.”
“Speak on. Something wrong?”
“No, sir. Well, just I've been doing my ciphers and . . . I mean, everyone will know soon enough, but seems to me . . . according to what old Mammy taught me. Buckeye ain't my baby's pap after alls.”
“He wasn't? Who then?” Stupid question. Like he didn't know.
“Uh, well . . .”
“Junior? Or was it his old man?”
“The son, sir. First night they came. He . . . uh . . . “
“Say no more Izzy. We both need to forgive him. No way are you at fault. Not one iota. It's on me, and I need to ask you right now to forgive me for not protecting you better. I was so distraught . . . Isn't no excuse, but . . .”
“Yes, sir. I do forgive you, for sure. That woman . . . she be wicked. Evil in so many ways, sir.”
Though he'd loved her—or thought he had—he couldn't argue. “Yes. Guess we best forgive her, too.”
“I know that's true. Yes, sir. Now, they be two other things on my mind.”
“Good.” He chuckled. “Hope it isn't more bad news.”
“Oh, no, sir. Good for me.” She stopped scratching the dog's ears and he forced his head back under her hand. “You silly pup.”
“He never gets enough.”
“I suppose not.” She petted him again, scratching then rubbing. “Anyways, hope you thinks so, too. I'd like to be baptized today, if that be fine with you. Don't want to steal your thunder or nothing like that.”
“Absolutely fine! Yes, ma'am. That pleases me to no end.”
“Will you do it?”
“I'd be honored, Izzy—if it's permissible. I'll ask Liberty.”
“That sounds good. I was thinking after Mister Seve dunked you, then maybe you could take me under afterwards.”
“My pleasure to be sure. And what's the other thing?”
“Well, Mister Harrell. Seeing as how Gabby wants to be Gabrielle now. I been thinking I'd like to have me a new name, too. A free name. I mean . . .” She stared at the ground. “Izzy, it was my slave name. Could I be Isabel, sir?”
“Of course, you can! You can have any name you want.”
“Fine. That's just fine, sir. Thank you. So then, from now on, I'll be Isabel Harrell. Is that all right, too, sir? If I take your last name?”
Tears welled, and he held his arms out to the girl. She walked into his embrace and hugged him hard. “And how about you call me Pap from now on? Will you, Isabel?”
She leaned out. “Yes, sir! Pap, sir.”
Liberty couldn't believe her eyes. What in the world was Corbin and Izzy doing out in the shadows all wrapped up so early in the morning? She had half a notion to march right out there and give him a piece of her mind.
But then why would she? He could do whatever he wanted. But . . . well, not act like that while he courted her.
Was that what he was doing?
Well, he couldn't stay with her and around her people if that's how he was going to act. No, sir! He'd just have to go somewhere else. Seve could pay him off for his part of the headright and extra mules and anything else he had coming.
Give him all the money for all she cared.
How could she not have seen it?
She marched around the wagon, found her rocker, and plopped down so hard it hurt her seater. Nothing nearly as bad compared to her heart's wound. How could he do it? Purposely dupe her like that!
Why had she been so blind? The man was nothing but a scalawag.
“Coffee?”
She focused. Esther held out a steaming cup toward her. “Yes, dear. Thank you.” Liberty took the offering.
“Something wrong?”
Before she could answer, Corbin and Izzy strolled in side by side and all smiles. Anyone would think it was just another day. “Ladies, good morning.”
Liberty nodded but didn't look at the man or his . . . uh . . . she didn't know what the young lady was anymore. Had him setting her free been some elaborate ruse? Did she love him all along?
If that were true, why wouldn't the girl have told her? She'd thought Izzy was a friend, and surely, she knew there was something brewing between Mister Harrell and her.
Soon the others joined the coffee clutch. Once the last, Gabrielle, had herself a steaming cup, Corbin stood.
“Folks, my former slave asked me two questions this morning.”
The man looked right at Liberty. She glared back.
“First is, she wants to be baptized today too, and asked me to do the honors. Is that permissible? Me dunking her once I've been dipped? I mean, I don't know about these things. Wouldn't want to do anything out of order.”
Had she been wrong about them? “Yes, that’s fine. Any Christian can baptize another believer.” Her words didn’t match their message. Her tone sounded much too harsh.
“The next thing she asked about has to do with . . .” He took his hat off and bowed toward the ex-slave. “Well, I'd liked to introduce you all to Miss Isabel Harrell. Her pap being my boon buddy coming up—even though he was my slave—seems to make it right. I mean it won't offend anyone, will it?”
Her chest tightened. How could she have been so wrong?
“And I told her this morning, from now on she can call me Pap, cause seems to me Mister Harrell is just too formal. She’s family, and—”
“But I’s don't want to call him by his given name either. Wants to show him the respect he's due.”
“Is that why she was hugging you before?”
Isabel jumped to her feet. “Oh yes, ma'am! When I told him whats I want, his eyes went to glistening, and I couldn't stand myself. Next best thing to having my real pap back is to have Mister . . . uh . . . him as my new pap.”
Liberty's eyes teared over. She'd been so wrong. A father—even an adopted one—certainly had the right to hug his daughter. She looked to Corbin and mouthed 'forgive me.'
He smiled and nodded.
Her mouth went to say, 'I love you.'
What?
Where had that come from? Her heart wouldn't have it. Not there in front of her children and all the people who loved her. Besides, was it true? Could she really love the man—her husband only a month in the ground?
How had so much happened in a mere forty days?
Corbin tried to rest, but between his anticipation of being baptized and getting on to the new land—his land—seemed he spent most of the morning finding something to do to keep busy.
Then church time rolled around. Seve stood and his friend's opening words worked to soothe his troubles—except he really didn't have any, not at all. Nope, not at all.
From the time he first met Seve at the gin, he'd been so blessed. Even if the lovely Widow O'Neal didn't ever come around, he'd definitely found the family he'd never really had.
Oh, his brother talked a good game, but always acted otherwise. Always left Corbin in worse shape than when he showed up. And that boy of his . . .
Hopefully, he'd never have to lay his eyes on that young man again. Forgiving him up close might prove harder than from the distance between him and the sorry scoundrel.
The hymn singing ended, then both Seve and Liberty read from the Bible and talked about it some. Both made plenty good points, but neither had much flare for speaking in front of folks.
Shame he hadn't found Jesus early on, he just might have made a preacher. If only he'd found the widow before Reagan . . . but he couldn't change the past. His or hers.
Laud offered a right nice closing prayer then Seve smiled at him. “You ready, Corbin?”
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br /> “Yes, sir.” He stood and helped Gabrielle to her feet then Isabel. New names for a new life. Guess he'd stick with his though.
The water proved a bit cool, but not too bad. Seve waded out to a deep part, past waist high. Laud had mentioned he'd throw some extra wood on for him and his new daughter, Seve, too, he figured.
Man, oh man, his pap sure was liable to roll over in his grave. Seve held one hand out for him to grab, lifting the other heavenward.
“Corbin Harrell, upon your profession of faith before all the witnesses, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
The big man put out a hand on Corbin's chest and lowered him under, down into the river he went, then he jerked him back up. He let Seve help him to his feet then held his hand out for Isabel, who waded in toward him.
Her lips spread so wide, it was a wonder her face didn't split.
“Isabel Harrell, on account you told all these folks how much you love God, I'm baptizing you in the name of the Father, His Son and His Holy Ghost.” He laid her back then pulled her right up. She hugged his neck then headed toward the shore.
“Wait, Pap! Stay there! Do me, too.” Gabrielle ran into the water.
Liberty held the thick quilt out for the ex-slave but her eyes on the young lady and her father. What a day. Three souls added to the church, except Isabel had said early on she was a believer, but guess she'd never followed the Lord in baptism.
It thrilled her heart that Gabrielle had found the Lord's forgiveness, but she hadn't brought enough quilts.
That evening, after a rather tasty raccoon stew while she and Corbin sat their private fire, she thought about the dog. He'd turned out to be some kind of hunter.
Aaron should have named him that instead of Stormy, but the mutt was marked like a summer squall. Blue-black with swirls of white and gray. And the silly thing barked at the thunder, too.
Guess the boys could name their dog whatever they wanted.
Corbin leaned in and looked toward the cook-fire. “Got a bit of bad news this morning.”
“Oh?” She rocked forward. “What was that?”
Taking off his hat, he rubbed his hair back off his forehead. She ought to offer to cut his hair for him. She'd always kept Reagan and Flynn's trimmed.
“Isabel told me from her ciphering, she thinks Junior is her baby's pap, not his man Buckeye. Said the ingrate forced himself on her the first night they rode in.”
“Mercy! That boy should be horsewhipped.”
“Amen. And I'd enjoy being the one who did it. But . . . I told her we needed to forgive him. She agreed, of course. That's what the Word says, isn’t it? Him and my ex-wife, too.”
“Wow. Had you thought that means the babies are half-brothers? Is Gabrielle going to take the news hard?”
“I suspect so. She surely wants to think Junior loved her, that he just couldn't be man enough to face the music. I've heard her say more than a time or two, if only they weren't cousins.”
Liberty contemplated the news, but what really needed to be said blocked out any advice she might have to offer. “Please, forgive me, Corbin. I should never have thought you and Isabel were doing something inappropriate this morning.”
“Oh, of course.” He grinned. “Actually, did my heart a little good once I realized what had you bothered.”
Why had he said that?
“What are you talking about? Explain yourself.”
“Well, I figure a pretty lady doesn't act the way you did if she isn’t at least a little jealous. That means you've got at least a feeling or two for me.”
“I see. Is that so? Well, yes. To be certain, I've come to value your friendship and . . . uh . . . “
His smiled broadened. “Once we get that barn built, perhaps then it'll be time to think about our future.”
She didn't know what to say, so she just nodded then picked up her Bible.
“Where were we?”
That night, cool and crisp, while standing his watch, Corbin relived the whole day. Loving almost every minute of it, starting with Isabel's early morning visit, to sitting with Liberty after supper—but following those two walking out of the Trinity . . . he so loved.
Being in that freezing water was the worst.
With no doubts, though, the very best proved to be when the widow didn't have an answer for him regarding their future. How could he be so blessed for such a woman to even be interested in him?
It appeared like God was answering his prayers.
That morning, once she finally realized he and Isabel hadn't been doing anything wrong, and she mouthed for him to forgive her . . . It seemed her lips almost formed the words I love you, before she stopped herself. Or maybe he just wanted it so bad, he saw what wasn't there. Could be only lying to himself.
Figuring out how she could possibly love him or anyone so close to her husband dying eluded him. If she didn't, it'd be so understandable. Reagan was a good man, and he'd been her husband better than twenty years and the father of her children. If the land had the right timber and a good spot—whether she ever married her—he'd build her a barn that would outlast her and the son he prayed she'd give him.
He looked skyward. “Please, Father, give me the desires of my heart.”
Chapter Thirty-one
From the Elm Fork of the Trinity River, apply named for the abundant cedar elm trees, the clan rolled south by southwest. If Corbin remembered the map, the promised land wasn't too much farther.
Seve estimated midafternoon. The ground appeared fertile enough, but much of the timber a little scrubby for his taste. Hopefully, that Baylor fella knew his stuff. To Corbin's way of thinking, having a ready supply of timber was equal with good dirt.
Couldn’t help but laugh at himself. With over four thousand acres, he’d surely have plenty of timber.
As the morning wore on, the cedar elms thinned peppered more and more with some good-looking oaks. Noticed many pecan trees and of course cedars, dotting the woods. The nuts should be getting ripe, too.
A pie sure would be nice if Miss Esther still had enough molasses. He wouldn't let that hold up a pecan pie, though. He'd find a bee hive to rob. Happened more often than not, scouting for the right trees to fell.
Some of her light bread smothered in honey and washed down with cool milk would be even better than a pie. Shame the clan sold the cow, but with God being on their side, they'd surely find a new one soon enough. Would they have any neighbors raising dairy cows?
Hauling their old one would probably have only slowed things down.
Two fingers past high noon, Seve stopped the lead wagon and jumped down. Corbin set the brake and eased toward the front. Liberty materialized at his side then slipped her hand into his.
“Think that's the Delaware Creek he stopped at?”
“Seve thought midafternoon, but it sure might be.”
“I so hope it is.” She squeezed hard. “I'm truly sick of bouncing around in that wagon.”
Oh, how he wanted more than just the touch of her hand to his, to hold her tight, pick her up, and swing her around. But none of that or any other too-personal touches would be appropriate.
Not then.
And he intended to mind his manners and taint nothing, not with the beautiful woman so close to a decision in his favor.
“Yes, ma'am. I hear you. Pert near bounced-out myself.”
The general studied the map a bit then looked up and smiled. “I believe on the other side of this little piece of water is our new home. If it isn't claimed yet.”
Laud hooped then kissed his wife and babies. Flynn and Alicia took to dancing, and the little boys and girls bounced and cheered and ran around like wild Indians . . . Rich and Aaron anyway.
Corbin gave Liberty's hand a little squeeze, but she didn't take the bait. He knelt.
“Bless you, Father. Thank You for leading and guiding us safely to this place. Be with us and continue to protect us from all harm.”
“Amen
.” Liberty had knelt with him. He immediately felt bad about saying the 'safely' part. Not all of those who'd left Tennessee had arrived, but she didn't appear offended.
Quite the opposite, she licked her lips like maybe she expected him to kiss her, but that couldn't be. Standing, he helped her to her feet.
“What a great day to be home.”
She smiled then threw a nod across the creek. “Don't you have a barn to build?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Half a mile or so south of the creek, Liberty stopped her wagon behind Seve's in a right nice place to camp. Maybe even to build Corbin's barn. She best stop thinking of it as such. It'd be the clan's.
And hopefully one day, a church house where all their neighbors would come to worship. She’d even been thinking of a name for it.
With the four children off to gather deadfall, the men went to looking after the mules. Poor things wouldn't have to be hobbled too much longer. When the little ones had enough wood to start the cook-fire, she and the ladies went to fixing dinner.
Aaron spoke up when his Pa asked who wanted to bless the food. “Lord, bless the food to make us strong. Thank You, God that our journey's over. Now, we've got a lot to build, so please help us every day. Amen.”
His mother tousled his hair. “Very nice, Son.”
“Thanks, Ma.” He grinned. “Can we eat now?”
After a quick meal of warmed-up beans and fatback with cornbread enough to fill all the bellies, all washed down with coffee, Seve spoke first.
“It's my opinion we ought to be about marking our boundaries before we do much else. In that process, make sure no one else beat us to this place. The Delaware Creek will serve as our northern boundary.”
Laud tossed his coffee leavings into the fire. “I'm in agreement. You need to go for sure, Seve. Who you want to take with you? Might take until dark.”
“Flynn? You of a mind?”
“Oh, Pa. Pick someone else.”
Alicia's father eyed her hard then smiled. “No, little girl. Whatever you had planned can wait. I want Flynn.” He looked to his son-in-law. “Aaron, can we borrow your and Rich's dog?”
