A Place Called Harmony (29 page)

D
ALLAS
, T
EXAS

Clint lugged all the things Karrisa had ordered plus a brand-new Singer sewing machine for three blocks before he saw the livery. The machine had cost him fifty dollars, a huge price, but he had a feeling she would love it. Sixty to ninety stitches a minute, imagine that. He’d overheard her tell Daisy that she used to sit on her mother’s lap and help her sew, and no matter how hard life got for her, sewing always calmed her.

As he stepped into the cool morning darkness of the Buford Livery in Dallas, Clint couldn’t stop smiling. His wagon was loaded and ready to go along with Harry’s new wagon full of building supplies.

Harry made a trip to the trading post and back in the days Clint had to wait on the trial. It had been hard for Clint to watch him go out with three wagons and a retired lawman they’d hired to guard, but Clint knew Patrick and Shelly were waiting on the supplies and didn’t want to have everything held up by the trial.

Harry Woolsey had spent every dime he made last month on the wagon, and now he was working for himself. He planned to make trips back and forth from Harmony to Dallas for half the price Buford charged in exchange for free room and board when he stayed over at the trading post.

“Ready?” Clint asked Harry as he slid the sewing machine into the last open spot on his wagon.

“We are,” Harry yelled.

Clint glanced back, wondering who was hitching a ride, and saw an old wagon packed so high it would probably topple over the first time it hit a bump in the road. Momma Roma sat on the bench, grinning from ear to ear. “We go with’a you, Mr. Truman.”

Her boys moved from the shadows. All three had horses and Western hats.

“But . . .” Clint had no idea what he planned to say. She knew the journey would be hard and dangerous; she’d made it once before.

“We gonna help build your town. Mr. Ely told me to come back and he’d hire me to cook. There nothing for us here. We go to Harmony.”

Clint guessed they’d put together every dime they had to buy the wagon and horses. He didn’t want to rain on their dreams. “Then come along. We can use the help.”

As they pulled out of Dallas, Clint fought not to push the small group harder. He wanted to be home. He’d unfolded Karrisa’s note and read the last line so many times the paper was worn. Just a few words shouldn’t matter that much . . . but they did. He was her love, imagine that.

When he got back home he’d try to talk her out of such a fool notion, but it was nice that she thought of him that way, if only for a while.

This trip he didn’t feel like he was just going home to a wife; he was going home to Karrisa and she’d be waiting for him. The trail was dry and the weather good. With luck they’d reach Harmony by early afternoon on the sixth day out and he could help Karrisa move their things over to the house. He felt like this was their beginning at a real marriage and he wanted it to be in their home.

Over the past few weeks he’d settled into the idea that if she wanted to make their marriage more than just an agreement, he’d let her. He still wasn’t brave enough to love her, but they could have a good life with him being kind to her and her loving him.

Sheriff Lightstone caught up to them before they were an hour out. He climbed off his horse and sat on the bench with Clint.

“You planning to take me up on that visit?” Clint frowned at the sheriff.

“No, I just thought I’d ride along with you for a spell.” Lightstone fiddled with a pipe. “I got to thinking after I had supper with you that old Harmon Ely’s been up near the panhandle since we came back from the war. Every now and then a friend passes his place and lets me know he’s still up there saying his wife and kids are coming someday.”

Clint didn’t see the point of the sheriff’s conversation, but he welcomed the company. “Ely doesn’t talk about them much to us. It’s hard to form a thought around all the people, much less a sentence. He did build the kids’ bedrooms upstairs, so I think he’s still hoping they’ll make it.” Clint fought not to smile as he added, “Karrisa and I are a little cramped in a room built for a child, but we’re managing. The bed’s too short and really made for one, but we made it work.”

He almost added,
for a few hours the last night
, but Clint decided to keep that to himself.

“I don’t want to hear about that.” Lightstone sounded grumpy, but he smiled.

Clint thought about how close he’d been to Karrisa that night. She’d slept on his shoulder with her slender hand lying over his heart.

The sheriff finally got his pipe going and ambled back into the conversation he’d started earlier, “I remembered Harmon Ely being about ten years older than me, which would make him about fifty by now. When we first met in sixty-one, he showed me a tintype of his kids, two girls and a boy. They were about ten or twelve then. Almost as tall as their mother. The boy might have been a little older, which would make them in their midtwenties to thirty by now.”

Clint saw the truth. “They’re not children and they are not coming. Right, Sheriff?”

Lightstone shook his head. “I telegraphed the sheriff in Alpine where Ely used to say he was from. He said Mrs. Harmon Ely died several years ago, right after her son was killed during a raid on their cattle. Sheriff said the daughters were both grown and gone by then. Heard they’d married soldiers from Fort Davis and moved up north.”

“You think he knows but still holds on to the dream?”

The sheriff nodded. “It’s easier than facing the truth. I think he’s remembering them just as they were in the tintype.”

“Then who is he building the town for?”

“I’m thinking he wants it for the three of you. He took a year looking for the right men. It’s going to take strong men to build a town. My guess is you three will have no one to turn to but each other.”

Clint shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense but I’ll tell Matheson and McAllen what you just told me. Now we know no family is coming, we’ll watch over him. He’s made of old leather and spit, but he’s growing on us.”

Lightstone propped his feet up and leaned back against the barrels of supplies. “I’m thinking I might just take a little nap before I ride back. You figure you can keep the wagon rolling slow and easy?”

Clint nodded, already deep in thought. How was it possible that he’d become the mother hen of this group? Now he had to worry about Ely. For a man who didn’t like people in general, he certainly was getting attached to several.

The sheriff rode off a few hours later with a final warning to Clint about Dollar Holt. Word was he’d been recruiting outlaws and planned a big raid. Clint decided he had his plate full of worry already and would have to move Dollar to a side dish.

A man can only take so many problems at one time when he’s not drinking.

Three days later, Clint wished he’d packed a bottle of whiskey with Karrisa’s notions.

The problem didn’t seem all that complicated at first. They pulled alongside a wagon with a busted wheel. The Roma boys had ridden ahead and were already helping when Clint got there.

Four women, well past marrying age and all taller than most men, waited beside the trail. They were dressed plain with bonnets that hid their plain faces. All four seemed to be talking at the same time. Complaining, worrying, instructing the Roma boys. One was even quoting scripture and yelling at God like this whole mess was his fault.

Clint thought of pulling his gun and firing just to silence them, but Karrisa probably wouldn’t think that was a good idea. The ladies might be big, but they were women and probably needed comfort or protection.

He pinned on his badge, hoping that was all he needed to do in the comfort category, and climbed off the wagon.

“Morning, ladies.”

They all rushed toward him, and Clint was hard-pressed not to turn and run. When all four started explaining at once, Clint held up his hands and said, “Hold on. One at a time.” He pointed to what looked like the oldest. “You, miss, you go first.”

“We need help, Sheriff.”

“I can see that, miss. The boys will get you fixed up in no time. A broken wagon wheel is just an inconvenience, not a tragedy,” Clint said as he tried to settle into being called
Sheriff
.

“We’re on our way north to a trading post. Heaven knows how far it is and if we’ll make it alive out here in the wilds of Texas.”

Worry turned to dread. “It wouldn’t be Harmon Ely’s place?” Of course it would, he cussed himself. Ely’s place was the only one north of here. “And you’re right about one thing, this isn’t country women should travel in alone.”

“Yes that’s the place, and we had no choice but to travel alone.” The oldest woman smiled, but it didn’t improve her looks. “We were in Dallas, staying with our dear departed mother’s parents. All four of us take the train from Houston once a year to help with the cleaning and get the garden started. Our father says it’s our mission to make ourselves useful.”

Clint considered telling her that
yes
would have been enough, then realized she was still going.

“One of the elders from our church wired me to let us all know that our brothers were alive and staying at Ely’s Trading Post. He must have known how worried we all were. Elder Price said he was taking our father back to Galveston, but”—she looked back at her sisters—“we all agreed we should travel to live with our brothers. We’re sure they need our help in this wild country.”

The other three nodded.

Clint didn’t dare ask any questions or the oldest one might be talking until dark. Way more details than he needed to know.

“We’re heading that way.” He managed to at least sound like he cared. “You’re welcome to come along with us if you can keep up.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Another one of the women stepped out of the line. She was just as tall and nearly as plain. “Once we get there we only hope we can find our brothers. None of us has ever been alone in an unknown place with strangers.”

He thought of telling them that at their height they should be safe enough. “What’s your brothers’ names? I probably know of them.” Down deep he’d already figured it out, but his mind was refusing to accept the obvious.

“McAllen,” they all said at once.

Clint almost laughed. He couldn’t wait to see Patrick’s face when he pulled in with all his big sisters in tow. He almost felt sorry for the kid. A new bride already carrying a baby and four older sisters.

By dawn the next day Clint had everyone up and moving. The McAllen wagon was light and had no trouble keeping up. As far as he could tell they only carried a few carpetbags and one box of food and blankets. If they had a gun of any kind it was kept well out of sight. They’d all four slept in the wagon bed, packed in like green beans. If one had decided to roll over during the night, they’d all have to turn.

The next afternoon, the women didn’t say a word when the wagons pulled into the yard in front of the trading post. A few odd wagons were already there and several army mounts were tied to the hitching rail. Apparently word had gotten out that help was needed to build a town.

Daisy and Karrisa came running down the steps. Both women ran straight to the Romas and began hugging them wildly. Then they patted Harry on the back before finally turning to Clint.

He’d climbed down from his wagon and stood in front of the McAllen women. “Ladies.” He smiled first at Daisy and then Karrisa. As he’d known he would, once he saw his wife, he couldn’t look away. “I found some of the McAllens’ sisters along the road.”

Daisy played hostess, inviting them in and making all the introductions as people kept filing out of the trading post. She explained that Patrick and Shelly were out at the last homestead finishing off the inside of Patrick’s house. Annie had gone out to take them lunch and probably decided to stay and help.

Clint barely paid attention to all the chatter about all that had happened while he’d been gone. Finally, everyone went inside, leaving him and Karrisa alone.

“Did you eat good while I was gone?” he said in his usual rough tone. “Was Danny a good boy? I’ll have a talk with him if he gives you any trouble.”

His wife smiled that slight smile. “I did, and he was.”

He wanted to grab her and kiss her, but a dozen people might be watching. He wasn’t a man who showed his affection in public.