Vow Unbroken

by Caryl McAdoo

  “Yes, I would have gotten closer and aimed away from her as much as possible.”

  Levi nodded. “I was not happy when she showed back up at the Dawsons’ with you. Thought I could handle the hundred miles to Jefferson no problem; that we didn’t need the likes of you.”

  Henry smiled. “Figured as much. You weren’t hiding your feelings.”

  Levi glanced at the last of the day’s light fading on the western sky, then looked back. “I was wrong, so wrong. We’d all be dead—or worse—wasn’t for you.” He stuck out his hand. Henry took it. “I want to thank you proper and all, and tell you that I’ll be pleased as a fat tick on a hound to have you for an uncle.” He grinned.

  * * *

  WITH THE CORN BREAD ON, Sue had innocently stepped to her larder for the potatoes and heard the men talking. She really wasn’t listening until she heard the name Littlejohn coupled with seven dead men. Then she quietly turned and leaned against the far side of the wagon in the shadows. Curiosity got the better of her; she just couldn’t help herself. Besides, as far as she remembered, no Scripture condemned listening in on a private conversation.

  And at least she’d found out the stories on those men he killed without having to ask. She’d been wondering and pondering on how she might bring the topic up. Soon as their discussion ended, and her nephew started apologizing for his early-on bad attitude, she hurried silently to get back to the fire and cut up the potatoes.

  By now, Sue counted any vegetable other than beans a treat, and fried taters always excited Becky. She scooted the Dutch oven full of corn bread to the edge of the fire and then dumped a big blob of lard into the skillet that held the browning salt pork. She looked over at her daughter. “Don’t you think that dog is milking his injuries a bit too much?”

  Becky faced her with a frown. “No, Mama! What in the world would make you ask such a thing? This dog saved all our lives; mine twice in the last week.” She went back to rubbing him, shoulder to hip. “He’s a courageous dog, the bravest dog I’ve ever known. I love him.”

  Sue smiled. “I knew that, and it’s pretty obvious that he loves you just as much. Want to help slice the potatoes?”

  “You’re frying taters? Yes, ma’am, I’ll help!” Her little girl patted the animal. “You rest, Blue. I won’t be gone long.” His tail whacked the ground twice, but he didn’t raise his head.

  Henry moseyed over with his new harness on his shoulder and an oily rag in his hand. Sue looked up, and he smiled.

  She smiled back. “Hey, how’d your mules take to being hobbled?”

  “Good.” He dropped the leather next to a big pine and sat down, leaning against the tree. “Stood still like they’d done it before.”

  “Excellent. Shouldn’t be too long before supper’s ready.” She looked past the man to where the boy stood playing mumbley-peg with his new knife in the last of the daylight. “I could use a bit more deadfall if you’ve a mind, Levi.”

  He glanced at her and nodded. “I put some under the other wagon. That all gone?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you could check.”

  He wiped his knife on his breeches, put it away, and then walked toward the other wagon.

  Henry looked up at her and grinned. “Reason I wanted to stop here, besides having enough light in case there was a problem with the new team, is that I figure we can make Jefferson in two more days.”

  Rebecca dropped her jaw and held her mouth open too long. “Two days, only two and we’ll be in Jefferson?” She ran off. “Hey, Levi.”

  Sue dumped her last potato in the hot grease and shook her head in disbelief. “You really think we can make better than twenty miles a day?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Once when we had to, Jackson force-marched us over a hundred miles in four days. Like to of killed the mules. Matter of fact, we had a couple that didn’t make it, but we replaced them before they dropped. Old Hickory was hard, but never stupid.”

  “Two days?” She could hardly believe it. She’d never dreamed. “That’s wonderful! So we’ll have a whole extra day.” She wanted to hug him, but restrained herself. She shouldn’t tempt herself—or him.

  “If we roll out in the morning way before the sun, and blow the mules pretty regular, grain ’em extra, and stop with the last of the light, it can happen. On your word, we’ll do it.”

  She nodded. “Of course! I’m so excited! We’ll get there in time, Henry! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  He shook his leather and poured a bit more oil onto the harness. “The off lead mule stumbled a half mile or so out of Pleasant Mound.”

  She grimaced. Why had he said that? So the off lead mule stumbled, so what? “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what that has to do with getting to Jefferson.”

  “I didn’t see anything for him to stumble over. If he wasn’t sound, we couldn’t do twenty mile a day. I watched him, but decided not to stop. He didn’t do it again.”

  “So, you think he’s fine?”

  “Yes. No heat or swelling. Might be a trick he picked up. Act lame to get a break. Mules are twice as smart as horses. He may have been testing me.” He chuckled, then looked toward the young doctor and her patient. “Kind of like Blue’s testing your girl there.”

  Sue smiled. “That dog is truly something. How long you think he’s going to let her keep nursing him?”

  Henry shrugged and returned her smile, but this one had more little boy than she’d ever seen before. She’d never thought he was so cute as that very minute. Made her want to see if he could come out and play. Good thing she didn’t have a bucket of water near, or she might have had to pour it on him.

  Her musings got the butterflies to fluttering in her tummy again. Oh, if only it might ever be possible. How could she be thinking such thoughts? Could she really be falling in love? But he wasn’t a Christian.

  She swallowed hard and compelled herself to behave. She had to stop revisiting those notions, not allow herself even to ponder on his kindness, his patience, his intelligence, his generosity . . . how handsome he was, how he took care of everything. An uncomfortable silence ensued. What had she been talking about? Blue!

  She cleared her throat. “Well, in my personal opinion, that hound has earned all the nursing he wants.”

  “I suppose.” Henry sniffed. “What’s frying?”

  She glanced toward the smaller skillet. “Threw some potatoes in with the fatback. Might want to find a stopping point with your oiling there; supper’s about ready.”

  * * *

  HENRY WATCHED HER hurry back to the other wagon. He loved the way she moved. A lady’s lady, but hard as a bois d’arc stump. It showed in her walk, too. He’d never known a woman so genteel and hard at the same time. He noted where he’d gotten to on the harness, then stood. The aroma of sizzling grease pulled him to the cook fire. He loved all things fried.

  Levi smiled as he stepped into the firelight. “Corn bread, fatback, and some of those taters you traded for fried up all crispy. Man, I’m past ready for supper.”

  Sue strolled back loaded with empty plates and a jug of water. “Thank you again for all the trade goods you bought us.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She took to filling and passing out plates. She always made Henry’s first. Handing him his, she added, smiling, “Even though you may have been a bit extravagant.”

  He ignored the comment. Other than the ring that remained his and Rebecca’s secret, Titus pretty much had thrown in everything else. Well, not the bolt of cloth his soon-to-be daughter claimed would be enough for her mother’s wedding dress. He didn’t think he’d been extravagant in the least.

  Bless her heart; Sue had been fighting money so long trying to make a living by herself, she didn’t recognize any deprivation, even her own. Whatever these two youngsters wanted or needed, he’d do his best to get it for them, show them how much he appreciated—and loved—them. But Susannah would always come first.

  He took the heaping plate of food from her.
“Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  He watched her serve the children while he ate. Once she got her own plate and sat down, he pointed his knife at her. “How’d you do it, Sue?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make a go of it all these years?”

  She nibbled a bit of fried tater, then cocked her head. “Well, at first, we lived off the timber Andrew and Jacob—that’s Levi’s dad—had already cut before the accident. Then the Lord sent one nice chunk of money in from a load of saw boards they had shipped to San Antonio.” She took another bite, then shook her head. “I’d forgotten all about it. A teamster we used brought it. That money was like manna from Heaven. God never let me down.” She popped the rest of the fry into her mouth.

  “By that time, it had become quite apparent I couldn’t cut the timber or operate the steam-powered saw, so I sold the whole kit and caboodle to Phillips over DeKalb way. He’s still sawing lumber last I heard.” She took another dainty bite. “Then I figured, if I couldn’t log our land, I’d farm it. The brothers had already cleared so much of it.”

  “How many acres you got?”

  “Total, a little over nine hundred. Half of that belongs to Levi, though; his inheritance.”

  Henry smiled at her, then her nephew, giving him a little nod. She made it sound so simple, but he knew firsthand how hard it was to grub a living off the land. Her doing it alone while raising two kids, as far as he was concerned, was beyond remarkable. “How much did you farm this year?”

  “Thirty-two acres of cotton, three acres of sweet corn, and another two in our garden.”

  “Thirty-seven with just you and Levi? That’s mighty impressive.”

  Rebecca waved. Her faced screwed into a pinched pout. “I helped, too! Mama said she couldn’t have done it without me.”

  Henry laughed. “I should have known that. Sorry I left you out, little miss.”

  “Oh, I forgive you, although it is very hard for me to even think you’d ever forget me.”

  “I just didn’t—”

  “Rebecca Ruth, quit making Mister Henry feel bad.”

  The girl jumped up and ran and hugged his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad!” Up close, she whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry, Mister Daddy.”

  He hugged her back. “No, no. Don’t you worry about it. You didn’t hurt my feelings.”

  She looked at her mother, but held her tongue and went back to her plate. “I love fried taters, Mister Henry. Sometimes, I think better than candy. Oh, um, speaking of candy . . .”

  “Re-bec-ca.” Sue shook her head no at her daughter.

  “Oh, Mama, I was just saying—”

  “I heard what you were saying, young lady.”

  Henry laughed. “Well, even if she hadn’t mentioned it, I was going to suggest we all have a piece after supper. If it was all right with you.”

  Levi chimed in. “Sounds good to me.” He glared at the girl. “If Bitty Beck didn’t ruin it already.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  Sue stood with her empty plate “Oh, I suppose we’d all enjoy that very much. It’ll be all right since Mister Henry said he was already going to offer.” Levi handed his plate to her. “After all the dishes are dried and put away,” she added, taking her daughter’s plate.

  Rebecca jumped up and down, clapping. Blue was at her side wagging his tail like he was going to have a piece himself. Knowing Rebecca, she probably would be sharing.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  HENRY’S EYES POPPED OPEN. He listened for a bit. Frogs croaked to each other, locusts played their hectic, overlapping songs, and a distant owl bragged over his wisdom asking Whoo was as wise? Henry scooted over and peered at the moon. It rode the western night sky, casting enough light to catch the mules by.

  Levi lay on his stomach, dead to the world. Henry decided to let him sleep awhile.

  After the necessaries, he stirred the cook fire, added kindling and then a few medium-size branches. It first loosed an ascending trail of smoke, then came to life.

  “Morning.” Sue rested her chin on her propped-up hand, staring at him from under the other wagon. “Anything you’d especially like for breakfast?”

  He laughed. “I’d love some bacon, three eggs over easy, four of your ace-high biscuits—two smothered in thick, creamy gravy, and another two dripping with honey.” He held a finger up. “And ice-cold milk, half a gallon at least.”

  She grinned. “You don’t want much, do you?”

  He dipped the coffeepot full from the water barrel, dropped in a handful of coffee grounds, and then set it on the fire. “Hey, you asked.”

  “When we get back home, I promise to make you a breakfast like that.” She scooted out, then pulled herself up with the wagon wheel. “I was thinking more along the lines of frying up some potatoes and fatback again, if you wanted, or I could save the grease for gravy. It’d have to be made with water and not milk though, and biscuits, of course.” She scrunched her shoulders and reached for her shawl. “With or without some of your honey. I sure am enjoying these cooler mornings.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take my biscuits with, and might be a good idea to make a second batch, maybe grease up four potatoes and let them bake for later. You might not want to cook tonight. It’ll be a hard day.”

  “I can do that.”

  He looked toward the still sleeping Levi. “When the coffee makes, best get my right-hand man up and at ’em.”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded, then walked out hunting mules. He found his four grazing together fifty yards from the wagon. Starting with the off back mule and finishing with the one that had stumbled, he caught, grained, watered, and then harnessed each. Before he chained them to the wagon, he ran a hand over each leg, checking for hot spots or swelling, talking to them as he went. Each in turn proved sound.

  All sixteen hooves were examined and picked clean, with attention to smelling their frogs. After he secured the last chain, Henry stood straight and tousled the near ear of the off lead mule. He asked himself as much as them, “You boys ready? Got a long day ahead.”

  They didn’t answer, but he figured they were, and so was he. Not that he looked forward to it. He’d done it before, except that time he didn’t have a boy and little girl to see to or a boss he was in love with. Well, he sort of loved Old Hickory, leastwise really respected the man. That march of his had put everyone to the test. All had done what he said, but there wasn’t a one happy about it.

  Sue strolled toward him holding two steaming cups. “Saw you were finished hitching your mules, and thought you might be ready for some coffee.”

  He took the cup she offered. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

  “Sure. Breakfast is getting close.”

  “Good.” He looked to the eastern sky, not even false dawn yet. “I’d like to pull out first bit of light we get.”

  She nodded. “Levi’s almost got my mules hitched and ready.”

  “Did you notice if he grained them extra?”

  “Yes, I noticed; and he did. Said you told him to.”

  Henry smiled. “That’s one good boy you’ve got.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you’re of the same mind, I think we shouldn’t have anyone walking, and that I need to be in front the whole time.”

  * * *

  IF YOU’RE OF THE SAME mind, Sue repeated with a cynical tone in her head, like it made one iota of difference whether her mind matched his. No matter what, he wanted it his way and no other. Patrick Henry Buckmeyer thought he always knew best.

  She made the disgusted oooooogh sound in her head but refrained from giving it voice, still feeling a little indebted to Henry’s generosity, but she had stopped early yesterday like he wanted. So . . .

  Instead of acting ugly, she willed her volume soft and her tone sweet and was proud of herself for it. “Oh. I thought we needed to save the mules. That isn’t important anymore?”


  He sat his coffee down and rummaged in the wagon, bringing his honey jar out, then picked the cup back up and headed toward the fire. She followed. His usual eating position was sitting by a tree, leaning his back against it, so it didn’t surprise her when he went straight for the biggest tree close to the fire.

  With one leg stretched full out, he bent the other. She tended to breakfast and wondered if he might ever be planning to answer her question. Was he really trying to irritate her?

  He took another sip. “With four mules to a wagon now, I figure we should save the people instead.” He grinned. “The smidgen of weight saved isn’t worth wearing any of us out.”

  That sounded logical. He always sounded so logical. But being afoot for a piece didn’t wear her out. “I enjoy my turn walking.” She took the biscuits off the fire and turned the fatback. She could feel him watching her. Why was he doing that? “Don’t you?”

  “If you choose to walk, that’s your prerogative, of course.”

  Why, thank you, Mister Buckmeyer, for noticing. In her head her words dripped sarcasm. Her prerogative, indeed. She glanced over at him. “Would it offend you if I asked why you want to be in front all the time now?” She didn’t care to eat his dust the whole day. That time, her spoken words carried a tone, but she really didn’t mind so much.

  He tossed his dregs and made his way to the coffeepot. “Not at all.”

  She lifted it and poured his cup full again.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” His words were gentle and kind and free from irritation. “You have any idea how to pace a team to make two mile an hour?”

  “Hmm, no.” She hadn’t thought of that. Now he was making her sound stupid. “Speed ’em up a little, make them go faster, I suppose.”

  He grinned his crooked, little-boy grin and raised both eyebrows. “I see. So, that’s how. Now do you want to drive lead then, boss?”

  “No, I suppose not.” What a—a wise arse! Oh my goodness! Susannah Baylor! What are you thinking? It relieved her that response stayed in her head and didn’t travel to her lips. “I was just wondering. I mean I’ve driven the lead wagon most the way here.”