by Lyn Cote
An invisible ball had formed in Asa’s throat. The shattered expression in Judith’s eyes yesterday lingered, even though this morning at breakfast she’d forced smiles and reassuring words for him and the children. He was unable to shake the weight of awful guilt over what had happened beside the wagon yesterday. He’d been rough with his wife. In his fury, he’d knocked Judith down. The shock of that still unnerved him.
He’d hated to leave her this morning, wanting somehow to make it up to her and unwilling to leave her unprotected if Smith anticipated their move and doubled back to harm his family. But the sheriff’s wife and son and Levi Comstock had come to protect and keep company with Judith and the children.
“I don’t know if this visit to Smith will work or not,” Merriday said, his saddle leather creaking in a quiet rhythm with his horse’s gait.
Asa turned to him, feeling the hot sun on his back. “I’m pretty sure it will. The man has no control.”
Merriday nodded, his mouth twisting at one corner. “I’m always surprised at how stupid thieves and such are. And how often they are ready to tell you everything. Some like to brag, and some just can’t control their mouths.” Merriday shook his head. “How much of your crops do you think you lost?”
Since yesterday after the picnic, anger had burned low in Asa’s stomach without letup. At this question, it spiked, spurting acid into his throat. “I think I lost over half of it.” Or, he hoped he could salvage half. Smith had not been thorough, and some corn was already righting itself and straining toward the sun. But for certain, he would have none to sell, and that meant little cash.
As if reading Asa’s mind, Merriday said, “Don’t you worry. Folk hereabout will help.”
Asa wanted to refuse any help, but he had Judith and the children to think of. And it was unwise to spend all his gold and silver. That was there in case of any emergency. “I think I’ll be all right,” Asa said, putting up a good front. “My leather goods sell pretty well in town and to people on the boats.” But the river trade would end when the Mississippi decided to freeze over.
Merriday nodded solemnly.
A doe bounded in front of them across the track. Yes, he could hunt, too. The area abounded in deer. The motion drew Asa from his thoughts. “Smith’s place is just ahead around that bend,” he cautioned.
“Remember, let me do the talking.”
Asa agreed and slowed more. He wanted to fight Smith, not talk, but he reined in his anger. He needed a clear head. “We better do a little reconnaissance.”
“Yep.” Merriday slowed his horse and slid down. Soon both of them had tied their horses to young saplings off the track. They edged through the pine trees, stepping carefully, making little noise. They communicated with motions.
Soon they found a spot where they could view the Smith property. Except for smoke from the chimney, the homestead did not appear to be occupied. The place was eerily silent.
Merriday leaned close and whispered, “Where would he go?”
Asa shrugged. He’d come ready for a confrontation, and this atmosphere of emptiness, vacancy disconcerted him. Crows cawed, flying high overhead.
“Does it look to you like smoke’s coming out around the door?” Merriday asked, pointing to the cabin.
“Yes.” Asa stood up straight, enlightenment shining clear. “He’s gone and set a fire in his cabin to burn everything.”
Merriday also bolted upright. “It might be a trap.”
Asa looked at the forest surrounding them. “The squirrels are quiet. They’d be chattering if anybody was moving around.”
Merriday considered this and nodded. “But better safe than sorry. Let’s check out the barn first. I’ll go around the other way. When you hear an owl call, move in careful-like.”
Asa nodded and waited. Finally he heard the owl whistle, and he moved through the trees and brush alongside Smith’s clearing, his sidearm in his hand.
Bent over to make himself less of a target, Asa hustled through the tall wild grass and met Merriday. Except for dirt and trash, Smith had left little in the barn. Then, with stealth, they approached the cabin.
When the sheriff moved to open the door, Asa barred him with an arm. “If we open the door wide, we’ll feed the fire with more air. The fire will flare up. I know we’ve had a lot of rain, but better to keep this fire under control. Not spread it to the forest.”
“What do you suggest?” Merriday watched him intently.
“We need something to carry water in.”
Out back they rummaged around the man’s junk pile and found a chipped pitcher with a broken handle and a rusted bucket that could still hold water. They returned to the door with the leaky vessels full from the well.
“I’ll open the door a crack and you throw your bucket of water inside,” Asa said.
Merriday moved into place.
Asa opened it and white smoke rushed out. For the next several minutes, the two men drew water and threw water inside till the smoke lessened, and then they opened the door wider and finished putting out the fire on the floor of the cabin. They stepped outside, drawing in clean air and coughing.
“That must have been smoldering for hours,” Merriday said at last, wiping his streaming eyes with his sleeve.
Asa nodded grimly, doing the same. “He’s left, and he didn’t want anybody else to have his cabin.”
“And maybe he hoped the fire would spread to the forest and endanger others.” Merriday spat into the grass, his spittle black from inhaling smoke.
Asa’s throat was raw from the smoke, too. “Well, one good thing. It looks like Smith has packed up and left.”
A gray-and-white cat climbed down the rough bark of a tree and waded gracefully through the tall grass. It paused about ten feet from Asa, meowed, then waited to be acknowledged, sitting on its haunches.
“Hello, mama cat, you remember me?” Asa stooped and held out a hand. “I took your kittens home.”
As if she understood his words, she hurried to him and rubbed against his bent knee.
He felt a twinge of relief seeing the cat had not been hurt. Probably too sly to be caught. “Mama cat, I guess you’d better come home with me and see your little ones. Come on.” He waved his hand.
The cat let him lift her onto his shoulder, where she rode as the two men walked back to their horses.
“I will still send out a notice to the surrounding jurisdictions about the incident and tell them Sam Smith is wanted for questioning in connection with it.”
Asa doubted this would do any good. “At least he’s gone.” Or he’d better be.
“I think he is. He’d want to put miles between him and the humiliation of the children running away from him, then being beaten in a fight on Main Street and finally having the whole town watch his wife leave him.”
That did make sense. Asa and the sheriff untied their grazing horses and rode away, the mama cat curled on the saddle in front of Asa. Smith’s destruction at Asa’s place still chafed him, but what could he do? He’d come to do battle, and the enemy had retreated.
“That kind of man makes his own bad ending. What a man sows, he reaps,” Merriday commented. A red fox at the edge of the forest peered at them. “Someday he’ll run into someone who’ll get the best of him bad.”
Asa couldn’t disagree. Now that Smith had disappeared, all he wanted to do was go home, set things to right. Again he recalled Judith’s shocked expression looking up at him from the ground where he had pushed her in his anger. How could he set that to right?
“What do you think of this idea of having speeches in town on the Fourth?”
Asa’s gut twisted. “I’m not giving one.”
Merriday chuckled drily. “Me, neither.”
Asa’s will hardened. No one was going to make him talk about the war. Period.
*
The next evening, Asa and Judith sat on the new bench outside their door, exhausted from company. A steady parade of people had dropped by all day, family by fami
ly. Every visitor had brought something, like the bench Noah Whitmore had made. And staples like flour and sugar. Baked goods. Peace had finally come when everyone had at last gone home. With all the company, Asa still hadn’t been able to apologize to Judith for knocking her to the ground on Sunday. Too much to do, too many interruptions and his lack of knowing what to say.
Now, in the lowering light, with sunset streamers of red and gold above and behind the trees, Colton and Lily ran around in the wild grass, trapping yellow-green glowing fireflies in a jar with a pierced lid and squealing with excitement.
Asa wondered if Judith was as exhausted as he was. It wasn’t just riding to and from the Smiths’ place. It was the guilt, the anger and the uncertainty. He’d had all the crops planted and everything had been going smoothly. Now this.
“I didn’t expect so many neighbors to come,” Judith said, patting the bench with appreciation.
Asa nodded.
The children squealed and called back and forth to each other, “I got one!”
“I know people said they had spare items and wanted to give them to us,” Judith said. “But many items looked brand-new. Such kindness.”
“I never thought I’d be taking charity,” Asa said, bitterness etching his throat.
“Charity means love, Asa.” She glanced up at him. A cicada shrieked nearby. “Our neighbors were showing us their friendship, their concern and their sorrow over the wrong done to us. Wouldn’t we do the same if it had happened to Levi, for instance?”
Asa gathered the words he had to say. What did he want to tell her? I’m sorry I’m not a very good husband. You deserve better.
“We got ten!” Lily called out in shrill excitement, interrupting.
“Wonderful,” Judith replied. “See if you can double that!”
“I’m sorry, Judith.” Asa finally put into words the burden he’d carried since he’d pushed Judith down.
She glanced at him. “For what?”
Her easy forgiveness only caused the guilt to weigh heavier. “I knocked you down.”
“No, you didn’t. I bumped against you and stumbled. That’s all.” She rested a hand on his sleeve. “Asa, you would never hurt me. We were both upset, and it was just an accident.”
He clasped her hand. “Judith…”
Then she cupped his cheek with her free hand. “It’s all right, Asa. We’re going to be all right.”
Her soft hand against his face melted a tightness in his chest. He knew he should pull away. He couldn’t. Instead he leaned into her hand, seeking her softness like a starving man seeking bread.
“Asa,” she whispered. “Asa.” She leaned forward.
And he could not stop the pull toward her. Her lips were less than an inch from his. He didn’t deserve this good and kind woman, shouldn’t kiss her. But he felt his resistance weakening. He let his mouth dip toward hers.
Lily cried out.
They jerked apart.
“Lily!” Judith called.
“Colton pushed me!”
*
Asa nearly kissed me. Judith trembled deep inside. No man had ever kissed her, really kissed her. The peck Asa had given her in front of everyone at their wedding did not even come close to a real kiss.
“Colton!” Asa called out. “Don’t push your sister!”
“I didn’t,” Colton snapped back.
At this insolence, Asa moved to rise.
A sudden thought prompted Judith. She gripped Asa’s lower arm.
He paused, glancing her way.
“Children, if you can’t play nicely together, you’ll have to go to bed early,” Judith pronounced.
Both children grumbled but separated and began chasing fireflies again.
Asa relaxed where he sat next to her, glancing at her sideways for an explanation for stopping him.
She lowered her voice. “Brothers and sisters fight. Colton and Lily haven’t been. They haven’t been behaving normally for siblings. They’ve been through so much heartbreak. This bickering is actually a good sign.”
Asa obviously considered her words. He nodded slowly.
She sighed, letting go of his arm. She rested her hand on the bench between them.
And Asa let his hand rest on hers.
This small gesture released something tight inside her. She spent a few moments cherishing this contact with her husband. A new, unusual feeling, and finally she was able to identify it. Hope. At home in the midst of her brother’s turbulent marriage and Mabel Joy’s meanness, she’d lost hope. Now she was again feeling it. She and Asa might become closer. She just needed to be patient.
*
Days later Asa, with Colton at his side, was once again standing at the edge of his fields, staring at what was left of his corn and hay. Would he have enough silage to feed his stock over the winter or enough corn to supply his family’s need for corn meal? Over three fourths of his corn crop had been destroyed. The hay had been battered, but he judged he could harvest most of it. Would it be enough to weather the winter without depleting his hard money?
He heard the creaking of a wagon and hoofbeats. He turned. Who was coming now? Two conflicting reactions vied within. Though grateful for the way the town had come to their aid, he didn’t want anybody’s help, didn’t want to need anybody’s help. This confusion churned inside.
Smith had gotten his revenge, two-fold.
Asa with Colton walked to the house to see who had come.
Noah Whitmore and Martin Steward were climbing down from Whitmore’s wagon. Asa swallowed his bruised pride and waved in welcome. These were good men, men he respected.
“Asa!” Whitmore called out. “We’ve brought back your chairs.”
Asa hurried to be the one to help the preacher, a notable woodworker, lift down the repaired rockers.
“The new wood parts don’t match exactly, but I was able to get the rockers back into usable shape.” Noah removed his driving glove and smoothed his palm over the wood. Asa understood this. He liked the feel of leather, and Noah loved wood the same way.
Asa couldn’t quite voice his thanks, so he nodded, gripped Noah’s hand and shook it.
Soon the repaired rockers were back in place. Since Judith and Lily were out looking for wild berries and herbs, Asa offered the men cool buttermilk from the springhouse and cookies from the jar. The men and Colton sat on the benches at the table, which Noah had been able to put back together without taking them away for repair.
Asa knew he should make conversation, but he was at a loss for words. He’d heard that saying many times, and now he owned it.
“We’re all really sorry about what happened,” Martin said.
Asa nodded, chewing the delicious oatmeal cookie and trying to focus on its sweetness. The kittens sat on the floor by Colton, watching him eat. Mama cat, already at home with them, lay on the threshold, soaking up the sunshine.
“There’s not much we can do to make up for—” Martin began.
Asa cut him off. “Not your job.”
“We’re a community,” Noah said, “and everybody needs help sometimes. After all, you planted Mason Chandler’s fields because he isn’t here.”
Asa did not reply. Mason was a friend. Without his suggestion to advertise for brides, Asa wouldn’t have Judith.
Noah continued, “But we didn’t come to offer you help—”
“—but to make a suggestion,” Martin interrupted, “if you’ll listen to us.”
Asa grimaced at his own lack of grace. “Go ahead.”
“Well, a few years ago,” Martin said, “I hurt my back and couldn’t harvest my crop. The Langs brought in my crop, and Gunther stayed with us to take care of me. I was as weak as a kitten, helpless, couldn’t even walk to the necessary alone.” Martin’s tone still revealed how humiliated he’d felt.
This admission caught Asa’s attention. “That’s hard.”
“Yes, I was very grateful for their help, but it was a humbling experience.” The younger man looked direct
ly into Asa’s eyes. “And I was thinking that we all got our crops planted late this year. The rain and storms set us back. So we’ll be in a rush to get the crops in before hard winter sets in.”
Asa stopped chewing and listened. What was the man trying to say?
“I was thinking that since you won’t have much to harvest, you could go around and help others get theirs in faster. And they could thank you in corn and other produce for Judith to put up for winter.”
Asa tried not to absorb the wave of repugnance that washed over him. He’d never been a hired hand. He’d always worked his own land.
“And Asa,” Noah said, “it’s just for this season. We could use your help. Every year brings its own challenges.”
Asa couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll think on it.”
“You do that,” Martin said. “If you decide to help your neighbors, we’ll make it be known. Men can ask you then.”
Asa nodded, still dealing with his urge to say no. A man with a family couldn’t do just what he wanted.
“I almost forgot.” Noah pulled a folded letter from his hip pocket. “A letter came from Illinois, and I think it might be about the Farrier family.”
Asa received the rumpled letter that had traveled miles up the river. He just stared at it. Then he tucked it into his shirt pocket. “I’ll wait till Judith comes home.”
“Good idea,” Martin said. “Womenfolk like to be in on opening letters.”
Noah grinned. “You’re learning, Martin.” The preacher turned to Asa. “I remember when he was a green newlywed.”
Asa tried to look as though he were amused, too. But he was the green newlywed now, and he knew he was doing a poor job as a husband.
Then he heard Judith and Lily singing.
The men rose almost as one to go out and greet Judith and Lily in their matching blue dresses and white bonnets. Asa stood back and weathered all the social chatter that Judith handled so well, asking after each man’s family and smiling at Asa for offering them refreshment. Lily and Colton lured the kittens outside to play. Mama cat followed her little ones.
