The Man from Shenandoah (14 page)

Andy Campbell already had the stock running in the direction of the tree, and the wagons followed, with Carl’s bringing up the rear. He whooped for joy when he saw Rand’s team drop from view into a valley. Then Angus and Tom and their wagons and teams also disappeared, and Carl cracked his whip once more to drive his team over the lip of the declivity.

In a second, it seemed, Carl took in the entire scene. Flowing water gleamed in the bottom of the cut, reflecting the billowing tops of three wagons parked on the stream’s bank. A fourth wagon stood jacked up in the water with goods scattered on both banks, and both rear wheels lay on the ground alongside a shattered axle. The wagons of the second party still careered down the slope.

Recognition flamed in him. Carl heard a voice yell, “Pa!” and from the rawness of his throat, knew it was his own voice. Relief washed over him as his father’s bearded face appeared next to the freight wagon.

“Prairie fire, Pa!” Carl picked up Ida and handed her down to his father, then dangled Eliza to him also. Julia hurried over and took the frightened girls to the stream.

Rod quickly glanced at Carl's smoke-blackened face, then turned to shout, “Ed, Chester, boys, get those wagons into the crick. Grab your shovels and buckets. Fire’s comin’.”

Mary Owen cried out, “Fire! My bed! My food!” and Marie and Julia ran to help her gather up as many of the goods on the near bank as they could handle, and piled them at the edge of the creek.

Tom and Parley Morgan and the Campbell boys helped Chester Bates push the parked wagons into the water as Ed Morgan showed the latecomers where to drive into the stream.

Elizabeth Morgan and Muriel Bates set the girls to wetting quilts and blankets in the water, and Molly Campbell passed them to the men to carry to the top of the slope where they would use them to beat out the rapidly approaching fire.

“Julianna,” called out her mother. “You take the babies and little ones to the other side of the creek out of harm’s way. Keep them happy, daughter, so they won’t take a fright."

The girl ran to scoop up Delia Campbell and her two brothers, their cousin Joshua O’Connor, and her own nephew Roddy, and herded them into the stream. “Let’s play a game,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “Come over here, children. I know a story.”

Rida O’Connor followed her, calling out, “I can tend the young’uns, too.”

Rulon hurried over to consult with his father. “Pa, let’s set a back fire and burn off the grass up there on the rim. It might help us turn the fire away.”

Rod nodded. “Take James and Clay. The women’ll keep the grass and the wagons wet down here. Carl, show them how to wet down the wagons.” Rod grabbed a shovel and ran up the slope, shouting for more assistance.

Once he had driven the freight wagon into the water, Carl started to climb down, but his tensed muscles gave out, and he collapsed into the stream. Wiping the water out of his eyes, he arose, dripping, and grabbed the bucket tied to the side of the wagon. He dipped it into the river and pitched the water over the canvas covering of the freight.

Rand Hilbrands saw what Carl was doing, and cried out, “Stop! You can’t wet my cargo.”

Carl looked wearily up at him from the stream.

“I can let it burn, if you’d druther.”

Rand waved his hand in concession, and his shoulders slumped from exhaustion. Amanda pressed a bucket into his grasp.

“Forget about the store goods,” she shrilled. “Look out for our own things.”

The wind carried thick, black smoke and sparks down into the valley, as Rulon’s fire caught hold ten yards past the rim. He and his brothers nursed the flames in the direction of the rim, scuffing the earth behind the burned section with their shovels to make their firebreak. Ed Morgan sent his sons with filled buckets to help control the burn. “Wet the sides of the bank up there at the top,” he called. “Keep the slope soaking wet.”

Ida shivered in the stream, wrapped in a drenched blanket. Her sister Eliza, busy splashing water from a bucket onto the family wagon, looked over at her and sniffed.

“Ida ain’t working, Mama.”

“Pay her no mind, ‘Liza,” her mother called. “She’s no use to us now. Keep the wagon wet!”

“Here it comes,” James yelled, tumbling over the rim as he retreated from the extreme heat, with Clay and Rulon hard on his heels. The Owen brothers, faces streaked with sweat and grime, came down to the water, wiping the gritty smoke out of their eyes.

“All that smoke puts me in mind of a battleground,” grunted Rulon as he sluiced water up the hill. He paused to rub the back of his neck. “It sure brings back bad memories.” Then he bent to the water again.

Nobody but Ida had time to sit and listen to the crackle of the burning vegetation and the roar of the flames. Nobody but Ida noticed the change in volume of sound of the fire as it veered away to the south. Nobody spoke to Ida, so Ida told no one.

Then Carl saw that the smoke had thinned out, and he straightened his back to look up at the rim. The towering clouds of smoke were gone, and he dropped his bucket and scrambled up the bank of the creek to the top of the slope.

“Pa,” he shouted. “The fire’s gone off to the south. Looks like Rulon’s back fire did the trick!”

His older brother climbed the hill to join him, and Carl glanced back to watch him come. Rulon had discarded his sooty shirt, and for the first time, Carl saw the angry purple scars of his brother’s war wounds.

“It’s a wonder you made it home, Rule,” Carl said gravely. “What did you run into that made so many holes?”

“You ever hear of a mortar shell?” Rulon stopped on the edge of the valley. “Them things explode into a right smart number of pieces when they hit. Shrapnel, they call ‘em. I reckon I was too close one day, and caught a bunch of shrapnel.”

“Whatever they are, they didn’t do you no good. Mary’s lucky she ever saw you again.”

“Most of ‘em are still in there. The surgeon figured I’d die, so he didn’t bother to dig the iron out,” Rulon added, rubbing the largest of the scars.

Carl turned and surveyed the blackened east, wiping his hands on his shirtfront. “Makes me ache inside to see all that grass gone. What a ruin!” He hung his forearm over his shorter brother’s shoulder. “Did you come across any surprises out this way?”

Rulon’s head snapped around to look at Carl. “You mean like that Acosta scum attacking us in this valley? Yeah. We had some surprises.” He spat into the ashes at his feet. “We buried Ed Morgan’s little girl, and put her brother Ezra into the wagon with a bullet through his thigh. Real nice surprise for a ten-year-old.”

Carl dropped his arm from Rulon’s shoulder, clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and swore. He stabbed his shovel into the earth several times. “Anybody else hurt?”

“Couple of near hits, but the Morgans got the worst of it because they was out wood-gathering when the men rode down on us.” He paused for a moment, wiping the sweat from his dripping forehead with the back of his hand.

“How’d it happen?”

“Ed sent Tom out with the kids. The gang rode in from over that rise.” Rulon gestured with his hand. “We heard the shots and came a-running with our rifles. We dropped about half of them outlaws before they pulled out for good. Rode on south.”

“Gone to Texas?”

“Likely. Good riddance. We’d been here a day when they attacked, on account of my axle.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Went off the bank wrong, hit a boulder in the creek. I had a feeling about that axle being flawed when I got the wagon, but I didn’t have much choice.”

“Where did you get it?”

Rulon smiled crookedly. “I stole it off the Yankee who bought the livery for taxes. Clay helped, but he wasn’t real happy about it.”

“I guess nobody’s happy lately. I’m sorry about the Morgans’ loss.”

They stood for a moment, looking and thinking, then Carl spoke up slowly, still looking off

into the distance.

“Is Mary Hilbrands a good wife to you? Does she make you…feel…like a man?”

Startled, Rulon raised his eyes to look at Carl’s face. After a time, he said, “That’s a mighty strange question, brother, but since you make bold to ask, I’ll answer best I can.”

He paused, evidently searching for words. “Mary come to me young, fifteen or thereabouts. I reckon I was in a hurry, leaving soon for the cavalry, and all. We didn’t learn much about…anything, or each other, before I rode away. Then I didn’t see her again ‘til I woke up

ith a mess of holes in me, home in a strange bed. You sure you want to know all this, Carl?”

“Yep.”

“Mary’s a dutiful wife. She keeps the house and cooks the meals and tends Roddy as well as most, I reckon, and she brought me through when I came home all shot up. She tends to my needs, all of ‘em, with no complaint, but sometimes I feel she’s a stranger to me.” Rulon shook his head. “Likely that’s because we ain’t had but one year—no, less than that—to know each other in the four years that we’ve been wed. And most of that time I’ve been laid up with a belly full of iron scrap.”

“Do you reckon you love her?”

“I’ll find that out when I know her better. What we done in haste, we need some leisure to work out. Mary has her talents,” he added.

“No ‘repenting’ at leisure?”

“No regrets. I have a good wife, and she gave me a fine son. Maybe that’s the best we get in life.”

“Pa and Ma have more than that.”

“They been together a long time. Lend me some years, Carl, then ask me again.”

Carl turned to look down the grade. Ida seemed so tiny and forlorn, standing on the side of the stream, and his throat pinched to see her clutch the damp blanket around her shoulders. “I’ll do that,” he said, and started down the slope.

~~~

Carl gently took the damp blanket from Ida’s stiff fingers. “You’ll take a chill, wrapped in that thing,” he said.

She hung her head, turning away from his gaze. “Don’t look at me,” she cried. “I’m all dirty and wet.”

“Well, I’m liable to break a looking glass myself. Let’s go set in that patch of sun up the crick a ways. We both need to get dry.” Carl took her arm and firmly led her away from the wagons.

He sat her down in the full sun, on a rock that jutted out over the bank of the stream, then collapsed into the grass at her feet, spreading full-length on the soft green sod.

“We’ve had us a time lately, girl. Near calamitous for us all,” he said, staring at the sky. “Especially for the Morgans. Did you hear what happened? They lost their little girl to them unholy ruffians from back down the trail.” Carl gazed into the sky, blue and white with wispy clouds drifting overhead. “Now, I don’t blame your pa for having his own opinion, but that ain’t any comfort to Mrs. Morgan, I reckon. Your pa came near ruining our whole enterprise with his notions. We all got to stick together and listen to the leader, and that’s my pa. We can’t take any more bickering, if we’re to get to the Territory before winter sets in.”

Carl looked up and saw great tears flooding silently from Ida’s blue eyes. He sat upright, got to his knees in front of her, and took her into his arms.

“Hush now, darlin’. I didn’t mean to go on so about your pa. You had a mighty hard time out there today, and here I’m just rambling on with a mess of foolish words.”

Ida broke into sobs.

“Ah, don’t cry on me, sweetie-pie,” Carl pleaded with her, alarmed at her tears. “I ain’t had much practice with crying women.” In his discomfort, Carl began to smooth her hair and wipe the tears from her eyes. He felt clumsy and bumbling, and tried to kiss her forehead in apology.

Ida shut her eyes and tipped back her head, a little shudder moving her body. With her motion, Carl’s lips accidentally met hers, and he kissed her gently. She responded with fiery hunger, and a shock went through the young man’s system as he realized that she had led him into a trap.

He rose to his feet and pulled her to hers, alarm battling with the stirring in his blood. “We have to go back,” he insisted firmly. “I should have looked after the team by now.”

Ida picked up a rock and flung it into the water, then stiffly followed him to camp.

Chapter 10

“Rule, let James do that lifting,” Rod instructed. “You don’t want to tear nothing loose.” The two brothers splashed through the water to change places at the rear of the wagon. “Get set with that wheel, son. On the count of three.”

James and Carl gathered their limbs beneath them, and at the count, they lifted the wagon atop their backs and Rulon added the wheel to the new axle. Rod placed the pin in the hub and secured it, and the younger men eased the wagon down.

“Glad that’s done, Pa,” James wheezed. “It must be supper time.”

Rod laughed. “Likely. You boys put the tools away and load the wagon, and I’ll go see if your ma is ready to feed a bunch of hungry wolves. We’ll be on our way first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Rulon rubbed raw knuckles. “Next time I cross the country, I’ll make sure I have a prime wagon.”

“Or bring a spare axle,” Carl added.

Soon the men had the tools and the waterlogged wagon out of the creek, then set about gathering Mary’s wide-strewn belongings and restoring them to the vehicle. Afterward, they scattered to prepare for supper.