Touching the Sky

by Tracie Peterson

  “As I mentioned earlier, this isn’t without risk. If your brother-in-law is the ringleader that the army believes him to be, then this won’t be the first time he’s plotted murder.”

  Laura swallowed hard. “Truly?”

  Brandon nodded in a solemn manner. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Sam will bring the carriage around momentarily,” Laura’s father announced as he joined them. “It looks to be a pleasant evening. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”

  “I am certainly happy for the lower temperatures,” Laura declared. “Goodness, but I don’t know how you men manage in your coats and vests, not to mention long sleeves. Why, at least I can shorten mine.”

  “That is why you most often see me working without a coat,” Father said with a wink. “I keep it close at hand, however, just in case your mother comes to check up on me.”

  Laura laughed. “Mother should understand. She was the one who mentioned that perhaps now that the war was over, we could consider trips north during the heat of the summer.”

  Father rolled his eyes. “Yes, she mentioned it most every day last summer. Had she not had your sister’s wedding to contend with, I believe she would have insisted we travel north to check out properties.”

  Laura patted his arm. “Well, it wouldn’t be such a very terrible thing now, would it? To have a little house up north where the summers are cool and easy? I believe that sounds quite pleasant.”

  “You’re from Indiana, if I remember right,” Laura’s father said, looking to Brandon. “How do you fare in the summers?”

  “They can be quite oppressive,” Brandon replied. “You must remember: We are near the Ohio River, not that far north at all. We have our share of humidity and heat to be sure. However, we grow some of the finest crops you could ever want and certainly do not contend with the same degree of temperature and dampness that you do here in Corpus Christi. We also have some very lovely shade trees. . . .”

  “Ah, there you all are,” Mother said, unaware of what Brandon had been saying. She swept into the room and handed her shawl to Laura’s father. Allowing him to assist her with it, she smiled. “I’m not sure I’ll need this, but I feel a chill in the air.”

  “Indeed,” Brandon said as he helped Laura with her own wrap. “The breeze off the water is cool. I would imagine you’ll be thankful for your wraps by the time we return.”

  Mr. Gaston appeared at the door. “Your carriage is ready, sir.”

  Father grasped Mother’s elbow and led her to the door. Brandon leaned close to Laura and asked, “Have I told you how lovely you are tonight?”

  A wave of satisfaction washed over Laura. She’d picked this particular gown of pale pink Indian muslin just for him. The delicate pink was overlaid with a very fine weave of Irish lace on the bodice, while the skirt billowed from several stiffened muslin petticoats.

  “You are quite generous with your compliments,” she replied. “I only just received this gown a week ago. Mother had ordered it some time ago, but things were put on hold in order to have Carissa’s wedding gown made. It’s better suited to summer, but I couldn’t resist wearing it tonight.”

  He gave her mischievous grin. “I’m glad you did. You look beautiful.”

  Laura lost herself for a moment in his gaze. He had the most beautiful sapphire-colored eyes, and his lips practically begged her touch. She found herself starting to reach out and then stopped herself short.

  “You take my breath away,” he whispered. “If you continue to look at me that way, we might never make it to the musical performance.”

  Laura’s mouth dropped open, and he reached up with a finger to close it again. “Now, now. Your parents will wonder what in the world is amiss, and then what would you say?”

  “I would tell them the truth,” she said, regaining her composure. “I would simply explain that you were . . . breathless . . . and needed a moment to regain your composure.”

  He chuckled and pulled her forward. “Come along. We mustn’t keep you parents waiting.”

  The following morning, Laura moaned as she forced herself to get up. Esther had come to wake her but had departed before Laura managed to push back the covers. She’d gotten to bed quite late, just as she’d feared, and four o’clock in the morning seemed impossibly early.

  Nevertheless, a promise was a promise and she intended to see it through. Donning her robe, Laura fastened the ties and went to her vanity. Esther had left a single lighted candle on the table beside the door, and from this glow, Laura could see well enough to brush her long hair and braid it into a single plait. She suppressed a yawn.

  The evening had been magical. The music had been superb, but Laura was even more in awe of the way she felt about Brandon Reid. She knew without a doubt that this was the man she hoped to marry. Never had she felt this way about any other man.

  She all but floated down the back stairs and into the kitchen, where Esther was waiting at the table. Smiling, Laura nodded at the small black slate and chalk.

  “I see you found them without trouble.”

  “They was in the pantry jes like you told Cook.” Esther looked at the slate and chalk as if they were gifts of gold and silver. “Thank ya for lettin’ me borrow ’em.”

  “They are yours to keep,” Laura said. “They were some we used when still in the nursery. I found them upstairs in the attic.”

  She took a seat at the kitchen table beside Esther. “Now, we will begin with the alphabet.”

  Esther turned up the lamp a bit to brighten the room. “Pardon my sayin’ so, Miss Laura, but mebbe it would be best iffn we begin with prayin’. I’m gonna need the good Lord’s help iffn I’m gonna read.”

  “You are very right. We should begin all of our endeavors with prayer.”

  By the time Cook made her appearance twenty-five minutes later, Laura and Esther were more than ready to wrap things up. Laura longed only to climb back into bed and catch a few more winks of sleep, and Esther was clearly overwhelmed with the information she’d been given.

  “Don’t fret, Esther,” Laura assured her. “This will come to you in time. We will go as slow or as fast as you need.”

  “Thank ya, Miss Laura.”

  Cook, a thick-waisted black woman, smiled a toothy grin. “You learn that real good, Esther, then you can read to me.”

  “You could learn to read for yourself, Cook,” Laura interjected. “I could teach you just as well.”

  “Ain’t gettin’ up any earlier than I hafta,” the older woman declared. “My bunions and rheumatism are already actin’ up sumptin’ fierce.”

  Laura patted the woman on the arm. “We could always arrange to meet in your room by the stove. I would be happy to teach you to read.”

  Cook shook her heavy face. “I’ll jes let Esther read to me. It’ll do her good to practice.”

  “Very well,” Laura replied, heading for the stairs. “But if you change your mind . . . let me know.”

  Laura slipped back into bed and felt that she had barely drifted to sleep when Carlita was throwing back the draperies and bidding her good morning.

  “I want to sleep for a while,” Laura told her and pulled the covers up over her head.

  “Your mother said you must accompany her to your sister’s,” Carlita declared. “You are going shopping, remember?”

  Laura had all but forgotten her mother’s plans for the day. With a sigh she lowered the covers and yawned. “Better get me some strong tea and lots of cream.”

  Carlita laughed. “I go get it now. I bring your breakfast, too, and tell your mother that you get ready. When I come back I help you dress.”

  Knowing there was no recourse, Laura got up and made her way to the vanity for the second time that morning. The clock on her mantel revealed the hour to be nearly nine. She had slept a long while, although her body didn’t seem to realize it.

  She couldn’t help but think about the things Brandon had said regarding Carissa’s husband. Her sister loved Malcolm Lowe; how c
ould Laura interfere with that? But how could she put the lives of hundreds of men in jeopardy?

  “Carissa doesn’t even know what she feels,” Laura told herself as she unplaited her hair. She ran her fingers through the long wavy mane and wondered how in the world her sister would take the news when the truth was finally revealed.

  Malcolm would be hanged if Brandon was correct about him being a murderer. Laura couldn’t suppress a shudder. She feared for her sister—the bruises on Carissa’s arm had likely come from Malcolm’s hands. The very thought filled Laura with such anger that she began to wonder how she would behave the next time she found herself alone with Malcolm.

  Carlita entered the room soundlessly. She deposited the breakfast tray on the vanity top and took up the hairbrush. While Laura poured cream into her tea, Carlita began to brush and style her hair.

  “You no sleep well last night?”

  “I slept, but . . . well . . . you mustn’t say anything.” Laura paused and looked toward the door, then decided to switch to Spanish. “I got up early this morning to give Esther a reading lesson.”

  “Ah,” Carlita said, nodding. “I remember when you taught me English,” she replied in her native tongue. “You are a wonderful teacher, Miss Laura.”

  “Thank you. I think it’s important that people be able to read and write English. It is very difficult to conduct even the simplest business transaction without a proper command of the language. Reading is especially important, especially for the children. Now that the war is over, we must endeavor to do what we can to educate the former slaves.”

  Carlita carefully tucked a pin into Laura’s hair and nodded. Laura nibbled on a piece of toast, then sipped at the steaming tea.

  “You must hurry,” Carlita said in English as she finished arranging Laura’s hair. “Your mama says be ready to go by ten. She is anxious to see your sister.”

  “She feels Carissa’s absence very keenly. . . . I’m sure Mother worries for her.” Laura didn’t bother to add her suspicions that there was good reason for her to do so.

  Carlita smiled. “All mothers worry about their children.”

  Laura nodded and gave a quick look in the mirror. Carlita had fashioned Laura’s hair in a simple but fetching manner atop her head. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

  Carlita hurried to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. “It is sunny out today, but not hot. What will you wear?”

  “I suppose the blue walking dress,” Laura said, hoping the temperature would remain cool. Her mother would want her dressed properly for their outing, but Laura had no desire to pass out from the heat should the day warm overly much.

  By ten minutes before ten, Laura made her way to the front parlor, where she’d expected to find her mother waiting most impatiently. Instead, she was surprised to find her brother-in-law and mother in deep conversation.

  “Your brother-in-law brings sad tidings,” Mother declared.

  “I’m afraid Carissa is feeling unwell. I have demanded she stay in bed and rest,” Malcolm said as Laura entered the room.

  Laura couldn’t help but frown. “Perhaps we should go and tend to her, Mother.”

  Malcolm spun on his heel. “There is no need. She was already sleeping by the time I left.”

  Laura met his gaze and raised a brow in question. “Surely when she awakens she will need someone to assist her.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I have everything well under control. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that she would be unable to join you today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must hurry or I’ll be late for my next appointment.”

  Laura wanted to ask him about his job, but Malcolm was already halfway to the door. She followed him and when he opened the front door, Laura called out, “What type of sickness is my sister suffering?”

  Malcolm stopped just outside the house. He looked at her with an expression that suggested annoyance. “Nothing more than a headache. I’m sure she’ll feel better soon.”

  Laura narrowed her gaze. “I suppose she’s been working too hard . . . moving furniture and such.”

  Malcolm looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Movin’ furniture? Hardly. Carissa wouldn’t have the ability to move those heavy pieces. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”

  Laura watched him hurry to where he’d tied off his horse. Malcolm mounted and gave her a brief salute, then kicked the horse harder than needed. He had no way of knowing that by his own admission he had condemned himself. No doubt the bruises Carissa suffered were delivered by his hands. Laura could only pray that Carissa’s headache, if indeed it was a simple headache, wasn’t also brought on by Malcolm’s actions.

  15

  Malcolm rolled a cigarette between his fingers and threw a furtive glance at the man seated directly across from him.

  “What were you able to learn, Jed?”

  The man glanced over his shoulder toward the open door of Lowe’s home office. “You sure we’re safe here?” He didn’t wait for a reply but continued in a rapid drawl. “I reckon you know about all them fellas who was taken off Mustang Island two days back. The army figures they were up to no good. Fact is, those men were just huntin’ jackrabbits. Well, one of the men is Ralph Masters’ little brother Tommie. Now Ralph wants to bust him and his friends out. Said he was figuring to come see you about it.”

  “We haven’t got time to be worryin’ over such trivial matters and we can’t risk being found out. We have a higher callin’ to put our minds to. Tell Masters I said to forget about springin’ Tommie and get back to findin’ a way to get us more guns.”

  Jed nodded. “I told him you’d say that. He don’t cotton to his baby brother havin’ to sit in jail, but I told him weren’t no skin off his nose. Them Yankees will let those boys go soon as they make a show at holdin’ ’em.”

  “That’s my thought, as well.” Malcolm lit his cigarette. “What about the powder coming up from Mexico?”

  The man leaned back and shrugged. “Ain’t right sure. The fellas that was supposed to bring it in fell on hard times with the law in Brownsville.”

  Malcolm lowered his cigarette and blew out a thick puff of smoke. “We don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. Where is the wagon?”

  “I was told it’s in a barn on the other side of the border. I’m guessin’ it’s probably with the Sanchez family.”

  “We haven’t got time for guesswork. Ride down there tonight and bring that wagon back. Take Bill and Sam with you if you can’t manage it alone. Just do what you need to do and get back here with that gunpowder.”

  Jed got to his feet. “There’s one more thing.”

  Malcolm eyed him a moment, then took a long drag on the cigarette. “Go on,” he finally said.

  “Well, word’s come that the Yankees are plannin’ to move the colored troops out of here by the first part of November.”

  “They’ve been rumoring such things for months.”

  “But this time we got more proof,” Jed replied. “Sam’s wife works at the Ironclad House, as you’ll recall. She says it’s come down all official-like. The Yankees are trying to make the folks in Corpus feel better, I guess.”

  Malcolm considered this news for a moment. “The Yankees don’t care how we feel. They imposed black soldiers on us as a means of humiliation. I doubt Sherman or Grant care a lick about our feelings.” He grew silent for a moment and reflected on their plans. “We’ll just have to work harder and faster. We can’t hope to restart the fightin’ unless we make a good show of killin’ most of the colored forces. Once the Yankees see how determined we are, then they’ll skedaddle in fear.”

  “You reckon they’ll let Texas go back to bein’ its own country?” Jed asked.

  Malcolm shrugged. “If they need persuadin’, I’m sure we can do that.” Just then he heard the front door open and jumped to his feet.

  Carissa had gone out shopping earlier and wasn’t due back until much later. Malcolm put a finger to his lips and Jed nodded.<
br />
  “Malcolm?” Carissa called. “Malcolm, are you home?”

  She entered the office and stopped short at the sight of Jed Lanz.

  “What are you doing here?” Malcolm demanded.

  “I might ask you the same thing. I saw your horse out front.” Her expression immediately turned worried. “You didn’t lose your job, did you?”

  Malcolm glared. “Jed, I think we’re done for the day. Go on and see to those things we talked about.”

  Jed nodded and gave a slight bow in Carissa’s direction. “Ma’am.”

  Malcolm barely allowed for the front door to slam before turning to his wife. “You said you’d be gone most of the day. I don’t appreciate you lying to me.”

  “I wasn’t lying,” she stated. “I wasn’t feeling well, so I finished my shopping early.”

  Malcolm glanced at the clock. It was nearly two. He still needed to ride out to meet with a couple of the men at the shack outside of town. He got to his feet and began to stuff papers into a satchel.

  “Why are you home?” Carissa asked in an innocent manner.

  Malcolm paused. “My business is just that. My business.”

  She shrugged. “I just wondered, that’s all. I would have come home sooner and fixed you some lunch . . . had I known you were here.” She smiled sweetly.

  She was really quite a beauty, Malcolm thought to himself. If there were more time, he might very well like to linger here with her. They were, after all, newlyweds.

  “You didn’t lose your job, did you?” Carissa asked again. There was a disapproving tone to her voice that irritated Malcolm more than he could explain.

  He fixed her with a cold, hard stare. “What did I just say about my business being my own?”

  Carissa narrowed her eyes. He could see that her stubborn determination was about to rear its ugly head. He held up his index finger. “Before you think to sass me, remember what happened the last time.”

  He could see the words had their desired effect. Carissa seemed to shrink before his very eyes. Malcolm glanced at the clock again and went back to shoving papers into the satchel. “I did not lose my job. We were well ahead on orders and they closed the mill early.”