by Caryl McAdoo
“What happened to him after your grandfather died?”
“He came with me; joined up with the Rangers, too. He said he’d promised Granddad he’d watch over me.”
“Where is he now?”
“Back at camp. He’s one of the cooks. I’ll introduce you if you want.”
“I’d like that.”
He only nodded. Instead of asking him another question, she concentrated on the surroundings. The bare tree branches spotted the road with patches of shade, and the birds sang their praises of the Almighty.
Forgetting about the awful battles upon the land, she could almost imagine being out for a jaunt with a bona fide suitor.
As much as her mother would hate it, Gigi found it comfortable, riding along in silence with the Texas Ranger.
However, she suddenly realized she’d been paying too much attention to Ephraim and not the road.
The turnoff to her aunt and uncle’s place should be coming up soon. Surely, he hadn’t already passed it. Then in the nick of time, she spotted it a hundred yards or so ahead.
Bless the Lord.
“Right up here, you’ll need to go to the right so we can fetch Gramps and take him home if he’s well enough to travel. It isn’t too far off the road.”
Without slowing much, he complied, taking the turn way too fast for her taste. At least he didn’t fuss about the detour. Across one creek and one more easy turn, their house came into view.
Right off, she noticed the piece of paper tacked to the front door. He reined the mules to a stop, and she jumped down and ran for the note, reading it on her way back toward the wagon.
“It says right after I left this morning, Gramps took a turn for the worse. He was having chest pain and his breath was coming hard, so Auntie took him to Bowling Green in her buggy.”
“I’m sorry.” He looked at her a few seconds. “How about you help me water these boys, then we’ll get ourselves going again.”
Though she definitely wanted to get back on her way to see about Gramps, and as far as she was concerned, there was no time to spare, ruining the mules would only slow her down. He was right.
Especially since the team would have to do a turnaround tomorrow.
It made her grateful Ephraim had thought to leave her mules in camp for the rest. They’d be fresh to get her back home the day after.
“Certainly.”
He found four buckets and did all of the heavy lifting, while she unhooked their bridles. After each mule had sated his thirst, she put the bits back in. One guy acted out, but she slapped his ears forward, and he changed his attitude.
Just like her Papa taught her; never give a mule a chance to get stubborn.
“You got a watch?”
“No, ma’am.” He looked at the sky. “Fifteen minutes should do ’em. Think your aunt might have some cutbacks she wouldn’t mind us taking with us?”
“I’ll go see. Might ought to pour a bucket or two more of water in the wagon’s barrel. I forgot to put any in this morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
No sour tone tinged his words.
On her way in, she thought on his easy manner. How it didn’t bother him at all to take orders from her.
The men in her family only liked to boss the women around, especially her brother, even though she was a year older than him. And they definitely soured to any woman telling them what to do or how to do it.
Had she ever known a man like Corporal Kerns? So handsome, well-read, and courageous, at least he appeared to be. From what she knew of the Texas Rangers, they were all incredibly brave and refused to tolerate any cowards in their ranks.
And Ephraim knew Levi Baylor and Wallace Rusk personally.
Perhaps one day, he could introduce her to them.
What was she thinking?
That was just silly.
She’d never be in Texas.
Maybe those two had joined the Confederacy, too, like Ephraim and his Rangers had.
In the middle of the kitchen table—the first place she looked—five biscuits and a nice hunk of ham sat on a plate covered with a cheese cloth. She wrapped them in the cloth, grabbed a jar of her aunt’s renowned pear honey and a spoon, then hurried back out.
He poured water in the wagon’s barrel.
“That the second one?”
“Actually, the fourth. Figured we might want to water them once more between here and there.”
“Good idea.” She held up the jar. “Ever had pear honey?”
“Can’t say I have, but I like pear preserves plenty. They’re on my favorite list.”
“Want a taste now or wait until we’re back on the road?”
Glancing skyward again, he winked at her. “We’ve got another seven minutes or so. What say we eat half now of whatever you got and half later?”
“Another seven minutes, huh?” She giggled. “Truly?”
With a shrug, he grinned. “Give or take.”
“Let’s sit on the porch then, shall we? I’ve had plenty of that wagon bench of late.” She didn’t want to sound too bossy.
“Sure.” He took the larger of the two rockers.
She sat in her aunt’s then laid out the cheesecloth on the barrel-table between them. She pushed three biscuits toward him, cut the ham sixty/forty, giving him the lion’s share, then twisted off the jar’s lid and stuck the spoon in the thick, golden liquid.
“Are you a praying man, Mister Kerns?”
“Yes, ma’am. Want me to bless our meal?”
Holding out her hand, she glanced up, her face warming already, and her heart bumped up its pace. Was she being too blatant?
“I’d like that.”
Just like a soft quilt, he wrapped her fingers with his. His skin so warm against hers. She hadn’t realized her hands were so chilly. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“Father God, thank you for your provisions and for bringing us here safe and sound. Bless the mules, Lord. Give them strength to get us there and back again.” He looked up and caught her staring.
Gracious! He never said amen! Why hadn’t she bowed her head, too? He would surely think she’d been mooning over him through the whole prayer.
After several seconds of awkward silence just looking at her look at him, he continued. “Father, touch Gigi’s grandfather. Bless her and her whole family, Lord. In Jesus’ name I pray.”
“Amen,” she said to be certain the prayer was ended but didn’t pull her hand back right away. The warmth from it radiated from his fingers straight to her heart, stirring up a fluttering she’d never experienced before.
What was happening? She’d just met the man. Finally, unable to eat one-handed, she pulled it back.
How had he gotten under her skin so quickly? She’d read plenty of stories about love at first sight, but counted it a load of hooey, perpetuated by a loveless author who didn’t know the reality of falling in love.
But if that were true, then what was happening to her? Maybe the authors knew more about it than she’d given them credit for.
Opening one of her two biscuits, she only took her eyes off of him long enough to daub a bit of pear honey on one half. He put half his meat inside one biscuit, ate that, then split another one and put the sticky syrup on one corner.
He ate that, smiling while he chewed, then smothered the rest and practically swallowed it whole.
“Heavens above! That is so good. Do you know how she makes it?”
“No one does, not yet anyway, and she isn’t telling. She says she paid an old widow woman ten dollars for the receipt and plans on keeping it secret. But I figured I’d ask for it as a wedding present.”
“Oh. I . . . uh . . . didn’t know you’ve been spoken for.”
“I haven’t, not yet. If this terrible fighting keeps going on, I might be doomed to being a spinster my whole life.”
“I doubt that.” He laughed. “Tell her I’ll double her money, maybe even give her triple what she paid. A man could get rich sellin
g this stuff.” He licked his fingers, stood, then leaned out and glanced skyward before sitting back down.
“It’s been twelve minutes if you’re wondering.”
“You don’t know that. Not for sure. Where’s the give or take?”
Both shoulders rose a smidgen then fell back into their normal height.
“If you know the date, where you are in the world—Kentuck on the twelfth day of December—and you know what you’re doing, you can get really close to the time of day. The sun is very predictable.”
Why had she given Gramps his timepiece back? She’d love to challenge him on it, but she also liked his confidence. And even better, she figured from the way the man prayed with such ease, he had to be a believer.
“Tell me about when you got saved in the three minutes we have left.”
Chewing fast, he swallowed.
“I was seventeen, been a Ranger better than a year. Wallace Rusk and Levi Baylor took me, Bo and three other Rangers out to patrol the Mexican border”
“Was it the Indians?”
“Not that time. A bunch of bandoleros had been crossing the Rio Grande and raiding homesteads, travelers, or whoever they could find.”
With a quick glance at the cheese cloth, he smiled. “Let’s finish up, I can tell this story once we’re on the road.”
As soon as he turned the mules east, back on the main road to Bowling Green, she reminded him of his story.
“Right. The second day out, Wallace found their tracks, and we cold trailed them to where they crossed the river.” He glanced toward the sky as if traveling back to the past to remember details.
“That evening, we had a cold camp. I shivered until I could hear my bones rattling and my stomach growling with my first dustup staring me in the face.”
“I feel so sorry for Papa and my brother living out in this cold—no warm house to come home to every night at the end of the day.”
“It can get bad. Wallace told me later he saw how nervous I was and stood my watch with me. I ended up on my knees, asking Jesus into my heart.”
“Was that fight when you were wounded the first time?”
“Yes, ma’am. I rushed in when I shouldn’t have. After the first volley, I forgot to reload and ended up in a knife fight. The Mexican cut me, but Captain Baylor shot him before he could finish me off.” He touched his shoulder.
“Got a right nice scar right here and another on my leg from two days later. Four bandoleros got away, so we tracked them into the mountains.”
“I didn’t know Texas had mountains.”
“Out El Paso way, it does. We killed two and hauled the other two back to face a noose. They gave ’em a nice trial before we hung ’em though.”
“What happened to your leg?”
“Got shot. Didn’t take cover soon enough, but I learned my lesson and haven’t been wounded since.”
“What about Bo? Is he a believer?”
“He is. Got saved at a brush arbor meeting all the slaves went to while we were having church. My old man always claimed to be a Christian, but he didn’t live it. I’d heard the scripture about better to be cold than lukewarm.”
“No one wants to be spewed!”
“Exactly. But the man . . . he pestered me some about Jesus. It took someone I respected to get through my thick skull.”
“Well I’m glad for it. I’d like to meet Wallace Rusk one day.”
The man studied the road a minute, slapped leather until the mules picked up the pace a bit, then looked over at her.
“What about you, Gigi? When did you accept the Lord’s mercy?”
“Gramps prayed the sinner’s prayer with me one night beside my bed. I’d been so mad at my mother. She’d taken my sister’s side in a silly fight we’d been having over one of my dolls that I hadn’t played with in years, but I didn’t want her to have it.”
Ephraim smiled.
She certainly liked it when he did.
“Easy to tell how much you love your Gramps. I can hear it in your voice and see how you light up talking about him.” He put both reins in his offhand then held the other one out. “Let’s pray together for him right now.”
She took his hand without hesitation.
“Lord, you know all things. Touch Gigi’s Gramp’s body. Heal whatever’s wrong with him. In the name of Your Son we pray You’ll give him more fruitful years. Just like You gave King Hezekiah those extra years, give Mister Garland a longer life.”
He squeezed her hand a tiny bit.
“Yes, Father. Please help him, please. I couldn’t stand losing him. He’s an old grump all right. You know that. But he’s my old grump and I love him.” She scooted over and pressed her shoulder into his. He looked her way. “What else should we say?”
“In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen.” She kept her hand in his and her shoulder next to his. Why not? It was warmer that way . . . except that wasn’t the whole reason. She liked being close to him and having her hand in his. He seemed to drive just fine one handed.
The fellow certainly said all the right things. Could someone who wasn’t a Christian be acting like him?
Mama would be incensed if she knew her firstborn had taken the wagon into Hindman’s camp alone then traveled all the way back to Bowling Green alone with a handsome soldier. But she couldn’t know what a gentleman he’d been.
Gigi would have to tell her the minute she got there, or he might have to suffer the wrath of a mother hen.
“Ephraim, answer me one more question.”
Chapter 4
He grinned then shook his head with a chuckle. “Sure. Fire away.”
“I want to know how it doesn’t bother you? The war. I mean . . . regarding the Ten Commandments. More specifically the one that says ‘thou shall not kill.’ Yet, here you are, ready and willing to kill Union soldiers.”
“Well.” Ephraim squeezed her hand a tiny bit. “I asked Wallace Rusk the exact same thing one time when we were talking about Jesus, said he’d known a Jewish man name of Haber who claimed the King James folks got it wrong. It made a lot of sense. According to the original Hebrew, it says murder—not kill.”
“What difference does that make? Isn’t it the same thing?”
“Not at all. There’s a big difference. When we got back to San Antonio, I went to the library and looked it up, and he was right. This war isn’t on me or any other soldier. We’re not murdering the other fellows, we’re only following orders. Killing the enemy.”
“I still hate it.”
“I’d just as soon the generals play a game of cards or something. Winner take all. But the brass doesn’t see it that way.”
“Wonder why those men of King James got something so important wrong?”
He glanced at her. It seemed her inner beauty shone through, improving her outer appearance—if that was possible.
From the first, he’d been struck by her features. Her eyes, and smile, her lips. And he’d always preferred a petite stature on a female.
“I don’t know. It’d be plenty hard being a Ranger if I had to turn the other cheek all the time. Wicked men need to be brought to justice.”
“Oh, I agree. But the North claims they hold the moral high ground.”
“The Bible says a lot about slaves, so I don’t consider it a sin. It says to be the best slave or master you can be—whichever position you find yourself in—and not a word about ending it.”
“I’ve read that.”
“Way I see it, folks have been enslaving others for a long time. This war won’t change any hearts. I fear it’s just going to get a lot of good men killed or wounded.”
She didn’t respond, but then what could she say? He was right. How could a war change anyone’s mind? God sent ten plagues on the Egyptians, yet they still wanted to get His children back and put them into slavery again.
But God . . .
He sure did like that knowledge. That God would never abdicate His throne and was always in control of
every situation.
For the next mile and an eighth—if he had it measured right—she stayed next to his side, then without warning or reason, released his hand and scooted over then turned sideways on the bench, facing him.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Oh, so you do have another question.” He laughed.
Gracious! The words Gigi had been thinking somehow just came out!
But, as much as she hadn’t meant for them to, it’d certainly be good to know his mind on the subject.
“Didn’t before this morning, but I do now.”
Her face warmed, and she dipped her gaze before looking back into his eyes. “I didn’t either. I mean . . . I’ve read a lot about it, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Well, how does a body know if it isn’t only . . . uh . . .” She hiked both shoulders. “You know. The war! I mean, I’d hate you until the day I died if you were to kill my father or brother, but if I never see you again . . .”
“What are you talking about?
“I’m trying to tell you I’ll never forget you, Ephraim Kerns. You’re some kind of fine man.”
“You’ll see me again. And why would I ever harm any of your kin?”
Why didn’t she think things through before speaking? Goodness gracious, Gramps had warned her, too. But what could she say? How could she answer with anything but the truth?
“Father, Uncle Charles, and my brother went North to join the Union Army.”
“Oh, my. That isn’t good. I can tell you true I’d be right with ’em if our company had voted that way.”
“So, what you’re telling me is . . . You’re a Texas Ranger first and foremost.”
“Yes, ma’am. Those men are my brothers, they’re the only family I have.” He chuckled. “Well, Bo is more kin than any of ’em, but he’s a Ranger, too.”
A gust of wind chilled her, and she scooted back in next to him, entwining her hand under and around his arm then pulled in tight. A big sigh escaped.
‘How did a body know?’ echoed through her soul.
As she rode next to him, she searched her memory. Of all the books she’d read, one single thing stood out as a true test.
