by Ward, Marsha
“Not like my girl Ida. You never heard the like of the plans she makes to catch her a beau. It’d curl your hair, Rod.”
Carl felt the heat of embarrassment creeping into his face, and turned away from Mr. Hilbrands’ somber description of his daughter’s antics. Looking around at the displays to find one out of earshot, he bumped into the saucy Miss Hilbrands herself, who had just entered from the street.
“I declare, you are the clumsiest—” As Ida got a good look at the object of her verbal attack, she backed up a step and started over. “I am so sorry,” she drawled. “Silly me, can’t help but trip on this old floor. Now let me think. You must be Carl Owen, Rulon’s brother. I declare, you have grown up so nicely.”
Carl stared at her, hoping his mouth wasn’t open. Ida Hilbrands had grown up very nicely herself. Above a pair of merry blue eyes was the blondest, silkiest mop of curls he had ever seen. Her nose was tiny, with a hint of mischief to its tilt. Her mouth looked as though it laughed a great deal of the time, and was just now curled upward as she smiled gaily at her prize.
Ida threw back her head and gave a little sigh, and Carl became aware of other curved portions of her body.
“Carl Owen, I declare, has the cat got your tongue? You haven’t said one little word since you bumped into me!” Ida smiled encouragingly, tapping her foot.
“I—I’m truly sorry, Miss Ida. I’m not used to being home yet, and in the company of such a pretty little thing as yourself. You have surely changed since last I saw you.” Carl recalled a vague person with long braids and knee-length skirts.
“Have you been home long?” Ida inquired sweetly.
“I arrived last evening. Got my parole last week near Charlottesville.”
“All this talk of paroles! Makes our men folks out to be a passel of criminals.”
“We was prisoners of war. The paroles mean we’re on our honor to come home and wait for an exchange. I got my parole, like I said, then snuck me a Yankee rifle. Almost got caught, but I slipped away.”
“Well, I never heard of such a thing,” Ida exclaimed. “Why on earth would you want a dirty Yankee rifle?”
“Because it’s an almighty good one, a repeater. I needed me a good firearm.”
“I don’t know anything about rifles and such,” Ida murmured, looking at Carl with dreamy eyes.
“I have to see if Pa needs any help,” Carl gulped, anxious to be away from the gaze of those eyes. “It was wondrous fine to see you again, Miss Ida.”
“You’ll have to come around and see us from time to time, now that this nasty war is over,” she countered.
“I’d be pleased to,” Carl nodded. He looked down and stared at his boots.
Ida tossed her head, greeted her father, and went into the back room of the store, sending one last smoldering look towards Carl.
He dropped a sigh of relief, then walked over to where his father and Ida’s were deep in discussion.
“I’ve got my store,” Rand said. “I can make a living. You go ahead on. I’ll not set the Yankees to your trail.”
“I hope you’ll give it a bit more thought, Rand. You’ve got goods here for a store in the Territory. Look around you and see the conditions hereabouts. Folks are starving, and all you can do is hand out credit and pray they’ll get a good crop to repay you.” Rod paused to scratch his nose. “Those miners in Colorado Territory have good hard money, gold dust and nuggets, mostly, and dug fresh out of the ground by their own hand. The things they lack are the goods you have right here. It don’t seem right when you could make a bunch of money, were you in Colorado. It’s not fair, somehow.”
Carl wondered how long the silence would last. He glanced at Rand, and nearly laughed out loud at the hungry look that came across the older man’s face.
“Gold dust and nuggets, you say?” Rand passed his hand over his face. “I’ll go with you Rod, but with all this inventory and my house goods, too, I’ll be needing an extra driver, and I’m willing to pay a good wage. Will you give me Carl, here?”
Rod turned to his son, eyes twinkling. “Will you drive Mr. Hilbrands’ wagon, son?”
“I reckon. You’ve got help a-plenty with the other boys.”
“It’s done then, Rand.” Rod shook hands with his friend. “Have your wagons ready to go in a fortnight. We’ll meet at my farm, and get an early start.”
“Good. I want to get out there before some other merchant garners all the business.” Rand chuckled, and rubbed his hands along his apron front.
Rod waved good-bye and left the store, followed by Carl.
“Well, Pa,” the young man said, once they were outside. “It didn’t take so long to change his mind.”
“I reckon I saved the best for last, son. I knew Rand Hilbrands could never stand the thought of good hard gold a-slipping through his fingers.” Rod mounted his horse.
“It surely was comical to watch his face change.” Carl swung into his saddle. “Who else do you aim to see here in town, Pa?”
“I’m going over to speak with the blacksmith. I hear he’s been itching to go west since his wife died last winter. If he goes with us, Tom can take his little ones along, not leave them with the Campbells.”
“Isn’t Tom O’Connor some kind of kin to the Campbells?”
“Closer than most. Mistress Molly is Tom’s sister. Now if Angus will agree to go with us, the whole passel of them can stick together and make a new start in the Territory.”
“Why don’t I go give the girls a hand, Pa? You don’t need me to talk to Mr. O’Connor.”
“Have them ready to go when I get back. Look, there’s Angus Campbell himself, crossing the street up yonder. I may be gone for a while, son. I’ll see you back at the house.” Rod nudged his horse into a trot, and little puffs of dust arose as he went up the street.
Carl turned off toward Rulon’s house. The sun had come out bright and strong, and it felt good and warm on his back. He grinned. “Hush, we’re going west.”
As he reached the corner, Carl saw a group of mounted men dashing up the cross street in front of him. Panic rose in his throat as he recognized the Yankee patrol that had jumped him, and he wheeled his horse to find a place of concealment. Then he realized where he was, turned Sherando again, and tried to calm his pounding heart. The soldiers were probably racing through the streets of Mount Jackson to make a ruckus, and he felt foolish to be caught in their trap.
“Easy, boy,” he told his horse. “It ain’t likely they’ll take after me in town.”
The Yankees drew up at the far end of the street, then turned and started back to town. As they thundered toward him, Carl noticed a young girl opposite him, evidently trying to decide whether to cross. She hesitated a moment, then bolted out into the street. In the middle, she looked around at the approaching soldiers, tripped, and fell into the road.
Without thinking, Carl spurred his horse into the street, leaned out from his saddle, and plucked the arising girl from the muck. Sherando carried them across the road while the Yankees whooped and whistled as their horses rushed by, venting their disappointment. Carl got down the street, turned a corner, then pulled up and set the girl on her feet and slid off his horse.
“Hush my mouth! That was the foolest thing I ever seen a body do!” Carl made no attempt to stop the hot words from tumbling out of his mouth. He glared at the girl, standing in the street with her chin up and her eyes flashing, auburn hair disheveled, the front of her clothes mud-caked and dripping. “You surely could have been killed, and that’s a fact! You keep clear away from that gang of Yankees, you hear? Darn fool girl, anyhow.” He got on his horse and left her standing there, pridefully biting back tears of relief. Then he rode away, shaking mud and slime off his arm, and muttering to himself.
~~~
Carl dismounted at Rulon’s fence and tied his horse, then rapped on the door. Marie answered and looked him over a moment before letting him enter.
“Did you fall off your horse, brother?” she asked, arc
hing an eyebrow.
Carl glared at her. “Don’t start in a-teasing me, Marie,” he warned, stalking into the room. “Where can I clean up?”
“The well is in the back. I’ll bring you soap and a towel if you’ll tell me how you got so dirty.”
“Keep them. I ain’t going to give you the satisfaction.” Carl left through the kitchen.
Marie heard the squeak of the windlass as she headed toward the stairs. “Stubborn,” she proclaimed. Before she had gone up two steps, someone rapped in the front door again. Marie sighed, came back down, and opened the door.
“Ellen Bates! Whatever happened to you?”
“Please let me come in. I’m afraid those nasty Yankees will bother me again.” Ellen’s voice quivered dangerously, and Marie stepped back to admit her. Then she closed and bolted the door.
Ellen Bates was covered in the front with a slimy layer of mud. She stood by the door, shaking and dripping on the floor. Marie grabbed her arm and led her to the fire.
“Set here by the hearth while I get some water to clean you up.” Marie went toward the kitchen, then halted. “Ellen, my brother Carl just went into the back yard with his arm all covered with mud, and in such a rage. Does he have anything to do with the state you’re in?”
Ellen moaned and covered her face with her hands. “Is that who he was? I’ll never be able to face him.” She got up and moved toward the door. “I have to leave.”
“Oh now, you ain’t going anywhere.” Marie barred her way. “I won’t let you go out there looking like you fell down in the road. Oh lawsy! That’s what happened, ain’t it.”
“I was crossing the street in front of those stupid Yankee soldiers running their horses down the way, and I tripped and fell. Your brother kicked that big horse of his and fetched me out of there. Then he set me on my feet and cussed me up and down. He really flapped his tongue some at me,” she mumbled. “You’ve got to hide me before he comes in.”
“You’re not afraid of Carl, are you?”
“Not afraid. Just shamed. It was highly foolish of me to try to beat those Yankees across the street, and to get plucked out of the mud like a rag doll.” She shuddered. “I’ll never be able to hold up my head around him my whole life long.”
“That’s likely, but you can’t keep from seeing him. He’s here to take me on home. Ma needs
me right now. We’re going….” Marie looked sideways at Ellen. “I mean, we’re going to be busy with…the planting.”
“Marie, you’re telling a fib. What’s happening?”
“I’m sorry, Ellen. I can’t say.” She sighed. “But I will tell you, real soon, I promise. We’ll clean you up, and I’ll find some clothes so you can go home.”
Marie left Ellen by the fire and went into the yard. She found Carl washing his shirt in a bucket of water. As she approached the well, Carl flicked drops of water at her and grinned.
“I’m sorry I was so fierce with you,” he said. “Seems like ever since I got home, I’ve been muddy more than clean, and it’s wearing on my nerves. Once, a cow knocked me into the mud, and now I’m filthy on account of a dumb girl.”
“Well, that ‘dumb girl’ was coming to visit me, and she’s out in the parlor dying of fright that you’ll cuss at her again. Carl, how could you?”
“What? She’s here?”
“She’s my best friend.”
“You surely do pick dumb friends.”
“I ain’t looking to fight with you, Carl. You had no business yelling at her, though.”
“She nearly got us killed by a bunch of Yankees I had trouble with once before.” He held up his dripping shirt. “Look at that. I was on my way home and they cut off all my buttons. Claimed I was violating my parole. I do not favor them casting their eyes on me again, seeing as how they’re running the show hereabouts.”
“Ellen knows she done a fool thing, but she’s sorry. You’d best come in and make amends for yelling at her.”
“Not me, Sis. Let her die of fright. I ain’t apologizing for giving her something she earned.” Carl put on his wet shirt and tied it closed with some bits of string.
“I see. Well, she needs to clean up, so if you don’t aim to meet her, you’d best remain out here.”
Carl mumbled something.
“What did you say?”
“You don’t want to hear it.”
Chapter 4
Two hours later, Rod Owen whistled as he tossed little Roddy into the air.
“Please, Mr. Owen,” Mary cried out. “The baby is so delicate.”
“Mistress Mary, you worry too much. This young’un is strong as an ox. And he’ll need strength where we’re going.”
“You’re still trying to get us to go with you? Rulon, tell him we can’t go,” she pleaded.
Rod continued. “Would you druther stay here and bid good-bye to your folks? Your pa agreed to go with me. Not only him, but Tom O’Connor, Angus Campbell, and Ed Morgan are going. I figure we need only one other family, and I’ll talk to them on the way home.”
Mary found a chair and sank down into it. Rulon crossed the room to squat by her side, and lifted her chin with his blunt fingers. “It won’t be as bad as you figure, Sugar. I’m getting stronger every day, and you’ll have your ma and sisters along. Look here, it’ll mean a good start for us, and we’ve never had one, with this war. Mary, we’re four years wed, and all we have to show for it is Roddy and some pots and pans.” He got up and turned to his father. “Pa, we’re going with you.”
“Rulon, I’m pleased. You won’t regret it none. Well now, are those girls ready to go home? I expect I’ll need a wagon to haul their things.”
Mary got up, sighing heavily, and went to get the girls, and as she passed her husband she gave him a long, despairing look.
“Afternoon, Mary,” a young male voice called from the kitchen.
“That’s Clay home for lunch,” Rulon said. “He likely don’t know you’re in town, Pa. Clay,” he called. “Come here a minute. Someone’s here to see you.”
A slim youth entered the room with his hat still on his head, brushing specks of straw off his colorless homespun shirt and faded brown trousers. “Pa!” he exclaimed, hastily taking the hat off his blond head. “When did you get into town?”
“I been here all morning, son. I bring happy news. We’re pulling up stakes and heading for Colorado Territory.”
“We’re what? Where Uncle Jonathan lives? What do you want to do that for, Pa?”
“I’ve sold the farm, Clayton. We need a fresh start, and I’m sick of the sight of Yankee soldiers.”
“You sold the farm? Our home, Pa?”
“I’ve decided, son.”
Clay stood silent for a while, then said, “All right, Pa.”
“By the way, your sisters are going home with me, but you stay here and help Rulon get ready to travel.”
“What about my job, Pa?”
“Give in your notice this afternoon. Your brother needs you full-time, him not being so spry yet.”
“Oh lawsy,” Marie interrupted, coming down the stairs. “This house has been full of people all day.” She came into the room with her bundle, trailed by Julianna, Mary, and Ellen, whose dignity had been restored by a wash-up and a change of clothes.
“How’re you going to get us home, Papa?” Julianna did not like to walk if she could ride.
“I’ll hire a team and buggy with Clay to drive us,” Rod teased.
“Papa,” Julianna wailed. “That takes money, and the Yankees have all of it.”
“You’ll ride behind me, and your sister will double with Carl.” Rod looked around the room. “Where is Carl?”
“He’s in the yard being a blue-nosed, stubborn fool,” Marie told him.
“He’s angry on account of me, Mr. Owen,” said Ellen.
Rod finally noticed the extra face. “You’re Chester’s girl. Is your pa home?”
“Yes, sir, he was when I left this morning.”
“Well, w
e’re heading out to your place, so you can come along with us. You can ride with Marie, and Carl can walk.”
“Oh, please, Mr. Owen. I’ll be happy to walk. You don’t need to bother Carl none.”
“He’s already almighty bothered.” Marie giggled into Ellen’s ear.
“We’ll work something out,” Rod declared.
~~~
As Ellen walked down the pike with Marie, she daydreamed herself onto the back of Carl’s horse. She imagined she felt the hard muscles of his torso under her encircling arms, bit her lip, and gave a shudder of delight. Then she realized her arms were wrapped around her own front. “Pleased, God,” she prayed under her breath, “let him forgive me for being a fool.” She squeezed her eyes shut in her fervor.
“Miss Ellen, are you ailing?”
Ellen jumped, and opened her eyes as Rod Owen came alongside her, leading his horse with Julianna aboard.
“You were making such a face, I wondered if you was feeling poorly.”
“Oh, no,” she hastened to assure him. “I was doing a mite of thinking.”
“Would you favor riding for a spell? You can hop up there with Julianna and the baggage.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Owen. I like to walk.”
“You don’t always do it so good,” a scoffing voice broke into the conversation.
Ellen whirled around, her face flushing with anger. “That’s not fair, Carl Owen. Tripping was an accident. You wasn’t invited to busybody your way into my bad luck. Better for me had the Yankees run me over.” She turned and ran off a ways before walking once more.
“You do have spunk, I’ll say that,” Carl called after her.
Rod scowled at his son. “That’s no way to treat the little lady. You apologize to her.”
“Pa!” Carl protested. “It’s a misunderstanding betwixt her and me. Them Yankees were hooraying her in town, and I got some riled at her for getting in their way.”
“No son of mine ever spoke to a girl in like manner, Carl, and you ain’t going to behave in a new fashion because your temper’s short. You get along and make sure she’s smiling when she gets home.”
