Chasing the Sun

by Tracie Peterson

  An image of William Barnett came to mind. He had been a thorn in Lockhart’s side since his return to the ranch. Lockhart had hoped to see him killed in the attack on the Comanche village, but that hadn’t been the case. He frowned and realized all of his business associates were looking at him.

  “Do you not agree, Mr. Lockhart?”

  He shook his head. “I do apologize. I’m afraid other business momentarily distracted me. What was it you were asking?”

  “I merely suggested,” Mr. Wentworth explained, “that without railroads to move the cattle and other commodities that we can offer, the expenses would make the trips unmanageable. Cattle being driven for miles and miles to destinations far from their place of origin are always a risk. Not only do you stand to see the death of a small percent of cattle, but there are the Indians and weather to be factored in. Moving the herd too fast could also mean a loss of weight, and unless there is time to fatten them before sale, it would mean a greatly reduced price per head. If we control the railroads here, then we can also set the prices for such cattle deliveries. It will be extremely profitable for us, and less so for those who have no stake in our arrangement.”

  “I do agree,” Lockhart said. “Railroads are imperative if this state is going to flourish and reach its fullest potential.”

  “But we have our ports, as well,” another man declared. “Perhaps we should consider shipping via the water routes to be our main focus.”

  The meeting went on for another two hours before the men agreed to adjourn for the day. Lockhart had arranged a fine supper for them. “If you’ll make your way to the hotel dining room, I believe Mrs. Englewood has prepared a sumptuous feast for us.”

  The men were only too happy to oblige. Lockhart hurried to secure some papers before joining them and was just about to lock up when a man appeared at the door. He recognized him immediately.

  With his dark features and grizzled expression, Jesse Carter looked quite menacing. “Boss, I got somethin’ you may want to hear.”

  Lockhart nodded and pushed the door open. “Let’s go inside.”

  The man followed Lockhart into the dark office. He stunk of cigars, horse sweat, and body odor. Lockhart wanted to suggest the man use some of his pay to get a bath and a shave, but wisely held his tongue.

  “So what is it you need to tell me?”

  Carter leaned against the wall and grinned. “I heard tell that William Barnett and his bunch have been rounding up cattle. Heard they mean to drive them someplace, but nobody seems to know where or when.”

  Lockhart narrowed his gaze. “I see. Well, they certainly can’t take them far—at least not legally.” He tossed the man a coin. “I don’t know what—if anything—this will lead to, but it may afford us an opportunity to put an end to Mr. Barnett’s interference once and for all. Keep your eyes and ears open. If you find out where they plan to take the cattle, let me know.”

  Hannah looked at the letter Berto placed in her hands. He had gone to town and brought back a few meager pickings from the general store. This letter had been waiting. The return address was her grandparents’ house in Vicksburg. Her heart began to beat at a quickened pace. Father! It had to be from him. She tore open the tattered envelope and pulled the single page free. She scanned the lines quickly and dropped to a nearby chair.

  “She is dead. My grandmother is dead.”

  “Your father—he is all right?”

  “No. I don’t know. The letter was written by a local pastor. It’s dated back in October.” She looked up at Berto, tears streaming down her face. “The pastor regrets that Father could not be there, but assures him that Grandmother received a proper burial. She was laid to rest beside my grandfather.”

  Hannah felt as if someone had knocked the wind from her. For some reason, the arrival of this letter only served to convince her that her father most likely was dead. Surely if he were alive, he would have found a way to get word to her. If the Yankees were questioning him, they could easily have proven his story.

  “I am so sorry, Miss Hannah. It is a sad day.” Berto told her. “I get Juanita to be with you.”

  He hurried away, no doubt uncomfortable with her tears. Hannah wiped her cheeks with the edge of her apron. She felt so alone. Christmas was in three days, but she didn’t feel at all like celebrating.

  “Miss Hannah, Berto tell me about your abuela. I am so very sorry.” Juanita knelt on the floor beside Hannah’s chair, her orange-and-brown skirt swirling around her like the petals of a flower. Juanita gently touched Hannah’s hand. “You are not alone.”

  Hannah startled at her words. How could Juanita know her thoughts so clearly? “I feel alone,” she said, fighting to keep her voice even. “I feel abandoned. Why would God allow this to happen?”

  “I do not know,” the woman replied in a gentle voice. “But I know God see all. He see you here in sadness and He see your father, wherever he is.”

  “But God isn’t helping us. It’s like He has stopped listening. I prayed for my grandmother and for my father. I prayed that God would strengthen my grandmother and give her back her health so that she could come here and live with us. I’ve missed her so much, and now she’s gone.”

  Folding the letter and stuffing it into her pocket, Hannah tried to figure out what she should or shouldn’t say to the children. Thomas Early had taken Andy to get a Christmas tree, and Pepita and Marty were busy checking on the dairy cows. Nellie, usually their best milk producer, was due to calve any day. The girls were keeping close tabs on the cow’s situation.

  “We won’t say anything to the children until after Christmas. They deserve to have a nice day even if I do not feel like celebrating.” She dried her eyes again and drew a deep breath. “I want them to enjoy themselves.”

  “Sí, we say nothing,” Juanita agreed.

  Hannah nodded. “We will make cookies this afternoon, just as we planned. Thomas Early said he knew a draw where there was a scraggly pine. When he and Andy get back with it, we’ll decorate it.”

  “I have popped some corn just as you ask. It will be ready for them to string,” Juanita declared.

  “Good.” Hannah got to her feet. “We need to be as cheery as possible for the children.”

  Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. Hannah had been awakened early by the children. She didn’t mind, however. They were eager for their gifts and for the joy of the day. She only hoped she could maintain a façade of happiness for their sake.

  “It looks just like my dress,” Marty announced after opening her last Christmas present. She held up the matching doll dress and laughed. “Now we can look alike.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Hannah felt her spirits perk up just a bit at the joy she saw in the children’s expressions.

  “I wish Pa would come home,” Andy said, staring out the window.

  “I do too, Andy,” Hannah said, glancing at the clock. She’d arranged for Berto to bring Andy’s Christmas present around to the back at exactly seven o’clock. The chimes began to ring and Hannah got to her feet.

  “Andy, I believe there is one more Christmas present for you. I left it out back.”

  He looked at her with great expectation. “Another present—for me?”

  “I want another present,” Marty declared.

  “You have plenty there,” Hannah said, pointing to the girl’s collection. Besides the clothes and outfits for her dolls, some candy, and some hair ribbons, Marty was now the owner of a small rocking chair. “Come on, let’s go out back and see if you like it.”

  The trio made their way through the house, and when they reached the back door, Hannah made Andy close his eyes. She led him outside, putting a finger to her lips to remind Marty to be quiet. The little girl couldn’t help herself, however. She let out a gasp of excitement, which in turn caused Andy to open his eyes.

  When he did Hannah very nearly laughed out loud. His mouth dropped to his chest and his eyes widened.

  “A horse! For me! And a saddl
e!” Andy ran to where Berto held the animal. The horse, a sixteen-year-old buckskin, very patiently endured Andy’s petting and excited discussion. “He’s really mine?”

  “Yes,” Hannah said, “but for now you mustn’t try to ride him without someone helping you. You need to learn how to properly care for him, too. Berto has agreed to show you how in his spare time.”

  “Will said he’d show me how to ride,” Andy declared. “But Berto can start me and then Will can show me the rest.”

  Hannah felt her chest tighten. She’d longed all of yesterday for Mr. Barnett’s company, although she would never have admitted it to anyone. She found herself trying to imagine where he might be on the journey east and whether or not he’d encountered problems. What if he never came back? The thought caused a wave of emotion to envelop her body, but for the life of her Hannah couldn’t figure out why. She knew she had developed feelings for him, but it seemed ridiculous that they should be so strong.

  “Would you like to try him out?” Berto asked. “His name is Dusty.”

  Andy nodded. “Can I, Hannah?” he asked, looking over to her.

  Smiling, Hannah knew there was no possible option of saying no. “Of course. But only with Berto’s help.”

  Berto hoisted Andy into the saddle and motioned to the horn. “You hold on there and I keep the reins for now. I will lead him.”

  “Now I’m a real rancher,” Andy said, his voice full of pride.

  “I’m a rancher, too,” Marty said. “I can rope and I have my own horse.”

  Hannah shook her finger. “Martha Dandridge, what have I told you about telling tall tales.”

  “It’s not a tall tale. I saw a horse in the pen and I decided that one was mine.”

  “You can’t simply decide a horse is yours, Marty. Most of the horses here belong to the ranch—to Mr. Barnett.”

  “They belong to Pa,” Andy said, looking confused.

  Hannah realized she’d opened a can of worms that weren’t likely to get closed again. “We’ll talk about it all later. Berto, why don’t you take Andy down the road just a bit and then come on back.”

  “I wanna ride all day,” Andy said.

  “Today is Christmas, Andy. Berto needs to be with his children and Juanita,” Hannah replied. “You will have plenty of time to learn to ride. For now, just enjoy what you have.”

  Her own advice echoed in her ears. For now, just enjoy what you have. Such a simple statement. Why was it so hard to heed?

  “Miss Hannah,” Juanita called to her.

  Turning, Hannah saw that the woman was holding something out to her. “This is for you. Feliz Navidad.”

  “Merry Christmas to you, Juanita.” Hannah was surprised by the gift. She had given Juanita a small mirror and hairbrush for her present the night before. She certainly hadn’t expected a gift in return.

  “I make this for you. I sew it each night and pray for you. I finish it last night.”

  Hannah unfolded the present to find a beautifully embroidered Mexican blouse similar to the ones Juanita often wore on special occasions.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful. Juanita, I’m deeply touched.” The workmanship was something to marvel at. Juanita’s delicate stitches were crafted in a variety of roses and vining leaves. They edged the neckline, where a drawstring could be loosened and tightened. “I don’t know when I’ve ever seen anything quite so lovely. And that you would spend your family time making this for me—praying for me . . .” Hannah felt the words stick in her throat. “Thank you,” she managed before feeling completely incapable of speaking.

  “I like the colors,” Marty said, pointing to the flowers against the white cotton material.

  “I make you one someday,” Juanita promised.

  Marty clapped her hands. “And make one for my dolly, too. That way we can look the same.”

  Berto led the horse and Andy back to where they started from. Hannah started to call out to the boy as he kicked out of the stirrups, but there wasn’t time. Andy threw himself forward and slid down the side of the gelding, landing flat on his bottom. Luckily, the horse stood completely still.

  He looked up in surprise. “Will doesn’t fall down when he does that.”

  “You aren’t Mr. Barnett,” Hannah declared, helping him to his feet. “You mustn’t show off around an animal this size.”

  “Your sister is right. A horse can be very dangerous, Andy. You must respect him.”

  The boy nodded. “I will. I promise.”

  Later that evening, Andy continued to chatter on and on about the horse. It seemed Dusty was like the brother he’d never had. Andy had all sorts of adventures planned for them, and Marty was extremely jealous. Hannah comforted her by reminding the little girl that one day she, too, would be old enough for a horse. Then Hannah qualified it.

  “If you study hard and learn as well as Andy has, then you will prove you are ready for such endeavors.”

  “I’ll learn my sums and my reading,” Marty promised.

  “Speaking of reading,” Hannah said, “why don’t you two go get ready for bed and I will read you the Christmas story. After all, this day is really about Jesus.”

  “Baby Jesus,” Marty added. “He was a baby.”

  “Yes, He came to earth as a baby,” Hannah agreed.

  “Did He have a horse?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. The wise men brought Jesus presents, but it doesn’t say anything about a horse.”

  “I don’t reckon they had a lot of horses,” Andy said. “Mary and Joseph were poor. They had to sleep in the barn, remember?”

  “I do remember they slept with the animals,” Hannah replied. “And I don’t remember any mention of horses. There were probably sheep and cows though.”

  “What about kittens? You said we could get two kittens after Christmas,” Marty reminded her.

  Hannah smiled. “The kittens are still too young to be away from their mother, but when they are ready we will have two of them.” Miss Overbrook, the schoolmarm in town, had offered the gift when Hannah last saw her. Apparently Miss Overbrook’s cat had given birth to a litter of eight kittens that she was determined to place in good homes.

  “Did baby Jesus have kittens?” Marty asked.

  “I don’t believe so,” Hannah replied.

  Andy joined in. “They didn’t have kittens, but they had a donkey. Mary rode on a donkey to Bethlehem.”

  “Did she now?” Hannah asked. “And how do you know that?”

  “Well, didn’t the preacher say that when we went to church last year?” Andy asked. “He said that Joseph had to pay a tax and he and Mary went to Bethlehem.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Hannah said, impressed that Andy remembered so much. “But what if they had to walk the whole way? It really doesn’t say. She might have had a donkey to ride, but she might have had to walk.”

  “How far away did they have to go?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know for sure, but it was far and probably took them a long time. It couldn’t have been easy for either one, but especially not easy for Mary because she was going to have a baby.”

  “Like Nellie,” Marty threw in. She was still most impatient for the cow to give birth. With great excitement, Marty appeared to get an idea. “Maybe they took a wagon.”

  Hannah shrugged, finding herself cheered by this new game. “Perhaps they did. Or maybe they got rides along the trail from other people.”

  “Yeah, like when Pa sees someone walkin’ to town and he lets them climb in the back of the wagon.”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s hard to climb up there sometimes,” Marty said, “but easier than walking.”

  “Do you think they had cowboys in Bethlehem?” Andy asked Hannah.

  “I don’t know. There were cows, so someone had to tend them. But I don’t think they called them cowboys. Remember, most folks around here don’t care for that title, so they might not have liked it then, either.”

  “David was a
shepherd,” Andy said, yawning. “He took care of sheep. Maybe there were cow shepherds, too.”

  Marty nodded and repeated the term. “Cow shepherds.”

  Hannah smiled. “There might have been. But it’s getting late and I see two very sleepy children. Go on and get ready for bed and we’ll read the Christmas story one more time.”

  Andy came and gave her a hug and Marty followed suit. “I sure wish Pa were here,” Andy said.

  “Me too,” Marty added.

  “That makes three of us, and I’m certain Papa wishes he were with us, as well,” Hannah replied. “Now scoot.”

  She watched them climb the ladder to the loft and sighed. Her life was on a course she’d never imagined. So many unanswered questions haunted her.

  “Please, God, help us. Help me. I don’t know which way to turn.” She whispered the prayer, but glanced to the loft just in case her words were overheard. The last thing she wanted was to spoil this otherwise wonderful day with her doubt.

  20

  Marty came running as if the barn were afire. “Nellie’s havin’ her . . . her baby, Hannah. Berto said . . . he said . . . to tell you the hooves are sticking out!” The breathless child didn’t wait to see if Hannah had even heard, but turned to race back to the barn.

  Hannah had been helping Juanita make tortillas and quickly wiped the corn flour concoction from her hands. She smiled at Juanita. “Hopefully I’ll be back soon.” She had known only one previous delivery, and it took more than an hour even at this stage of the labor.

  Hannah looked up at the dull gray skies. The temperature had dropped again. She was grateful for her warm coat and pulled it close. Inside the barn was only marginally warmer, but the dim lighting made it harder to see.

  “She’s over here,” Andy announced. “She’s not lying down yet.”

  Hannah walked to the small birthing pen. Nellie, a black-and-white Holstein, had been purchased along with two other milk cows when the Dandridges had moved to the ranch. The cows had been bred to deliver at different times in order to ensure a good supply of milk, and Nellie was the second of the three to calve.