A Place Called Harmony (14 page)

“Just because Uncle Fred says them that doesn’t mean you can say any of them. Momma says so.” Abe straightened, as if his extra three inches made him more the adult.

Ben looked at his father and pointed at the bandage. “Papa was shot in the head. Will he say
hell
?” He leaned closer. “Papa, are you gonna be right in the head or go around dribbling bad words like snot?”

“Probably not, son, but who is that smaller version of the two of you at the foot of my bed?”

Abe answered, “I don’t know, Papa. I never can tell them apart. It’s either Charlie or Dylan.”

As Gillian watched, two heads popped up at the same time. One was crying and one was laughing.

Ben wiggled his chubby little body off the chair and leaned close to Gillian. “The one crying is probably Dylan. Momma says he’s always crying. She says she probably should have named him Dam because water’s always flowing.”

Before Gillian could comment, he was saved by Daisy. She ignored her older two boys arguing over whether
dam
was a bad word and the baby’s crying. “Morning, darling,” she said sweetly as she met his stare. “I see you’ve met the Matheson gang.”

Gillian frowned and pointed at the end of the bed. “Where’d these two come from?” Since they looked just like Abe and Ben, he didn’t plan on denying them, but still she could have told him.

“They came about six months after you left. I was pretty sick after I delivered them earlier than the doctor said they were due to come out. For a while, they were so small I feared they wouldn’t make it, but once they started growing they’ve caught up. Since then I just didn’t have time to write.” She tugged Dylan’s arm. “Come meet your papa. And be good. Your papa has had quite a shock already.”

Gillian tried to think of which shock she might be referring to. He swore his life was tied to a lightning rod.

The boys only wanted on the bed. They showed no interest in Gillian as their mother pulled them up.

“I have four sons,” Gillian whispered. He’d only been married five years. At this rate, if he stayed home and worked on it, they could have a dozen before Daisy saw her first gray hair. He’d be outnumbered. Maybe going back to the army and fighting outlaws wasn’t such a bad idea. “Four sons,” he repeated, lost in the reality of it.

Daisy laughed. “You’re used to handling an army of men. How much trouble can four boys be?”

Gillian frowned. “Why do I feel unprepared for the assignment?” He raised an eyebrow. “There aren’t any more surprises hiding under the bed, are there?”

“No.” She picked up the twins. “I’ll go feed these two while you visit with Abe and Ben. They’ve been asking me questions about you since we left Kansas.”

Gillian didn’t have time to argue. She left him alone with Abe and the cusser.

They just stared at him.

Finally, Abe said, “I remember you, Papa. You’re a soldier.”

Gillian smiled. “I remember you both. I’m thinking of giving up being a soldier and coming home to live. Would that be all right with you two?”

Ben nodded, but Abe just leaned his head sideways. “If you did, Momma wouldn’t cry at night when she thinks we’re all asleep. So I guess it would be all right.”

Just like that the decision was made. Gillian would write his letter and resign. He had a town to build and boys to raise. He’d better get well quick. There was no time to lie in bed.

“Men,” he said in a formal tone. “I’ll need your assistance in getting dressed.”

They rushed to follow orders.

Fifteen minutes later the captain sat down at the breakfast table with his wife at his side. The other two men already at the table stood and introduced themselves. Gillian caught himself almost saying
At ease, men
to them. Truman looked a few years older than him and far more serious in his black clothes, but McAllen, though tall, couldn’t have been more than twenty. Patrick had an easy smile and a way about him that made folks like him right away.

“We’ve a town to build,” Gillian said to everyone at the table, “and I plan to be strong enough to help within a few days.”

The younger man, named Patrick McAllen, started going over ideas, but the one called Truman sat back and watched. Gillian had a feeling that Truman would get to know him first before calling him friend.

By the time breakfast was over, Gillian wasn’t sure he could make it back to the bedroom alone.

Daisy must have sensed something was wrong. She held to him as they walked together to the bedroom. “I’ll put the boys on the porch to play. Jessie likes to sit at the door and watch them. Don’t worry, they won’t bother you the rest of the morning. You can rest.”

“I’ll just lie down until the world settles a bit. Who is Jessie?” He thought hard, trying to put pieces of a puzzle together in his mind. “Jessie, the girl who was with me?”

Daisy lowered him into bed. “Yes, that Jessie. She brought you to me. She ate early with Mr. Ely this morning. She likes to help him open the store. He pays her a dime every morning for the hour’s work, so don’t worry that he’s taking advantage of her time. Mr. Ely says a girl her age needs a bit of her own money.”

“I had orders to take her to the mission.”

“If she wants to go, that’s one thing.” Daisy pulled a blanket over him. “If she doesn’t, you’re not taking her anywhere. She’s part of our family if she wants to be and that’s final. Now, you rest, Captain.”

Gillian leaned back on the pillow. “Whatever happened to the sweet little Daisy I married?”

Daisy kissed him on the cheek. “You left her alone with four kids, Gillian. She had to become a sergeant to survive.”

For two days Patrick worked with his brother on the smokehouse. The primitive one built against a rise in the ground was little more than a cave. He and Shelly laid out the plans for one that would hold a winter’s supply of meat, and then they went to work. The first two buildings would be the smokehouse and the forge. The brothers knew each other so well, folks often said that the two of them could build a house faster than most teams of six men.

Truman drove a wagon back and forth with supplies from the barn, but he wasn’t a carpenter, or a talker, it seemed. Working with him was like having two Shellys around, Patrick decided, only one couldn’t build much of anything.

Patrick tried to guide Truman and not tease him, but once he learned Truman took the teasing in fun, he let him have both barrels. Truman would cuss and swear and then laugh at himself. Patrick often told him that while he might be teaching Truman a few tricks, Truman was teaching him a whole new vocabulary.

Once, when Patrick was alone with his brother, he whispered, “What do you think of Truman?”

Shelly made a sign as if riding a horse.

Patrick agreed. “I know, he’s good with horses. Talks more to them than he does to his wife. It bothers me that he always wears a gun, even when we’re eating breakfast. I’ve heard it’s wild out here, but does he really need a weapon to tackle pancakes and eggs? I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes a bath with that gun strapped on. Now that would be a sight I wouldn’t want to see, and if I accidentally did, it would probably be the last sight I saw. He’d use that Colt and I’d be on my way to the hereafter with an image of Truman naked tattooed on my brain.”

As always, Shelly listened, and Patrick continued, “I’m going to keep my eye on him. He’s not much of a carpenter and, strange as it sounds, I don’t think he cares. It’s like he knows he was hired for some other reason.”

They heard the rattle of rigging and knew Truman’s wagon was delivering more supplies.

As they unloaded, Truman told them that he’d already picked out his forty acres and knew exactly where he wanted to build his house. “I’m going to take my wife out to see the land before dark.”

When he told them the location, Patrick shook his head. “I don’t want to discourage you none, Truman, but that land has more than its share of trees. Land ripe for farming or ranching is a few miles farther out.”

“No, that land’s not for me,” Truman said. “I don’t plan on farming more than a garden, and what cows I have will be milk cows. The water’s good on the forty acres I picked and the ride into town won’t take long. I’ll plant my feet on the ground I picked. Who knows, I might plant a few more trees.”

Since Truman was ten years older than him and always wore a gun, Patrick decided not to argue with the man. The money would be in crops and cattle, not a garden and a few milk cows. The only good thing he could say about the land Truman had chosen was that it was only a short ride from what would be town.

When they finished at seven, Patrick guessed he hadn’t said ten sentences to Truman. The man in black didn’t seem to need anyone. He never talked of his family, or his home, or what he’d been doing for thirty years. If Truman had been a book, all the pages would have been blank.

Patrick, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to get home to his wife. Annie, he swore, grew prettier every day, and their favorite thing to do after they retired for the night was to cuddle up and talk about their day. She’d tell him all about what happened at the store and in the kitchen, and he’d tell her all about what he’d built. She’d laugh about things the Matheson boys did and they’d whisper about the somedays in their lives when they’d have children. All the time they talked, he’d be touching her rounded little body and thinking he was the luckiest man alive.

The days passed quickly. The smokehouse was completed. Truman left to hunt and the McAllen brothers started on the forge.

Two days after they started work, Patrick stopped to take a break and grab a dipper of water. When he raised his head, he saw Truman riding in. The pack mule behind him was loaded down with meat, and a spotted mare followed on a lead rope.

When Jessie saw the little mare the captain had given her, she broke into a dead run from the house. Patrick had never seen anyone get so excited about a horse. The girl laughed and cried and hugged everyone, including Truman.

Patrick slapped Truman on the back. “That was a nice thing you did, finding the kid’s pony.”

“Lucky I didn’t shoot it and bring it in for food,” Truman said without smiling. “Only, paints are never fit to eat.”

Patrick glared at him.

Shelly laughed, and Patrick realized Truman was teasing. If he could have remembered a few of those swear words, he’d have been tempted to use them. “That wasn’t funny, Truman. I ought to give you a piece of my mind.”

“Keep it,” Truman almost smiled. “You might need it.”

When Shelly laughed louder, Patrick gave up and smiled. To his surprise Truman smiled back.

The day was warm and everyone joined in to help get the meat ready for the smokehouse, except Daisy, who stayed inside with her husband and the little boys. There were two wild hogs, a deer, and several wild turkeys. Everyone agreed that one of the turkeys should be cooked for supper.

By the time they’d all cleaned up, the sun was setting and what looked like a feast graced the table. Everyone laughed and talked. Captain Matheson joined them, but he grew tired and excused himself before the meal was over.

Ely offered up a bottle of whiskey, but no one drank. While Annie and Karrisa cleared the dishes, Shelly got out his harmonica and began to play.

Everyone listened for a while, and then Patrick asked Annie to dance. Ely politely offered his hand to little Jessie, and she giggled as the old man danced around her. Daisy picked up one of her boys and circled around the little kitchen.

Patrick watched as Truman finally offered his hand to his wife. She shook her head, but when he kept just standing there, she finally stood. Most of the time the Trumans didn’t even look like they liked each other. Tonight dancing wasn’t much different. He barely touched her and she was so stiff and thin she looked more like the Maypole than one of the dancers.

They both appeared relieved when the music ended. Mrs. Truman picked up her baby and Truman simply sat down beside her.

Shelly played on, beautiful music proving that he could hear. Sometimes when Patrick listened to his brother play, he thought Shelly must be a very old soul to make music that haunted through your mind for hours after he stopped playing. Since they’d been little, he’d played when he was alone, but never in front of the family. Patrick was the only one who knew of his talent.

Ely moved over across from Truman, and Patrick caught some of the conversation about Truman’s upcoming trip to Dallas. It would be dangerous this time of year and Ely wanted him to make the trip as fast as possible.

While they talked, Jessie laughed and danced with the little boys.

Patrick watched them all, thinking about how in the few days they’d been together they’d formed a community. He’d never seen a group of people who all treated each other as equals. Each had their strengths. All helped the whole.

He leaned over to Annie and whispered, “You think this is what heaven must be like?”

She giggled. “A small trading post with a mismatched group of people who have no idea what they are doing? Yes. I think this must be heaven.”

As Daisy took each boy to bed and Ely started snoring at the table, the others decided it was time to call it a night.

As he often did, Patrick took Annie’s hand and they walked outside while the house settled down. In the moonlight they could be together without anyone noticing how he couldn’t keep his hands off her or that she giggled every time he kissed her neck.

“Will you always love me, Annie?” he whispered as they stepped into the blackness behind the barn.

“Forever and ever and ever,” she said. “And will you always love me when I grow old and fat and lose all my teeth?”

“Of course, because I’ll be blind by then and won’t notice.”

They kissed as they always did before the night turned to passion. He liked to pretend that this was their first kiss, soft and innocent before they moved on.

As they walked back to the porch, he whispered, “Annie, if anything ever happens to me, will you go to Shelly? I don’t want him or you to be alone.”

Annie didn’t answer, and Patrick didn’t know if he shouldn’t have asked such a thing or if she simply didn’t want to answer. No woman had ever looked at Shelly. Maybe no woman, including Annie, ever would.

Neither of them mentioned his request again as they cuddled in bed and talked, but Patrick couldn’t help but feel that his question lingered in both their thoughts.

After Annie went to sleep, he realized for the first time that he’d found something he couldn’t talk about with his wife.

And he didn’t know why.