The Man from Shenandoah (4 page)

Rod pushed himself up with his elbows and stared at Julia. “You’ve changed a right smart whilst I was gone.”

“I’ve had to fend for myself and the young’uns, Rod. I got so I was the boss around the place. I did my chores and yours, too. Now you come home and sell my place without considering my side of the matter. Yes, I’ve changed a right smart, and I’m mad at you.” Julia turned away and hit the wall with her small, work-worn fist.

Rod sank back into the featherbed and let the air leave his lungs in one fast exhalation. When he spoke again, his voice was contemplative.

“I reckon we’ve both changed. Me, I got used to having my orders obeyed without a word of question coming back at me. It was do it right now or die. My guess is we’ve lost the habit of working together like we used to.” He screwed up his face and rubbed his beard with both hands. “I just hope we ain’t lost the habit of loving together,” he added, barely audible.

“Um,” she sighed, almost a sob, and after a long silence, she turned to look at Rod.

He put out his hand, touched her cheek, and said, “My Julie.”

“I never got free of needing you to love me,” she whispered. “We need to learn again how to get on with one another, is all.”

“I give you my word I’ll work hard to look after you like I used to.”

“I don’t need looking after like I did before the war took you away. I need you to work with me and think about my feelings and thoughts before you jump into something like this.”

“I can’t change what I did. The paper’s signed.”

“Oh, Rod, that means we have to leave Baby John lying over yonder in the burying ground.” She clutched his forearm, then relaxed her grip to smooth the grizzled hair. “It about breaks my heart.”

“Julie, I ain’t an unfeeling man. I know it pains you to leave him, and Peter and Benjamin, too, but this is our chance to make a new start.” Rod sat up, and the covers fell forward from his torso, exposing his long underwear. “We’ll have the cash to buy an outfit to get to Colorado Territory. I’ll try to shed my bossy ways, if you’ll forgive me, and go with a willing heart.”

Julia looked at Rod’s back, gauging his excitement by the rapidity of his breathing. It finally returned to normal, and he sank back into the tick.

“Twenty-five years ago I made my vow to love you and to live with you wherever you went,” she whispered. “Since you’re bound to go, I’d best keep my promise.”

Rod turned and looked at Julia. “I love you, woman,” he sighed, gathering her into his arms.

~~~

Carl woke up in his bed.
I’m home
, he marveled, rolling over in the quilt. He was warm under the covers, barricaded against air chilly from the night’s rain. Looking over at Albert, he saw the regular rise and fall of his brother’s chest.
He’s such a young’un
, Carl mused.
He’s been doing all my chores for three years. It’s time I took some of ‘em back and let him sleep
.

He sat up and flicked the covers back from his bare legs. It had been a long time since he’d had a chance to get out of his pants at night. On the run with the Rangers, he had practically slept in his saddle. Carl got up and dressed quickly, yearning for a change of clothes.

He left Albert still asleep and went downstairs to stir up the fire. As he made it blaze to life, the chill around the fireplace faded, and he put a boiler of water on the hearth to heat for washing up later.

Carl crossed the room and got his coat before he went outdoors. From the doorway he looked at the morning sky. The clouds were thinning out, waiting for the sun to rise, and the rain had quit falling. Toward the east, the bulk of Massanutten Mountain rose up to prevent Carl from seeing the Blue Ridge Mountains, but he knew they were there, and he knew they were hazy and covered with fog on such a morning as this. He’d spent enough time dodging the Yankees, riding up into the sanctuary of the isolated gaps and hollows, that he knew the moods of the mountains.

The yard was under water from the night’s rain, and Carl wondered how the animals would fare in the open in this weather. Then he recalled with a jolt that soon they would be used to it. There were no barns on the way to Colorado Territory.

Carl set about feeding the animals, and with courage born of morning freshness, he decided to tackle milking Brindle by himself.

“Cow, I been over the hill and down the river in the last few years. I ain’t going to be licked by the likes of you.”

Brindle promptly knocked him over, sprawling him into the mud and water. He scrambled up, soaked and sputtering, and went back to work, wiping his hands on his pants.

“I reckon I’ll milk you, so you’d just as well surrender, you crazy cow.” Carl set his jaw and grabbed a handful of teat. Brindle turned her head and rolled her eyes, unconvinced of Carl’s prowess. He went on the attack, and the cow mooed with fright.

When he had a half-pail of milk, Carl figured he’d won the battle, and let the calf have its breakfast. He straightened his back, then probed the sore spot on his side where the cow had kicked him, but decided it was nothing to worry about.

Carl took the milk to the house and washed up with the water he’d left heating. Checking the wood box, he found it half empty and returned to the yard for an armful. From the looks of the stack of firewood on the left edge of the clearing, James had made more than one trip to the mountain for wood. Carl pulled some logs from the center of the pile where the wood was dry, and took them into the house.

Julia was up, tending the fire and baking bread for the day. She looked up at Carl, then down at his feet.

“Hush, Ma, I’m sorry. I forgot to wipe ‘em. I ain’t used to living in a house, but I’ll try to keep the mud in the yard where it belongs.”

Albert came into the room, yawning and stretching, and looked accusingly at Carl. “You left me a-sleeping. I got critters looking to be fed.”

“You was up late, and looked like you were relishing your sleep. I took the liberty of doing your chores this morning. Set and eat.”

“Thanks, Carl. Don’t mind if I do.” Albert sat and attacked his breakfast.

Rod came into the room, looking pleased with himself. He carried a list of purchases to make as soon as the Yankee money passed into his hands. He sat and greeted his family.

“Morning, Julia, boys. Fine day. Carl, you make ready to ride into town with me after breakfast. We’ll fetch back your sisters to help your ma get the foodstuffs together.” Rod paused to chew a mouthful of cornbread, then turned to his youngest son. “Albert, who did you say was willing to leave the Valley on account of his place was wrecked?”

“That would be Andy’s pa, Angus Campbell.”

“Pa,” Carl broke in ahead of Rod’s next speech. “How are we going to get out to Colorado? Me and my outfit blew up so much track hereabouts, I reckon the railroad’s useless.”

“I been studying on that, son. We’ll take wagons, like those who went to Oregon in the early days, and the Mormon folk in the forties. I reckon we’ll keep off the northern trails. I can just see a Yankee farmer taking pot shots at us, calling us wild Rebs. Likely we can get through Kentucky and Missouri on the back roads and hit the Santa Fe Trail at the city of Kansas. We’ll follow it along the Arkansas River into Colorado, then turn north and strike out for Denver City to find your uncle.”

“We’re getting a mighty late start.”

“I know, and wagons are slow, but I figure we can haul more goods for less cost that way. I reckon we’ll need four, five months on the trail, but the weather should hold pretty fair until then.” Rod turned his head to his wife. “We’ll take that old box of Jonathan’s to him.”

Carl’s gaze shifted from his father’s face to the leather-covered strongbox on the mantel. Uncle Jonathan brought it with him when he returned from his trip to the Territory in ‘Fifty-nine. He told his sister it was hers if they ever got word of his death. Then he went back west to his gold fields. The box had never been opened, and sat, padlocked and dusty, where he’d placed it.

“How long since you heard from Uncle Jonathan, Ma?” asked Carl.

“It’s been a couple of years, but mail has been real chancy with the war on.”

“It’ll be good to see him again.” Carl rose from the table. “I’ll saddle the horses, Pa.”

“I’m nearly through here.” Rod paused to wipe his mouth. “Albert, you’d best get to shelling the corn. Your ma will need to make it all up into cornmeal before we leave.”

“Yes, Pa.”

Chapter 3

Carl rode with his father down the Valley toward Mount Jackson, feeling a wrenching in his gut at the desolation and ruin in the homesteads they passed. These folks had worked for years, generations even, and now everything was gone, wiped out by the advance of Sheridan’s army. Some of these farmers might listen to Pa’s plan to go west.

As they rode through the gray mist and green trees, they approached Mount Jackson, which sat near the Shenandoah River. The damage here was not so heavy. Old stone houses still lined the streets of the residential section, where the town folks were scratching out a post-war living. An occasional empty lot in the business district gave testimony of a wooden building gone up in smoke.

Rod pulled up his horse at an intersection and turned to Carl. “We’ll go to Rulon’s house first, let the girls know to pack up their bundles. Then I’ll go talk to Randolph Hilbrands. He could make a pile of money with a store in Colorado, and he’s always been partial to money.” Rod chuckled. “Let’s see how long it takes me to convince him.”

Rulon lived on a quiet back street in a brick house owned by his father-in-law, the same Randolph Hilbrands. Rulon and Mary had lived there since he was sent home to die.

As Rod and Carl rode up to the door of the house, someone pulled aside the curtains of a window on the ground floor and peeked out. The men dismounted and tied their horses to the fence, then the door of the house was flung open, and out boiled two young females.

“Papa!” Julianna, fair colored and exuberant, with the energy of eleven years, threw herself into Rod’s arms.

“It’s Pa,” squealed Marie. “And Carl’s here, too!” Forgetting the decorum she had gained in sixteen years, she wrapped her arms around Carl, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Whoa, hold up there, Sis.” He put out his hand to steady the two of them against the fence. “You’ve growed up,” he said, astonished.

“Sure have.” Marie giggled, tossing her dark head. “And you’re a man, looks like.” She backed away for along appraisal.

Carl went hot with embarrassment. His sister was looking at him with woman’s eyes.

“I’m just real skinny,” he protested. “It makes me look taller.”

“Wait ‘til the girls get a look at you,” laughed Marie. “You’ll have to drive ‘em off with a hay fork. It’s been a long time since we’ve had any suitors around.”

“Suitors! You and your friends ain’t never had no suitors. You was just babies when us men went off to fight.” Carl took a deep breath, on home ground now that he was bantering with Marie.

“That’s all you know,” she replied.

Julianna dragged Rod toward the house, so Carl grabbed Marie’s hand and followed.

Mary Owen stood in the doorway, offering her hand to her father-in-law, who gave her a bear hug instead. She looked pale, and a crease appeared on her forehead as she endured the hug.

“Roddy,” she called to a small, dark-haired child playing by the hearth. “You come over here. Your granddaddy just came. Give him a welcome.”

The boy looked up, then jumped to his feet.

“Poppy!” he cried, and ran over to grasp Rod by the knees. Rod bent down and boosted him up onto his shoulders. The boy whooped, and held on to Rod’s ears.

Julianna plumped a pillow in the best chair in the house, saying, “Papa, come an’ set down.”

Rod put the youngster on the floor, and Roddy scampered off to play with his blocks.

“Pa, it’s right nice to see you again,” Marie said, hugging her father. “Carl, come over here and set a while,” she urged her brother, placing a chair for him.

The men sat, and Julianna tiptoed behind Carl, then ambushed him with a big hug, startling him into standing again.

“Jule! You’d best not surprise a man thataway. I might’ve hurt you.”

“Carl’s home, Carl’s home,” she sang, dancing her way around the room, heedless of his discomfort.

Rulon, hearing all the uproar, came down the stairs, leaning against the wall for support. Upon seeing his father and brother, he lowered the pistol he carried and entered the room. Mary glanced up and gave a little cry of alarm, but he waved aside her concern.

“I’m fine, Mary,” Rulon grinned, sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes. He tucked the pistol into the waistband of his trousers and held out his hand to his father. “Just the sight of my kin makes me feel strong.”

Rod arose and took Rulon’s outstretched hand, then passed him on to Carl, who carefully embraced him.

“You look a mite thin, Rule, but likely you’ll never get as skinny as me.” The younger brother measured himself against the older, found himself to be taller, and grinned with delight. “Seems you’ve shrunk a mite, too.”

“Taller don’t make better, Carl. I still outweigh you in a wrestling match. Wait ‘til I get my strength, and we’ll have a go at it.” Rulon stepped back to look at Carl’s spare frame. “‘Pears to me you’re healthy. Did you catch any Yankee lead?”