Pamela Morsi (29 page)

T
YPICALLY
, the fine gray saddle horse danced nervously as the twins, with the help of their current beaux, Stu Madison and Joe Browning, draped the banner upon the animals rump.

O.T. OR BUST
, it read.

The horse was headed for the Oklahoma Territory. Land was being given away. All a person had to do was run in there and stake a claim. The animal was being readied to do just that. He was packed with great care, saddlebag evenly weighted on either side, a bedroll tightly stowed against the back of the seat, a rifle in the scabbard. The only unnecessary item was a wooden box with the name
collier
etched into the top. It carried not essentials in the strictest sense of the word, but rather souvenirs of this place, these people, those things that he might never lay eyes upon again.

Once the sign was tied on to their satisfaction, the young people stood back to admire their handiwork and then turned to solicit an unbiased opinion.

“What do you think, Mr. Barnes?” Stu asked the neatly dressed, clean-shaven man in the goat cart.

Since his marriage six years ago to Miz Patch, Jeptha Barnes had become a common sight in the
Sweetwood, one that no longer drew stares or overt sympathy. Jeptha Barnes was merely Jeptha Barnes, a lucky fellow who had survived the war.

“It looks well enough,” he told the young folks. “But that high-strung horse ain’t going to stand for that sign across his backside very long. He’s likely to toss off both his rider and all his gear just to get rid of it.”

It was sage advice and undoubtedly true.

“Well, we’ll let him take it down before he rides off,” Cora Fay said.

“Just so he sees it and knows we did it,” Nora May agreed.

Miz Patch came out from the kitchen building, two little scampering children at her heels. She carried a pokesack, which she handed to Browning.

“Tie this to the saddle horn,” she said. “A fellow is bound to get hungry on the trail.”

The young man did as she bid.

“Virgilia Collier!” she said sharply. “You get away from that horse’s hooves. He’d as soon kick you as look at you.”

Eulie’s five-year-old daughter was an adventurous little soul, curious in the extreme and in trouble more often than out.

Her brother, young DeWitt, ignored the horse completely as he toddled on his fat baby legs toward his favorite place in the whole world. His arms outstretched, he hurried eagerly to plant a juicy baby kiss on Uncle Jeptha’s cheek before settling himself comfortably in the front of the goat cart. The man, grinning ear to ear, hugged the narrow little shoulders to him.

“Where’s Eulie?” Miz Patch asked.

The twins shared a glance before they replied.

“She was in the root cellar,” Cora Fay said.

“She’s crying and she doesn’t want him to see it,” her sister added.

Miz Patch nodded “It’s so hard for her to let him go.”

“But she didn’t say one word to make him stay,” Nora May pointed out.

“That’s ‘cause it ain’t her place,” Miz Patch said.

“He’s a man and got it in his mind to go. She’s got to let him,”

The truth was accepted with nods all around.

“Looks like the Pierces coming up the hill,” Jeptha said.

Everyone turned to look.

“Minnie!” the twins called out in unison and began running in her direction.

The beautiful young woman in the fashionable walking gown hurried toward them, her hand carefully holding down the elegantly dressed, wide-brimmed hat upon her head. The three met about midway up the slope and embraced joyously. They saw each other only on Preaching Sundays and special occasions, but they were now fast friends as well as former siblings. Hand in hand the girls walked together up to the group, where hugs and kisses were exchanged all around.

They were joined by the rest of the Pierce family. Little Enoch, who was three months older than Virgilia and never let her forget it, made a beeline for his playmate. Toby, who was a little bit shy, clung to his big sister’s skirts until Minnie leaned down and picked him up. She was devoted to her little brothers and a great help to her mother in the care of them. She credited
Eulie Collier as the person who taught her what a big sister ought to be.

Enoch and Judith brought up the rear of the procession, she, obviously in expectation of yet another child, leaning a bit heavily upon her husband’s arm.

“We’re so glad you came,” Miz Patch said.

“We couldn’t miss it,” Judith assured her. “He’s family to us. We have to say good-bye.”

Miz Patch nodded and glanced toward her husband, who appeared to be in full agreement.

Enoch, forever a farmer and businessman, was surveying the area of the Barnes Ridge farm with some appreciation.

“This place looks better every time I see it,” he said to Jeptha. “And I’m not talking about all the flowers and folderol Eulie’s got growing about the place. That new barn is as pretty a sight as any on the mountain.”

Jeptha beamed with pride.

“It’s sure good and sturdy,” he said. “It ought to last this place another hundred years.”

“For a man who claims to hate farming,” Enoch said, “Moss Collier has sure begun to shine when he turned his hand to it.”

Moss’s uncle couldn’t have agreed more.

“Look! It’s Clara coming on that old mule,” Cora Fay said.

As one they turned to glance and wave in that direction.

“Why is she by herself?” Nora May asked. “I wonder where Uncle Bug and the boys are?”

They had to wait for the answer from the woman herself. She made her way along the side of the hill and then up the slope toward them. Sitting tall and proud
upon the old mule, Clara was one of the most highly respected matrons in the Sweetwood. With her helping hand always extended to those in need, folks in hard rimes or trouble knew they would never be turned from her door.

She dismounted eagerly to hug her sisters, Miz Patch judith Pierce, and whichever children she could catch.

“Where’s your family?” Minnie asked. “Surely they didn’t want you coming here alone.”

Clara shook her head.

“Haywood and Raywood have come down with the chicken pox,” she announced.

There was a collective moan among the parents.

“I guess that means they’ll all get it,” Judith said, glancing toward her boys.

“You’ve already had it, though?” Miz Patch’s statement was presented as a question.

Clara nodded. “Oh yes, I remember it as the summer of scratching and whining. We all got it, except Rans. And Minnie, she wasn’t born yet.”

The young girl moaned in distress.

“I hope I don’t get it. I don’t want any ugly pock marks on my complexion,” she said.

Enoch chuckled lightly. “I wouldn’t be that opposed to it,” he said. “It might help thin out all those moon-eyed lollygaggers who hang around our front porch. I have to beat them off the place with a stick.”

“Oh, Papa!” Minnie complained.

There was good-hearted laughter all around.

“Where Eulie?” Clara asked.

“She’s in the root cellar,” Miz Patch said. “She’s taking it hard.”

“I’ll go talk to her.”

The conversation resumed as Clara went to comfort her sister. Virgilia and Little Enoch were running like wild Indians through the posies that grew around the porch. Cora Fay and Nora May discussed the latest dress fashions with Minnie as their gentleman friends looked on, bored.

Inside the cabin, two men were discussing business.

Moss Collier, a little older and a little wiser, was still the dark-eyed, handsome man that Eulie had tricked into marriage, although he was beginning to fill out some in the middle, evidence of good living and contented pleasure. Beside him, Ransom Toby was now a hairsbreadth taller than Moss himself, long-legged and slim. His face still carried that testy, suspicious, dissatisfied expression that had sat so ill upon him as a boy.

Women found this irresistible. At nineteen, he was the undisputed heartthrob of the Sweetwood. The young ladies would have gladly set up their own courting gauntlet for him to walk through.

“This is the last of it,” Rans said as he laid out a stack of coins upon the table.

Moss counted the coins as he picked them up.

“Your obligations are definitely paid in full,” he told the younger man. “The stolen money, the gun, even old Red Tex has been accounted for.”

“You’ve been good to me, Moss,” Rans said. “I wouldn’t want us to part with me still owing you anything but my friendship.”

Collier accepted the words and the payment gracefully.

The two men clasped hands. They were equals now, brothers. There was a mutual respect born of long
grueling hours working together for a common goal. And the unquenchable love of the family they shared.

“The land that’s going to be in the run,” Moss said, “a lot of it is farming land, but the opportunities for grazing are tremendous, and it’s so much closer to the railhead than most of Texas.”

Rans nodded in agreement.

“And you still think cattle to be more profitable than farming?”

“No question about it,” Moss answered, giving Rans a hearty pat upon the back. “And grazing is so much more pleasant than farming. It’s the kind of life a man could really take pleasure in.”

“We’d better get out there,” Rans told him, glancing toward the door.

Moss was in full agreement.

“The good-byes will take a coon’s age,” he said. “And there’s a lot of ground to be covered before dark.”

“I just wanted to … I wanted to thank you,” Rans said. “You’ve done so much for our family. I know how you and my sister came to be married. She told me all those long years ago. There aren’t many men who would have taken us all on with such a glad heart.”

Moss chuckled. “Truthfully, I wasn’t that glad about it at first,” he said. “But it’s all worked out for the best.”

“You sound like Eulie,” Rans pointed out.

“That happens when you marry,” Moss said. “You begin to take on the qualities you most admire in your mate. One of these days you’ll find that out for yourself.”

“I hope not very soon,” Rans told him with a chuckle of honesty.

The two men stepped out onto the porch, and a cheer erupted from the family and friends gathered. Eulie and Clara came around the corner from the direction of the root cellar. Both were tearful, but smiling, determined to see only the silver lining of the nearest dark cloud.

The good-byes were heartfelt and effusive. With the Oklahoma Territory so far away and so many dangers between here and there, it was unlikely that they would ever see him again. There had to be enough plain speaking and sentiment to last a lifetime. Handshakes and hugs were offered all around. Most everyone was dry-eyed for his sake, but here and there the unmistakable evidence of tears could be seen. The sorrow of farewells must be allowed to run their course.

Finally, he stood beside the saddle horse as it stomped uneasily, eager to be gone. Eulie met him there. Her nose was a little red and her eyes a little puffy, but she smiled up at him with love. He grinned back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close to her for a long moment.

“I’ll think about you every day and pray for you every night,” she told him.

“I’m counting on it,” he said.

They were close, these two. As close as a brother and sister could be.

Rans mounted up and raised an arm in salute before turning the horse toward the downward slope.

“I’ll send word as soon as I get settled,” he promised.

They followed him a little way, calling out last-minute advice and cheering him on. One by one they dropped out of the parade until only the children pursued him.

Eulie stood watching him go. When he reached the bottom of the hill, she would call the children back. She wished that she could call him back as well, but she could not. Her family was not something that she owned, something that she could control. Even her own children were not. They were lent to her to enrich her life, but ultimately their own choices would have to take precedence over what she wanted for them.

A pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. She looked up into the face of her husband-man.

“Did he pay you the rest of the money he owed?” she asked him.

Moss nodded.

“Yes ma’am, he sure did,” he replied. “And I managed to sneak it into his saddlebags while he was saying his good-byes. He’s going to need it a lot more than we will.”

She turned in his arms and gazed up into her husband’s eyes, so in love, so fulfilled.

“Are you jealous?” she asked him. “Do you wish it was you heading off on the trail?”

He grinned at her. “I would sure look a sight with you and these little youngers following after me.”

It wasn’t really an answer, so she held her ground, waiting for one.

“There is a part of me that envies him,” Moss admitted. “I envy his youth, his freedom. I envy the sense of adventure.”

Eulie nodded, appreciating his honesty.

“But,” Moss continued, “if he knew how happy and contented I am with my little farm, my little children, with my wife, he would envy me. Youth is not as pleasant
as it should be. And a man craves freedom only when he doesn’t have it.”

“What about adventure?” she asked him.

He pulled upon a lock of pale blonde hair that had escaped from the coil at the back of her head and gave an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh.

“Being married to you is more adventure than most men could take—even under threat of a shotgun.”

His face was only inches from her own. She gazed into the eyes that had become so familiar, the eyes that she so admired.

“Kiss me,” he whispered so softly that perhaps he hoped that she would not hear.

She angled her head and brought her mouth down upon his own. They could share a kiss. The contact, sweet and sensual, swept her away. It was just a kiss, she told herself. Just one kiss. There was nothing too dangerous about it. One kiss, but it was like a hundred kisses, a thousand, as his warm lips lingered upon hers, toying and testing and teaching. A month ago one kiss had gotten them married. Today it made them instantaneously intimate. There was no shyness in either of them. They wanted the touch, the taste of each other. They wanted the incredible closeness of it.

“Morsi is best known for the sweet charm of
her novels….Awfully good.”
—Publishers Weekly
on
Sealed with a Kiss

“Pamela Morsi writes with laughter,
tenderness, and most of all, joy.”
—Romantic Times

“I’ve read all her books and loved every word.”
—Jude Deveraux