by Lyn Cote
“Knee-high by the Fourth of July,” Colton said, cheerful for once. “That’s what my dad always said.” A shadow passed over the boy’s face. And his usual scowl settled back into place.
Lily reached up and gripped Judith’s hand as if reacting to her brother’s dark mood.
For the millionth time, Judith wished she could do something more than provide food and shelter to help these orphans. But she could not heal their hearts. Only God could.
Then she noticed that Asa was frowning deeply. He turned abruptly and left her side. Practically running to his barn. What had upset him so? They’d merely talked of vegetables and corn.
Colton looked up at her. “Did I make Mr. Brant mad?”
“How could you?” she said. “Everyone knows that saying. It’s a true one. And the corn crop is doing well, from what I’ve seen.”
“Then why did he leave us like that?” Lily asked.
So even Lily was noticing Asa’s moods. “I don’t know, children.” She paused, trying to come up with an explanation. She thought of her brother and how he’d changed from a happy, easygoing man to a man she couldn’t talk to and who appeared to have forgotten the family they’d once had. Could that be a clue to Asa’s shuttered ways? “Mr. Brant was in the war. Sometimes that makes men behave…differently.”
The words were completely inadequate, but they were the best she could come up with. Truth to tell, she didn’t know if the war was what was causing Asa’s silence and efforts to keep her at arm’s length. That might stem instead from the fact that he didn’t find in her what he wanted in a wife. If only I were prettier… It had happened before at home, with Tom Southby, so why not also with Asa? Although there was no real comparison, she mentally sighed, trying not to wish for curly blond hair instead of straight brown and sparkling blue eyes instead of serious brown. Keeping all this to herself, she patted the boy’s shoulder. “Go help in the barn.”
“Okay.” Colton turned away. Lily stayed near Judith, holding her dolly close.
Bending, Judith began twisting off the lettuce, leaving the roots in place so they could grow another leafy crop or two. God had blessed them with good soil. A few seeds, rain and sun and the earth produced food. Every green leaf she lay in her folded apron was a tiny evidence of God’s creation and love for them. She prayed for another blessing from God, that Asa would tear down the wall around his heart. And that he could then love her—just a little.
*
Come Sunday, Asa listened to the last of the notes of the final hymn and bowed his head for Noah’s closing prayer. In the room with every window open for any passing breeze, Noah had preached on Christ, the Good Shepherd, whose sheep knew his voice. And for some reason the words had worked their way through Asa’s shell into his center. He felt vulnerable and wished they could leave for home right away. And Colton’s innocent phrase from a few days ago still plagued him. Fourth of July. The day in 1863 that he couldn’t forget. Ever.
He wanted to leave immediately, but of course they couldn’t. Today one of the church’s summer picnics would be held in the school yard in the cool shade of the oaks and maples. So he let himself be drawn along with the other men. They were hanging their suit coats in the school cloakroom and rolling up their sleeves to set up the tables for the food.
Children were laughing and teasing as the older brothers and sisters spread out worn quilts in the shade. Women were waiting with pressed white tablecloths to cover the tables and set out the fried chicken, biscuits, fresh lettuce salads and all manner of desserts. Helping with the work, Asa tamped down his urge to head home. Doing so would call unwanted attention to him, the last thing he wanted.
The tables were set up and the cloths spread on them. He glanced around and saw Judith chatting with Emma. With Lily’s help, she was setting out the large green salad and heaping plate of small fancy triangle sandwiches she’d made. Then the fragrance of fried chicken wafted over to him.
From a hamper, Mrs. Ashford lifted a loaded platter of golden chicken. He salivated. The storekeeper’s wife had a way with fried chicken. A good way. He’d also overheard that the sheriff’s wife, who was a notable baker, had brought another of her famous three-layer coconut cakes. Just thinking of it made Asa’s mouth water.
Maybe today he could just let go of the deep urge to keep separate. Children laughing, a breeze rustling the leaves overhead, all of it eased into him. The resistance to being here weakened bit by bit.
After calling for attention, Gordy Osbourne, a young deacon, was offering grace, and upon “Amen,” the bright chatter was unleashed like air from a balloon. Asa let the cheerful sounds roll over him, somehow further soothing his ragged edges within. Then Judith claimed his arm, and they led their family through the buffet line.
Soon they sat in the shade on the old quilt they had brought. Dan and Emma had joined them, and the Ashfords had settled on a quilt next to theirs.
Colton sat beside Asa, as usual, and Asa let himself enjoy the sight of Judith sitting primly on the quilt with her light blue cotton skirt around her. She had designed this new dress herself, and he marveled at the way she could take a bolt of cloth and make something with such style. His Judith was a talented seamstress. Pride in her swelled within him.
“That new dress is just lovely,” Mrs. Ashford said, voicing Asa’s sentiments.
“Thank you,” Judith said. “My Singer makes sewing a delight. I have to make myself leave it alone some days.” She smiled shyly, glancing at him.
“I see Lily has a new dress to match,” the woman went on.
Lily hopped up and twirled. “I like it. It’s just like Mrs. Brant’s.”
“Our mother used to sew us identical dresses,” Emma added. “Even though we weren’t identical. She liked to show people we were twins.”
Asa concentrated on eating the food he’d heaped on his plate. Judith was a good cook, but it seemed that their church abounded with such. He glanced once again at the imposing white coconut cake in the center of the dessert table, waiting to be cut.
“Ned and I were talking last night,” the storekeeper’s wife went on. “We think it’s time that our little town held a proper Fourth of July celebration.”
“Yes,” Mr. Ashford added. “We’ve always held a special prayer service and picnic here, but I think we should have a parade this year, and speakers.”
Asa put down his fork, staring at the man. He held himself in check, keeping his seat, not revealing how this riled him.
“We were thinking that we’d ask our veterans to address the children about the need to fight to keep our nation free,” Mrs. Ashford said in between bites.
Asa forced himself to begin eating again, though tasting nothing. The Ashfords could make all the plans they wanted, but he wasn’t talking about the war. And that was final.
*
Judith doubted anybody else had sensed the alteration in Asa’s mood. During the church service, she’d sensed him relaxing, letting go of his recent reaction to Colton’s innocent mention of July Fourth. Now he’d tightened up again, and his eyes had taken on a stubborn glint.
“Did you get your flower garden planted, Emma?” Judith asked, changing the subject when Mrs. Ashford paused in outlining plans for the celebration.
“Yes, I’ve been going around asking for slips of plants—hostas, bluebells and a few lilac shoots—and I think I’ve come up with a pretty flower bed around the school entrance and my own door. I do love a bit of color.”
Unfortunately, this ploy only briefly sidelined the main topic of conversation. The Ashfords and her father returned to the Independence Day celebration plans. Judith tried not to show her own increasing concern over Asa, who’d stopped talking at all.
When Lily finished eating her plate of food, she popped up. “Mr. Brant, will you swing me?”
Judith held her breath. In Asa’s present mood, that was a lot to ask.
They were saved by Jacque Merriday and Johan Lang, who came over and drew Colton and Lily
into a noisy, gleeful game of tag.
Judith waited till the earliest possible moment that she and Asa could leave without drawing undue attention to themselves. The four of them rode home in silence. The children were tired from the long morning of sitting quietly in church and then eating a big meal followed by over an hour of tag and other games. Judith was exhausted with worry over Asa’s mood change. And she hated that. What good did worrying do? But how could she not?
*
The picnic had finally come to an end, and with deep relief, Asa drove up the final rise to their clearing. The picnic basket contents, now just the plates, cutlery and napkins, rattled in the rear of the wagon. His mind buzzed, but he held the troubled thoughts at bay and stared straight ahead. Soon he would be in his barn, his refuge.
Aware of Judith’s concern, he kept his gaze forward. Usually she did not press him, but would she today? He did not want to speak about the war. The track to their place twisted around its last bend, the full leafy green trees and thick pines opening to their clearing.
Shock shot through him. He dragged on the reins. “Whoa!”
His sudden move rocked the wagon. On the bench beside him, Judith bumped against him. “What?” Looking up, she gasped.
Their door had been smashed from its hinges. Then he glimpsed a few of his hens sitting on tree branches. Shock vibrated within. Concern for Judith and the children’s safety washed over him, a hot rush of blood.
Judith tried to start forward.
He swung his arm in front of her, barring her. “Stay!” He slid down from the bench and pulled out his sidearm. He looked to the children, too. “Stay.” He first went to check his and Mason Chandler’s cows. They were not in the barn. All of his tack and wall pegs and shelves had been pulled down, and some harnesses had been cut. He cursed silently.
Next he raced to the cabin. He halted on the threshold, stunned. Someone had broken everything. Everything. The rockers lay on their sides, their spindles cracked and kicked out. Judith’s blue-and-white curtains smoldered on the fire. Broken crockery had been scattered over the floor. Swiftly he moved to the hiding place behind a stone in the fireplace. Relief poured through him. His bag of gold and silver coin had not been discovered.
“Asa, please? What’s happened?” Judith called, her voice shrill with worry.
He tore himself from the scene of wanton destruction and went outside. “He wrecked everything.” Then words failed him.
Jumping down, Judith ran forward past him. Glancing inside, she cried out. “No!”
The cry cut him in two.
She ran inside and knelt by her Singer sewing machine. “It’s just been turned over. It’s too strong to be broken.”
Nearby little Lily was weeping, clutching her dolly to her. Asa wanted to comfort her, but he stood, pulsing with anger, gulping in air.
“Mrs. Brant!” Colton yelled. “Your garden!”
Judith whirled, started running around the side of the cabin to her garden. “No!” she cried out.
Asa hurried after her, catching up Lily.
“My garden,” Judith moaned. His wife stood gazing at what had been her neat garden. Her rows of green sprouts, her fence for the climbing beans and peas had been ripped down. It looked like someone had ridden a horse through the garden, churning and ripping up everything green.
Then beyond, he saw the cows grazing in both his trampled corn and hay fields and he roared with wordless outrage. Anger boiled within him. He set Lily down and swung away. He knew who’d done this. “Smith.” And he was going to pay. Now.
*
Judith saw Asa heading back to the wagon. And she instantly knew what he intended. “Asa!” she called. “Stop! Think!”
Her husband did not pause, perhaps did not even hear her. His silent rage terrified her. “Asa! Wait!” She ran after him. “Asa!” She had to stop him before he did anything rash.
She picked up her skirts and ran faster. “Asa! Please!”
He ignored her. He reached the wagon.
She caught up with him and grabbed his arm.
He shook her off.
She stumbled and fell to the ground. She cried out in surprise.
Asa stopped, swung to her. “Judith!” He bent down and lifted her to her feet. “Did I hurt you? I… Judith… I’m sorry. I was so angry, Judith.” Gasping for breath, he held her up and gazed at her. Looking furious with himself.
She settled her nerves with a shake. She gripped Asa’s forearms, feeling their sinew and strength. “I’m all right, Asa. I know you didn’t mean to push me.”
He clasped her to him. “I would never hurt you.”
She reveled in this moment of closeness. “I know that, Asa,” she murmured, her heart pounding from seeing their homestead ruined, but more from the fear of what Asa might do to Smith. “I know how angry you were. I had to stop you so you could think…consider what best to do.”
He held her closer. “He wrecked your garden.”
The concern in his voice nearly broke her composure. “He destroyed your crops.” She swallowed with difficulty. “Asa, the sheriff is home. We need to bring him here so he can see what’s been done. We think it’s Smith, but the law must find proof, isn’t that right?” She tilted her head back, watched him. Would he go for the law?
He’d let his hat fall back on its leather string and with one hand pushed back his hair that needed cutting. “Judith, you are a smart woman. And as much as I don’t want to, I’ll do it. First I have to see to those cows. Then we’ll drive over and get the sheriff.” He touched her shoulder and turned away.
Judith tried to gather the children, but Colton went after Asa, saying he would help.
As she watched them go, she wanted to head inside and start straightening and righting the damage that had been done, but she knew she had to leave it. Sheriff Merriday must see what Smith or whoever had done to their home. A terrible feeling of violation swept over her. This was their home. And someone had desecrated it.
Lily was weeping. Judith sat down in the grass and drew the little girl onto her lap. Then she glimpsed the two gray-and-white kittens climbing down from an oak tree, where they must have taken refuge.
“See our kitties, Lily. They’re all right. And we’ll be all right. Mr. Brant and the sheriff will protect us.” The kittens scampered to them and climbed into their laps as if frightened, too.
“Mr. Smith is a bad man,” Lily whimpered against Judith’s bodice.
Judith could not disagree with the child. Judith dreaded all that must follow. Dealing with the law would not be pleasant. An understatement.
*
Soon Asa and his family on the wagon and the sheriff on his horse returned to the Brant clearing.
While Asa and his family stayed in the wagon, the sheriff on his saddle, scanned the area. He issued a sound of disgust. “Y’all left everything as you found it?”
“Yes.” Asa heard the catch in his voice that he couldn’t prevent.
“I’m going to look around and take notes about what I see,” Merriday said. “You’d be surprised how people will make mistakes when they’re mad, leave something behind that will point right to them.”
Colton spoke up after not saying a word since he’d helped Asa with the cows. “Smith did this.”
“It would appear that is true,” Sheriff Merriday agreed. “But in court we’ll need proof. The law is the law, son. Isn’t that right, Brant?”
Asa did agree, but earlier he had forgotten that. Judith had stopped him from heading straight for Smith in the heat of anger and revenge. Smith could even have counted on that and been lying in wait to ambush him. The burn in the pit of his stomach flared. “We have to let the law handle this, Colton. We’re not like Smith.”
Colton gazed up at him, looking confused.
“Colton,” Judith said, “Mr. Smith did not treat you children as he should have, and he lost you. He evidently has also lost his wife, and instead of seeing that he should change his ways, he took ou
t his anger on us. We are not like Mr. Smith. We abide by the law and try to treat our neighbors as ourselves.”
Asa was grateful that Judith was able to say the right words to the children.
“I’ll go over everything,” the sheriff said, sliding from his saddle, “write down everything I see, and then I’ll interview you two about what you saw. I’ll do my best.” He handed his reins to Asa.
“Of course, you will, Sheriff. How long will it be before I can go inside and try to set things back to normal?” Judith asked.
“I’ll start my investigation there,” Merriday said and headed toward their wrecked door.
Lily was sitting with her head in Judith’s lap, beside Asa. Both females sat hunched as if beaten down.
Asa slipped an arm around Judith. He had no words. He hoped she still trusted him to take care of her.
She glanced up at him and tried to smile. “We’ll be all right,” she said.
He nodded. But he could see a bit of his trampled fields stretching behind Judith’s garden. They would manage, but days, weeks of work had been swept away. And the growing season here would not permit him to plant a new crop. He would just have to make do with what survived.
Smith. Asa’s gut burned with anger. He drew in a deep breath, helped Judith and Lily down and then, with Colton beside him, drove his horses to the shade of the barn. He stepped down to unhitch them, grateful again that Judith had shaken him back to himself before he’d done something rash. But Smith would pay for this.
Chapter Twelve
The next summer morning, another muggy one, Asa rode beside Sheriff Brennan Merriday. Today they’d confront Smith. The forest crowded up to the uneven two-rut track their horses walked, blocking any breeze from reaching them. Perspiration trickled down Asa’s back.
He recognized another landmark he’d seen on his last visit to Smith, a charred and broken tree that had been struck by lightning long ago. “We’re getting close,” he muttered to Merriday, not wanting to disturb the quiet.
“Good.” Though the sheriff had searched Asa’s property for hours yesterday, he had been unable to find any hard evidence that Smith or anyone else had been the one who had vandalized the Brant cabin and barn and destroyed their garden and crops. So the sheriff proposed this trip to Smith’s. Some items had been taken from the cabin, and the sheriff hoped he might find them in plain sight at Smith’s.
