by Caryl McAdoo
It wasn’t long before a light flurry of snowflakes fell. She pulled out the blanket from the bench box, then leaving it folded once, spread it over his legs and her lap.
Cozy as two bugs in a rug—almost like she was already his wife out on the way to church of a Sunday morn. Mama would never approve, of course, but she wasn’t doing anything wrong, and neither was he.
Not one time had he said or done anything not becoming of a perfect gentleman.
The wagon passed the ten-miles-to-Bowling-Green sign. She only had three more hours or so to make up her mind.
Finishing off the biscuits and ham took her mind off her dilemma for a bit, then with five miles to go, he suggested they stop and water the mules. According to him, it only took six minutes for both pairs to get their water.
“How long should we rest them?”
He hung both buckets on their hooks then faced her. “Ten minutes should do, since according to the sign, we’re only four-and-a-quarter miles from Bowling Green.”
“At least it quit snowing.” She hitched the blanket up around her shoulders. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, there’s something I’ve been pondering. And mind you, I haven’t completely made up my mind yet, but . . . well . . . uh . . . you know that Shakespeare claimed how parting was sweet sorrow.” She should shut her mouth, turn, and run the rest of the way home.
If she ever could, forget she’d ever even met Ephraim Kerns.
But she couldn’t run that far anyway.
And he’d catch up with her.
Moreover, she flat out didn’t want to. She needed to know a thing, and right then, right there was probably going to be the very best time to find out.
“Yes?”
The one word stopped her cold.
“Why’d you say yes? We both know the play, so . . .”
“Seems to me you’re wrestling with the same thing I am. So, I say yes.” He held out his hands toward her. Besides being so handsome, was he a mind reader as well? She inched closer.
“You’ll think I’m some kind of trollop.”
“No, ma’am. I know what you are. You’re the lady I’ve dreamed of meeting all my life. Pretty, smart, a believer—my match in every way.” He smiled. “Want me to put my hands behind my back?”
“No. Uh . . .” Her heart boomed against her ribs like a cannonball. “Yes. Maybe . . . No.”
Her lungs reminded her she’d been holding her breath. She sucked them full then closed her eyes.
“Ephraim?” She licked her lips then took a step nearer and gripped the blanket even tighter.
“Gigi, I’ve fallen in love. I knew you were the one the first time I saw you, then on the way to the camp . . .”
Opening her eyes, she raised herself on her tiptoes. It was coming. He was going to kiss her. She knew it in her bones! Her first kiss! She’d dreamed about it since only a girl. He moved in closer, bent at the waist a bit, his lips only inches from hers.
His arms wrapped around her, and his lips softly pressed to hers.
The cannonballs took to exploding inside her. She pushed in. Her arms went around him and with her hands on his back, she pulled him closer and hugged him tighter.
If she hadn’t known better, she’d swear on a Bible that sparks erupted; the angels played harps and were singing in her head. It was divine. That’s what it was.
Gigi loved kissing him, being next to him. He leaned back, and she opened her eyes. He stared into them.
“Never have I ever met anyone like you. And I’ve never in the whole of my life told anyone that I loved them, not until just now.”
Oh, how she liked that! No, she loved it. She loved him.
“I love you, too, Ephraim. Do you have to go back? Don’t. Don’t ever leave me.”
“I sure don’t want to.” He grinned. “But of course, I have to go back.”
“I hate this war.”
With a little agreeing nod, he kissed her again, but more a little peck than a real kiss like her first. Would there ever be another like it? Had anyone in the world ever known such a kiss?
“Who doesn’t hate war?”
“Those men who start them, I guess.”
“We better get back on the road. It’ll be dark before we get there as it is.”
The edge of town came into view. Though she knew better, it seemed it had only been a few minutes. She scooted away. Her cowardice and the sudden lack of warmth chilled her.
“Ephraim, tongues will wag enough with us coming in together and being alone in this wagon, but I’d rather break the news to my family that we’re in love than for the news to come in through the back door.”
“I understand.” He glanced over and grinned. “Shame we can’t get hitched tonight.”
“Aww.” She poked his arm. “What a lovely thought. But I’m warning you. Our getting married at all is going to be an uphill battle, especially without Papa being here to give his blessing. But I will fight for you, and that’s a promise.”
“That’s all I need.”
“I hope above hope that I don’t have to give them up on account of you, but if needs be, then I will. I choose you.”
“You won’t have to do that, but I’m glad to hear you would.” He rubbed his arm like she’d hurt him or something. His grin grew a little wider. “Shame you can’t kiss my was-well and make it all better.”
“Your what?”
“My was-well. On my arm. Before you went to poking it, it was fine, and now . . . Well now, it isn’t—not well anymore. So, it’s a was-well. What do you call it?”
“A booboo maybe when I was like three or four, but I learned to stop skinning my knees and elbows.”
“I take it you weren’t a tomboy then?”
“No, not at all. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl. My mother and I—Oh! Take the next left turn.” She pointed across him. “Right there’s our store. Looks like Mama closed up early.”
“What about you and your mother?”
“Oh, just that we butt heads a lot. She has this little habit of telling everyone exactly how they ought to do things, but no one can ever get it right enough for her.”
“I see.”
“Once, Papa pointed out though that she doesn’t really mean anything by it. He said it’s just that she’s so smart and confident, she thinks she always knows what’s right, the best way.”
With a chuckle, he eased the team alongside the store. “I see.”
“And believe you me, Mama is not bashful about telling anyone how their calf got stuck under the gate! Anyway, after I understood that, we got along a lot better.”
Ephraim had no point of reference regarding doing what his family expected of him instead of what he wanted, but he did understand her reluctance to show out for the neighbors.
Time would tell if she really loved him or not. It would’ve been so much better to meet her under different circumstances, but without the war, he’d still be in Texas, chasing evil men.
Of all his sins, desertion would never be marked against his name, even if ordered into the valley of death with little or no hope, he’d ride in just like the Light Brigade had. Hopefully, no one would ever issue such an order.
Sure was going to hate having to leave his newfound love, but after tomorrow, once he got her and the supplies back to camp, he’d have to stand there and watch her ride away alone. He shook off the thought, no need to borrow trouble from tomorrow.
“Turn in the next gate, then pull the wagon around to the back of the house.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As he neared the house, two ladies came out the front door. The older of the pair had to be either Gigi’s mother or aunt. The other, a negro that looked to be in her early to mid-twenties.
They had slaves?
“Hey, Mama.” Gigi stood. “How’s Gramps?”
“Doc says he’ll live.” The woman looked at the darkie. “Daisy, go help them tend to the mules.”
“Yessum
. I’m on my way.” The lady—or girl as some were wont to call ’em, no matter how old the female slave—jumped to it and had the barn’s right-side door opened before he set the brake.
“Get on inside, Miss Gigi. I can help mister here with these mules.”
“Six hands are better than four.”
He liked it that Gigi didn’t let Daisy take her place. Instead, she used the opportunity to steal three pecks on his cheek, but never stayed close enough for a proper kiss after her ambushes.
At least not until she sent the slave out to fetch a cartful of hay for the mules.
Once the young woman turned the corner and was out of sight, she kissed him good, but broke it off a full ten seconds before the barn door opened again.
With the hay dispersed and all four mules chomping a quart of grain in their feed boxes, she winked.
“Guess we can’t put it off any longer. Ready to meet the family?”
“Lead on, ma’am. I was born ready.”
Chapter 5
Ephraim had heard tell a body could judge the daughter by the mother. If true, Gigi would mature into a grand lady. As forewarned, the lady of the house indeed proved opinionated, but she delivered them with a sweetness that tempered her message.
All and all, Miss Garland’s family neither helped nor hindered his belief that Gigi was his true love.
As if she’d owned the key all along that unlocked his heart. No one else ever had gotten even close. She had to be the one God fashioned in her mother’s womb just for him.
“Mother.”
The daughter’s words brought Ephraim from his musings. He looked across the dinner table. Gigi stared at a spot a little past her plate, eyebrows raised as though the address might be a question.
“Don’t you Mother me, Gardenia Gladiola. You’ll take Daisy with you, and that is that. Your father would have a conniption fit if I let your grandfather get out of his sick bed to go with you. And he’d probably shoot me dead if I let you go all that way alone with Corporal Kerns.”
She shifted her gaze from Gigi to him. “Not that you don’t appear to be a gentleman.”
“I understand, ma’am.”
“I hope you won’t take offense, but I would not let her go unchaperoned with any handsome young man. It wouldn’t be acceptable to her father, her brother, or her uncle. I’m glad you understand.”
The honey-tone she used on him didn’t match the steely words spoken to Gigi.
“I do, Mis’ess Garland, and no offense taken, I assure you. I believe it’s wise, a good idea to have someone go along to ride with Gigi on the trip back.”
“I could go.”
His love glanced at her little sister, gave her a no-you-may-not look then returned her eyes to him with a smile. “Mama, have I mentioned that Ephraim is a Texas Ranger?”
“Yes, dear. You told me that early on. He’s a long way from home.” She shifted her gaze. “More peach cobbler, Corporal?”
“No, ma’am, thank you. I’m fuller than a tick on a hound dog.”
“Did I tell you he knows May Meriwether personally? He even has a signed copy of The Granger that he’s going to let me read when he’s finished.” She glanced at her mother.
“No, you didn’t, but how can that be possible?” She looked to him.
“Unless you’ve been to New York. Have you been there, Corporal? Because I was reading that she lives in a Brownstone right on Park Avenue across from Central Park in the heart of the city. Her publisher is there, so it only seems logical.”
“Yes, ma’am, she does. But back around 1850, she came west to interview Levi Baylor and Wallace Rusk—”
“They’re famous Texas Rangers, too.”
So, she thought him to be famous, did she?
“I know that, darling.” She faced him again.
“I admire her writing, the way she puts words together so masterfully, and I enjoy her stories. I’ll have to order those two titles. Although, I cannot imagine when I might ever have time to read again until this horrible war is over and done. Without William and Christopher—”
“And Charles.”
“Yes, of course, Peggy Sue.” Mis’ess Garland faced him again, rolling her eyes as if to say would she ever be able to finish what she was saying? “So she’s in Texas now?”
“Yes, ma’am. She called her trip a quest for a new story and a new kind of hero.”
“Research.”
“Yes, ma’am. Anyway, she ended up staying. Married Levi’s adopted father, Henry Buckmeyer. He and his first wife Sue Baylor provided the romantic inspiration for The Granger. Levi says that’s when they fell in love, during the time he told her about Sue.”
“Really? How interesting.”
“Then her next book, the one she came for, followed. The Ranger is about Levi and Wallace rescuing—”
“Don’t! Don’t say another word. I don’t want to hear anything more about that book.” Gigi’s eyes glared, but her lips bore a slight grin. “I haven’t read it yet.”
“So, you’re saying May is married to General Buckmeyer?” Mis’ess Garland acted like her daughter hadn’t spoken at all.
“Yes, ma’am. I would have preferred joining his army, but my company already voted to throw our lot with Colonel Terry.”
“Would you care for a cup of coffee in the parlor?”
“I’d love nothing better, but I best get to bed. We need an early start loading, to be sure Gigi and Daisy get back before dark. Could I trouble you for a lantern, ma’am?”
The slave’s petticoats fluttered as she rushed into the bedroom the next morning, stirring Gigi to almost awake—more than she wanted to be for sure.
Tired and way more sore than expected, she pulled her covers over her head—just for a moment—she wanted to savor her second day of being in love.
“Miss Gardenia Gladiola Garland! What do you think you be doing? That Corporal Kerns of yours gots them mules fed and watered and already hitched to the wagon. He’s gonna be leaving without you if you don’t hurry and gets yourself wide awake.”
“What?”
“You heard me! You needs to be up and at ’em, girl.”
Stretching her back with both shoulders moving up around her neck, she peeked. Daisy stood next to her bed with her hands on her hips.
How many times had that been her first sight of a morning? She acted like she was her mother—or worse, her nanny.
“Fine. I guess we be going without you then. I’ll be happy as a suckling babe to go on along with the Mister all bys myself if you needs your rest.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Humph, it be yo name. And you knows it be the way I always call you, using all three of your flower names like that, when you is acting like you don’t have no brain! ’Cept, I knows how smart you is.”
“You think so?”
“Now hurry up and get yourself up and get dressed if you be going with me and him. Want me to pick out something nice?”
“No, and stop talking like some fieldhand. I know how smart you are.” Scooting up more into a sitting position, she flung her arms high in the air and stretched again. How could she be so sore? “Get me that gray corduroy dress and my wool stockings.”
“No, Miss Gigi, not that one. It’s too old, and it’s ugly, too, drab as a stormy sky. How about the blue wool? It’s warm enough, and you look finer than frog fur in it. That one brings out the red tones in your hair.” She laughed.
“And besides, I work in the garden some, why can’t I talk like a field hand if I wants.”
How many times had this exact conversation played out?
“Fine, talk however you want, but I don’t want that one; it’s too nice. I plan on carrying my weight, loading here and unloading there. I want the work dress.”
“Umm-Hmmm. So, you don’t care one little bit ’bout how you looks?” Daisy grinned. “I can’t believe such a thing on account of I done seen you and him yesterday in the barn.”
“What did you
see?”
She glanced around then lowered her voice. “How Mister Ephraim sure don’t let any grass grow, does he? Kissing you right on the lips on the very same day he met you.”
“But . . . But—”
“Miss Gigi, you shouldn’t let him do that. Your mother would have a fit if she knew!”
Fear rose its ugly head and gripped her throat so tight her breath froze. Then a flash of hot blood rushed to her cheeks. “But she won’t, will she? Why were you spying on me?”
Her grin turned into a chuckle.
“Miss Margaret thinks that’s my job, tattling on you girls, but you know I loves you, Miss. Yes, ma’am. Daisy knows when to speak up and when to keep her mouth shut.”
Relief washed over her. “So then, you didn’t tell?”
“Course not! Oh, I been thinking on it all right, but I’ve seen how much he cares about you. But you listen to Daisy now, you hear me? Be careful! Your mama, she seen it, too.”
“Do you really think she did?”
“Have you ever known me to lie to you? Iffin’ I says it, you know it’s true! And you—oh, mercy, girl. You be mooning over that man like a brazen hussy. I swear, it’s a wonder she’s letting you go along at all!”
“She couldn’t stop me.”
“If them Rebs didn’t pay in gold, and Mister Riley not be sick, and the war and all . . . Why, she’d put her foot down so hard it may break straight down into Hades! She’d be telling that Corporal Kerns to get his own self back however he could.”
“Humph. So you think I was mooning? Well! I’ll have you know I can hide my emotions better than most.”
Hiking both shoulders, Daisy extended her hand.
“I put fresh water in your bowl. You sure about that old work dress? Maybe I’m wrong if you’re wearing that ugly ol’ thing in front of the soldier.” Then she mumbled, “You must not like him much as I thought.”
“Yes, the gray one will be fine.” Gigi let the girl pull her up.
It took a full hour to get loaded and on the road. But the sun had only barely turned the eastern sky two shades of gray lighter; wasn’t any hint of the golden pink she loved.
