Touching the Sky

by Tracie Peterson

  “Supper be ready, Mr. Marquardt.”

  “Thank you, Effie.” He motioned for Laura to come to his side. He took hold of his daughter almost possessively. “If you’ll follow me, gentlemen.”

  Over supper they discussed life in Texas both before the war and during it. Laura learned that Mr. Barnett was a married man with children, while Mr. Atherton was working to reestablish his family’s ranch.

  “We struggled—not so much from the war, but rather the Comanche,” Tyler explained while helping himself to a basket of bread.

  “We often hear of the Comanche and Kiowa problems up north,” Laura’s father said.

  “And when you combine the war and the torn allegiances,” Tyler continued, “it’s been a very dark time indeed. It was as if Texas had its own separate war of aggression.”

  “And do I understand correctly that you both served in the war, but on opposite sides?” Father asked.

  Mr. Barnett nodded. “My father was a strong Union supporter.”

  “And what of you, Mr. Barnett?” Laura asked.

  The man shrugged. “I was a strong supporter of my father.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I never wanted war and would probably have gone on happily running the family ranch had he not insisted my brother and I join him to defend the Union. They gave their lives and I took a bullet, so the price was high.”

  Laura heard the sadness in his voice. “We saw many families at odds with one another. I pray now we will find a spirit of unity—that God can somehow knit us back together.”

  “That is my prayer, as well,” Mr. Barnett admitted.

  “What are your thoughts, Mr. Atherton?” Brandon asked. “Are you ready to put the war behind you, or do you desire, like some, to continue the fight?”

  Atherton frowned. “I want to forget it ever took place. I saw a lot of death and suffering. I don’t reckon I want to see that go on. I don’t like other people tellin’ our state what they can and can’t do, but I reckon I wouldn’t go to war over it again.”

  The conversation turned again with talk about the year’s ranching in the north. Barnett was anxious to acquire a good bull or two for breeding. He hoped to continue building his herd.

  “Now that the war is over, the rest of the country is desperate for Texas beef,” he said, looking at Tyler.

  The man nodded. “He’s right. We’ve already been contacted by several investors looking to get our cattle to the yards in Kansas City and Chicago.”

  “During the war you couldn’t give the cattle away, especially since the North wouldn’t allow for it. Now everyone’s clamoring for it. Prices are going through the roof. If the railroad investors will pick up laying track,” Barnett declared, “we could haul them all the way up instead of having to drive them. That would keep them a lot fatter.”

  “I thought there were issues with driving Texas cattle north,” Laura’s father commented. “Some problem with tick fever, as I recall.”

  “There’s always some issue to contend with,” Tyler said. “But desperation makes folks forget their issues. We’ve even heard tell of a man who’s trying to build a stockyard city in the middle of Kansas. Guess time will tell if that comes about.”

  “I’m interested in ranching myself,” Brandon said, surprising Laura. “As I was telling you, I grew up raising horses, but of late I’ve found more and more interest in beef. I suppose I would do well to talk to you more on the details of such a life.”

  “You’d be welcome to come up and learn the ropes, so to speak,” William Barnett told him. “Cattle ranching is sure to be a lucrative business for as long as there are people. Even though we had lean times during the war, it wasn’t for a lack of interest or need from the general population. Had the North not put embargoes on the South and refused to allow the sales, we could have easily continued selling cattle. I’m sure between the two of us,” he said, motioning to Tyler, “we could teach you just about everything you’d need to know for ranching in Texas.”

  Laura was eager to hear Brandon’s response, but just then Effie brought in the fish platter and the talk moved back to the food. By the time the dessert was set before them, Laura found the men far more interested in talking about the growth of Corpus Christi.

  The men retired for a time after the meal and it was nearly an hour later before Laura saw anything of Brandon again. He threw her an apologetic smile as he walked into the front parlor where she was reading.

  “Would you care for some company?”

  “Of course. I was nearly ready to take up smoking cigars so that I could join you.”

  Brandon laughed. “There was very little smoking going on, so that might have been quite a shock.” He took a seat beside her on the settee. “You look lovely tonight.”

  “I could be wearing a flour sack and you’d say that,” Laura said, closing her book. “But thank you.”

  “I would pay good money to see you wear a flour sack,” he said in a hushed whisper.

  Laura looked at him in shock. “Mr. Reid, how positively scandalous you’ve become.”

  He gave her a look that suggested she’d started the scandal, then grinned. “Nevertheless, I speak the truth.”

  “Sometimes,” Laura said, growing thoughtful, “I still marvel at how you came into my life. Who would have thought that such an ugly ordeal in the back alleys of Corpus Christi could have led to such a beautiful acquaintance? It was as if God Himself had a hand in putting us together—as if there were a purpose in it all. I suppose I believe there was.”

  Brandon’s face took on a pained expression before he looked away. Laura wasn’t sure what caused his discomfort but figured it might well be embarrassment at how he had acted that day so long ago. Then again, maybe she’d been too forward. Embarrassed, she decided to bring up her brother-in-law.

  “I know you said there were men watching Malcolm. Is he still in town? I haven’t been able to see Carissa in weeks, and we’re sick with worry.”

  “As I told your father, Malcolm is still in town and returns to the house each evening. Those watching him have seen a woman fitting Carissa’s description and believe her to be safe. Other than that, I have very little information about her well-being.”

  “If she’s there, then I’m going to see her,” Laura said, looking at the clock. It was nearly nine and she knew that Brandon and the others would soon be leaving. “Perhaps you can drive me over there now?”

  He shook his head. “Your father said you would ask, but he didn’t want me to take you. He wants a chance to speak to Malcolm first. I think you should allow him that.”

  “But Carissa might need me.”

  “If she does, your father will hopefully be able to learn that, as well. He would probably rather I not tell you this, but he plans to go there quite early in the morning. Give him that, Laura. Afterward, if Malcolm still keeps you from seeing Carissa, I will help you.”

  She looked at him for a moment, then finally relented. “Very well. But I am not happy about it.”

  He moved a little closer to where she sat and threw her a look that left Laura trembling. “Perhaps I can get your mind off the matter. At least for a few minutes.”

  Shaking her head, Laura laughed nervously. “Brandon Reid, what are your intentions?”

  He laughed. “Well, that’s something that I think we definitely need to figure out.”

  “You don’t know what your own intentions are?”

  “Oh, I know very well what I have in mind,” he replied. “I’m just not sure you would approve of them.”

  He had her full attention. “Perhaps you should explain.”

  He leaned ever closer and reached up to caress her face. Without giving her a chance to protest, Brandon very gently kissed her lips. Laura felt a wave of warmth spread throughout her body. She had never been kissed by a man—had fully intended to never be kissed by anyone other than her husband. When Brandon pulled away, Laura’s fingers immediately touched her lips.

  The s
ound of the other men coming from her father’s study caused Laura to stand rather quickly. Brandon chuckled and did likewise. Unable to look away, Laura peered into his blue eyes and marveled at the feelings he’d evoked. If he had asked her in that moment to leave with him—to go north never to see her family again—Laura was certain she would say yes.

  What a very dangerous state of mind, she thought. Dangerous and wonderful all at the same time.

  18

  As planned, Father visited Malcolm the following day. And while the man had been cordial, he firmly suggested that as newlyweds, they needed their privacy. Determined to keep the peace, her father relented and remained silent about Malcolm’s nonexistent job.

  Though frustrated by Malcolm’s control over Carissa, Laura felt a measure of relief as the colored troops were mustered out of Corpus Christi without any major problems. Laura had no way of knowing if the additional surveillance Brandon put on Malcolm had thwarted his plans, but she didn’t care. There were no explosions of powder and no large number of soldiers killed. So long as Malcolm’s devious and deadly schemes were set aside, Laura felt they’d gained a victory. What did not set well was the fact that they were still unable to see Carissa.

  Finally one morning she simply announced to her mother, “We’re going to see Carissa,” and pulled on her gloves. “One way or another.”

  They had the driver take them over in the carriage, just in case Carissa answered the door and wanted to return home with them. Approaching the dwelling, Laura could see that all of the curtains and shades had been pulled tight. She hardly gave the driver time to set the brake before she jumped from the carriage in a most unladylike fashion. Leaving the driver to assist her mother, Laura all but ran up the walk to the door.

  She pounded the heavy wood with her fists, then reached for the knocker. “Carissa, it’s Laura and Mother. Let us in.” She continued to call and to pound for what seemed an eternity.

  “Where could she be?” Mother asked, wringing her gloved hands. “She surely must be here.”

  Laura peered into the house, but it was impossible to see through the drawn drapes. “I’m going to try the door.” She turned the knob easily enough, but something held the door in place. “It seems to be blocked with something,” she said, looking to her mother. “Help me.”

  Both women put their bodies against the door and pushed, but nothing happened. Mother began to weep and Laura felt guilty for forcing her to come.

  “Let me take you to the carriage. I’ll get you settled, then I’ll go around back and try that door.”

  Mother reluctantly agreed, but once they were halfway down the walk she stopped. “No, I want to come with you.”

  “Of course.” As Laura turned them back toward the house, she saw the fluttering movement of the upstairs curtains.

  “Look!” she said, pointing upward. “Someone is up there. I’m certain of it. I saw the curtains fall back into place just now.”

  The two women hurried around the side of the house and made their way through the tiny yard to the back entrance. Laura tried the door and was relieved when it gave freely. She pushed it back and stepped into the house.

  “Carissa Elaine Marquardt Lowe!” she called loudly. “We know you’re up there. Please come down here!”

  Laura pulled Mother with her through the tiny kitchen and into the short narrow hall. When they reached the stairs, Laura cried out again. “Carissa, Mother and I are coming up to see you.”

  “No.” Carissa’s voice was flat. “I’ll come down.”

  The house was dark, so Laura went to the front drapes and pulled them back to let in some light. In doing so, they were better able to see Carissa as she made her way to the bottom of the stairs. Both Laura and their mother gasped at the sight.

  “What in the world has happened to you?” Mother asked, rushing to her daughter.

  Bruises covered most of Carissa’s face. Forcing her focus downward, Laura also saw discoloration around Carissa’s neck and shoulders.

  “Malcolm did this,” Laura said in a hush.

  Mother looked at Laura as if she’d lost her mind. “What did you say?”

  Carissa gently pushed Mother’s hands from her face. “No,” she said, almost sounding frantic. “I fell. I fell down the stairs. My heel caught the hem of my gown. It was just an accident.” She looked to her mother and smiled. “See, I am fine. You know how easily I bruise. It’s nothing, really.” She waved her arms and took several steps. “See, nothing broken.”

  “When did this happen?” Laura asked.

  “Oh, a few days ago. I could hardly go out in public like this,” she said. “And of course, I didn’t want you to see me this way. I know I look frightful. Why, the shock on your faces even now is enough to make me regret even receiving you.”

  “But you didn’t receive us,” Laura said, not buying a word of her sister’s story. “You left us to break into your house. Speaking of which . . .” Laura turned to check the front door. There was a metal bar in place that had been affixed there to keep the door from being pushed open. “What is this?”

  Carissa shrugged. “Malcolm worries about everything. It’s just his way of keeping me safe. Honestly, you mustn’t go on so. Shall I make tea?”

  Laura shook her head. “No. You will go upstairs and get what things you need. You’re coming home with us.”

  “Yes,” Mother agreed. “You will do exactly that. You need my care.”

  “I am a married woman.” Carissa’s stance seemed a little less certain. “I can’t just leave. Besides, Malcolm is away on business. He won’t know what’s become of me.”

  Laura stepped forward and took hold of her sister’s shoulders. A cry of pain slipped from Carissa’s lips and she immediately put her hand over her mouth. Laura stood up straighter. “I’ll go pack your things. Mother, help Carissa to the carriage.”

  Laura went to the front door and threw off the metal bar. It was heavy, but she found that anger gave her unexpected strength. “Go this way.”

  She hurried up the stairs before Carissa could offer a word of protest. Laura found her sister’s bedroom and quickly moved about the room, grabbing things she thought most necessary. She didn’t worry about hats or gloves or hairbrushes. Carissa could borrow all of those things from Laura. Instead, Laura collected a couple of gowns that had been draped across the end of the bed. It looked as if Carissa had been mending them.

  “Probably because he tore them,” Laura muttered. Her rage drove her to kick a pair of Malcolm’s trousers clear across the room. “Monster! What kind of man beats his wife like that?”

  Laura headed for the stairs and very nearly lost her balance. Shifting the clothes, she took a better hold on the rail and for a moment doubt crossed her mind. What if Carissa was telling the truth? Maybe she had only fallen down the stairs. Maybe her embarrassment had caused her to plead with Malcolm to say nothing. It was possible.

  “But not likely,” Laura muttered and continued down. The man was violent. He’d committed murder, hadn’t he? Brandon was certain he was responsible, and she had overheard Malcolm talk about blowing up Yankees.

  Laura paused for a moment at the front door. She needed to calm her spirit and get control of her anger. She was allowing emotions to cloud her good judgment.

  “Oh, Father God,” she prayed aloud, “please let the truth be known.”

  With Carissa safely installed in her old bedroom and their mother busy seeing to a tray of food, Laura questioned her sister.

  “You have to be honest with me about this. I want to help you,” Laura began. “I know you didn’t fall down the stairs.”

  Carissa opened her mouth and then closed it again. Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Yes you can. We’re sisters, and you can tell me anything. I already know that Malcolm did this to you, so why not tell me why?” Laura gave an exasperated sigh. “Not that there is any good reason for beating your wife.”

  Carissa remained very qu
iet for several minutes. Laura waited, knowing that sooner or later Carissa would tell her the truth.

  “I wanted to surprise Malcolm at work one day,” Carissa began. She sounded very much like a little girl telling of a horrible fright. Her voice trembled and her hands shook as she continued. “I went . . . to the mill. I went there to . . . just . . . just see him and . . . walk home with him. I got there and . . . and the men were leaving so I asked them about Malcolm. And . . . and . . .”

  “And they’d never heard of him?” Laura asked, reaching for her sister’s hands.

  Lifting her surprised face to meet Laura’s, Carissa nodded. “He doesn’t work at the flour mill.”

  “I know. Father just learned the same thing.”

  Carissa shook her head. “I was so shocked—hurt that he wouldn’t just tell me about his job. You see, I’d asked him many times about his work. He always got mad and told me to mind my own business.”

  “And he’d hit you if you didn’t stop pestering him,” Laura offered matter-of-factly.

  Her sister was still unable to admit the truth. She lowered her bruised face and continued. “I went home, and he still wasn’t there. I waited and it was very late before he finally showed up. I asked him where he’d been. He said he had to work late at the mill. I called him a liar.”

  Laura winced, imagining the man’s anger at his wife’s accusation. She gave Carissa’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Go on.”

  “He flew into a rage like I’ve never seen. He wasn’t even the same man. He threw things. He told me I was . . . was . . . a traitor to the South—that my family were traitors. He said he wished he’d never . . . married me.” She sniffed. “I told him I felt the same way. I told him . . . I said. . . .” She pulled her hands from Laura’s hold and covered her face. A muffled sob escaped.

  Laura waited for what seemed an eternity for Carissa to continue. She didn’t know what else to do. The very idea of someone hurting her was breaking Laura’s heart.

  Finally Carissa seemed to regain control. She straightened and drew a deep breath. “I told him I wished I were dead, and he said . . . he said that was one wish he could give me.”