Tracie Peterson - [Land of the Lone Star 03] (10 page)

Carissa joined the others just as the men were mounted and ready to go. She took Gloria from Marty’s care and hoisted the child to her hip. She wanted to run for the cover of the house, but knew the women would question her afterward as to why she wasn’t there to say good-bye.

Laura stepped forward with Daniel in her arms. “Please be careful,” she told Brandon as he leaned down for one last kiss.

Carissa envied her sister. Brandon loved his wife more than life. He tousled the hair of his son and smiled, and the look on his face was so intense that Carissa almost felt like an intruder. Brandon glanced over at her.

“You take good care of her, Carissa. Don’t let her do too much.”

Carissa nodded and tried her best to smile. “I’ll sit on her if I have to.”

He laughed. “I know you both to be determined and stubborn women. Good luck.”

The others also exchanged their farewells. Carissa glanced around for Ava Lambert but found she wasn’t there. Neither was the doctor or his carriage. Apparently they had already gone.

Tyler drew up on his horse and smiled down at Gloria and Carissa. “Don’t forget to be good, Gloria,” he said.

Gloria clapped her hands. “And I get a pwesent.”

He nodded. “Indeed you do.” Tyler then looked at Carissa, and for a moment she thought she saw something more in his expression. It was like a deep longing—a desire that she thought clearly matched her own. And then just that quickly it was gone.

“Remember not to worry,” he said softly. “You’re in good hands. I’ll be prayin’ for you.”

“I’ll pray for you, too,” she said, her voice nearly breaking.

“Time to go, boys! We need to catch up with the others,” Will called out. “See you in a few months!”

Carissa hurried into the house with Gloria. She couldn’t bear to see the men ride out. She stumbled through the door, blinded by her tears, and nearly ran headlong into Marietta Terry.

“Whoa, now. Don’t be takin’ a tumble.” Marietta noticed the tears and smiled. “It’s hard to see them go, I know. But the time will pass before you know it. There’s so much to keep our hands busy with.”

Swallowing hard, Carissa released Gloria and nodded. “I know. I’m hoping to spend a little more time getting to know God and what He wants for me and my future . . . and hers.” She nodded as Gloria scampered off down the hall.

Marietta put her hand on Carissa’s arm. “I’d be happy to help you in any way I can. You just let me know. We can read the Bible together if you like.”

Carissa bit at her lower lip and nodded. She knew better than to try and speak. As the voices of others sounded just outside, she nodded again and hurried to run after Gloria.

Just when she thought her heart couldn’t break any more, she was certain she felt a decided rip right through the middle.

That night with the men gone, the house felt empty and quiet. Once the children were in bed, Hannah pulled out some knitting and settled into a chair in the front room. Berto had stoked the fire for them before leaving to head to his own little house, and Carissa relished the warmth. Holding her hands toward the flame, she pondered the day and all that had happened.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Laura said. “I don’t suppose you’d like to talk about it, would you?”

Carissa turned and found the other women watching her as well as Laura. “I’m just tired. I suppose I ought to go on to bed.”

“Oh, don’t go just yet,” Marietta said. “I thought I’d read a little from the Word.” She picked up a large leather-bound Bible and opened it.

“Please do,” Hannah said before Carissa could comment. “I think something from the Psalms would help.”

Marietta nodded. “I had just that in mind.”

She flipped through the pages, and Carissa found herself longing to stay and hear the words. Sinking to the nearby settee, Carissa joined her sister and awaited the reading.

“This comes from the sixty-first chapter of the Psalms,” Marietta began. “ ‘Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings. For thou, O God, hast heard my vows: thou hast given me the heritage of those that fear thy name. Thou wilt prolong the king’s life: and his years as many generations. He shall abide before God for ever: O prepare mercy and truth, which may preserve him. So will I sing praise unto thy name for ever, that I may daily perform my vows.’ ”

“I love that passage,” Hannah said, clicking away with her knitting needles. “I love that God is a strong tower from the enemy.”

“And the rock that is higher than I,” Marietta said. “I think of how precious it is that He covers me with His protection. I marvel that even a strong man like King David could yield himself to know that.”

“Is he the king that the verses talk about?” Carissa asked.

Marietta nodded. “Yes, indeed. King David was said to be a man after God’s own heart, yet he was human and sinned mightily. Yet God forgave him, and David turned his heart back to God. See, that’s one of the things I really like about seeing David’s thoughts in the Scriptures: So often I feel like I could have written those very words myself.”

Hannah nodded. “I feel that way, too. The psalms aren’t all written by King David, but they are full of moments when the writer feels sad or lonely, happy and filled with praise. They reveal that folks have pretty much always known sorrow and happiness—whether they are poor or rich, slave or king.”

Carissa thought about this for a moment. “It’s good to know that even kings, who are in charge of everything and can have anything they want, get overwhelmed.”

Marietta smiled. “Having everything you want can be the most overwhelming of all. I’ve seen times when the things I loved overwhelmed me, controlling my thoughts and dealings. I remember getting so angry once when one of our cats broke a favorite dish of mine. I started picking up the pieces, ranting about how that cat was never coming back in the house. Ted reminded me that it was just a possession and that the cat certainly hadn’t meant to break it. But then he said that even if the cat had intended to break it on purpose, it was up to me to extend grace and let it go. Otherwise, he said, I might as well pick up all the broken pieces and just carry them around with me instead of throwing them away.”

Carissa realized that she was always trying to drag around broken pieces. She wondered in silence if she could ever learn to throw away the chards and start afresh. Somehow she doubted such things were possible on her own. She would definitely need the power of something or someone bigger than herself. No doubt that someone was God . . . not a husband or a father for Gloria.

She thought of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross—of being broken. Jesus was broken for the sins of the world . . . broken on purpose. Yet the result wasn’t the bits and pieces, but rather the Resurrection. The way that Jesus allowed for those broken bits to re-form and lay a path back to God.

Carissa smiled, and for the first time in a long while she felt herself take a spiritual step forward. Perhaps she could even let go of a broken piece or two.

“You look mighty content, Carissa.” Marietta’s voice was soothing.

“I must say those verses gave me some peace. I’m glad you chose them and glad I listened.”

Marietta nodded. “One does have to be willing to receive God’s gifts. I think in time you’ll begin to see that God is offering a great deal to us—to you. But you have a choice to accept it or not.”

R
iding drag at the rear of the cattle drive was usually reserved for slackers as a means of punishment, but the men were all performing above and beyond the call of duty, so Tyler volunteered to eat trail dust for the day.

They were finally making good progress and were well on their way into Indian country. More than once they’d been approached or shadowed by small groups of “friendlies.” Mostly they wanted to trade, but from time to time an Indian woman or old man would lay claim to a steer and swear it to be their own. Tyler did his best to avoid the encounters. Even if the Indians weren’t Comanche, he still didn’t want any dealings with them. William understood, and though Tyler knew he didn’t approve, neither did he condemn.

Most of the time Tyler rode in silence and thought of Carissa and Gloria. The cattle moved at a slow pace, strung out along a two-mile length, interested mainly in grazing. Ted Terry had assured the men from his sickbed that once the animals were used to the schedule, the days would pass more or less in a routine, bar the occasional mishap, accident, or stampede.

At night the animals were exhausted and if possible, the cattle were camped along or near water in an area with plenty of grass. They were secured by four riders who changed shifts every four hours. It worked well, and most of the time the men got decent sleep. Sometimes a few of the animals would wander off only to be rounded up in the morning, but for the most part things had gone smoothly. The farthest Tyler had needed to ride to recover cattle had been about two miles out of the way. And that hadn’t been difficult, since the animals had simply followed the water. The horses, however, were a different story. They were more likely to wander and more likely to be stolen. Each night Brandon secured a rope pen for the animals, and camp was made nearby to help keep an eye out for thieves. So far they’d managed to hang on to all of their mounts.

A slight breeze came up from behind him, clearing a bit of the dust and pushing it forward. Tyler paused his horse, pulled off his kerchief, and took a long drink from his canteen. A few of the steers were ambling toward the brush, but otherwise the herd continued forward in a steady progression.

Tyler shook the dust from the kerchief, then poured a bit of water on it before replacing it around his face. He secured the canteen and urged the horse forward to catch up to the steers that had wandered from the rest of the herd. Tyler maneuvered his horse, rounding up the animals much like a parent seeing to wayward children.

Around noon they rested near a large stream of water. Andy and Newt took horses to Brandon to be changed out, while Tyler and William consulted their map.

“I had one of the boys scout ahead,” William said, pointing to a position on the map. “He says we’re just east of Fort Arbuckle—Chickasaw country. Said the fort is full of Buffalo Soldiers.”

“Blacks?” Tyler asked, knowing the term.

William nodded. “Phil Sheridan uses the fort for his main supply center. Now that he’s heading up the Indian campaigns, he stores a great deal of grain and hay there, as well as other provisions.”

“Are we heading to the fort?” Tyler asked.

William shook his head and smiled. “Not on your life. I wouldn’t want you former Rebs startin’ up the war again. I don’t know if the general is in the fort or not, but some of our boys aren’t too fond of him. I don’t want to see trouble—especially when we’ve got so many miles ahead of us.”

Tyler nodded. “So where are we headed now?”

“Up the Washita for a spell. I figure if we push hard and take advantage of the good weather, we can camp tonight maybe no more than five miles out from Cherokee Town. There’s a good trading post there, and if we need to pick up provisions, we can trade a steer.”

“Sounds good to me. You gonna let Brandon know?” Tyler asked.

“I will. Best grab some corn fritters and ham for the road. I don’t intend for us to stop longer than to feed and change out the horses. I’ll be sending Osage on ahead with the wagon as soon as he gets you boys fed.”

Tyler nodded and made his way to the chuck wagon while Will rolled up the map. Osage handed out food to a couple of the men who were clearly in a hurry to get back on their way to keep the cattle from roaming too far. Tyler filled his canteen from the water bucket and waited his turn.

Osage grinned at him. “Your pa would be proud of you. You ain’t walkin’ lopsided or holdin’ your backside.”

Tyler laughed. “I spent four years in the saddle for the South, if you remember.” He took the fritters Osage offered and stuffed them in his coat pocket. Next he took a thick slab of ham and instead of pocketing this, Tyler began to eat it. Driving cattle was hard and tedious work, even when things went well, and Tyler was half starved.

“Hope there’s more of this tonight,” he said, turning to walk away.

“You bet there will be—along with beans, sourdough biscuits, and a nice hunk of molasses cake in honor of you.”

Tyler stopped and threw a gaze back at Osage. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“Your birthday.” The older man grinned from ear to ear. “Didn’t think I’d remember, did ya?”

Shaking his head, Tyler stepped back toward Osage. “We don’t need to be celebratin’ my birthday. I’d all but forgotten it anyway.”

“You gonna be selfish and not let these boys enjoy some of my Dutch oven molasses cake?”

Tyler laughed and shook his head again. “Well, when you put it that way, I can hardly refuse. After all, I’m sure you’d let it be known that I was to blame.”

“You bet I would,” Osage replied.

“Guess we’ll be havin’ cake, then,” Tyler said, resuming his retreat. He saw Andy coming with his fresh mount. “Thanks for that, Andy. I appreciate the help.”

“No problem. Will says I gotta be good at doin’ everything.” He grinned and pushed back his white-blond hair. Dirt smears could be found on his face and dust on his clothes, but Andy’s hair seemed as bright as always.

“You lose your hat?” Tyler asked, taking the reins.

Andy shook his head. “Just lettin’ my head breathe—leastwise that’s what Newt calls it.” He grinned. “You see him slidin’ before we left the ranch?”

Tyler nodded. “He seems pretty good at it.”

Andy laughed. “Yup. He’s just waitin’ for that moment when he can slide under his first steer.”

Tyler laughed and mounted. “I wouldn’t let your head breathe too much, Andy. Not if Newt is any sign of what happens.” He maneuvered the fresh horse on toward the back of the herd, gnawing off pieces of ham as he went. He couldn’t believe his birthday had come again; leave it to Osage to remember. He was thirty-three.

He thought of Carissa and wondered if she had any idea it was his birthday. It was silly, he supposed. She hardly spoke two words to him when he left and probably wasn’t thinking about him at all.

Thirty-three . . . and what did he have to show for it? No wife or child. No home. No business of his own. He’d certainly turned out to be a disappointment. He frowned. A part of him wanted to blame the Comanche, but that really didn’t seem right. He could certainly hold them responsible for some of his woes, but the war had robbed him, as well. And of course, there were his own mistakes. . . .

Thirty-three. Wasn’t that the age of Jesus when He died for the world and rose again? Jesus had a ministry and purpose that was clearly defined and fulfilled by the time He was Tyler’s age. It made Tyler’s own situation even more discouraging—even though Jesus was the Son of God, and Tyler was just the son of a man killed by Comanche.

“Well, nothin’ gained by mullin’ over that,” he said, shaking his head. He took another bite of food and encouraged his mount to a trot. Tonight he’d eat his cake and pretend to be happy.

The weeks passed more quickly than Carissa could have imagined, and before she knew it the calendar revealed the first of June. Ted recovered with surprising speed, so he and Marietta returned to their ranch, leaving the Barnett house rather empty without their stories and laughter. Carissa had enjoyed the tales told by both Ted and Marietta and was sorry to see them go.

Marietta promised they would return on Sundays if possible, and that Ted would offer short sermons. She had emphasized
short
, as the man was given to being rather long-winded when speaking on God’s Word.

Laura was growing quite large in her pregnancy, and Hannah was finally starting to show just a bit. Carissa found herself almost jealous, as she remembered what it was like to marvel at the knowledge of a child growing within her. She wondered if she’d ever know that feeling again.

Word arrived to the Barnett ranch that the army had driven the Comanche and Kiowa far to the north and west. Everyone seemed to relax and breathe a bit easier with the news. The strain of worrying about an attack had been uppermost on everyone’s minds, despite Hannah’s belief that the Comanche would leave them alone.

“I’m glad the army feels they have matters under control,” Hannah declared. “I think this would be the perfect time for a trip to town. I know the men didn’t want us leaving with the threat of attack, but now that things are fairly secure, I believe we could risk it.”

“I definitely want to go,” Carissa said, desperately needing the diversion. “It’s nearly Gloria’s birthday, and I want to get her a present.”

“I’ll just stay here if it’s all the same,” Laura said, patting her stomach. Daniel came to pat her as well. “Bee-bee,” he said and grinned.

“Yes, that’s your baby brother or sister,” Laura told him. He patted his own stomach and repeated the word before toddling off.

“Oh dear. I hope he doesn’t think that
baby
is the word for stomach,” Laura said with a frown.

Hannah laughed. “Even if he does, he’ll learn soon enough.” She got up from the table. “I’m going to go talk to Berto about the trip to town. He might not be as easily convinced to allow us to go, but I’ll do what I can to sweeten the deal by taking him some of his favorite strawberry tarts.”

Carissa watched her go, then asked her sister, “Would you mind keeping Gloria here with you?”

Laura shook her head. “Not at all. She keeps Daniel distracted. Besides, I’m sure Hannah will want Marty to stay here and so I’ll have her help.”

“Can I pick up anything in particular for you?”

“Maybe some more white flannel. I’ll need to make more diapers.”

Carissa got to her feet. “I’ll get a piece of paper and a pencil and we can make a list.” She felt a bit excited. “It’s been so long since we’ve been anywhere else that I feel like a child at Christmas.” She hurried to retrieve the articles and came back to the table.

“Would you like me to bring you some peppermints, too?”

“Oh, that would be nice. But, really, we probably shouldn’t spend the money. We don’t know when we can count on more.”

“I can always wire the bank in Corpus to send me some here,” Carissa offered. “Papa put plenty into my account before leaving.”

“No, I wouldn’t want you to risk it. Could be if someone thinks we’re sitting on a pile of money they might very well try to take it from us.”

“Well, I think we can spare enough for peppermints,” Carissa said, writing the word down on the paper.

By the time Hannah returned, Carissa had added several other items. “Berto finally agreed,” Hannah announced. “He knew I’d just figure a way to go without him if he didn’t give in.” She smiled in a most self-satisfied way. “He’ll come along and so will his brother Diego and a couple of the other men. They want to pick up some supplies, so we’ll take the wagon and they’ll ride. The rest will stay here.”

Carissa stood. “I’m going to go trace Gloria’s feet. She’s about worn out her shoes, and I’d like to at least order her another pair if they don’t have any in stock.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Hannah said. “I’ll measure Robert, too.”

Two and a half hours later they were in Cedar Springs, and Carissa couldn’t help but marvel at how busy the little town was. “I didn’t know it was so big.”

Hannah nodded. “They say it’s growing right into Dallas—or the other way around. There’s still space between the two, but who can say how long that will last?” She brought the horses to a stop in front of the mercantile and pointed to a sign that read
P&L Dry Goods
. “This used to be Pritchard’s Mercantile, but he lost it shortly after the war ended. Some sort of gambling thing,” Hannah said, stepping down from the wagon with Berto’s help.

Carissa allowed the man to assist her, as well. “Who owns it now?” she asked.

“Some businessmen from Dallas. One of the men put his brother in charge. His name is Thomas Parsons. He and his family have done well with the place—doubled the size and offered a lot better selection than we could get during the war.” Hannah turned to Berto. “Would you mind picking up the mail for us?”

“Sí. I get it, then I come and load the wagon for you.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure we can get the clerk to do it for us,” Hannah replied.

Glancing down the street, Carissa spied a hotel and café, a bank, several saloons, and a bevy of other shops. It wasn’t Corpus, but it would do.

“Come on with me. I’ll introduce you to Thomas and his wife, Betty.”