“See the hooves?” Andy questioned.
Hannah did indeed spy the little calf’s hooves. Nellie seemed to hunch forward a bit and her tail stuck straight out behind her as another contraction seized her. Then the cow relaxed a bit and flicked her tail wildly as if to announce she’d had entirely enough of the whole procedure. Hannah couldn’t imagine the pain the poor animal must be enduring. Nellie moved around the pen, rubbing her head against the barn wall and then the stall door. She paced and paced, then hunched again as her body tried to expel the calf.
This time the head appeared and Nellie determined it was time to go to the ground. For a large animal in the middle of laboring, Hannah thought the cow rather graceful in her descent. For a short while it seemed that everything had stopped. The calf was neither born nor unborn. Hannah watched in fascination as Nellie pushed once again.
“It will not be long now,” Berto told her in a hushed voice.
A little bit more of the calf appeared, but not fast enough to suit Nellie. She jumped up to her feet and paced the pen with the calf dangling behind her. Then without warning she plopped back to the straw-covered floor and with two more pushes managed to finally expel the calf from her body. For a moment it seemed everyone held their breath. The calf just lay there without moving. Hannah wondered if it were dead.
As if in answer, Nellie bellowed and got up. She immediately set to licking the still calf. Within a matter of seconds, there was a flicker of life and then movement. The children cheered and Hannah felt like doing the same. What a wonder it was to watch new life begin.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Marty asked.
“We can’t tell just yet,” Hannah said. “The baby hasn’t gotten up on its feet. It will be a little while before that happens.” But already the infant was straining to move. The insistent massage of Nellie’s tongue did wonders to stimulate the baby.
Another ten minutes passed and then another. The calf struggled to get to its feet, but continued to fall down. Marty and Andy giggled at the hilarious display. The poor thing simply hadn’t gotten used to having legs. About twenty minutes after its birth, however, the calf managed a wobbly stand. It was just long enough for Berto to announce it was a boy.
Andy gave a whoop. “Now we can raise a bull.”
Hannah hadn’t considered what would become of the calf. The other had been quickly passed off to another ranch, and Hannah had no idea what had become of it. She knew that on a ranch, however, an animal had to earn its keep or it couldn’t stay.
“We’ll have to see, Andy.”
“Can we pet the baby?” Marty asked.
Berto shook his head. “This mama, she protect her calf. She get mean if you touch her baby.”
“Come on back to the house,” Hannah said, realizing just how cold her feet had become. The children had been out there a lot longer and were no doubt even colder. “Juanita made Mexican chocolate for you. It should be ready.”
Andy and Marty liked the idea of this treat and hurried to follow Hannah into the house. They chattered all the way about what to call the new calf. By the time they were seated at the kitchen table with their drinks, Marty decided they should call the calf Cocoa.
“But that sounds like a girl’s name,” Andy protested. “Besides, he’s not brown. He’s black and white.”
“Mostly black,” Marty declared.
Andy’s face lit up. “Then let’s call him Blacky.”
“I like that,” Marty agreed and the matter was settled.
Hannah had already gone back to work making balls of the corn flour mixture so that they could press them into tortillas. Juanita had taken off the largest of the stove’s iron burner plates and positioned a large round-bottomed pan over the open flame. She was busy frying the pressed tortillas and setting them aside to cool. The warmth of the stove made the work far more enjoyable, given the cold temperature outside.
“Hannah, do you think it might snow this year?” Andy asked.
“It’s always possible, but not too likely. Frankly, it’s more than cold enough for me. I’ll be glad for the warmth of spring and summer.”
A loud knock on the front door interrupted their conversation. Hannah once again wiped her hands. This time, however, she discarded her apron in order to be presentable to company. She made her way to the door and opened it to find Herbert Lockhart on the other side. Hannah tried not to show her immediate feelings. She was still certain he’d had something to do with the arrival of the army at the Numunuu camp, but wasn’t yet ready to question him on it.
“Mr. Lockhart, this is a surprise. What brings you out here today?”
“I’m afraid it’s bad news,” he said. “Might I come in and explain?”
Hannah felt almost frozen in place. She nodded but didn’t step back. “Have you . . . did you hear something . . . about Father?”
He nodded. “Please. Let’s go sit down, and I’ll explain.”
She moved back just enough to allow him entrance into the house. Closing the door, Hannah felt an icy chill go up her spine. Her father was dead. She didn’t know how she could be so certain without hearing it first, but something convinced her of its truth.
Following Mr. Lockhart into the front room, Hannah sat stiffly on a high-backed wooden chair and waited for him to speak.
“I had a letter. There was a note for you, as well. Apparently your father was ill and had someone write it for him.”
“But now he’s dead, isn’t he?” She studied Lockhart’s face, certain she would see the truth in his expression. She did. “How did he die?”
“The letter speaks of a long bout with a fever. He was apparently too weak to go on.”
“Where did he die?”
“A small town in eastern Louisiana. He was buried there. I’ve forwarded funds to reimburse his expenses.”
She nodded, feeling a terrible emptiness inside. “Thank you.”
“If you’ll take time to read his letter to you, you’ll see it was his wish for us to marry right away. He wanted to see that you were cared for. I didn’t say anything earlier, but your father and I were partners not only in the law business but in this ranch. I own half of it, and now it will come to me in its entirety.”
Hannah tried to comprehend what he was saying. Her mind was already well down the road, however, trying to plan for her future and that of her brother and sister.
“I want you to pack whatever you need and come with me back to town. We can have your foreman drive you and the children. We will visit the minister and see how quickly he can perform the ceremony.”
Shaking her head, Hannah got to her feet. “If you are now the owner of this ranch, surely you will not force us from it today.”
“Of course not, but there is also news of additional Comanche and Kiowa attacks. I don’t want to risk anything happening to you.” He smiled and stepped forward. “My dear, I know that you have not yet grown to love me, but I have the deepest admiration and affection for you. Our marriage will be a good one. You needn’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” she said, looking at him in disbelief. “I’ve just learned of my father’s . . . death.” She lowered her voice. “My brother and sister are in the kitchen, and I would not have them hear the news from you. I must speak with them privately.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Why don’t you go speak with them and I’ll wait here.”
She shook her head. “I will need time with them. You should return to town.”
“But I’ve only just arrived, and the temperature is quite chilling.” He smiled. “Please allow me to stay and help you with your grief.”
“Help me? Help me explain to a five- and eight-year-old that they’ve lost their one remaining parent? I think not. This is a private matter, Mr. Lockhart. You may have been partnered with our father in business, but not in our family.” Hannah hugged her arms close as if warding off Herbert Lockhart’s very presence.
“Miss Dandridge . . . Hannah . . . please do not h
old me malice for bringing such bad tidings,” Lockhart said in a formal manner. “It was only my desire to bear this burden with you. As I stated, I have come to care quite deeply for you and your family. Your father was . . . well . . . a brother to me in many ways.”
“Then as our . . . uncle,” Hannah replied, “you will understand that we are now in a time of mourning. You will have to excuse me.” She got to her feet. She could see the frustration, perhaps even anger, in Lockhart’s expression as he stepped forward.
“I cannot allow you to risk your life or the lives of your brother and sister. I owe it to your father. You are not thinking clearly, therefore I will make the decision for you.”
That was the wrong thing to say to Hannah. She felt defiance rear up in her. “I will not be dictated to by you or any other man, Mr. Lockhart. I will seek counsel and learn if you truly do possess this ranch or if it will in fact be returned to Mr. Barnett. Either way, I do not plan to marry you, and I find it cruel that you would even consider such a thing necessary at a time like this.”
Lockhart took a step back, as if her words had struck him physically. “I am sorry, my dear. It was never my intention to be cruel.”
“I am not your ‘dear,’ so please refrain from calling me such,” Hannah said, narrowing her eyes. Her sorrow was pushed aside by her anger. “I am grateful that you brought us the news of our father. We have long suspected such an outcome, but it’s better to know for sure. Now we face our true time of mourning. Please see to it that I receive all information regarding his burial. The day may come when we wish to visit his grave. I will take my leave from you at this time, and you must go.”
She didn’t wait for him to say another word. Instead, she gathered her skirts and made her way to the kitchen.
21
Soldiers!” Tyler declared, hurrying into the small camp he and William shared. He jumped from his horse. “Cavalry—probably twenty or so are coming down the main road.”
William extinguished the tiny campfire and prayed the scent of woodsmoke wouldn’t be noticeable by the time the riders approached. Earlier they had driven the steers deep into the trees to a designated pen that Tyler had arranged to have built. It was a crude structure and they very nearly missed it all together, but after some searching Tyler had found it. Now it might all be for naught if the soldiers were out hunting for them.
William and Tyler pulled their mounts into the trees farther away from the road. They had been on the trail for just over a month and it had been far from easy. It had been a struggle just to get out of Texas. Then once they were in Louisiana, Tyler had found it impossible to secure additional men to help him so that William could return home. When they were in Shreveport they’d learned that the capital of the state had once again been moved, from Opelousas north and west to Shreveport to protect it from Federal control. Union soldiers had overrun Baton Rouge and then Opelousas. So far, the move seemed to have served them well.
Even so, the government was anticipating problems in the area and couldn’t spare any manpower. William and Tyler had been promised help if they could make it to Monroe, some one hundred miles east of Shreveport, but the truth of the matter was that William didn’t believe they would make it that far. The closer they drew to the heaviest areas of battle, the more hunger and need they found. People were starving, and a herd of cattle passing through the area—even a small herd—was almost taunting. Not only that, but things were progressively going wrong for the South. It seemed for every battle they won, the North held victory over even more.
A group of riders came on fast, and through the fading afternoon light, William could easily see that they were Union soldiers. They’d heard in Shreveport that there were pockets of Yankee scouts and forward observers, as well as renegades and mercenaries who favored Northern currency to Confederate dollars.
The routine, as they moved ever eastward, had been to hide as best they could during the day and move as far and as fast at night as they could manage. But even Tyler had to admit their chances of success were becoming slimmer and slimmer. There were marshes and swamps to contend with, as well as the soldiers.
William breathed with relief when the riders didn’t so much as slow. They were no doubt on their way to something more important. He looked at Tyler and shook his head.
“This isn’t going to work. We might as well return to Shreveport and leave the cattle with the Confederacy there. Maybe they can find a way to get the cattle further east.”
“I can’t do that, Will. I can’t turn my back on what I promised to do. I can only pray the others are having less difficulty, but I doubt it.” Tyler tied off his horse and looked at William. “If you’re gonna quit on me, at least have the decency to wait until we get close to the next town. I’ll find someone to help.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” William said, knowing he couldn’t desert his friend. “I just figure this isn’t going to work.”
“It was never going to be easy,” Tyler countered. “In fact, I’ve known all along the odds were against us. And after all, what are twenty head of cattle compared to thousands of starving people? The whole idea was that if we could make this work, we could create a series of additional drives to smuggle more steer to the army and civilians.”
“It was a good idea,” William told him. “Your intent is good, anyway.” He tied his horse off, as well, and took a seat on the ground opposite his friend. “The Mississippi was supposed to be your biggest challenge, though—not Louisiana.”
Tyler shook his head and looked around. “Marshes, swamps, and forest. If it weren’t for winter, we’d have to worry about malaria, too.” He met William’s gaze. “This isn’t going to work short of a miracle.”
“Whatever God’s plan in the delivery of food to the Confederacy, we’ve given it our best.”
Tyler heaved a sigh. “We’re not gonna win this war. I think Gettysburg proved that. The South keeps fighting, hanging on like a sick old man refusing to die. But sooner or later . . .” He left the thought unspoken.
William nodded. “Cooler heads should never have allowed things to get this far out of control. We have no business fighting each other—it’s bound to scar this land and its people for generations to come. Even so, if the war would just come to an end, maybe we could get our lives back. You could rebuild the ranch—settle down and have a family.”
“What of you and Miss Dandridge?” Tyler asked.
He looked at the ground. “I don’t think there’s a future there. Not that I wouldn’t like one.”
“So you finally admit you have feelings for her.”
“There’s little sense in it,” William replied. “She could never have feelings for me. I represent everything that she hates. The war, the Battle of Vicksburg, where she lost loved ones . . . Not to mention the situation with the ranch. She knows I’m trying to reclaim it.”
“Have the two of you talked about these obstacles?”
“No. I have to say that I’ve been a coward where matters of the heart are concerned.”
Tyler picked up a stick and chewed on the end. “Seems to me you’d be a whole lot happier if you just sat down with her and explained what happened at Vicksburg like you did me. She can hardly hold it against you after that.”
“Maybe not, but I hold it against myself,” William said, getting to his feet.
Hannah waited for the perfect moment to tell Andy and Marty about their father. She chose a time when they would have the house to themselves. Juanita was busy managing her own affairs, and Pepita had gone with her father to bring supplies from town.
“We’re not going to have class today,” Hannah told the children.
“Yippee!” Andy shouted with a jump. “Can I ride Dusty instead?”
Hannah shook her head. “No. Berto has gone to town, so no one can help you. Besides, right now I need to talk to the both of you. I’m afraid there’s been bad news.”
Andy sobered. “Is it about our pa?”
“Yes.�
� Hannah could see the worry in his eyes. Marty, meanwhile, climbed into her lap. “I’m afraid,” Hannah began, “Papa got sick on his trip to see our grandmother. His body was weak and tired from travel and he . . . he . . .”
“He died.” Andy’s voice was steady but his eyes filled with tears.
“Yes. He did.”
Marty buried her head against Hannah’s shoulder. “I want Papa to come home.”
“I know, baby, but he can’t. Mr. Lockhart arranged for him to be buried in Louisiana.”
Andy stared at the floor. “What’s going to happen to us now? How can I learn to be a man without a pa?”
Hannah reached out for him, but Andy resisted. She gave him a sad smile. “God will provide for us, Andy. God has never failed us. I don’t know what tomorrow holds in store, but I do know that God will be there.”
“He wasn’t there for Pa,” Andy said angrily. “I don’t think God even cares.” He ran from the room and from the sound of it, out the back door.
Hugging Marty close, Hannah fought to keep from crying. How could she possibly help Andy? She could barely contemplate the situation herself. How could she tell her little brother that the thought of him becoming a man was something that hadn’t even entered her mind?
“Are you gonna die, too?” Marty asked.
Hannah stroked the little girl’s head. “I don’t plan to do so anytime soon. But, Marty, everyone dies. It’s just a part of life. We live here for a little while and then we get to live forever with Jesus—so long as we’ve given Him our heart.”
Marty nodded. “He’s got my heart.”
“Then you never need to be afraid of death,” Hannah whispered.
“Did Jesus have Papa’s heart?”
“Yes,” Hannah answered. “Papa had a very sad heart because of losing your mama and mine. But he gave Jesus his heart a long time ago—when he was just a boy like Andy. Papa always said that we should put our trust in God, Marty. You must always remember that.”
Chasing the Sun Page 19
