Holding on to Heaven (18 page)

When Mason delivered the news to Brand, he placed his hat on his head, mounted, and headed for the fields.

When he hadn't returned by late afternoon, Lauren turned a puffy face to her uncle. "Do you think I should saddle Adobe and go to him?"

"He'll be along, child; he needs time alone right now. It will hit them all hard, losing Finn."

"Oh, dear me." Estelle brought her fingers to her lips. "Just imagine how Creed must feel."

Enveloped by a dark shroud, Lauren stared out the window.
Creed. Good God, he must beside himself with guilt. Will he even come home?

The house overflowed with people who came for miles to pay their respects to the fallen hero. The American stars and stripes draped Finn's casket end-to-end. Eulogies were recited and cried over. Lauren glanced around the room and looked at the tear-stained faces, certain the angels must be weeping—if indeed, angels still existed.

Wracked by grief, Polly couldn’t speak, and Sam appeared dazed while mingling among the guests. Brand hadn't uttered an audible word in days and try as she might, Lauren couldn't seem to find the words to comfort him. The only humans oblivious to the great sorrow were the children¾Minnie, Jack, and little Finn. Lauren had never witnessed a more somber event.

Jubilation reigned at the onset of the war, but now the cold, stark reality that one of their own had died on American soil had squelched that naïve patriotism. Lauren sought the solace of her room after the funeral and stared out her window, her thoughts somewhere in the deep South. What would become of them now? How could things ever be the same?

And how would Creed live with what had happened?

* * * *

Mason's snow-white brows waggled as he handed Lauren her father's letter. "I picked it up while in town this morning."

"Do open it, dear," Estelle said over her shoulder. "News from home and your father's observations on the war should prove interesting."

Biting back her excitement, Lauren tore open the envelope and read aloud.

My dearest daughter,

I bring you sad news of Wilma's passing. Typhoid has swept the city and my dear wife succumbed last month. Grand Cove is draped in black.

I await news of your welfare and can only assume your letters have not made it through.

The harbor overflows with the Federal boats that have established a base occupying the Sea Islands. Blockade runners make gallant attempts to get through Charleston and Wilmington to deliver the much-needed medicines and clothing for our beloved troops, most of the time in vain. I fear the runners have only protracted a war that should've ended long ago, yet the South fights valiantly on! God save us all, my dear.

Never did I imagine our country would be thus divided, you living with northerners (albeit family) who have taken up arms against our brethren. This war is a nonsensical undertaking resulting in the senseless deaths of thousands.

I miss your vivacious presence, your laughter, and everything else that makes my Lauren, Lauren. I fear you've fallen in love with that rugged land and its people and have little intention of returning any time soon. I pray you will remain safe until my arrival.

The letter dropped into Lauren's lap. "Until his arrival?"

"Oh, dear me, Drew coming North?" Estelle put a hand over her open mouth. "Continue, Lauren. When does he plan to embark on this journey?"

Lauren held the letter up again.

Daphne has agreed to accompany me to this vast territory called Minnesota. We shall leave after all the loose ends have been tied up and we've been granted passage out of the harbor. Expect to see us, dear, in early autumn.

Until then, I remain, your loving Father.

Lauren put the letter down on the table and raised her hands in the air. "He hasn't received my letters, has no idea I'm married."

"Apparently he's not received mine either." Estelle looked vexed. "I wrote him a lengthy letter after little Finn was born."

"Won't he be surprised to learn he's acquired a son-in-law and a grandson in the span of one short year." Mason smiled broadly as if relishing the idea of seeing the look on Drew's face when he arrived.

A groan came from Lauren.

"Mace, please, you're not helping the situation. You know perfectly well, Drew or any father for that matter would not be eager to learn their daughter..."

"Precisely," Mason said with another smile.

When another groan came from Lauren, Estelle said, "We're all jumping to conclusions. I know my brother-in-law and he may be shocked at first, but he'll come around soon enough."

"Poor Father." Lauren buried her chin in her hand. "He's quite distraught about the war and the needless loss of life, and now to be bombarded with this."

"Understandably, he'd be upset about the war." Mason replied. "North Carolina has sacrificed more lives than any other state."

Names of well-established families from Beaufort rolled through Lauren's mind. She couldn't help but wonder how many young men she'd known in her youth lay dead now beneath their beloved homeland.

Dismissing sullen thoughts from her mind, she turned to Estelle, the impending arrival of her father lifting her spirits. "It is wonderful news about his visit."

"He'll find our way of life quite contrary to the one he leads at Grand Cove."

"You're smiling, Aunt Estelle."

"Yes, I suppose I am. It amuses me to picture Drew McCain gussied up in spurs and chaps."

Even Lauren had to laugh. "We'll have to commission that traveling photographer should that happen."

Estelle clapped her hands gleefully. "In any event, we'll hold a festive celebration when he arrives, despite the melancholy sweeping the countryside." She glanced at her husband. "Mace, have you heard one word we've been saying?"

He drew his gaze from the window. "Yes, Stella, but other things cloud my mind right now."

"Horse flesh and livestock no doubt."

"No, more serious topics."

Estelle and Lauren fell silent, waiting for him to enlighten them.

"I stopped at the lumber mill today. Things are astir in New Ulm."

Stella's light mood vanished. "What's going on?"

Mason seemed to choose his words carefully. "The locals think there's trouble brewing at the Indian agency."

"What kind of trouble?" Lauren asked.

"Annuity payments are late again and many think this time the natives aren't going to stand idly by and let it pass."

Estelle's voice took on a reproachful tone. "Well their children are starving, Mace, due to that crop failure last fall. Truly, what does the army expect?"

"Perilous times are coming, ladies."

Her aunt's compassionate nature surfaced. "As much as I love this country I can't help but feel for the natives. This was their land before the settlers arrived to tear up the earth and slaughter the wildlife. They've ceded nearly all their land to the government in the last five years and now they're in desperate straits."

Mason scratched his head. "That's called progress, Estelle."

"You and the politicians may call it what you like, but nonetheless, it doesn't seem fair."

An image rose in Lauren's mind¾an endless procession of bronze bodies wrapped in colorful blankets as they passed by the ranch making their way to summer camps. Occasionally they'd come up to the house looking for food and Aunt Estelle nearly emptied her cupboards to accommodate them. Never had they seemed hostile. Uncle Mason knew many by name, and like Estelle, had gone out of his way to help them. An unsettling feeling claimed her. She closed her eyes and willed it to leave.

Nothing more, God, please nothing more
.

Chapter Eleven

Jonathan Gray ran for miles to evade his pursuers. Late in the afternoon, he staggered into Sam Gatlin's ranch, his white shirt soaked in blood from a deep gash in his forehead.

While plucking beans in the garden, Polly heard his frantic cries and hesitated only a second before rushing to his side. "Jonathan, what's happened?" She untied the apron from her waist and tied it around his head.

"Please ma'am, you must flee." His eyes darted to the woods. "The savages." An animal-like groan left his bloodless lips. "Slaughtered my family."

Polly's gaze wandered to a line of trees bordering the forest. Although eerily still, a sinister, dark ambience hovered close. She looked down at Jonathan and moaned. "Dear God," she whispered, closing his lifeless blue eyes with her fingers. She rose to her feet slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. Sam walked from the barn with their neighbor, Ethan Garrett. With her hand at her throat, she called out, "Sam, hurry! Sam!"

A bewildered look masked his face as he walked toward her. Kneeling beside Jonathan's body, she craned her neck in all directions, praying she'd awake from this nightmare.

Sam and Ethan leaned over the dead young man, straightened and together, looked at Polly. "What the hell...?"

"Indians." Polly whispered. Her gaze fell on the house when Ethan's wife, Ansonia, walked onto the porch with her sons Ben and Lewis. Martha followed behind with Jack on her hip and Minnie clinging to her skirt. The sight of her children jolted Polly into action. "Children, Ansonia." She drew them into the yard. "We must leave quickly."

Ansonia's brows met in the center. "Whatever is wrong?"

While Polly explained the situation to her friend, Sam and Ethan weighed their options. "We'll never outrun them, Ethan, not with the small children."

"The wagon," Polly replied, glancing toward the barn.

"There's no time to load everyone in the wagon, darlin'."

Polly took Jack from Martha and grabbed Minnie by the hand. "Let's go back into the house and board everything up."

Sam shook his head. "They'll torch the house and us with it."

Ansonia let out a mournful wail.

"The cornfield!" Martha shrieked, pointing to it. "There's a chance they won't find us there."

"Aye, lass, I agree," Sam said.

Her husband ushered his family and the Garretts into the tall stalks of corn while Polly looked skyward, nearly blinded by the bright orange sphere overhead. She wondered how such a lovely day could turn so ugly in the breath of a heartbeat. The smallest hint of a breeze fanned her face as she stumbled into the maze, little recompense in the one hundred degree weather.

"Ai! Ai! Yeeeee!" Bloodcurdling war cries rent the still air.

Sam looked through the withered stalks. "They've spotted us and they're so close I hear them talking."

A volley of shots whistled overhead and then another tore through the dense stalks.

"We have to split up," Ethan said. "If we separate, we have a better chance."

Sam's eyes met hers as the nauseating bile crept up her throat. "Ethan's right, darlin', take the children and head for the center aisles."

She shook her head.

"Go on now, you must save the children."

She kissed her husband on the cheek and, clutching Jack to her bosom, inched away from the security of the group. Martha and Minnie dogged her feet, their faces frozen in terror. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Ansonia creep through the stalks in the opposite direction with Ben and Lewis in close pursuit. A bullet whirred by Polly's head, so close she felt its speed.

"Stop moving," Martha whispered. "Every time we move the corn moves and they know where we're hiding."

When the next volley of shots exploded around them, one found a home in Polly's hip. She toppled to the ground and attempted to break her fall with one arm while clutching Jack with the other. Excruciating pain shot through her. "I'm hit, Sam!"

He called out to her. "I'll come to you. Don't move!"

"No!" Polly clenched her teeth. "Stay where you are. If you move they'll track you."

Minnie began to wail and Martha stood over her, the girl's blue eyes¾so much like her father's¾open wide with fright. Polly handed her the baby. "Run, Martha and don't look back."

A deafening silence converged and seconds later, a round of shots rang out in the direction of Sam's voice.

"Sam!" Polly covered Minnie's mouth with her hand and prayed her daughter's high-pitched wails wouldn't reveal their location. "Sam!"

A terrifying dread clung to Polly's remaining sanity. Stalks rustled in the distance, forcing her to act. "Martha, go, now, they come."

Martha bit her lower lip and shook her head.

Amid the mind-numbing horror, Polly forced a smile. "When you come out on the other side, you'll be in the woods. Hide there, and in the morning, make your way to New Ulm."

Tears streamed down Martha's cheeks, but no sound came from her lips when she shook her head again.

"Do as I say now, dear. One of us must make it out with little Jack. Save yourself and our baby." When her daughter balked again, Polly placed a hand on her arm. "You can do it, girl!"

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Of course, darling." The enemy stood close now, so close. "Martha Gatlin, look at me." The girl pulled her eyes from the cornstalks and looked into her mother's eyes. "Never in your life have you disobeyed me, so don't start now. I said, RUN!"

Clutching the baby, Martha bolted as if stung by a nest of hornets. Polly wiped a tear from her eye and her children disappeared into the golden labyrinth.

Piercing war cries sent shudders tearing through Polly's battered body. In the distance, she heard Jack bawling, his voice fading with every passing second. Taking Minnie into her arms, she held her tight and kissed her damp cheeks, but nothing could console her. Lightheaded and dizzy from loss of blood, Polly crawled and dragged her way through the field toward Ansonia.

A deep voice broke the stillness. "Come out white woman, we will not harm you."

Suddenly Ansonia appeared beside her and Polly's relief was so immense it threatened to steal whatever courage she had left. "I'm wounded and I fear the worst has happened to Sam and Ethan."