by Caryl McAdoo
“No, ma’am.”
“Then why were you two carrying on so?” Her eyes hadn’t cooled one bit. “If your grandpa were alive, he’d of skinned your hide, and mine, too, for allowing my daughter to act like a sporting lady! And right in front of God and everybody! Haven’t I told you? I never taught you to act like that! You have embarrassed me to the quick. I am so ashamed!”
“Mother! All I did was kiss him goodbye. I’ve loved that man since I can remember and he’s going off to war! He might die, for Heaven’s sake!”
“Don’t you swear, Lacey Rose! And Charley Nightingale is no man, he’s only a boy.”
“Ma…my heart…it’s broken. Do you have to….” She sniffed then wiped her cheeks. Her mother was wrong! Charley was a man, a good one, the best. Lacey had done nothing to warrant the way her mother acted. She swallowed and looked her in the eye, returning her hateful stare.
She would not look away or repent!
She hadn’t done anything wrong.
“You can bet your drawers I have to! Why, I have never seen the likes! You threw yourself at him! For land’s sake, girl, everyone saw it. They were all gawking at you two! How can I ever face Henry Buckmeyer and May again? Or Wallace and Rebecca? Levi and Rose, too, for that matter.”
“Oh, Mother, please.”
“What? I’ll never hear the end of it! They’ll probably fire me. Who’d want to pay good money for a teacher whose own daughter acts like a trollop? No telling what they’re all going to think.”
Balling her fist, Lacey quickly contemplated the repercussions. She hadn’t thought past her love for the man who may die in war. But what did anything matter above that?
Her mother stood there as though waiting for a response. “I swear on a stack of Bibles, Lacey Rose Langley, if we have to move over this, I’ll –”
“Oh, Ma. Papa is running things now that Uncle Henry is gone. No one is going to throw us out just because I love Charley.”
“Except Jean Paul is not. May and Chester are in charge, and if she says we’re out, then what? We don’t have nothing. Nowhere to go.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “And all because you can’t control yourself enough to act like the lady I taught you to be.”
Lacey Rose knew better than to argue with her mother, especially when she acted like an idiot. She worried all the time over what the Buckmeyers thought. So idiotic. They were all nice folks, kind to the bone.
No one would be throwing them out or doing anything over one little kiss. Well, actually two, but.…
Then her mother sat on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands. “It’s the Comanche in you, isn’t it? That’s what it is! I hate those no good, dirty….”
Her cheeks flushed. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I’ve known for years. Bart told me about you trying to get him to run off with you back when you were only nine years old.”
How could he? Her breath came hard. “What of it?”
“You are so ungrateful! The most ungrateful child ever walked on this earth, you…you little….”
“What? What am I, Ma?”
The hate in her eyes pushed Lacey back. She’d never seen her mother in such a state. “A half-breed! That’s what! And you’re acting just like one of those ungrateful savages.”
What? Well, there it was.
In all her sixteen years, her mother had never called her that. Fresh tears welled again, but that time she blinked them away.
Though she wanted to scream, she nodded instead, turned, and walked out. Once the door closed, she ran to the stairs then took them two at a time, like she had as a child, all the way to her room.
She’d show her! She’d show all of them.
Though much like herding cats, May finally got the children’s feet under the kitchen table, sugar cookies passed out, and left them under Jewel’s watchful eye. May smiled at Rose and nodded toward the library, then offered the same wordless invitation to Rebecca.
While the younger ladies sat comfortably in the two wingbacks, she pressed into her husband’s chair.
Oh, it fit her so well.
“Well, I’m sure you know why we’re here. Has Charley said anything to you, Rose?”
“No, ma’am. Not a word, but then he’s always been tight-lipped, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. I didn’t even know he’d been courting that Lattimore girl until her mama said something at church about him not coming around anymore.”
Rebecca leaned out and faced Rose. “When was this? Why didn’t anyone tell me? You’re talking about Olive Lattimore, aren’t you? She’s a very nice young lady. Charley could do way worse.”
“That’s what I told him, but by the time I found out, for all practical purposes, the deal was done—over. He said she wasn’t the girl for him in that I’m-a-grown-man-and-don’t-need-you-in-my-business tone I just hate.”
“He’s grown up so fast.”
“I know. I think Levi may have had something to do with his decision. At least I’m pretty sure he agreed with it.”
If May let them go on, who knew how long they’d talk about Charley and Olive? She had serious, more pressing matters to take into hand.
“Excuse me, ladies. I’d like to get back to Lacey.” She faced the redhead she loved like a little sister. “So, has Charley said anything at all about her?”
“Not a word to me.”
“Nor I.”
“I wouldn’t want either of you to break any confidences, but have your husbands…?”
May nodded then looped her head into a no, but only got shrugs for a response. “I know I’m grasping at straws, but this is important, and it’s left to me. Only the Lord knows when we’ll see our menfolk again.”
“I was almost as shocked that Charley kissed her back. I mean, at first, he just stood there ram rod straight, then…oh…” Rose fanned herself. “Levi used to kiss me that way.”
Glancing from her to her friend, Rebecca smiled. “Wallace still does. Well, when he’s of a mind, but that’s….”
Both blushed, but kept up their comparisons. May closed her eyes and leaned back, remembering a special time of her own. Henry’s first kiss….
“Mama?”
Oh, she would love to have stayed longer with her beloved, but opened her eyes. “Yes! I apologize. I’d like a word with Lacey and Laura now. Either of you care to volunteer to fetch them?”
Rose jumped to her feet. “I’ll get them.”
“No, wait.” Rebecca rose. “You should probably stay…if it’s okay.”
They both looked to May, and she gave them a nod. “Certainly.”
“Let me go then, and I’ll take the children out from under Jewel’s feet. Read them a story or two. Here, you sit in my chair. That’ll leave the extra straight-back for Lacey. Anything else I should tend to, Mama?”
“No, nothing just now, darling.”
“Thank you, my friend. I owe you.” Rose sat down again.
Not soon enough, the door swung open.
Poor Lacey looked like a trapped, wide-eyed kitten, albeit beat down. Laura walked past her daughter and sat in the wingback opposite from Rose. She didn’t appear in such good shape herself.
“Sweetheart, would you pull that chair over and sit it there next to your mother?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The girl’s red face and swollen eyes clearly bore witness of her broken heart. She complied getting it, sat it next to Laura, but remained standing, gripping the back’s top slat until her knuckles turned white. “Miss May, I love him. I’ve always loved him for as long as I can remember.”
The girl faced the lady she apparently wanted to be her mother-in-law. “He was leaving, and I had to let him know.”
Laura jumped to her feet and turned on the girl. “Now hush your mouth, Lacey Rose. Sit yourself down, and allow Miss May to tell us what for.”
Never had May heard Laura talk so rough to any child. She’d always been so patient.
“Yes, please, dear.
Do sit. I...uh…we, that’s Rose and I, we’re wondering…” She smiled at the girl who barely squatted on the chair’s edge, looking like she might bolt any second. “Well, you and Charley. I’d like to find out more about this…this… Is there anything we need to know, dear?”
“Like what? I just said that we love each other. What else are you talking about?”
Clearing her throat, Rose nodded and scooted to the edge of her chair, too. But instead of bolting, the redhead appeared as if she wanted to shake the girl.
“In fact, that isn’t what you said, sweetheart. Earlier you said you loved him. Now you’re saying we love each other. Have the two of you spoken before? Has Charley told you that he loves you?”
Lacey’s heart boomed. She wanted to fly out the door, but instead, smiled at Charley’s mother. “Wasn’t it evident?”
“I would appreciate straight answers, Lacey, please.” Miss May’s tone remained calm and as sweet as could be. “We need to know exactly what has transpired. Miss Rose asked if the two of you have ever spoken of a relationship. If so, then how long has this been going on? And has he done anything inappropriate?”
Were they all blind? “Yes, of course. Didn’t you see? He kissed me back. He does love me. I know he does now, and I love him. And he promised –”
“Promised what, young lady?” If her mother’s eyes spit the fire in them, Lacey would be covered in burns. She must hate her. How could a mother hate a daughter?
Oh yes, she remembered. Because she was a half-breed, and her mother hated all Indians.
Without a glance in her direction, she spoke in a stilted manner. “He’s. Coming. Back. For me. That’s what.”
Miss May put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. The woman’s face remained pleasant enough, but she glared almost as much as Ma.
“We all saw the kiss, Lacey. Now I’m going to ask you one more time, and I expect a specific answer. Before today, has anything happened between the two of you?”
Her cheeks burned. Wait, wait. What were they all thinking? Her mouth went dry and she wanted to die. If only the floor would open and swallow her up.
Finally, she worked up a single swallow.
So.
They all thought… That’s what this was all about. Any second, one of them would call her a half-breed, too. That’s the real truth of this inquisition. She wasn’t good enough for Levi and Wallace’s littlest partner.
Jumping to her feet, she placed her fists on her hips and spit some fire of her own. “I hate you all.”
Slowly, she turned, glaring, daring each of them in succession, but to the woman, they just sat there silent as a board and stared back at her.
They thought she was a whore, that she’d done something horrible. It shone right in their eyes, all of them.
Of their own accord, her feet propelled her to the door and out.
But where?
Where could she run?
Chapter Two
The major held the tent’s flap open, and Charley marched in. He stopped short of the general’s field desk, came to attention, and gave his best salute. The one he’d been practicing all week. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“At ease, Corporal.”
Charley spread his feet and put his hands behind his back, but he wasn’t at all at ease. Enlisted men did not get summoned to the general’s tent. Leastwise, that’s what all the guys said—except that particular general happened to be his Uncle Henry.
And the closest thing he had to a father and Uncle Wallace flanked him. “Yes, sir.”
“We move out in the morning, but we’ve been discussing the situation at home.”
“Yes, sir.” He glanced at Levi then Wallace, but neither offered comfort or support. Instead, both appeared like they wanted to whip him…or worse. “Has something happened, sirs?”
“That’s what we need to talk about.”
“Yes, sir.” He kept his hands behind his back, but stiffened his back again.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Son. Have you dishonored Lacey Rose?”
“What? No! No, sir.” He looked from his uncle to his adopted father again. Did they think it, too? How could they? “I’ll swear on a Bible, sir. Never. What gave you that idea?”
“Her. You. When we left, she acted like… Well, we all figured it was over you leaving…but that something else had happened to get her so upset.”
“No, sir. I give you my word.”
“If you say it, I believe you, Son.”
“Thank you, sir. Until that moment, I never dreamed she cared for me in that way. I mean, we’ve been close, but she’s always been like a sister. I’ve never touched her in any dishonorable manner, and I never would, sir. That kiss…was the first….”
“Good, we’ve been ordered south. I wouldn’t want anything distracting you.”
“Is that all, sir?”
The general looked to the colonel, who stepped forward. “How about now, Son? How do you feel about her now?”
Charley shook his head. He’d been asking himself the same question.
“I don’t know, sir. I’ve been thinking on it some, but just like you told me about Olive. I figure I’m still too young to even be thinking about getting married. I did promise I’d come back alive. I suspect every man in this tent said the same.”
That first night after the big accusatory confab, Lacey Rose decided. She’d go to him.
If only she could be sure where they were. She’d wait. Surely one of the women would get word of the brigade’s posting. Uncle Chester claimed he heard they were heading south, but didn’t know more.
So, every morning, she did her chores, spoke when spoken to, and returned all smiles, but generally kept her own company.
Waiting.
Biding her time.
She meandered out to the red oak, crossed her legs, sitting on the ground, and leaned against its trunk. Even Bart and Houston had gone with them. She shook her head.
What a fight that had been, but they got their way in the end. Their mothers couldn’t say much after Uncle Henry’s speech.
No matter how much they hated it, they knew he was right—like he almost always was. They all agreed the best place for the boys to be was with Uncle Henry, Levi, and Wallace. Mostly to keep them from running off and joining some other army.
Men.
About every male in the valley and his brother volunteered to fight for the cause. Except Uncle Henry had gone for a different reason. The whole house heard that argument.
Still, who ever heard of a fifteen-year-old boy going off to war?
A fluffy white cloud above floated across the bluest sky. Its shape reminded her of a rearing horse with no rider.
Half-breed. Maybe her father’s people were looking at the same sky and watching the same riderless, rearing stallion. She used to show Bart such, and they’d play the cloud game for hours.
Half-breed.
How could Bart have gone? Or Houston? But they had, the both of them. Dropping her head between her knees, a tear traveled down her cheek to the tip of her nose and hung there. The boys rode right out with her Charley.
A wonder Crockett didn’t go, too. Not like he didn’t want to, but with him only coming ten, Miss May put her foot down flat.
Why didn’t her love write her a letter?
Aimlessly, she watched the men in the far field move about like ants. If only Bonnie still lived in Texas. She’d understand. She’d support Lacey’s love. Might even help.
Her best girlfriend’s decision to join her sisters in California almost broke her heart, but at least Bonnie wrote regularly. Lacey filled her lungs then exhaled slowly. Sounded like working at the orphanage would be fun.
If not for Charley, she might have asked to go with her, but she couldn’t leave him.
She hated being there alone.
Since she no longer had a mother she could talk to—and she seemed just fine with the arrangement, too. Probably regretted having her all al
ong. Made her sick the way Ma twittered around Jean Paul all the time like a sparrow on a jay.
Wasn’t like he was her real father.
No, she’d bide her time, gather what coins she could, then once word came, she’d light out to be with her love, wherever that might be. She could make herself useful. Cook or sew or whatever Uncle Henry needed, but at least she’d be close to Charley.
Two whole months passed without a word.
Then an oversized tan envelope showed up on the supper table right after Miss Jewel’s prize-winning bread pudding.
Miss May smiled, a real for goodness grin. “Ladies, Chester fetched this in town today.” She slid out a mess of smaller envelopes, and handed Rebecca the first one. She passed two to Rose then looked right at Lacey with an expression.
For a heartbeat, she went cold. He hadn’t written? But why?
The woman held out an envelope toward her. No doubt she wanted to read it before letting Lacey have it. Her and one of her co-conspirators. They could make certain no nefarious plot was afoot, but she released it to her.
The others took to reading their missives right there at the table, but not her. She would wait until no prying eyes could read over her shoulder. She tucked it in her apron pocket and took to gathering dishes.
With most of the menfolk gone, the chore had fallen to her and Charlotte. The spoiled seven-year-old never did her share, but Lacey really didn’t care. She liked helping after the meals instead of before. Meant less time she had to be in close proximity with the woman who’d called her a half-breed.
The little princess proved a quick learner though, and was always cheerful enough. With the last plate dried and put away, she bolted. “Lacey, come on! We’re playing charades in the parlor.”
Games. She didn’t want to play games and didn’t bother answering. Stupid charades. Instead, she hurried to her room and locked the door, lit the oil lamp, then very carefully eased her silver letter opener along the flap.
