GALVESTON
Between Wind And Water
Rachel Cartwright
© 2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This story is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places, and documented incidents are used in a fictitious manner as literary sources for the author’s imagination . The author makes no claim to historical accuracy concerning the actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, portrayed in this novel. This book is not a factual account of historical events and is for your reading enjoyment only.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
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ISBN: 978-0-9880907-7-4
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CHAPTER 1
October 18, 1862
Darkening clouds hung low in the west over Cooke County, making the flames a few miles away in Gainesville appear brighter.
Bitter autumn wind hissed through the shattered windows of the McGowan family farmhouse. But it was not the sudden chill that made Lorena shudder.
Standing barefoot on the polished floor of the parlor, Lorena clutched her torn blouse against her trembling breasts, her terrified gaze moving in turn to the leering face of each man crowded into the room.
Her six-year-old son, Bret, grasped the crumpled folds of her black skirt and buried his face in her side.
The home guard leader, who had introduced himself as Captain Hugh Bolan, took off his hat and ran gloved fingers through oily, uncut hair. He looked around at the four other men then flashed a curt smile.
“Glad to see you’ve calmed yourself some, ma’am.”
A pudgy man with a face that belonged on the end of a fishhook edged in beside the captain. He sneered at Lorena and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “That’s right, Captain. She was all fired up when we first showed.”
The captain held up his hand. “Easy, Haines; I’ll do the talking.”
Haines wrinkled his nose with disdain. “Yes sir.” He turned his head away from the captain and took a step back.
The smoky odor of burning wood and hay smothered the last of the fresh morning air, making everything heavy with its stillness. From the barn, the cows—their udders filled to bursting from neglect—increased their incessant, painful lowing.
A stooped, haggard farmer with rheumy eyes, whom Lorena heard the others calling ‘Weems,’ prodded Haines on the shoulder. “You get cold feet? Can’t you see the lady wants to dance?”
Haines stole a glance at the captain and then, without a word, lunged at Lorena and grabbed at her breast.
Bret cried, and Lorena jerked to one side, letting the force of Haines’s attack carry him past her. Instinctively, she snapped her fist up and clipped him clean in the eye before he went crashing into the wall.
Weems cackled and hooted. “Yesirree, Captain! That little lady belongs in the boxing ring.”
Haines rubbed his eye, his lips pursed with suppressed fury. “She got a lucky shot, captain. I wasn’t lookin’.”
Captain Boland shook his head and spat on the floor. “That’s your problem, Haines. You don’t listen to orders, and you never keep your eyes open. I’m surprised some Yankee ain’t blown your fat melon to bits already.”
The captain turned from Haines and put his hand on the shoulder of the youngest member of his troop, a youth no more than seven or eight years older than the McGowan boy.
“Some folks might say war’s no place for a boy, but if they survive they come out of it a man and stronger for it. Ain’t that right, Gus?”
The callow youth with penetrating, deep-set eyes grinned and glanced down at the floor. “Yes sir, Captain Boland. It’s a wonder Mr. Haines still has a brain left in there at all.”
The rest of the men broke into hoarse laughter.
Haines spat at the boy’s feet. “Shut up, you sneaky little weasel. Always diggin’ your nose in some book, lookin’ for things respectable folks wouldn’t want to know about.”
The boy smiled maliciously. “Then you must be the most respectable person in Gainesville. Unless you’ve learned to read since—”
Haines shoved the younger man in the chest. “You damn cockchafer. When we’re finished here, I’ll learn you somethin’ you can’t read in no book.”
The captain put his hat back on. “Easy, boys. We’re in the presence of a real lady.”
Lorena stroked Bret’s sandy brown hair and wiped his cheek with a clean part of her blouse. She crouched and whispered into his ear. “Hush, darling. Momma won’t let anything happen to you. Soon it will be over, and they’ll go away.”
Captain Boland took a step closer. “Why you actin’ so inhospitable, ma’am? I told you. I’m a gentleman and a man of my word. You and the boy have nothing to be afraid of.”
“If that was true, sir, why are we not free to leave? My husband expects us to meet him when his coach arrives. Take anything you want but leave us in peace.” She pulled her son closer.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about good ol’ William. He’ll make out just fine.” The captain tilted his neck back and lifted a fresh bottle of her husband’s Napoleon brandy to his thin, chapped lips.
The grizzled driver cracked his whip again, pushing the horses at full gallop down the rutted, dry earth road. The nervous, rakish man sat beside him, his eyes constantly searching the open terrain. ‘So far so good,’ he thought, and if they were lucky they’d all be home for a hot supper before sunset tonight. He gripped the barrel of the Winchester laid across his knees.
In the rattling passenger compartment, William McGowan shifted to one side and rested his fingers on the handle of his Colt revolver concealed beneath the jacket of his best-tailored suit. At this pace they might run the horses into the ground, but at least he would be home in time.
He stared out the window at the vastness of the open plain, preferring not to make eye contact with the four other passengers seated on the benches facing each other. No one seemed to mind, for it seemed to afford each person the privacy of his own hopes and fears in these dark, uncertain times.
A small, shy, brown-haired boy about Bret’s age stared up at him and smiled. William smiled back. The boy quickly buried his face in his mother’s side.
William glanced at the floor and realized again how much he missed his son.
Captain Boland took a quick sip followed by a longer swig. When his Adam’s apple stopped bobbing, he wiped the torn, bloody sleeve of his shirt across his mouth and pock-marked cheek. “We got plenty more work to do before tomorrow. So let’s get on with this.”
A jolt of terror raced down Lorena’s spine as the captain passed the bottle to the men behind him.
A gap-toothed bullfrog of a man snatched it first and guzzled the last of it. The rest of the men grumbled. “Hey, Ragget,” one of them snarled, “can’t you leave some for the rest if us?”
Lorena looked directly into the eyes of Gus, the youngest man. He lowered his gaze as though embarrassed for her. His speech, manners, and clean appearance revealed a
formal education well above the sweaty, tobacco-chewing mudsills around him. He always seemed to be standing several paces away from them as if to remain unsullied by their grime and odor.
Lorena’s spirits lifted. A civilized gentleman would only go so far. Lorena hoped she would be able to use him to her advantage. If only the family’s manservant, Philip, would return with his friends they would have a chance to escape from these terrible men.
The captain scuffed the heels of his boots across the floorboards. He stopped in front of her and spoke to the men over his shoulder. “And she’s a McGowan woman, no less.”
“That’s a fact, Captain,” Haines said. “And we been hummin’ that song all day to get in a right friendly mood for our social call. Ain’t we, boys?” He smiled obscenely, showing her a cracked clump of brown and blackened teeth as he croaked the words of the song in a tuneless monotone. “We loved each other, Lorena. More than we ever dared to tell, and what we might have been, Lorena, had our loving prospered well.”
Weems slapped Haines on the back. “Wake snakes, man. You’re givin’ us all an earful of pain, and it looks like you made the boy wet himself.”
The men laughed again and whooped it up.
Bret turned from them and hung his head. “Mother, I’m sorry. I’m—”
“Shhh, dear.” Lorena hugged her trembling son. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right.” She stared into his trusting eyes for a few moments, hoping to find a sign to help her believe her own words.
Captain Boland removed his dusty riding gloves. Without a word he suddenly pulled Lorena’s blouse back, exposing her shoulder to catcalls from the other men.
She slapped his hand away. “Keep your claws off me, you filthy animal. You vigilantes are no better than thieves and murderers.”
The captain laughed. “Still savage as a meat axe, aren’t we, Lorena?”
Ragget elbowed Haines aside and staggered past him. “What’s all the ruckus for, ma’am? The boys of the loyal home guard is just asking for the same courtesy you gives away for free to Billy Yank and maybe even to that darkie of yours. And he’ll sure get what’s comin’ to him when he gets back from town.”
Gus stepped forward again. “Please, Mrs. McGowan. There’s nothing preventing these men from doing what they want. I’ve seen it before. If you don’t put up a fight—”
“I don’t right care if she does fight,” Weems called out behind him. “I like it when they scratch like a cornered cat.”
The men whistled and snorted as they nodded their heads.
“I beg you, Mrs. McGowan,” Gus said, “don’t provoke them. We’re all paying a price, but once the war is over, life will be better for all of us.”
Lorena cradled Bret’s head against her stomach. “Life will never be the same as before for any of us. The war made sure of that. But whatever is left, it will still be life, and I want it for my son and husband.”
She turned to the captain and tried to focus only on his eyes to find the last vestige of human decency and respectability that might still be there. If she could quell the rampaging torrents of her fears, she might find something to hold onto, something she could use to save her family.
The stagecoach rattled and shook fiercely as it veered to one side. William reached into his inside suit pocket and pulled out an unsealed envelope.
He stared at it for a few moments and tapped it against his hand. Still uncertain, he took out the letter and read it again.
Finally satisfied that his words were as true as they could be under the circumstances, William smiled with the sorrowful acceptance that this was the one hope he had for saving his family, but what if the home guard should find it first? Lorena was expecting him tomorrow morning on the eleven o’clock but he had no way of telling her that he was arriving today by private coach, in hopes of returning unannounced.
He slipped the letter back into the envelope and sealed it. William leaned forward in the coach toward the woman and her small boy. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I was just thinking how much your son reminds me of my own boy, Bret.”
The woman looked suspiciously at William. She glanced down at the letter in his hand.
William smiled warmly and extended his hand in greeting. “My name is William McGowan, ma’am. I was wondering if I might impose upon you . . . for a small act of kindness on behalf of my family.”
Captain Boland scratched the side of his face. “Well, ma’am, I’d like to help you, but you’re gonna have to take that up with the hangman. And last I seen there was a long line of cryin’ women ahead of you.”
Bret gritted his teeth. Scared and humiliated, he trembled more with anger than fear. He was not going to let these men hurt his mother. He dug his hand into the pocket of his torn knickerbockers.
Boland unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to Haines. “You’re a smart woman, Mrs. McGowan. Kinda high ’n’ mighty with your nose up when you passed me on the street. Guess you don’t cotton much to half-breeds, but I wanted to give you a chance, anyways.”
Ragget approached Boland and spoke with slurred speech. “Gus is still green. Don’t you think we should let him have a go first? They ain’t got much spirit left after we’ve finished with ’em.”
“Maybe he’s right, Captain,” Haines said. “Let’s see what our bright boy can do. ’Sides, only quim he’s ever had is on the backside of a heifer.”
Captain Boland chucked his head back and laughed. The men slapped each other’s shoulders and howled like drunken fools. Even Gus grinned at his own ridicule.
“All right, get up here, boy. I like to know what a man’s made of if he rides in my company. Don’t be bashful. The sofa over there will do just fine.”
The pale youth cringed. “No . . . no, sir. Thank you. I don’t much feel like it.”
“What’s that, boy?” Boland grinned like a wolf about to pounce.
The young man’s sullen eyes grew more intense. “If she’s been with coloreds or other men, there’s a chance I could catch something. The war spreads the pox like wildfire.”
The others fell quiet and glanced at each other.
Lorena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She quietly thanked the strange young man for exposing his fear. Let them think what they wanted about her character if the lie would stop them from laying their filthy hands on her or Bret.
Haines scratched the side of his face. “Damned if I’ll admit it, but maybe he’s right for once. Heard a man can go crazy from the pox if’n it’s real bad. Eats up your brain like maggots on horse meat.”
The captain bit the tip of his thumbnail and spat it on the floor. “I don’t care what a frightened boy-virgin says. She don’t look sick.”
Gus lowered his gaze and looked away.
Lorena’s heart quickened. She pressed her feet and legs together as she edged back toward the spiral staircase leading to the second floor.
“C’mon, bright boy,” Haines said. “You heard the captain. Maybe you can give us all a lesson.” The men whooped it up again, and Haines shoved Gus forward.
Gus stumbled for a few steps then stood for the longest time gawking at Lorena and her son. He frowned and kept blinking as if unsure of what he was looking at. “With all due respect, Captain Boland, I don’t think I can—”
Before he finished his explanation, Bret broke away from Lorena’s side and jabbed his hand into the young man’s groin. Gus howled and buckled at his knees.
Lorena bolted for the stairs with Bret just a step ahead of her, leaping toward the second floor.
“Get that little bastard!” Gus yelled from the parlor. “Jesus! He almost got my—”
Haines guffawed. “Wouldn’t be no loss to the ladies, any hoot. But at least the bulls won’t get jealous now, Gus.”
Bret pulled on the rope lowering the hatch ladder leading to the attic. As he motioned for his mother to hurry, Lorena saw the gleam of a short, fine blade in his hand, his whittling knife, a birthday gift from his father.
“
C’mon, boys,” the captain roared. “Enough bein’ civil.” The stairs creaked as the drunken men lumbered up in no apparent rush. “Ain’t nowhere for them to go.”
Lorena’s arms stretched out but grasped only air. “Bret?”
“Up the ladder, Mother. Hurry!”
Hot tears streamed down Lorena’s face as she climbed, and she gasped for breath as she reached the top rung. Over her shoulder she saw the top of the captain’s hat clearing the second floor landing. The voices of the men sounded close behind him.
“Where you goin’, missy?” Weems hollered. “A traitor’s whore got nowhere to hide.”
She held back a scream. Please, Lord. Not here. Not like this with my son’s eyes open to every evil. Lorena had never asked God for anything before and promised she would never again.
As small as he was, Bret pulled at her with all his strength until she reached the timbers placed loosely across the attic joists.
Behind her, the captain shouted. “Up there. Quick, you drunken cowards.”
Lorena and Bret drew up the ladder and tossed it aside. She kicked down the attic door and slid a heavy wood beam across it until the tip passed under the iron bracket.
She collapsed on top of the door and hugged her son to her side. His tears soaked into her blouse. Gasping to catch her breath, she clenched Bret tighter and pleaded for the delivery of his innocent soul.
The stagecoach rumbled and skidded around a rocky bend in the road. As it cleared the sharp turn, the driver squinted through the dust kicked up by the horses. He sucked in his breath and his eyes went wide with shock. He pulled back on the reins, slowing the team. Allowing the horses to break their full gallop, he yanked back on the brake lever, bringing the coach to a skidding stop.
Only the panting of horses filled the silence in the remote plain. The driver took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow, all the while keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Galveston: Between Wind And Water (A Historical Literary Fiction Novel Filled with Romance and Drama) Page 1
