Touching the Sky

by Tracie Peterson

  “I have come to inquire if you have any objection to my taking Miss Marquardt on a summer drive. I have borrowed a phaeton and am quite capable with the team. I have already positioned the top down to make us visible to anyone.”

  Mr. Marquardt smiled. “You have my approval for such an adventure.”

  Brandon turned to Laura. “If you are ready, m’lady, your carriage awaits.”

  Laura laughed, and Brandon grinned in response. There wasn’t much about her that he didn’t find appealing.

  “Do be back in time for supper,” Mr. Marquardt called after them. “Mrs. Marquardt is planning quite an affair, and I’m to extend an invitation to you, Mr. Reid. It’s a special occasion.”

  Brandon saw Laura’s face light up, and her father continued. “This is something of an engagement dinner. The happy couple will be present as well as several other couples. We would be honored if you would agree to stay, Mr. Reid.” Laura’s expression changed and she quickly ducked her head.

  Concerned, Brandon nevertheless gave Mr. Marquardt an answer. “I would never pass up the opportunity for a delicious meal with such a beautiful young lady.” He would have to ask her later what the problem was.

  “Wonderful. I’ll let Agatha know, and she can add your name to the list.”

  With that, Stanley Marquardt directed his attention to the work before him and Brandon took hold of Laura’s elbow. “The day is quite lovely. I thought we might drive near the water and enjoy the breeze off the Gulf.”

  Laura seemed pleased with his suggestion. Outside, he stopped beside the phaeton. “It’s awfully high and I do apologize, but if you will allow me to help you, I believe we will master it easily.” She nodded and took his lead without question. In a flash she was seated and he had joined her.

  The carriage was designed to seat two close to each other. Brandon folded his large frame into the small area and found his broad shoulders all but pinned Laura in place. He tried to adjust, but it didn’t help all that much.

  “You needn’t worry,” she told him. “I am perfectly fine.”

  He picked up the reins and started the horses. “I should have borrowed a different conveyance.”

  “No,” she assured him, snapping open her parasol, “it is fine.”

  They drove in silence for several minutes. Brandon wanted to ask her about her change of emotions, but he didn’t know how to broach the subject. Laura appeared happy just to watch the world go by, so he decided to enjoy the quiet. She was unlike most women he’d known, who felt the need to keep a constant conversation going.

  By the time they reached a wonderful Gulf view road, however, Brandon felt almost a sense of urgency to speak. “You . . . That is, I am glad you could accept my invitation today. In fact, you are probably quite busy with the engagement party. You looked rather upset when your father extended an invitation to me. I won’t attend if you would prefer I not.”

  Laura looked at him oddly. “I have no objection to your being present.” She looked away. “I’m sorry if I gave you reason to think otherwise.”

  Brandon found a place where he could park the team. There was a lovely view of the water from there, and the rhythmic crashing of the waves on shore was most relaxing.

  “Would you care to tell me what upset you then?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s prideful and silly. I’m ashamed to even mention it.”

  “Don’t be.” She looked at him, and he was surprised to find tears in her eyes. “What is it, Laura?”

  “I thought perhaps . . . the special occasion was for me. It’s my birthday.” She shook her head and forced a smile. “I told you it was silly.”

  “Not at all. I think it entirely appropriate that you would expect a celebration. A birthday is a very important occasion.”

  “Well, they always have been in our family,” Laura admitted. “At least until this one. Still, I understand Mother’s enthusiasm to see Carissa’s engagement properly celebrated.” She paused and seemed to fight for words. “It’s . . . just . . . well, no one has even acknowledged that it is my birthday.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “Oh, I feel so foolish. Please forgive me. I’m ruining our first outing.”

  Brandon handed her a folded white handkerchief. “There is no need for forgiveness, and you are not ruining anything.”

  Laura shifted the parasol to her right hand and took the handkerchief with her left. She dabbed her eyes and handed him back the cloth. “Thank you.”

  “I assure you,” he promised, “that I will not forget your birthday. What say we go have some refreshments to celebrate your day?”

  “Oh, that isn’t necessary. I truly didn’t mean to make such a fuss.” She seemed a little less burdened. “Besides, I think this lovely drive is a wonderful way to spend the day. I am quite content.”

  “As you wish.” He released the brake and snapped the reins lightly. “Let us see what trouble we can get into.” With that, she laughed and Brandon couldn’t help but add, “And Laura, happy birthday.”

  Laura didn’t know when she’d ever enjoyed a day more. As Brandon drove the team slowly back toward home, she couldn’t help but feel her spirits revived from the earlier disappointment about her birthday.

  “Thank you for not thinking me a complete ninny for my tears earlier,” she told him as they neared the house. “I’m not generally given to such fits of emotion.”

  “There is no need for an apology.”

  “I enjoyed hearing about your horse farm in Indiana,” Laura continued. “I love horses and have always enjoyed helping my father select new purchases. Even when I was as young as fourteen, I would insist he take me with him when considering new mounts or teams.”

  “Perhaps you will have a future in such things.”

  Laura tilted her head. “Who can say at this point?”

  “Would you enjoy that?” he asked.

  “I would enjoy anything the Lord called me to do,” she replied. “Of late I have thought that might take me in another direction, however.”

  He brought the horses to a stop in front of the Marquardt house. “And what direction might that be?”

  “I feel it would be beneficial to teach the former slaves to read.” She waited to see if he would be shocked by this, but when he only continued to think on her statement, Laura went on. “I have helped several of our Mexican servants learn to read. I had Mexican nannies when we were little; I learned to speak Spanish and in turn taught them to read and speak English. Now I see all of these former slaves who are desperate to find work and fit into our society. They cannot read for themselves so they cannot sign contracts or further their education. I believe, like my father, that freedom is only the first step in many for the blacks. We owe it to them to educate them . . . in hopes of their being able to make it on their own. Don’t you agree?”

  She waited nervously for Brandon to speak.

  “I don’t know how it would be received among the blacks, but I think it admirable that you wish to help them.” He looked at her with great intensity. “You have a beautiful heart, Laura. I admire that greatly.”

  She smiled at his praise. “Thank you for saying so, but it is only because of Him who holds my heart.”

  Brandon nodded. “I admire that most of all.”

  9

  Two weeks later, Brandon reported to Major Armstrong. It felt strange to wear his civilian clothes in the office of his former commander. As he watched Armstrong unbutton his coat and discard it across the back of his chair, however, Brandon smiled.

  “You’re out of uniform, Major.”

  Justin looked at him and scowled. “They’re lucky I’m wearing trousers in this heat. I long for cooler weather.”

  “Or at least drier weather would be nice. Then the heat wouldn’t feel so bad.” Brandon handed his friend a two-page report. “I have managed to get quite close to the Marquardt family. Malcolm Lowe is engaged to the younger daughter, Carissa Marquardt, and I have asked to call on Carissa’s sister,
Laura.”

  Justin grinned. “Leave it to you to sacrifice in such a manner.”

  Brandon felt a moment of hesitation, but then continued. “I genuinely find her company appealing.”

  “So you didn’t have to sacrifice,” Justin said, laughing.

  The way Justin laughed and commented made Brandon feel uncomfortable. He’d already worried that Laura would learn of his investigation of Malcolm Lowe and presume that Brandon had only come calling in order to learn about her sister’s beau. Now it seemed Justin felt the same way.

  “The two matters are completely separate issues,” Brandon assured him.

  Justin sobered. “I know you to be an honorable man, Brandon. I’m sorry if my jest offended.” He took a seat and eyed Brandon quite seriously. “I hope you’ll forgive me for making light of this situation.”

  “It’s just that I’m already concerned that when the truth is exposed, Laura will think I only asked to call on her in order to spy. I assure you that was not my intention. I find that although our acquaintance has been brief . . . I truly care for Laura Marquardt.”

  “So you love her?” Justin asked in surprise.

  Brandon nodded. “I believe I do.”

  Justin laughed and took up the papers. “Good. Perhaps that will encourage you to remain in Texas rather than leave for the cold and distant north.”

  Brandon smiled. “Perhaps.”

  “So is this all you have?” Justin asked, looking at the written report Brandon had furnished.

  “Yes. I have observed Mr. Lowe meeting with several former Confederate soldiers, as well as a man who is known to run the Confederate supporting newspaper, The Ranchero. I haven’t been able to learn what they are planning, but it would seem they support some type of conspiracy.”

  “Conspiracies seem to abound with these Southerners. Look at what is spilling out from the investigation of the president’s assassination. It seems every day we learn of new participants. John Wilkes Booth was only one of many who wanted to see Lincoln dead.”

  “Hatred is a strong unifier, and from what I can tell with Mr. Lowe and his friends, their hatred is what compels them to move forward from defeat. Lowe is not shy about sharing his views, although he does appear to temper his comments when around his fiancée’s parents. When he’s with his friends he has no such control—at least that’s what I’ve observed those times I’ve been able to get close enough to overhear.”

  “It will be that hatred that causes them to make mistakes, and when they do, you must be there to thwart their plans. Pity we can’t get them to discuss and confess to the murders from last May. That alone would put an end once and for all to whatever they are planning.”

  “It would be useful if we could find someone who could participate in their meetings—someone who might be allowed in as a conspirator. Do we have any Texans who spied on the South for us? A man who wasn’t well-known to anyone as a Northern supporter?”

  “It would be worth checking into,” Justin agreed. “If I can find such a man, however, can you arrange to get him involved with Lowe?”

  “I’m sure we can figure something out.” Brandon tried to imagine how this might all come together. “For now, I will continue to learn what I can. If you can find someone to help us, someone we can trust, I believe the rest will fall in order. It seems to me that Lowe and his friends are desperate for support. To have former Confederates come to them for companionship would be natural. Where it goes from there will be up to Lowe and his friends.”

  “I agree.” Justin leaned back in his chair. “I’ve had word from Susannah. She’s quite excited about moving out here. I still think it would be mighty fine if you were to buy some land near mine.”

  “And where exactly is your ranch to be located?”

  Justin pulled out a map and unrolled it. Placing a couple of books on one end of the map, he held the other end down with his left hand. Pointing to a place just west of Dallas, he looked up and grinned. “Right here. I happen to know that there is an available homestead about two miles from mine. I know you haven’t seen it, but I can vouch for it. There’s a creek that runs through it, watering holes for livestock, and a stretch of trees. Otherwise it’s good grazing land.”

  “What about a house?”

  “Well, that leaves something to be desired. The folks didn’t get around to really proving up due to the war. I’m telling you, though, the property is prime. You’d be a fool to let it get away. Homesteading is the way to go, and you could no doubt prove it up soon enough and build a nice house for you and your gal.”

  Brandon looked at the map a moment longer. “I’ll think on it. I’m still not convinced about remaining in Texas. My folks are expecting me to return to Indiana.”

  “They won’t be the first parents to suffer disappointment,” Justin countered. “Besides, you just might interest them in moving to Texas. We could use another good preacher. General Russell says nobody can preach hellfire and damnation like your pa.”

  Laughing, Brandon got to his feet. “He’s got that right. I’ll pray on it, Justin. Rest assured that I’m open to whatever direction God wants to take me. I just need to know for sure that it’s God’s leading and not my own.”

  Brandon left his friend’s office and headed toward the boardinghouse where he’d taken up residence. He wasn’t but a few yards down the street, however, when he came face-to-face with two of his former men.

  “Cap’n,” the first man said, coming to attention.

  “Not any longer,” Brandon countered. “How are you, Simon . . . Claypas?”

  The two men smiled. “We be fine, Cap’n,” Claypas answered. “We was wishin’ you were still with us.”

  “Sometimes I wish that, as well.” A thought came to him as he remembered Laura’s desire to teach reading to the blacks. “I have a question for you two, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, suh,” Claypas said.

  “I have a friend who is interested in starting a school for former slaves. She wants to teach reading and writing. Would former slaves be willing to be taught by a white woman?”

  The two men exchanged a glance before Claypas replied. “Womenfolk and children might. I reckon it would figure on the cost. Colored folks ain’t gonna have extra money to learn to read and write.”

  “Matters, too, on how far away they’d have to go to get to this schoolin’,” Simon threw in. “But I’m thinkin’ folks would go to jest about any lengths to educate themselves.”

  Brandon nodded. “Education is going to be essential in helping former slaves get ahead. Without the ability to read and write, they will be forced to take on the menial jobs they had while in bondage. I hope you’ll remember that.”

  “You ain’t sayin’ nothing we don’t know, Cap’n,” Claypas said. “Problem is, most white folks don’t feel the same way.”

  “Shore don’t,” Simon agreed.

  Brandon knew what they said was true. “Perhaps my friend can help things change.” He knew they needed to get on with their patrol. “I’d best let you get back to your duties. It’s good to see you again, men.”

  “Good seein’ you, too, Cap’n.” Simon replied and Claypas nodded in agreement.

  Brandon watched the two men move off down the street. They were good men. He’d known them to be quick learners. Even so, what would the future hold for them? Where would they be accepted and given a fair chance? Like Claypas said, most white people wanted no part in associating with the blacks for anything other than free labor.

  Heaving a sigh, Brandon moved out. In so many ways, he thought, this war will go on for a great many years to come.

  Once their mother departed the breakfast table, Laura and Carissa were left alone. Laura figured it was a perfect opportunity to speak to Carissa about Malcolm. The memory of his appearing to sneak around and slip down the alleyway still haunted her.

  Laura reached for a piece of melon. “Is Malcolm enjoying his work at the flour mill?”

  Carissa looked
up in surprise. “Goodness, how would I know?”

  “Don’t you ever discuss his work?”

  “Never. I have no reason to. In fact, nothing is further from my mind.” Carissa spread butter on a biscuit. “Planning this wedding is taking all of my time.”

  “Still, it is important for a wife to understand her husband’s livelihood to a certain degree. I just thought perhaps you knew if he was enjoying his work.”

  “He seems happy enough,” Carissa replied and took a bite of the biscuit.

  Laura shrugged and sliced into the melon. “I saw him in town a while back when Mother and I were shopping. There were several men with him and they seemed to be . . . well . . . rather focused on something.”

  “No doubt they were,” Carissa said, still not at all interested. “Laura, do you think I should wear my hair in curls for the wedding?”

  “I suppose you could.” Laura immediately went back to her questions regarding Malcolm. “So it doesn’t concern you that when Malcolm should have been working at the mill, he was in fact elsewhere?”

  Carissa put the biscuit down and shook her head. “I swear you should have been born a boy. You worry about the silliest things. Men will be men and do whatever interests them. I have no desire to put myself in the middle of that. Malcolm has friends and dealings that do not interest or involve me. You would do better to put such thoughts aside and be . . . well, be more feminine.”

  “I hardly see this as an issue of femininity,” Laura countered in offense. “I just thought you’d want to know that your husband-to-be appeared to be up to no good.”

  “Oh, pshaw. How would you know what he was up to—whether good or bad? You simply saw him in town with his friends. There’s no harm to that. Perhaps you are jealous.”

  “Jealous?”

  Carissa gave her a sympathetic gaze. “Yes. I know this is hard on you. I know you expected to marry first. Even so, you have Captain Reid now. If you will conduct yourself properly, you might soon receive your own proposal. Then you won’t have to be jealous of my plans.”