Kentucky Bride

by Caryl McAdoo

“Yes, ma’am. That was my take, too. But your grandfather is the head of the house, and I’ve got his word that if we stay the course, we can marry on New Year’s Eve.”

  “I know. But you don’t know my mother. Once she sets her mind, it’s almost impossible to change it. She has a true talent, and I’ve seen her use it plenty to turn Papa and Gramps to her way of thinking. Too many times to count, actually.”

  “You’d know better than me. What are you suggesting?”

  Of course, he wouldn’t do what she wanted, but she had to ask. “That we could run off together. Daisy’s in love with Bo, too. We could all go back to Texas together. And you’d be safe and we could live our lives in peace and have us a house full of babies.”

  “You know we can’t do that.” He squeezed a bit tighter. “We’ll stay the course. I’ll figure out a way to get us to Bowling Green on the thirty-first, if not sooner.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You have my word. Might just have to make it a double wedding. Gramps is sure to have a broom they can jump.”

  On the way back to Hindman’s camp, childhood stories got swapped. Once those tales were told, relatives, and in his case, friends—he only had his grandfather and Bo left—were introduced with vivid descriptions and traits.

  The question of where they would live once the war was over came up, but with nothing resolved.

  It seemed that her offering to run off with him to Texas had already settled where they’d put down roots.

  Except hers ran deep into Bowling Green’s soil.

  It amazed her how many birds sang their songs to their Creator with no thought of the war or losing their loved ones.

  Had they always sung like that, and she just hadn’t noticed before? She pulled her shawl tighter across her chest. Though cold, the day turned off clear and the blue skies seemed bluer, too.

  She loved her life!

  The only way it could be any better was if January had rushed ahead and she and her beloved were already mister and mis’ess!

  The love she harbored for the man proved good, almost perfect.

  Late that afternoon, he figured Hindman’s camp was only a couple of miles ahead. She asked him to make one more promise. “So if we do go live in Texas, then will you give me your word that we can come back to Kentucky for a visit?”

  “Of course.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. At least once a year?”

  He looked at her, then back to the road or the wagon ahead, as if their bandit could get free and run off if Ephraim didn’t keep an eye on him. “Ever take the stage?”

  “No, why?”

  “Well, there aren’t many railroads west of the Mississippi. A stagecoach goes ten or eleven miles in an hour then stops to change out the horses. They sway something fierce and end up changing teams seven or eight times a day.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “They’re fast, but for my money, the worst way to travel.”

  “Oh, they can’t be all that bad.”

  “Dusty or muddy, hot or cold, it’s a rough, uncomfortable ride. But yes. If you and the babies can abide it, I’ll bring you back for a visit once a year.”

  “Why aren’t there any railroads in the West? You’d think if a stage is so uncomfortable, they’d build more.”

  “There’s a few, but with no bridge over the Mississippi . . .” He shrugged. “I’ve heard talk of them building one, but so far, it hasn’t happened. Guess the war trashed a lot of good plans.”

  “I hope it’s over soon.”

  The subject of travel, and all the places he’d read about that he hoped to visit someday got batted about. And it’d all be fine with her.

  Who wouldn’t want to tour Europe? She’d love it!

  To her way of thinking, Russia always seemed too cold and foreboding, but if he wanted to take her there, why not?

  He never mentioned Mexico or South America, and she didn’t bring them up. Both were way too primitive and dangerous for her tastes.

  The camp came into view, and she moved over some.

  He glanced at her, a frown marring his handsome face.

  “I just don’t want to give anyone any reason not to send you and Bo the next time supplies are needed.”

  “Anyone with ears to hear,” he grinned, “already knows how much I love you.”

  She scooted back and hugged his arm. “That’s so sweet. I love you so much.”

  Way short of the barn, Bo stopped his wagon, and hurried toward the big tent in the middle of the encampment.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Getting someone to deal with the thief.”

  “Oh. Well. Yes. I suppose he needs to be dealt with. Is there a jail?”

  “No, ma’am. We don’t need one.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Military justice is swift; he’ll be meeting his Maker before too long.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes, ma’am. All that’s in question is whether it’s the hangman’s noose or a firing squad.”

  “They’ll kill him for stealing?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He pointed a loaded gun at Bo and tried to highjack Army supplies. He’ll pay for his actions with his life.”

  That night in the barn under her wagon, she contemplated the day’s events.

  About all she knew for certain was that if anything happened to Ephraim Kerns, her life would be over, so she prayed fervently for his protection.

  That the thief swung didn’t bother Gigi too much.

  What did bother her was that her corporal couldn’t obtain permission from the brass to escort her and Daisy back to Bowling Green. His arguments were quite sound, but the only concession he received was that she and her slave could stay in camp.

  In the dark of the moonless barn, she rolled over and touched Daisy’s shoulder.

  “Missy? You need something?”

  The whisper carried more sass than concern.

  “Do you think we should stay?”

  “Heavens, no! Your mama will skin us both if we aren’t back tomorrow evening.”

  “But aren’t you scared? What if there are more highway men?”

  “No, I am not afraid. Bo gave me a pocket pistol and showed me how to use it, too. We’ll be fine.”

  “A gun? Have you ever even shot one before?”

  “No, but I’ll sure blow some fool’s head off before he knows what hit him if he tries anything like those two today.”

  “Mama would understand. Ephraim said he heard talk of General Hindman moving the camp closer to Bowling Green.”

  “Think about it, Miss Gigi. Your mama would use us lollygagging here as an excuse to postpone your wedding.”

  “You’re right. We need to get home. Let’s get an extra early start!”

  “Doesn’t need to be too early, now. The Lord will watch over us whatever time we get started.”

  “Amen.”

  The next morning, if Gigi had the count right, she hit the even dozen mark. Twelve glorious kisses, if one counted all the pecks and ambush lip-swipes she got every chance he got.

  Even with the distractions, the mules got hitched, the water barrel filled to half, and grain aplenty loaded.

  A basketful of more food than she and Daisy would eat in a week got stowed under the bench seat, and they were ready. Ephraim looked the rig over then nodded toward the stall the mules had just emptied.

  “Best let me show you what for before you leave.”

  “Well, Corporal.” She offered him a scowl, however fake it might be. “If you insist. Show me what it is.” She followed him to the back corner. He turned, and she walked into his embrace. The kiss that followed capped off her bakers’ dozen.

  If only she didn’t have to go back—or he could come with her.

  Too soon, he leaned back then pulled his pistol from his pants. “Here. Take this. It’s loaded and ready to fire. All you have to do is cock the hammer.” He pointed to the tallest part. “This is the hammer.�
�� He glanced at her as though waiting for her acknowledgement.

  She nodded.

  “Then pull the trigger. That’s all there is to it.”

  “I just don’t know if I can. If I could ever . . . What if the Federals come? Won’t you need it?”

  “I’ve got two more, but that’s my favorite, and I want you to have it.”

  “Bo gave Daisy a small two-shot pistol.”

  “I know. A Derringer will stop a man, but it doesn’t have much reach. If someone jumps out, you start shooting with my Colt. Tell Daisy to keep her pistol handy if they get close.”

  “Yes, sir.” She took the firearm, kissed him one last time for good measure, then walked to the wagon and let him help her up. “Don’t be late. I’d hate to have a wedding without my groom. Promise you’ll show up.”

  “We’ll be there.” He extended his hand toward her. “You’ve got my word.”

  “Good. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Take care of yourself. You don’t need any extra holes in your hide.” She tried to smile, but . . .

  “I promise.”

  It took all the gumption she could muster, but she managed to slap the leather reins over the mules’ backs. The wheels turned, chains jangled, and tears flowed.

  “Oh, Lord. Keep him safe.”

  Chapter 10

  Each jog and turn in the road tightened Gigi’s chest. Twice she convinced herself a shadow held a highway man, but both times, the truth revealed itself before she made a fool of herself.

  “Miss Gigi, didn’t Mister Ephraim give you his Colt?”

  She glanced at the slave. “You know he did.”

  “And my Bo gave me this little pocket pistol.” She patted her coat pocket.

  “I knew that.”

  “So? Why are you so wound up? I pity the idiot who tries to rob us.” She chuckled. “Whoever you don’t get, I will. We be fine. Stop all that worrying, Gardenia Gladiola. You’re going to make yourself sick!”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Then quit your worrying.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “Well, don’t forget Mister Riley’s scatter gun is under the bench, too. Bo said if you empty the hog leg, grab the shotgun and keep on blasting.”

  How could the woman be so sure?

  It all sounded so easy, but could she remember what was needed to be done?

  What comforted her the most though was something Ephraim’s captain said. It’d been playing over and over in her mind. He wouldn’t let Ephraim go. He’d said, ‘She and Daisy are going to be driving an empty wagon. Thieves don’t waste their time stealing air.’

  That sounded logical, though at the time, she wanted to hear none of that.

  Only her man seeing her home—that’s all she’d wanted.

  Starting with rolling her shoulders a few times, she shook away anxiousness and willed her muscles not to be so tense, so at the ready.

  Daisy was right even if her argument meant killing a human being. And so was the captain.

  Who’d ever want to steal an empty wagon?

  Besides, how many times had Papa told her she never needed to be afraid?

  Not when God and His angels watched over her, and she trusted Him.

  Gigi chose to trust and relax.

  “Hey, I think we ought to trade guns. What about you? I think you should take the Colt since it sounds to me as if you’re way more ready to defend us than I am.”

  “No, ma’am. I am not giving you what Bo gave to me. First off, I know you’re your papa’s daughter. Just like . . . Do you remember July Fourth back in ’58?”

  “Three years ago. Let’s see . . . Are you talking about that rabid dog?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you know I am. Everyone was running all around like chickens with they poor heads lopped off. But your papa walks over to the wagon all easy and level-headed. He gets the long gun and blows that mongrel to kingdom come.”

  “And you truly think that I’m like him?”

  “Yes, ma’am! Of course, you are. If it was poor Marigold Verbena here with me right now, I’d be up a creek. You remember how she ran to your mama and hid in her skirts? That child! But you? You weren’t running. You just stood there taking it all in, like you was figuring out what to do next if your papa would have missed.”

  How could she argue?

  That day remained as clear as a silver bell ringing in her mind. Like somehow time slowed, she’d watched each step unfold, starting with the mutt coming out of the woods. How it walked a little sideways, all twisted.

  With its muzzle all frothy, it bared its teeth, heading to the field where the boys were playing baseball.

  Women screamed and ran around gathering their little ones. Children, not realizing the danger, fussed and cried. Then Papa stepped forward and took care of things. But she’d noted that three other men were prepared to shoot if he missed.

  Nothing had been required of her.

  “All right then. You’re right. Let ’em come.” She chuckled. “Except I would just as soon they didn’t. I’d hate to shoot someone.”

  Though she smiled a bit, Daisy kept her tongue and made no other affirming gesture.

  Why, shooting a thief might get her hung on account they couldn’t allow a slave to kill a white man for any reason. But she’d love to plug a robber. Might not be a bad way to go. Then on the other toe, no one said a word about Bo killing that highway man.

  Probably made a difference, him being a Texas Ranger and a Confederate soldier.

  What a charade!

  The man fighting to keep other men with dark skin in bonds and chains. She put thoughts of killing and such away. A more pressing matter needed some discussion.

  “So, Miss Gigi, would you like some advice?”

  The young lady looked over. “Of course.”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking. And as much as I think of Miss Margaret—and you know I love her—this is it. Don’t you give your mama even one inch. You hear me now? You’re going to have to fight that woman fang and claw all the way up to your wedding day. On account of you know she doesn’t want it to happen.”

  “True.”

  “And I’m afeared it won’t if you even give in one little bit.”

  “That’s good advice, Daisy, and well noted. What about you and Bo? Will you two marry? Has he asked you?”

  “We’re thinking on it. But we’d rather not jump the broom until we’re free.”

  The young lady didn’t respond, but then it wasn’t in her power to change the way things were. After a bit of silence, Gigi talked about her own pending nuptials. Daisy wasn’t sure where she’d heard or read that word.

  Nuptials.

  But she liked it.

  That’s what she truly wanted, a fancy wedding in a church building with nuptials.

  Not one where the slaves gather around the quarters, and she and Bo would jump over a broom, holding hands.

  Then everyone making like it was a proper ceremony.

  To hear Bo tell it, she could have just that, too—the desires of her heart in Texas.

  Waiting for Missy to take a long breath so she wouldn’t be interrupting, Daisy seized the opportunity to tell her more about her man.

  “Bonaparte says Ephraim has promised to put one thousand acres in his name once the war is over.”

  “Wow! A thousand acres? That’s a lot of land.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Plus, he’s telling me he’s got gold and silver coins aplenty, hid away back in Texas.”

  “He’s a smart man. Gramps says anyone can make money; only the smart ones save any.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s a true saying, and my Bonaparte is the smartest man I ever known. Why, he knows something about almost everything!” Daisy held out her hands. “Here, let me drive a while for you.”

  “Sure.” She passed the leather then shook her fingers. “I hadn’t realized how stiff they were getting.”

  The day tur
ned off cold and gray, but at least it hadn’t snowed or rained. That would be miserable. She pulled out a second blanket from under the seat and wrapped it around her mistress’ shoulders first, then stretched it over her own.

  “Ooo, Thank you. That’s much better.”

  Though neither she nor Gigi wanted to take the time, Daisy turned the wagon off the main road toward Miss Peggy Sue’s to check on the place as she asked. All seemed in order.

  “Shall I gather up a box full of canned vegetables, Missy?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and Auntie said to bring some jam, too. Grab a couple of jars.” She turned toward the door. “I’ll go get the two young toms she said to bring out of the smoke house.”

  It took the better part of an hour, but Miss Gigi had given her word, and that was that.

  Right before dark, what she saw up ahead stole her breath away. Up next to the road about a quarter mile ahead, three men stood around a campfire that burned bright.

  The sight put her heart in her throat, and her hand into her pocket, trigger finger at the ready.

  “Get that hog leg out, girl. Looks like we may just have to blast our way through.”

  “Here. You drive. I figure I’ll need both hands to shoot this thing.”

  Daisy much didn’t want to, but she could manage one-handed. “Think I ought to get out the scatter gun?”

  “No. Not yet. Just wait.”

  “Why?”

  “If I’m not mistaken . . .” Gigi closed her left eye, blocked the fire with her hand, then looked off a bit. “That looks like Owen Bellows. I mean could there be two men so big with such a huge belly like that?”

  “I suppose so on account of that can’t be Mister Bellows. That man is a God-fearing churchgoer; he’s no bandit.”

  “I know that! But I heard tell he joined the Rebel Army. Gramps and I were laughing about it, him being so fat. We figured they didn’t have a uniform big enough to fit him.”

  “I believe you’re right.” Daisy squinted. “I see it now. But why would the Reb Army be wanting to block the road?”

  Tucking the Colt back under the seat, Gigi took the reins back.

  “Guess we’ll be finding out in short order.”

  And so she did. The Army had evidently been digging in all around Bowling Green with orders to defend the city.