Blood of Pioneers

by Michelle Isenhoff

  Joel seemed confident they would be able pay off the loan, but he never seemed inclined to talk about it. He did a little hunting and trapping, though Hannah knew the bit he earned could never cover what was owed, and the uncertainty made her tense and irritable.

  Three days before Christmas, Hannah kneaded a batch of bread dough, punching it with an increasing violence that rattled the table until Sue Ellen stepped in with a gentle touch on her shoulder. “You haven’t been outside for days,” she suggested. “Why don’t you take a walk? I can manage the bread.”

  Hannah didn’t need much persuasion. Bundled in scarf and mittens and two pairs of woolen stockings, she stomped across the barnyard. The snow lay several inches deep, and an icy crust had formed on top after a day of moderate temperatures. She set off without any destination in mind.

  Her footsteps took her down the road she had followed when she drove the Pattons’ horses home only a few months ago. She walked along the smooth, hard-packed sleigh tracks, passing the spot where Mr. Covington had fallen over and bungled his painting, and paused at the edge of a tiny, spring-fed lake. Ice had formed around its edge, though a flock of Canadian geese swam in the middle, apparently in no hurry to fly south.

  A noise in the underbrush startled her. She dodged behind a tree, aware that she was very near the spot where she and Wes had seen the bear.

  But it wasn’t a bear. It was Wes.

  The boy was ducked low, hiding behind an enormous stump, peering in the opposite direction.

  Hannah tiptoed to within a wagon’s length of him and shouted, “Wesley Carver!”

  He jumped as high as a jackrabbit.

  Hannah giggled. “What are you doing here, Wes?”

  “Quiet!” he hissed, leaping to clap a mitten over her mouth.

  “Why?” she whispered through the wet yarn.

  A voice carried through the forest. “I see you on my flank, Grant!”

  Hannah could just make out a figure through the trees. It looked like Danny Woodrow.

  “Aw,” Wes grumbled, “you ruined my surprise attack.” He called to the boy in the wood, “Don’t try anything foolish, General Jackson. My reinforcements just arrived.” Then he began issuing orders to Hannah.

  “Quick, move around to his left flank. I’ll go to his right. I’ve become General Grant in your absence, so you’ll have to settle for Burnside. Sorry.”

  After Seth’s letter, she had no desire to play General Burnside. And after everything else that had happened, the sport seemed like a silly, childish fantasy, unimportant and disconnected from real life.

  “You’re still playing games?” she asked.

  Wes looked up in surprise. He studied her face. “What do you want me to do? Stay at home and mope with my brother?”

  “Of course not. But I thought you might have a little consideration.”

  He shrugged. “It wouldn’t change anything. Marcus is determined to be unhappy. I’m not going to let him ruin my fun.”

  He turned back to his sport, and she kicked at a clump of snow. “I’ve been gone from school for a month. Why haven’t you come to visit?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding?” he gaped, turning around. “And catch what your ma has?” He shook his head like the answer should have been obvious.

  “We could have met in the barn,” she countered, “or talked in the yard. Didn’t you even wonder how I was?”

  “Ma gives me updates. Come on, General Burnside. If we move out we can squeeze Jackson between us.”

  Hannah stood rooted to the spot, watching Wes until he disappeared into the trees. Then with an odd sense of loss, as though she had grown and stretched and left a part of herself behind, she turned for home.

  Sue Ellen was gone by the time she arrived. Joel met Hannah in the yard as if he’d been waiting for her. “Mama’s awake. I think we need to talk to her.”

  He tried to usher her inside, but the episode with Wes had left her gloomy and miserable. She jerked her arm away harder than she intended. “I’ll come in when I’m good and ready,” she snapped.

  She followed him in and took her wraps off with slow deliberation. Only after each one hung neatly on its peg did she enter the bedroom.

  Mama smiled at her. Her cheeks looked thin and drawn, but they were pink again. “Hannah, you’ve been an angel. I don’t know how you’ve managed everything at your age, but you have. You and Joel both.”

  “And me too!”

  Justin burst into the room and flung his arms around his mother.

  Hannah let a growl of pure exasperation escape. “Doctor Graves said you can’t be in here yet, Justin.” She grabbed his arm and tried to haul him out the door, but he fought back like a devil.

  “I’m not leaving!” he yelled, pounding on her forearm.

  “Stop hitting me, you little cow pie!” She cuffed him on the ear, and he clobbered her on the cheek. With a gasp of surprise, she retaliated with handfuls of his hair. He yowled, and his fingers latched onto her wrists and dug in.

  “Enough!” Joel yanked each of them by an ear. Hannah had never seen his face so livid. His eyes snapped fire. “Even after three weeks apart, you two set in on each other like a pack of wolves the moment you see one another. And in Mama’s room, too! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”

  He shoved them into opposite corners. “I don’t understand why you must always be at each other’s throats. You’re family, for pity’s sake.”

  Hannah glowered, holding her smarting cheek. “It’s him. He acts like he’s royalty and the rest of us are just stupid, useless peasants. I’m fed up with his attitude. I’m fed up with him! He shouldn’t even be in this house yet.”

  “Hannah,” Joel warned, “Justin has a right to be here. He’s been working like a man for weeks.”

  Justin beamed triumphantly under his brother’s praise.

  Hannah’s eyes blazed. “I have scrubbed and cooked and nursed until my body ached. I slept on the sofa when I didn’t have strength left to climb the stairs. Don’t tell me he worked harder than I did.”

  “No one said he worked harder.” Joel pressed a fist against his forehead in exasperation.

  “Hannah.” Mama spoke softly from the bed. “I’d like a cup of tea, if you don’t mind.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed to angry slits, and she whirled from the room. How she hated Justin! She’d like to wring his scrawny neck!

  She slammed the kettle on the stove and rattled the china on the tea tray until Mama called out, “Hannah, please be careful. Those were my mother’s dishes.” The effort set her to coughing again.

  Hannah flopped sulkily into a chair and laid her head on her arms. She could have easily dissolved into tears, but she wouldn’t give Justin that satisfaction. She’d get back at him instead. She’d show him once and for all—she’d show everyone—that Hannah Wallace could live up to any member of the family, dead or alive. She’d leave no doubt!

  Abandoning the tea, she slipped out the door.

  ~

  Hannah approached the post office, her purpose set.

  “Hello, Hannah. Got a letter to send out?” Mr. Briggs perched on his stool in front of the window as usual.

  “Not this time, Mr. Briggs. I’m wondering if you know of anyone who’s looking to buy a good horse. He’s broken to saddle and harness, and he’s as sweet-tempered as a kitten.”

  Mr. Briggs fingered his watch fob absently as he considered. “Can’t recollect anyone right off. Though I’ll keep it in mind and ask around if you like.”

  Her stomach twisted at her task, but she ignored it.

  The postmaster looked at her more carefully. “Why do you ask? Your daddy looking to sell off the farm?”

  “Oh, no,” she replied airily, “I just know someone who’s looking to sell an animal. Thought I’d help her ask around.”

  “Oh? Who would that be?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I should probably let her tell you. I’m sure she’ll be by in a few days herself.”
>
  “All right.” He seemed pacified. “I’ll keep thinking.”

  Next, Hannah crossed over to the hotel where a stage rested. The horses relaxed in their traces, their muzzles chuffing out steam like a row of miniature smokestacks, their hooves gouging at the snowy planks.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Hannah hailed the driver, patting one of the horses on its glossy neck and trying not to picture Rounder in its place. “Where does the stage purchase such fine horses?”

  The man beamed at her. “That one’s a beauty, ain’t he now? I believe he came from a breeder down Jackson way. We get most of our animals from a few large farms. In fact, we just got a new shipment in last week. We’re going to phase out some of the older animals. You interested?”

  “No sir,” she answered. “Just curious.”

  She gave the horse a last slap. Glancing around out of habit, she could see no sign of Wes or Marcus, but their absence didn’t really disappoint her. Wandering across town, she entered Mr. Stockdale’s smithy. He shoed every horse within eight miles and might know something.

  The shop felt hot and stuffy, a welcome contrast to the frigid winter air.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Stockdale.”

  The smith gave her a cursory glance. “Be with you in a moment, Hannah.”

  He pounded a thin piece of red-hot metal with a hammer. Then he plunged the unfinished tool into a bucket of water. Steam hissed up and mingled with the smoke blackening the ceiling.

  Mr. Stockdale wiped his hands on his leather apron and leaned a hip against the counter. “What can I do for you? Joel need something mended?”

  “No, sir, nothing like that. I’m just wondering if you know anyone who wants to buy a good horse.”

  He looked at her shrewdly. “Your Pa selling that Morgan?”

  Hannah looked up, startled. “Um...ah...no! Of course not! I mean, I know someone who wants to sell another horse. An excellent saddle horse. But not Rounder.” She stopped, flustered.

  “Well,” he said with a keen eye, “not too many folks in town can afford a horse like you’re describing for the money your friend probably needs. Allegan would be a better place to do business. A steady war mount sells for a fine price nowadays. If I had a dandy to sell, I’d ask Mrs. Patton who her husband’s contact is in that city.”

  Hannah gulped. The war would be even worse than the stage!

  “Thank you, Mr. Stockdale. I’ll do that.”

  She walked home with a heavy heart.

  Passing the Patton farm, Hannah found herself drawn to the paddock containing the graceful quarter horses. They scuffed through the layer of snow, scrounging for grass underneath.

  Mrs. Patton emerged from the barn carrying a broad-bladed shovel. “Hello, Hannah!” she called. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, no ma’am,” she replied, hopping down from the rail fence. “I’m on my way home from town, and I just stopped to admire your horses. They’re so beautiful.”

  Mrs. Patton leaned the shovel up against the fence. “They’re Josiah’s pride and joy.”

  Hannah regarded the woman evenly. It was now or never. “He sold the others to a man in Allegan, right?”

  The woman looked mildly surprised. “As a matter of fact, he did. There’s a man there by the name of Edward Rochester who deals for the cavalry. He’s fairly well-known.”

  “It must have been hard to sell them.”

  “Well, yes, it was. I had to tell myself it was just business.”

  That’s what Hannah would tell herself, too, because she could not lose Pa’s home. And selling Rounder was the only way to keep it. Funny how the farm she could not wait to leave such a short time ago had become the most important thing in the whole world.

  She bid Mrs. Patton farewell with a plan fully formed. She was not going to sit around and wait for Mr. Lawson’s company to strike. No, she was going take matters into her own hands. At last, her time had come.

  She was leaving for Allegan on Rounder—tonight!

  Chapter 15

  Shadows grew long and melted into one another before Hannah turned the sorrel horse west at the crossroads in Martin. The new road was icy dirt, and after nine miles riding south over warping planks, Hannah wasn’t disappointed to leave the highway behind. Though she had only been to Allegan one time, so many years ago, she knew this road would take her straight to the city, still ten miles away.

  After leaving Mrs. Patton’s farm, Hannah had sneaked up to her room. She changed into her trousers and grabbed Joel’s heavy barn coat and one of his old hats. The clothing would be warmer than her own. But she stuffed a dress and a heavy shawl into a pillowcase as well, along with fresh bread from the kitchen and a tin cup.

  Acting on impulse, she had set out much too late to reach Allegan by nightfall, but it would be an easy task to find a warm barn to sleep in for the night. In Allegan, she would purchase a ticket on the stage for her return—she’d always wanted to ride the stage—and be home by tomorrow evening.

  Now as daylight dissolved around her, Hannah’s stomach growled ravenously. Fingers that grasped the knotted reins grew numb, but she decided to plod on a few more miles. She passed a handful of houses in the village, then lights became widely scattered across the open fields.

  Hannah wasn’t afraid; she had camped out at night a dozen times with Seth and Joel on their imaginary journeys. But she was terribly excited. At last, she was off on a real adventure! After so much dreaming, hoping, and anticipating, she had really done it. A secret pleasure fizzed like soda water in her stomach.

  The road took a curve and zigzagged for nearly a mile. Sometimes Hannah could see a skin of ice reflecting the moonlight on her left and sometimes on her right. Last summer’s cattails stood in silhouette against the glow and rattled when the wind touched them. She was grateful for the frozen footing beneath Rounder’s hooves. In the spring, the low areas surely grew swampy.

  Without warning, the road suddenly ended. A crossroad ran north to south, but Hannah knew she must continue west for many miles. She sat shivering on the horse for a full two minutes wondering what to do.

  Certainly the road just took a jog, but in what direction, and for how long? In the darkness she could see nothing. Perhaps she should retire for the night and find her way in the morning.

  As she lingered, the faint sound of galloping approached from behind. It grew closer, and the pattern of two distinct hoofbeats separated themselves. Two horses.

  Hannah smiled. The timing seemed providential. Surely the riders would know which direction she must take.

  The horses approached quickly, recklessly. Hannah waved her arms and shouted, hoping they would see her in the dark. Then they were sliding on their haunches, fighting to stop on the slippery road. Rounder danced to one side, and the two new horses stood blowing heavily, their sides heaving in and out.

  “Well, wha’ ’ave we ’ere?” The voice that came from the first rider was deep and slurred, and Hannah had the impression of immense strength. “Looks like a fella lost his way, Al.”

  The stink of old liquor hit her, and Hannah suddenly wished she had dodged into the trees before the men approached. But it was too late now. Maybe they wouldn’t be traveling her direction.

  She made her voice as low as possible. “Please, I wonder if you could tell me which road leads to Allegan?” She was glad now for the deception of Joel’s old clothing.

  The big man chuckled. It sounded like the growl of a bull mastiff. “Sure we could, couldn’t we, Al?”

  “Aye, sure we could.” The second voice sounded sleepy. Not as threatening. They were probably just locals on their way home from a few rounds at the inn.

  “Would you please?” she prompted.

  The big man circled to her other side, sandwiching Rounder in the middle. “Nice ’orse you got there. Clean lines. He’d fetch a right nice sum, wouldn’t he, Al?”

  “Aye, right nice.”

  A prickle of apprehension rolled down Hannah’s spine like an icy drop of w
ater. She prodded Rounder forward. The sleepy fellow stayed hunched over his horse, but the big one followed her stride for stride.

  “Please, I need to get to Allegan.”

  Mastiff laughed. “Allegan’s a long way from ’ere.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Fact is, everything’s a long way from ’ere. Ain’t nothing around at all, is there, Al?”

  “Aye, nothing at all.”

  Hannah’s breath froze. It was true. She hadn’t seen a single light since the road passed through the swampy lakes. She was absolutely alone with two drunken men.

  Alone, except for Rounder.

  She kicked the horse hard in the flank. She didn’t care where he ran. She just wanted to get away. But Mastiff read her thoughts. As the horse leaped into motion, he reached out an arm as thick as an oak trunk and pulled Rounder up short. Keeping a tight hold on the rein, he kicked his own horse. “Come on, Al. Let’s go. We’ll ditch the kid in the forest.”

  The horse thieves set off at a canter, traveling due north, and Hannah followed helplessly behind. Ditch the kid? Would they leave her there lost, alone and on foot, to try to find her way out as best she could? Or would they want to make sure she could never identify them?

  She gulped. She hadn’t even packed a pocket knife to defend herself with.

  Hannah’s head whirled with ideas. Perhaps she could fling herself off Rounder before the men had a chance to carry out their intentions. But the frozen ground whipped by at an alarming pace. And the road was passing between more wetlands with nowhere to run to. Besides all that, if she lost Rounder, she’d have no home to return to anyway. So she buried her hands in the horse’s mane and clung to him, her panic growing with every step.

  A half mile farther on, the road climbed slightly. The swamp fell away, replaced by thick undergrowth. To her left, the trees cleared, revealing a sizeable lake. And suddenly, seemingly right in her ear, something screamed.

  It was a wild, piercing sound that dwindled to a snarl. Mastiff’s horse bolted, and Rounder threw his head high, snapping one of the frozen reins. With a shriek of panic, he twisted in the air and catapulted Hannah into the trees at the side of the road. The trailing rein slashed her across the face.