by Caryl McAdoo
“Of course. Daisy?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll set him a place, Miss Margaret. Don’t you worry about that.”
As planned with his love, her Aunt Peggy Sue challenged Marigold to a game of cribbage in the parlor. Once just he, Gigi, Gramps, and Mis’ess Garland sat at the table, he glanced across at his sweet one. She encouraged him with a smile and a nod.
He faced the older gentleman. “Sir, I’m well aware Gigi and I have only known each other less than a week, but we both know—have known from the first moment—that God made us for each other.”
Gramps looked from him to Gigi. “That so, Daughter?”
Grinning wide, she nodded three times then spoke her heart. “Yes, sir. We’re sure of it. Both of us.” She took her mother’s hand. “Mama, I’m so madly in love with Ephraim, I can hardly stand it when we’re apart.”
Her mother patted her hand.
For the next few minutes, the both of them quizzed him and Gigi.
Then Gramps asked one last question.
“What’s your rush, son? From what I’ve heard, the Federals have dug in at the River.”
“Seems so for now, but I don’t expect them to stay there long. They’re liable to be in Bowling Green in a month, two at the most. But to answer your question, I do have a reason. You see, I own a considerable amount of land in Texas along with shares in a couple of thriving businesses. And even more so than that, I’m responsible for my best friend.”
“Bo?”
“Yes, sir. As it stands now, if anything were to happen to me, my only relative—a no account cousin—would inherit it all. But if anything does happen, I want Gigi to have it all.’
“That so? Mighty generous.”
“I want to know she’ll be safe and able to stand on her own two feet. And if push comes to shove, sir, you can load your wagon and get to Texas. You’ll have a place to go, to take the women, and she’d have access to the money in the bank.”
“Oh, Ephraim, don’t talk like that.”
“It isn’t to upset you, my love. It’s just that I—”
“But nothing is going to happen to you.”
“I don’t think it will, but if it should, I have to think about you, protect you before it did. I want to care for you above all else.”
“Oh, I do love you so.” Gigi reached across the table and took his hand. “Still, nothing bad is going to happen. It can’t.”
“You’re probably right, of course. Just in case though . . . I love you, too, Gigi.”
“Well. What a turn of events.” Gramps leaned back in his chair. “You’ve given us a lot to think about, son. How soon are you wanting to marry my granddaughter?”
Swallowing, he withdrew his hand and looked to the head of the house. “Tonight, sir.” He smiled.
“For me, tonight wouldn’t be too soon, but I know that’s not possible. Still, with your and Mis’ess Garland’s blessings, the minute I can get Bo and myself leave to come again.”
He looked to Gigi. “Do we have enough goods to fill their order?”
“Yes, sir. It’ll about wipe out the warehouse, but I think so. With his wagon and ours, we should be able to carry it all in one trip.”
“Good.” He turned his gaze on Ephraim. “You two go sit somewhere else; I need a word with Margaret.”
After only a few minutes in the parlor watching the cribbage game, Mister Garland filled the door.
“Corporal, they’re running the dogs tonight. Come sit the porch with me for a bit.”
“Yes, sir.” He stood, as did Gigi.
“Daughter, your mother needs you.”
Little Miss looked over her cards, at her Gramps, then at her sister but didn’t say anything.
Marigold’s facial expression spoke loud enough. She obviously figured something scampered afoot, but she’d been warned to steer clear, and in the end must have decided to heed the warning.
Most likely, her aunt had put a whisper in her ear.
The night had chilled considerably, but not too bad. Ephraim waited for the old gentleman to get settled then attempted to open the conversation.
“Sir.”
Gramps held a hand up, one finger raised toward heaven. “Hear that? That’s Rupert’s hound, a blue tick. He’s picked up a scent.” His head moved, tilting an ear in the direction of the bays. “Good dog.”
Ephraim closed his eyes and turned his own ear out. How did the old geezer hear so well? The sound proved faint, but he could pick one howl out amongst the rest and other night noises.
“You got a dog in this hunt?”
The old boy looked at him.
“Yes and no. Better than half the pack they’re running came from my dog. Best one ever, my Rags. Then like the old fool I am at times, I sold every pup in his last litter right before he died. William, that’s Gardenia’s papa—my son—said it was for the best.”
“Why’s that?”
“He thought I was too long of tooth to be out at night cold trailing the hounds.” He closed one eye and tilted his head a bit, staring straight at him, like he was trying to get a better look or something.
“You hunt, Ephraim?”
“No, sir. Fish some. Wallace Rusk told me, once you’ve hunted men, trailing game pales.”
“I’ve got one rule about hunting—unless it’s a varmint—you eat what you kill.”
“I like that. I’ll have to remember to tell your great-grandchildren that same thing and where I first heard it.”
“You sure are sure of yourself.”
“No, sir, not really. I’ve put my life in the Lord’s hands, and He has blessed me beyond measure. Most men my age barely have any worldly goods at all. No brag, just fact. I’m a rich man, sir.”
“It’s a good fact. No reason to keep it under your hat. Leastwise, not with me.”
“Not because of anything thing I’ve done, but because once I accepted the Lord and learned about tithing, I’ve been obedient, and God just keeps pouring out His blessings.”
“That’s good, son.”
“Finding Gigi—that’s been the biggest and best of them all.”
“I’ve been blessed, too. Beyond the material goods, my family is what I prize the most.”
“Yes, sir. I understand that.”
“If not for the war, I’d be telling you to get on home and we’d give it a month of Sunday suppers to see if you two were really in love. Doesn’t look like I have that luxury though.”
“Yes, sir. So, what’s your decision?”
“Well. Here it is. Margaret and I have decided if you two stay the course, you can marry my granddaughter on New Year’s Eve.”
What day was it? He did some swift calculating. Less than two weeks away. He never expected such but if it couldn’t be that very night, making Gigi his own in thirteen days suited him fine.
He sucked in a breath—he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it—smiled and nodded.
“Bless the Lord. Thank you, sir.”
“Wake up.”
Daisy pried one eye open. Miss Margaret sat on the edge of her bed. “Did I oversleep?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. I just need a word with you. Get on up; I’ve got coffee on.” The lady retreated from the room.
Most days, her mistress took a cup in her bed first off. Apparently, Gigi’s situation had robbed her sleep. Posthaste, she joined her in the kitchen. Miss Margaret patted the chair next to her. “Grab some coffee and sit a spell.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Even before she sat down, the lady popped a question. “Has Gardenia done something she shouldn’t have?”
“No, ma’am. Not one time. Not while I was with them.”
“So, you’ve spent more time around him, what’s your opinion of Corporal Kerns?”
“Well, now.” Her head went to spinning with what to say first and all that she should tell. She took a quick sip. “He treats Bo like a brother, and me like I’m a free woman. That’s top-shelf in my opinion, and he’s easy on the eyes.”
Her mistress grinned. “I can see that for myself. I’m talking about his heart. Do you think it’s true?”
“I surely do, ma’am. And if what I hear about the Rangers is true—that they don’t allow just anyone in their ranks—that says a lot about him. He’s always been a gentleman, ma’am, especially to Gigi.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. And Bo, he speaks very highly of him, too.”
“So, do you really think it’s love? They haven’t known each other but a few days.”
“I saw it right off. Soon as those two rode in, Daisy could tell.” She nodded. “How many times did your own mama tell the story of her knowing she was going to marry your papa the night she first laid eyes on him.”
“I know. But it was six months before they tied the knot. My father . . . well, let’s just say it took him a bit of time to warm to the idea.”
“All I’m saying is, maybe Gigi didn’t fall too far from your mama’s tree.”
“I understand. I do. But what I want is for you to help me convince Gardenia to wait. It’s always been her dream to have a big church wedding. We’ve made so many things already for it—”
“I know that’s right.”
“But there’s no way we can put something together by New Year’s Eve. Tell her that.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do what I can. But well . . . uh . . . she be about as hardheaded as you are, ma’am, and I can tell you for sure, she wants to get hitched way more than having a big wedding right now, so it won’t be no easy thing to turn her thinking.”
“That might be true, Daisy, but we need to do what’s best for her. We must try and help her see that she shouldn’t rush into this marriage.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Miss Margaret stood and drained her coffee. “Best get to cooking. They’ll be up and at it before too long. Be sure and make extra to send with them.”
Daisy stood. “Yes, ma’am.”
First off, she added some sticks to the cookstove, then got fatback to frying while she went to mixing biscuit dough. The whole time, what her mistress had told her played over and again in her head.
How in the world could Daisy do anything of the sort? Gardenia Gladiola was going to do what she wanted. Nothing she said would change that.
Besides, sure looked to her Gigi and Ephraim were a match made in heaven.
Why stand in their way?
Right as she popped the second skillet of biscuits into the oven, it hit her. Miss Margaret was the one who wanted to have a big wedding.
That had to be it.
Only a fool couldn’t see those two were in love, and the mistress of the house was no fool.
Breakfast and loading the wagons all got finished before the sunrise. Daisy liked the idea of spending the whole day traveling with Bo.
Other than the color of his skin, a body would think he was white. He was so smart and talked so fine. She sure liked him. Hopefully, he’d not find her wanting.
Wouldn’t that be something? Her marrying Bo, and Gigi and Ephraim getting hitched, and then all of them going to Texas together.
Would the Garlands allow her to purchase her freedom and do such a thing?
Surely, they would.
“How long you been with the Garlands, Daisy?”
The question pulled her to the moment.
“Well, Miss Margaret was a Brumby before she married Mister William, Gigi’s papa. Her mama gave me to her when I was born. She was ten years old then. When she got married in the summer of ’42, I moved with her.”
“I see.”
“Guess you could say I’ve been with her and her mama all my life. Been a Garland nineteen years.”
“That’s a long time.”
“Yes, sir. It is. Gigi’s papa, he offered to take me north with them so I could be free, but I wanted to stay. Bowling Green is the only home I’ve known, and they treat me good. I get half a day off on Sundays unless there’s a big dinner. Even then, she makes it up to me. And not once has anyone laid a strap to my back.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Now Mammy—that’s my grandmother—she’d tear her off a little switch from the peach tree and stripe my legs with it while I danced and repented.” She pointed a finger at him. “But only when I needed it.”
The man burst out laughing, and the sheer joy in the sound of it just set her insides to dancing. She went to giggling along with him, because how could she not?
In the end, Daisy couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. That thought tempered her joy.
Why hadn’t she laughed more in her life?
“How about you, Bo?” She wiped the wetness from under her eyes. “I know Ephraim’s pap named you, so you’ve been with them most of your life, too, huh?”
Before he answered, his expression changed. Concern tinted his face. She turned to follow his gaze just as he pulled back on the reins.
“Whoa, mules. Looks like highway men.”
Just ahead, two men had stepped out of the woods on either side of the road but one remained in the shade. Miss Gigi and Ephraim’s wagon had rounded the bend where the bandits had been lying in wait. They wouldn’t know!
“Lord God Almighty, help us.”
“Amen.” Bo got the wagon stopped as the first of the men reached the lead mule.
The second man came around with his pistol pointed right at Bo’s nose. “Get down, boy. And you mind your manners, so I don’t have to hang your sorry self for stealing these goods.”
“We ain’t stole nothing. This here is Riley Garland’s meal, and we be headed for General Hindman’s camp.”
The man swung the pistol from Bo to her. “Shut your uppity mouth, girl, or I’ll shut it for you. Nice and easy now. You two get your black hides out of my wagon.”
Bo set the brake, tied off the reins then stood. “Yes, sir. We sure be sorry ’bout mistakin’ your wagon here for Mister Garland’s, sir.”
He lowered his head, put his hand on the seat’s edge as though he was going to use it to climb down, but then like he’d been shot out of a cannon, he exploded on the man.
The pistol boomed, echoing in her ears. “Bo! Bonaparte!”
The other man ran toward the scuffle.
“Watch out! Behind you!” Daisy wanted to help, but her feet were stuck to the wagon’s floorboard.
The two men wrestled. The other one neared, then another shot rang out.
That man crumpled, holding his chest.
She looked back, cupped her hands around her moth and screamed loud as she could. “Help! Help! Gigi! Ephraim!”
All of a sudden, Bo had the first one on the ground, his boot on the man’s chest, and a pistol in his hand, pointing at the man’s nose.
From around the bend, Ephraim ran toward him then slowed to a walk fifty paces out. He toed the dead man over then stuck his pistol back into its holster.
“Well, now. Looks like these two scoundrels picked the wrong man to tussle with.”
Daisy’s fear turned to hot blood in her cheeks. The reality of what had just happened overwhelmed her. A sob escaped, then tears flowed freely. A man-sized blur was the last thing she saw before Bo’s arms were around her. He shushed her with soft, reassuring words and a strength she’d never known even existed.
Chapter 9
Gigi took Bo’s place next to Daisy as the men bound the bandit who survived the encounter, then Ephraim disappeared into the woods. He returned shortly.
“If there was another one, he’s lit out.”
With a little confab—she didn’t hear exactly what was being said—the Rangers took the live bandit to the back of the wagon, then came and got the dead one and dragged him back there, too.
Squeezing Gigi’s hand, Daisy looked that direction then back. “I was so scared, Missy. Then I got mad, and now I’m just so very thankful to the Lord for sending Bo and Ephraim, too. What would’ve happened if it’d just been the two of us?”
“Don’t borrow trouble, today has enough of its own.”
“Well, I can tell you this! Even if I only barely know that man, I cannot for the life of me imagine one without him in it.”
“See?” Gigi nodded. “My exact sentiments.”
“Your papa offered to take me north with him, but now I’m thinking maybe we should go west instead. How about you? We can wait there for our Rangers to get done with this stupid war. I just don’t know if I could stand getting held-up again.”
“That’s a thought, and we might do just that. Ephraim has said as much. He’s got a place south of the Red River. It’s likely to take us a month or better to get there, but he says we’d be better off there than here.”
“So do you think Mister Riley and your mama and Miss Peggy Sue would come, also?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to see Gramps moving that far.” Gigi filled her lungs then let it out slowly. “If they don’t though, we’ll have to stay put.”
“Why? Why Gigi?”
Before she could say more, the men returned. She and Ephraim rode that wagon with them until it caught up with the one they’d been driving. Bo reined his team around what had been the lead wagon. Ephraim hopped down, turned around, and lifted both hands toward Gigi.
Once aboard, he slapped the reins over the mules then glanced over. “I don’t think that man’s going anywhere, but I’d rather keep my eye on him.”
“I understand.” She patted his knee. For a couple of miles, she leaned against his arm, content to just be with him, satisfied to have his shoulder against hers. A thought—one she hated—wormed its way to her lips. She didn’t want to give it voice, but it was as if she had no choice. The words spilled out, riding a muffled sob.
“Ephraim, what am I going to do if something happens to you?”
Placing both the reins in one hand, he wrapped his arm around her. “Sweetheart, nothing is going to happen to me. Don’t even spend any time thinking on it. I’ve put my trust in the Lord, and He will see me though this war, just like he watched over me back in Texas.”
She turned sideways in her seat. “No never mind what Gramps said—even if Mama is saying the same thing—I can tell she’s dead set against us getting married.”
