Kentucky Bride

by Caryl McAdoo

  “I’d say you look akin to what I call a jumbo. Want me to make you a shirt? Work ones for a dollar, but I get two-fifty for Sunday-best. And I pick the cloth?”

  “I’d like that. Make me two, one of each.” He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar gold piece and two silver coins. “Make Ephraim two also. He likes solid colors. I favor something a little flashier. You pick both.”

  “I’ve got just the right material.” She took the money and put it in her pocket then gestured toward the direction of the music. “Shall we go hear us some tunes? Are there any singers in the bunch?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am.”

  Were there ever! Three different men sang several solos and four or five harmonized together. She liked the bass best.

  A bit after moonrise, an officer came and broke up the gathering. She’d hoped Bo would ask her to dance, but on the other toe, that might have caused problems if someone wanted to cut in.

  It didn’t take long to get settled in the corner. Like she was a little girl again, Gigi cuddled in close then whispered. “Thank you, Daisy.”

  “You’re welcome, sweet girl.” She put her mouth close to the girl’s ear. “What happened?”

  “Oh, I had a most wonderful time! I’ll tell you all about it on our way home tomorrow.”

  Chapter 7

  Daisy appreciated Bo seeing her off, but even more, he and Ephraim doing all the work, getting the wagon ready to roll out with Mister Riley’s boys rested and hitched.

  Good thing the corporal knew how to treat beasts of burden. She and Missy should make good time. With everything ready, Bo pulled her aside as if maybe he and the corporal were in cahoots.

  Not that she minded Gigi having a smidgen of time to herself with her new beau.

  Bo held out his hand. “Here’s another seven dollars. I talked it over with Ephraim, and we want to double our order.”

  “That’s mighty sweet of you both.” She took the money. “I’ll have them ready before we bring the next load of supplies. Guess that’s if we get back before General Hindman moves out.”

  “Good. If I were to get up your way, any chance we could step out together? Have us a store-bought meal, or just a stroll, whatever you fancy.”

  Well, well, appeared he might be as interested in her as she was in him. “I’d like that, Bo. Or would you prefer Bonaparte?”

  “Whatever suits you, Miss Daisy. Either one will be music to my ears, coming from your lips. Did I mention how pretty you are? It seems to me you’re a mighty fine lady I’d like to get to know better.”

  Was he just smooth talking her or . . .

  He claimed to be a true man, and if he’d had a hand in raising Ephraim, that said a lot about him. “Are you a believer, Bo?”

  “Aww, yes, ma’am. I got saved early on. Not saying I haven’t slipped a time or two—uh, early on—but after Ephraim got right with the Lord on account of Sergeant Rusk’s and Captain Baylor’s coaxing—except I heard they’d been promoted.”

  “That’s good, really good.”

  “Anyway, whatever their rank, they looked out for our souls. Throwing in with Godly men makes living for Jesus easier.”

  “I know those two are good men then.”

  Understanding what he was saying came easy.

  It sure would be hard to stay on the straight and narrow if all you saw and heard went against what the good book taught. She’d seen for herself how a bunch of men acted with no ladies around to temper their words and actions.

  What a blessing he and Ephraim had served under those two.

  “Yes, sir, Bo. You get up to Bowling Green, I’ll be pleased to step out with you.”

  “I’d sure like to kiss you goodbye.” He extended his hand, palm up. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t see that as being proper.”

  Putting her hand in his, she tugged a little, then as he came toward her, she kissed him on the cheek. “If nothing else comes of us, we can count that as a Godly kiss between brother and sister in the Lord.”

  His expression proved a little on the smug side, as if he knew for a fact something would come of them.

  “Goodbye, Miss Daisy. It’s sure been a pleasure.” He looked to the other side of the wagon. “We best let these ladies get at it. It’s liable to be nigh onto dark before they get home as it is.”

  “I know it’s true, just hate to see it.” Ephraim helped Gigi up as Bo got Daisy aboard.

  Leather slapped mule hide, and wheels turned. The trace chains jangled. She and Gigi took turns looking back until the first bend blocked the view. She faced her mistress’s daughter. “Well, I’m all ears, Missy.”

  “What do you want to hear?”

  “Exactly what happened between you two when you were alone! What do you think?”

  “Did I see you kissing Bonaparte on the cheek?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just a little reward for being such a gentleman.”

  “My, oh my. Think anything will come of it? The war notwithstanding.”

  “Well, he asked could he come calling if he got up Bowling Green way. I said yes. You think he ever will?”

  “Hope so.”

  “And what about you and the corporal?”

  “Come what may, we’re getting married. He wants all the babies I’ll give him. We’re still debating on where we’re going to live. He owns over twelve thousand acres in Texas. He got a lot of it from his parents and grandfather, but he’s purchased a big part, too. Ever heard of a headright?”

  “Don’t think I have. What is it?”

  “Texas was—and evidently, still is—giving free land to settlers. All you have to do is live on it and have it surveyed then it’s yours. It’s called a headright because it goes to the head of a family. If you have one, and haven’t claimed your land, you can sell it.”

  “How much land is it?”

  “Depends on the class, but from over four thousand to only seventeen hundred. But that’s how Ephraim got over half his land, buying other men’s headrights. Most is down south, but he also has a place in East Texas. That’s where he wants to build our house.”

  “So he’s going to build you a house, is he?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And he also has a bit of property in Dallas, but not that much. I like the idea of being closer to my family.”

  “Sounds to me like you two need to live there. But you can’t live in two places at one time. Didn’t you say that was one of the conditions, you have to live on the land?”

  She nodded. “Only for a while; all of his is his with no more conditions. I hate the thought of leaving Kentucky and being so far from everyone, but a wife needs to be with her husband, and he says he’ll always be a Ranger.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “He says if Texas needs him, he’s honor-bound to answer the call.”

  “Well, there it be. Does he have any ready cash? Or has he spent it all on buying land?”

  “Says he’s got plenty. Wallace Rusk and Levi Baylor have been letting him in on some good deals that came along on the way. He claims he owns a share in several profitable businesses and how those pay him a nice dividend every year.”

  Changing her hand holding the reins with the warm one in her pocket, Daisy stuck the cold one in and rustled the coins there. She pulled them out and showed them off.

  “Bo wants me to sew them four shirts each. I thought he was showing out, being a strutting rooster or some such, but apparently money isn’t a worry for those two.”

  “I know Ephraim’s got a lot of his East Texas land in cotton, and he wants to get more acres planted in it, double what he’s got now.”

  “I know that’s true if what I hear about cotton going for a dollar a pound over there in England!”

  “But with the war, a lot of his plans are on hold. Until the fighting’s over.”

  “Other than kissing, was he a perfect gentleman?”

  “Yes.” Gigi elbowed her. “But me, oh my! I do love him kissing me! Thank you again for g
iving us room to be alone.”

  “You’re welcome. Maybe when Bo comes calling, you can return the favor.”

  “Certainly, I will. I notice you said when, not if. He just best not be showing up without Ephraim.”

  Sweet laughter filled the December day. Things would be so wonderful, about perfect, if not for that horrible war.

  Of all the hard things Ephraim had done in his life, letting Gigi ride out without him topped them all. Honor and duty kept his feet planted when he wanted so badly to saddle his horse then and there and ride out after her.

  That night he lay down, and it about broke his heart in two not knowing if she got home safely or when he’d see her again.

  Sunday, the fifteenth day of December, a Blue Norther blew in fresh snow and bad news.

  Though temperatures plummeted, the Yanks completed their pontoon bridge across the Green River.

  The following day, the scouts brought even worse news. Stonemasons had arrived to repair the bridge and get the railroad tracks working again.

  The word came around early Tuesday morning, straight from Colonel Terry. Ephraim had a love-hate relationship with what was happening. He hated the kill or be-killed part.

  But the excitement proved so exhilarating; like he’d been formed in his mother’s womb to be a warrior.

  Bo, more 8th Cavalry than cook, had helped get a hot breakfast fried up—hash browns and ham, thanks to the Garlands—then went to preparing himself and his mount for the looming battle. Ephraim caught up with him in the corral.

  “Hey. You ready, old man?”

  “Believe so.” He looked over his gelding’s neck. “You’re all prayed over, but are you prayed up?”

  The man strapped on and adjusted his mount’s breast-garb he’d had specially made for both their horses from leather so thick that it could stop a Comanche arrow.

  “And I wouldn’t be calling names; I’m only five years your senior, knucklehead.”

  “Hey, I was born old, so that makes you near ancient. And rest assured, I’ve spent a lot time on my knees of late. You’re covered, too. Angels are assigned.” He extended his hand. Bo took it and pulled him into a bear hug. “Stay safe, my brother.”

  His friend and advocate nodded. His eyes glistened, and he blinked several times as if he might be trying to not cry. “You too, old son. I’ll see you on the other side if this is our day to die.”

  “No, sir.” Ephraim shook his head. “I am not dying today, and neither are you. I tell you He’s got His angels watching over us. Besides, I need you to stand up with me when Gigi walks the aisle.”

  “You got a word from God on that?”

  “I do. Psalm ninety-one-eleven. ‘For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.’ ”

  “Good Word.”

  “I thought so. Not that it wouldn’t be nice to hear a Ramah Word. Wouldn’t that be nice? But I believe. Why would He bring me the love of my life if I wasn’t going to be around long enough to marry her?”

  “I see.” Bo laughed. “So, you sure she’s the one?”

  “I am. It’s like . . . like she has the key—the only one who can unlock my heart. I can’t think of anything else but her.”

  “Well, put those thoughts away for the time being. We need to be ready, focused on the here and now. Those Yankees have one thing on their minds, and that’s putting a mini ball right there.” He touched the spot between Ephraim’s eyes.

  “I know.”

  As expected, the Yanks sent men aplenty to protect the stonemasons, and Hindman responded with orders to blow up what they’d repaired.

  The unusual quiet—even the birds had hushed their singing—ended with the first shots fired midday, and the river bottoms erupted in a hail of iron and cannonballs.

  The enemy repelled the Confederates’ initial charge. Terry ordered the Texas 8th Cavalry into the fray to reinforce the infantry. That evening, when the trumpet sounded recall, Ephraim figured the day ended in a stalemate.

  Back at camp, Major General Hindman called it a victory. But what else was he going to say?

  Guess if the truth be told, the Yanks won, seeing as how they were about to have a working bridge. Once they could drive a train over the river, bring more men and supplies deeper into the South, the fighting would surely get fierce.

  Worst of all though, Colonel Terry was seriously wounded.

  Gigi handed the customer his change, bid him a good evening, then glanced at the clock sitting on the counter behind her. Another quarter-hour to go. An exasperated sigh escaped. She pulled back the curtain over the door to the storage room.

  “Hey, Daisy! How are you and Marigold doing? It’s almost quitting time.”

  “Close. We’re real close to finishing up here.”

  Muffled giggles sounded.

  Something was amiss for her sister to be laughing like that, but Gigi didn’t have time to check on them. Gramps would have a fit if she didn’t sweep up before closing. Grabbed the broom, she scraped it across the floor.

  Her thoughts turned to Ephraim.

  Shortly after a bit of dirt and leaves gathering, she swept it all into the dustpan then went to dancing.

  Instead of holding her love, she held the broomstick, twirling over in the corner away from the front window. The doorbell rang. She stopped cold and faced the late arrival.

  “What? Oh!”

  Were her eyes deceiving her?

  Shadowed by Bonaparte, Ephraim walked toward her. She dropped the broom and ran to him. He held out his arms, and she flung herself at him.

  He caught her then twirled her around, lifting her feet off the floor. They barely missed his man. It took everything in her, but she resisted kissing him. No doubt, little eyes were probably peering already.

  “I was so worried when I heard about the battle! Are you two fine? Why are you here? Are the Yankees coming?”

  He laughed, pursed his lips as though only decorum held him back from kissing her, too.

  He smiled. “Not yet. We brought Colonel Terry to the hospital, and we’re picking up more supplies since we’re here.”

  “Sure! It’s so wonderful to see you.” She turned only slightly and hollered toward a curtain. “Daisy? Daisy! Bonaparte is here! With Ephraim!” Her focus went right back to the man she loved.

  “So, have you got a list? Oh, I’m so thrilled to see you both! You look fine. Are you? Tell me true if you’re injured in any way.”

  The slave stepped up. “The Lord sent His angels and they watched out over both of us. Not a scratch.” His attention moved to somewhere behind her. “Hey there, Miss Daisy. I was hoping to see you. And who is that beautiful young lady with you there?”

  Gigi answered him. “That’s my sister, Marigold.”

  Stepping past her, he extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Miss Marigold. I’m Bonaparte, but you can call me Bo if you want.”

  The little girl giggled as only twelve-year-old girls often did. Gigi turned back to Ephraim. “Where’s that list? Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ephraim handed over the piece of paper. Quite a list of food and supplies they wanted.

  “Daisy, take Marigold on home and tell Mama we’re having company for supper.”

  Her slave slipped up next to her and spoke ever so softly. “Miss Margaret will skin us both if I was to leave you alone.”

  She looked at Daisy and begged with her eyes.

  Bonaparte came to her rescue. “I’ll go with you and Miss Marigold, Miss Daisy.”

  “I’m staying with sister.”

  Gigi turned her attention to her irritating, frustrating sibling and put as much steel in her voice as possible. “Marigold Verbena Garland, you best do as I say and go home right now with Daisy and Bonaparte. Do you hear me?”

  “I’m not deaf! Why can’t I stay? You just want to be alone with Ephraim! Don’t you?”

  “Do you see this?” She waved the list in her face. “Besides tons of stuff we’ll have to gathe
r from the warehouse, there’s all kinds of spices and stuff they want that I’ve got to get here, now git!”

  If only the girl minded her like she did Mama.

  “Fine! But I’m telling Mama that you’re over here unchaperoned with your soldier.”

  “Oooo!” Gigi picked up the broom and swung it, but her little sister scurried out of its reach.

  “Come on, child! Let’s go help your mama get ready for company.”

  Marigold glared a second then dashed out the front door. Daisy took off after her with Bonaparte on her heels.

  She couldn’t believe her sister’s behavior, but that thought passed quickly, and passion replaced her bewilderment. She grinned and crooked her finger toward him, backing up toward the storeroom.

  Chapter 8

  The tension in the Garland home was palpable, but it couldn’t persuade Ephraim from what he knew he had to do. He’d talked everything over with Bo.

  Even on short notice, the ladies put on a nice spread. Nothing compared to the last meal he had taken at their table, but way better than what Bo and those army cooks served.

  The battle took up the better part of the conversation. Gigi’s Gramps asked the most questions, but even little Marigold—who seemed to have trouble not staring at him—wanted to know a thing or two about the fighting.

  Poor little Marigold looked crushed when she got herself shushed, asking if he’d killed anyone.

  The question came unexpectedly, but he shrugged it off and gave his standard reply whenever anyone quizzed him about a dustup he’d been thrown into.

  “War’s a terrible thing, little Miss.”

  It pleased him that the Garlands invited Bo to eat at the dining table, but he declined with a smile.

  His friend probably gave himself away when he replied, but he aimed to sup in the company of his new lady friend. Ephraim understood completely, aching to spend time alone with the woman he loved.

  But he had important business to discuss.

  “I thank you, ma’am, but I’ll keep Miss Daisy company if it’s all the same.”